The House Across The Street

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  Pulling into the multi-unit community, I searched for his building number. Seeing his old Dodge Charger first, I pulled up to building number five, climbed a set of stairs to apartment number twenty-three and knocked on the door. Imagine my surprise when a woman answered.

  My confused eyes darted to the number on the door and then landed back on the woman. “Oh, I must have the wrong apartment. I was looking for Jackson Barnes. By chance, do you know him?”

  “We live together,” she replied, turning her neck around and shouting, “Jackson … someone is here asking about you.”

  Live together. The words spun around in my head like a heavy-duty spin cycle on a washing machine. Without waiting for an invitation, I barged in and begin an inspection. The whole apartment could be viewed from the entrance. To my right, there was a tiny living room, separated by a tiny kitchen and a tiny dinette area. In front of me was a tiny bathroom and to my left there was ONE tiny bedroom, with ONE tiny bed. Yes, they lived together.

  It suddenly dawned on me that I had been a fool. Jackson had been assigned to surveil the house across the street. My house provided him with a nice warm location to work from. And I was handy. Available. That was the word bounding to the forefront of my mind. Used made its presence known. Stupid also reared up and slapped me in the face.

  “What did you say Veronica,” Jackson yelled from his closet … their closet. He stepped out, carrying several shirts and caught my eye. “Rachel, what are you doing here?” he asked, a stunned look clouding his expression.

  At first, I gave him a barbed look and said nothing, letting him know I wasn’t taking well to Veronica’s presence. My eyes filled with contempt, anger and yes, even hurt. Then a volcano erupted, and fury spewed out. My mouth ricocheted from dead silence to jumping down his throat as words began pouring out and my uncontrollable arms began flailing all over. “You asshole,” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “You’re living with someone?! How dare you! I can’t believe I let you con me into having sex with you. Was I just a piece of convenient ass for you? A conquest! Another notch on your bedpost! Was I only a big joke to you? Were you just planning on dumping me and coming back to Veronica?” I tossed her a hateful look from where she was eyeballing my theatrics from the living room. My eyelids reduced themselves to narrow slits, barely able to see Jackson. “Don’t bother with those clothes because I never want to see your face again,” I bellowed, my words having a harsh, cruel edge on them.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw and his Adam’s apple bobbled. “Rachel, please. You’ve got this all wrong.”

  My eyes zoomed around the apartment and landed on his ONE bedroom. “I don’t think so. Don’t ever contact me again.” My eyes burned, holding back tears I refused to shed. I found myself on the verge of falling apart and bawling right in front of him. And this wasn’t something I wasn’t about to let happen. Forcing myself to stand taller and steeling myself against the pain stabbing through my heart, I told myself to walk out with my head held high. Pushing past him, I bounded down the steps, taking them two at a time and hauled butt to my car like a marathon runner. Not waiting to buckle my seat belt, I peeled out of the complex and drove to the nearest parking lot. There, I had myself a good cry. And as soon as I could see, I worked my way home, where I had another cry.

  Telling myself to get over it and move on, I heated up some leftover spaghetti and meatballs and tried to stuff it down my throat. I had let Jackson get to me. In only a short time, I’d developed feelings for him. Anger raged inside me for letting myself be so vulnerable. He frustrated the hell out of me, and I was taking it out on my food, angrily cutting my spaghetti into minuscule pieces. Unable to stomach it, I pushed it back and stared out the window, noticing a dark gray Silverado pulling into the driveway. Shit, that’s all I needed right now … another client who had procrastinated on their tax return. When I looked again, I saw it was Jackson. Shit, now that was all I needed right now.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Jackson

  I have changed into a pair of Khaki slacks and put on one of my nice dress shirts. With my freshly shaved face and my new haircut, I am looking my best. I have also rehearsed a speech, hoping to curtail my mouth from saying stupid stuff that won’t help me win back Rachel.

  With a deep breath, I knock on her door, fear rising in the pit of my stomach. I should have told her about Veronica before now. My delay in being forthright about living with a woman will go against me. Too late, I know I have been nothing but a stupid fool. My brain warns me of the risk of rejection, an emotion my heart will not be able to bear. The very thought causes a tortured groan to rise in the back of my throat. I am prepared to grovel, beg, plead, and make all kinds of promises. I will do whatever it takes because Rachel is my everything and I cannot lose her.

  “Go away,” she yells from the other side of the door. “What didn’t you understand about my never wanting to see your face again?”

  “Rachel, please. Let me inside and we’ll talk.”

  “I don’t want to hear your lies,” she snaps.

  “Veronica isn’t my girlfriend. I’m sure it seems that way.” I pause thinking how much deeper the hole is about to become. “I met her one night on a prostitution setup. We were busting johns. She started crying and telling me it was her first time and she didn’t have anywhere to go.” I swallow hard, listening to my stupid self. “I brought her home with me and she has been there ever since.” I pause when I don’t hear any yelling. “She just lives there … that’s all.”

