Steven’s gaze softened. “Although, I’ve never seen anything even remotely close to a ghost, I do understand obsession. I quickly became obsessed with the Dayton case a week after I began following it. It took me three years and changing jobs to finally learn to move on. And honestly, I can’t say that I ever truly did.” He abruptly stood. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Jess pushed to her feet as well. “Where are we going?”
“My place.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jessica drove behind Steven’s car for several minutes before he took a left off the main road and pulled up onto a circle drive in front of a two-story brick home.
Following suit, Jess parked next to him and got out. “Wow. You live here?”
“No. Here in Sparkleberry Hills, we simply drive around until we find a suitable place to sleep in and take that one.”
A laugh bubbled up in Jess, sounding foreign and rusty. She hadn’t laughed in years. “Funny.”
“It was my parents’ place,” Steven corrected, waving her up the stone walkway that led to a large overhang.
Jessica trailed up to the front door and stood back while Steven unlocked it.
He pushed it wide. “After you.”
She stepped over the threshold. “Where are your parents now?”
“My father died when I was still in my teens, and then mother passed away a few years ago.” He closed and locked the door. “Would you like a drink?”
Jess nodded. “That would be great.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Steven strode through the foyer toward the kitchen, removing his jacket as he went. He tossed it onto the back of a chair and took down two wine glasses, which he promptly filled with a chardonnay from his fridge.
He handed one to Jessica. “Have a seat.”
She sat on a stool at the bar in his kitchen while he stood on the other side sipping his wine.
“Drink that,” Steven insisted, nodding toward her glass, “and I’ll pour you another.”
“I have to drive home.”
Steven picked up the bottle of Chardonnay. “You also need to loosen up a bit. You look stressed.”
Jessica downed her wine and then held out her glass for a refill which Steven promptly took care of.
Turning back toward the refrigerator, Steven pulled some covered dishes from the bottom shelf and placed them on the bar. He then grabbed two forks and slid one over in front of Jess. “Help me eat this.”
Jess laughed for the second time that night. “What is it?”
“Some stuff my neighbors brought over yesterday. I think they feel sorry for me because of my bachelor status.”
He peeled back the foil to reveal some barbeque pulled pork, potato salad, and chocolate cake.
Jessica stomach instantly growled. She stabbed some potato salad with her fork and popped it into her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she moaned as it slid down her throat. “This is delicious.”
She took another bite. “No plates?”
Steven shook his head. “It’s easier this way. Besides, it’s less mess to clean up afterwards.”
Another chuckle escaped her. She could feel the wine warming her insides even as the food filled the emptiness in her stomach. “Thank you for this. I hadn’t realized how much I needed some nonjudgmental interaction until now.”
“Your husband isn’t nonjudgmental?” Steven took a long healthy drink of his wine.
Jess shook her head. “Owen worries about me. A little too much, I think. He means well, but…”
“But what?” Steven prompted, setting his glass aside and digging into the food.
“We have grown apart since Jacob’s death. We’ve somehow become strangers who live under the same roof. I feel like he’s always watching me, waiting for me to mess up.”
Steven paused with a forkful of food near his mouth. “You ever talk with him about how you feel? Sometimes we men need to be told when we’re screwing up. We lack common sense when it comes to relationships.”
Jessica loved how easy it was to talk to Steven. His devil-may-care attitude was adorable, not to mention fun. And fun was something she hadn’t had in years. “I try to talk with him about it, but it usually ends with us arguing or him suggesting I go see a psychiatrist.”
“Ouch. I hate shrinks. They’re always watching you over the rim of their glasses like you have a gnat circling your face. And let’s not forget the dozens of questions about your mother as if she’s the root of all evil.”
A deep, belly laugh burst from Jessica with the image Steven created. “That’s a psychologist. The psychiatrists are strictly there to pump you full of pills.”
She’d said too much. She realized it when Steven’s gaze sharpened and he took another drink of his wine.
Setting the glass aside, he asked, “Are you speaking from experience?”
Jessica swallowed the bite of cake she’d just popped into her mouth. The wine she’d recently sucked down seemed to be loosening her tongue. “I was on antianxiety meds for three years. Antidepressants as well as something to help me sleep at night.”
Steven leaned forward, resting his elbows on top of the bar. “Because of your son’s death?”
“Yeah. I found it too hard to cope without Jacob. I still do at times, but it seems to be getting a little easier. I mean, the pain never goes away, it just becomes more manageable. Which is why Owen is so overprotective. He watched me wither away to nothing, merely existing with suicidal thoughts as a constant companion.”
“I’m sorry, Jess.”
“Thanks.”
Steven twirled his fork around in the barbeque. “So, what’s our next move?”
“Our next move?”
“In finding Terry Dayton’s killer.”
Surprised by Steven’s words, Jessica could only stare at him.
“What? You didn’t think I would let you search for him by yourself, did you?”
Her fork slid from numb fingers. Jessica jumped from her stool, rounded the bar and wrapped Steven in a hug. “Thank you for not assuming that I’m crazy.”
He hugged her back. “I never said you weren’t crazy, I only said that I would help you.”
She laughed again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was well after ten PM when Jessica pulled into the drive to find Owen’s car gone.
She switched off the engine, grabbed her keys, and got out in the dark. Owen hadn’t turned on the outside light when he’d left.
With only the moonlight to guide her, Jess carefully maneuvered up the walkway to the porch, and slipped her key into the lock. The door pushed inward without her turning the knob. It struck her as odd that Owen would have left without shutting the door completely.
“Owen?” She flipped on the light and staggered back in horror. The sight that greeted her would forever be burned into her brain. Behind the sofa, scrawled in bold, red letters across the wall, were the words: GET OUT.
Jessica stumbled back onto the porch and scrambled to her SUV. She dug out her phone with trembling fingers and dialed 911.
“911 what’s your emergency?”
“Send help. Someone’s in my home!”
“What is your name and address, ma’am?”
Jessica couldn’t think, so great was her fear. It took her a minute to remember her address. “Jessica Nobles. I live at 221 Meadowbrook Circle. Please hurry!”
“Stay on the line with me, ma’am. The police are on the way, okay?”
“Okay,” Jessica breathed, her gaze darting around the darkness of her yard.
The dispatcher spoke again, her voice startling Jess. “Is the subject still in the house?”
“I don’t know. I ran out as soon as I saw the words on the wall.”
“Jessica? I need you to get some place safe. Do you have a neighbor’s house you can go to until the officers arrive?”
Not knowing which one of her neighbo
rs was responsible for the break in, Jess decided to stay put. “No. But I’m locked in my car.”
“Back out of the drive, Jessica. Move your car into the street under the lights.”
Jessica cranked her SUV, jerked the gearshift into reverse, and backed into the street. “Okay, I’m in the street now.”
“Alright, Jessica, make sure your car doors are locked and do not leave that vehicle for any reason before the officers get there. I’m going to stay on the line with you, alright?”
“Okay,” Jess whispered.
The sounds of typing and low speaking voices could be heard coming through the phone.
“Jessica?”
“Yes?”
“You mentioned some words on a wall. Can you tell me what they were?”
Jessica swallowed hard. “It said, GET OUT. And I think it was written in blood.”
“You’re doing good, Jessica. The officers are almost there.”
The sound of sirens could be heard turning the corner off the main road. “They’re close. I can hear them now.”
“Do you see them?”
Jess glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see blue and red flashing lights turning on to her street. “Yes, they’re here.”
“I’m going to disconnect with you now.”
Once the call ended, Jessica gripped her phone in her hand and jumped from the vehicle. She waited for the two patrol cars to stop next to her before approaching the closest one.
The officer spoke something into the mic attached to his shoulder and got out. “Mrs. Nobles?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Jessica told him step-by-step everything that had happened from the time she’d pulled into the drive, ending with, “…and that’s when I saw the writing on the wall.”
“Did you see anyone inside the home?” He slipped his gun free of its holster while the other office joined him.
Jessica shook her head. “No, I immediately ran.”
“Get back inside your vehicle while we check it out.”
Rushing around the side of her SUV, Jessica climbed back in and dialed Owen. She got his voicemail. “Owen, it’s me. Something has happened at the house. I need you to come home as soon as you get this message.”
A knock sounded on her window, nearly startling a scream from Jessica. She pressed the automatic button and lowered the glass to face Mrs. Hawthorn.
“What are the police doing here?” Marge breathed, her eyes huge in her face.
“We’ve had a break in.”
Marge slapped a hand over her mouth, her gaze darting toward Jessica’s house. She pulled her hand away. “Were you hurt?”
“I’m fine, it just scared the shit out of me.”
“Was anything taken?”
Jess shook her head. “I don’t know. I came home to find some words written on the wall. I haven’t been back inside to check for a possible theft.”
The officers picked that moment to step back outside. One of them spoke into his mic while the other approached Jessica’s SUV. “We need to take some pictures and dust for fingerprints before you can go inside. Do you have somewhere you can wait? It’s going to be a while.”
“She can wait at my place,” Marge offered, opening the door to the SUV. “I just live right there in the white house trimmed in black.”
The officer nodded his understanding and then met Jessica’s gaze. “Do you live here alone, ma’am?”
“No. My husband lives here with me.”
“Where is he tonight?”
Jessica didn’t know. “I’m not sure. I left him a message.”
“Alright. I’ll come get you when we’re done here so that you can do a walk through and make sure nothing’s missing.”
Jess watched him walk away, her stomach in knots. She glanced over at Mrs. Hawthorn. “I’m ready when you are.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Owen listened to Jessica’s message again as he turned onto Meadowbrook Circle. It took him a moment to make out her words and another to see the flashing lights coming from his front yard.
“Shit,” he whispered, his heart in his throat. Something had happened to Jess.
He stepped on the gas, speeding the rest of the way to the cul-de-sac. Throwing open his car door, he jumped out and sprinted up the drive. “Jess!”
A police officer quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his entrance into the house. “Whoa. Stand back, sir.”
“Where’s my wife?” Owen attempted to see around the officer.
“You live here?”
Owen met the officer’s gaze. “Yes, this is my home. Where is my wife?”
“She’s across the street at the neighbor’s house. We suggested she wait there until we finish processing the scene.”
Continuing to peer around the officer, Owen’s gaze landed on the words written on the wall. “What the hell?”
“Go wait with your wife, sir. We’ll be finished here shortly and then you can return home. She’s in the white house trimmed in black.”
Spinning around, Owen jogged back down the drive, across the street and into Mrs. Hawthorn’s yard. He rang the bell.
Marge Hawthorn opened the door, her face full of concern. “She’s in the kitchen. Come on in. I’ll put on some coffee.”
Owen thanked her and hurried inside.
A heavy-set man with graying hair sat at the kitchen table speaking to Jessica in a soothing tone. He stood when Owen entered the room. “I’ll just give y’all some time alone.”
“Thank you.” Owen immediately rushed to Jessica’s side, pulled her from her chair, and wrapped her tightly in his arms. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. God, Jess, are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Did you see what was written on the wall?”
Kissing the top of her head, Owen pulled back enough to look into her beautiful eyes. “I saw. Who the hell would do such a thing?”
“I’ll tell you who,” Marge piped in, stepping into the kitchen. She moved to the counter and picked up the coffee pot. “That Eustice Martin is who.”
Fury and helplessness warred inside Owen. He ambled to the opposite side of the counter to face Marge. “Did you see something?”
“No, but I didn’t need to. That Eustice is a snake in the grass. The whole neighborhood knows it.”
Owen glanced at his wife’s pale face before returning his attention to Marge. “But what would Eustice have to gain from breaking into our home?”
Marge shrugged. “Have you stepped on his toes in some way?”
“We called the police on him for knocking his wife around.”
“Well, there you have it,” Marge stated in a matter-of-fact way.
Owen inhaled the smell of the coffee that began brewing beneath his nose. “What about the people that previously owned our home? Did they ever have trouble with the Martins?”
“The Lovejoys? Not that I recall. Of course, they worked a lot, and so they weren’t home during the day much.”
Owen watched as Jessica eased over to the window and parted the blinds enough to see out. It tore at his heart to see her so fragile and afraid.
Once the coffee finished brewing, Marge poured them all a cup and then pushed Jessica’s toward the edge of the counter before handing one to Owen.
“Thank you.” Owen picked up Jessica’s coffee and moved to sit at the table.
Jessica joined him, wrapping her hands around the warmth of her cup and meeting Owen’s gaze. “This changes everything.”
Owen reached out and covered her hand with his. “I know. I’m so sorry, Jess.”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I no longer feel safe, Owen. He was in our home, touching our things…”
“We don’t know that it was him, Jess. It could have been some neighborhood kids or teenagers who got high and thought it would be funny.”
A spark of hope flashed in Jessica’s eyes. “Do you think so?”
He didn�
�t, but she didn’t need to know that. “If I were a betting man, my money would be on pranking teenagers.”
Nearly an hour passed before one of the officers knocked on the Hawthorn’s door to inform Owen and Jess that it was safe to return home.
They thanked Mrs. Hawthorn for her hospitality. Owen followed the officer across the street while Jessica moved her SUV into the drive.
Owen’s stomach clenched as he stepped over the threshold into his home and took in the words painted on his wall.
Jessica rushed inside, hurrying down the hall, obviously checking the rest of the house for thievery.
“Is that what I think it is?” Owen questioned one of the officers after nodding toward the graffiti.
“It definitely looks like blood. We took some samples to give to the lab. Hopefully, it’s not human.”
After another ten minutes of speaking with the officers, answering dozens of questions and assuring them he’d call if he found anything missing, Owen walked them to the door. “What happens now?”
“We’ll run any fingerprints we found along with the blood samples, and someone will be in touch.”
Owen gripped the back of his neck, attempting to relieve some of the tension forming there.
He thanked the officers for their help, closed the door behind them, and turned to stare at the bloody words written on the wall.
A thought entered his mind. Where had Jessica been for the past several hours? Did she know more about what had happened than she was letting on? Worse still, did she have something to do with it?
Guilt flooded Owen the longer he stood there thinking the worst. Of course Jess had nothing to do with it. Why would she stage something so horrific in her own home? Unless she no longer wishes to stay…
Owen went in search of his wife.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jessica looked up as Owen entered their bedroom. “Are the officers gone?”
Owen nodded. “I’ll clean up the wall before I go to bed. It may leave a stain, but nothing a touch up of paint won’t take care of.”
The Boy in the Window: A Psychological Thriller Page 8