  “Are you screwing her … while she just lives there?” Rachel astutely asks.

  “Yes … I was,” I answer truthfully. “But not since I’ve met you. And it really hasn’t ever meant anything to me.” Yeah, that will go over well. “Rachel, please open the door so I can explain this face-to-face.”

  “I think I’ve heard enough. You can go now,” she spouts back.

  God, she is going to make me work for this. “Rachel, I’ve always been a womanizer. I’ve never been in a commitment in my whole life. You were right about me wanting another notch in my bedpost. To be honest, when I first saw you, all I wanted to do was bang your ass. But you changed everything once I got to know you. At first, I didn’t know what was happening to me, other than I was behaving strangely and thinking thoughts that weren’t normal for me. But suddenly, I didn’t want to just toss you on the bed and bang the hell out of you.” I pause wondering if this is true. “Okay, I did always want to bang the hell out you. But now it’s more than simply obsessing about having sex with you and more about wanting you. Rachel, I wish I could make you understand how significant that is for me. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted to hold next to me. I love nuzzling my nose into your hair and drifting sweet kisses over your neck. It’s a weird and confusing feeling of contentment I am yet to completely comprehend. All I know is that you make me feel warm and pleasant and I like it. Rob says I am smitten. I didn’t want to believe him. It sounded utterly ridiculous. But now I know that he is right. I am falling in love with you.” I pause because I have just uttered those powerfully magic words … maybe not exactly … but I was hoping the door would fly open and she would launch herself into my arms, echoing her “I’m falling in love with you” back at me. “Rachel?” My God is she even still there, or am I pouring my heart out to a closed door?

  “I’m listening,” I hear her finally say, noting her tone is softening a bit.

  Damn. What I already said was twisting my innards inside out. Talking about my feelings and shit, doesn’t come easily to me, especially not to her. She already has my emotions in a whirlwind and now she wants more? “I want to be near you,” I offer but I know this sounds too shallow. “Rachel, the truth is I yearn for you so deeply my heart aches to the point of breaking.” Okay, I might be going overboard a little bit, but I do think she’s the one. “The thought of another second without you is too much to bear.” Now I’m wondering if this sounds contrived and a little too over-the-top. But if I’m be
ing honest with myself, I may have loved Rachel since the first time I laid eyes on her. I pause for a moment, feeling massive explosions in my heart because, yes, I do love Rachel. I love her. And right now, I know, if I stand any chance at all, I need to tell her. “Rachel, I’m here because I … I love you.” It is the first time I have ever said that to a woman and the words choke in my throat and cause me to tremble and my legs are going weak. But I did it. I said those three exact words and I hope it will make a difference. My brain processes what my heart already knows and suddenly I feel empowered. “Rachel, I love you,” I say more solidly this time and, feeling stronger, I add, “You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted. My life wouldn’t be complete without you in it. Rachel, I love you so much.” God, I hope she knows how much that took. For a frozen moment I stand there looking at a damn closed door.

  Suddenly it springs open. And then it happens.

  “I love you. I love you too Jackson.”

  She does exactly what I envisioned and launches herself into my arms. Rachel, in three little words, has shot a warm ray of sunshine into my soul and made me deliriously happy. My heart swells and my entire body trembles. When I take her into my arms, I am the happiest man on the face of this earth.

  Walking her backward inside, holding her against me, I kick the door closed with my foot and lock it with one hand. Our happy reunion quickly changes to one of primal hunger. Our needy mouths crash against each other. The raw sound of my own lust blends with her gasps of pleasure.

  “Oh Jackson,” she pants, filling my ears with the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard. And when she looks at me with her sparkling blue eyes, my heart cracks open.

  My loneliness has been because I want someone to love me. I realize this someone is Rachel. And right now, I am an incredibly lucky man because Rachel is the forgiving type and she is willing to allow me a space in her heart. I vow silently to myself that I will not screw this up. Rachel will be my forever girl.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Jackson

  As far as productivity goes, Rachel and I haven’t accomplished a damned thing. She was going to deliver a few more tax returns and I was going to stay on top of the search warrant. Instead we have spent the entire afternoon making love. But then again, what better way to spend the time?

  It is late Friday afternoon and I have blown my chance at getting the search warrant. Most likely it’ll have to wait until Monday unless exigent circumstances deem it necessary for a judge to sign off on the paperwork during the weekend. It is not likely.

  Rachel and I decide to go out to dinner together. After skipping lunch and indulging in amazing sex, we are both starving. I am excited about our second date. That’s right, second date. Walking her to her bedroom door didn’t really count. It was just to show a little restraint before kissing her. But I am still counting the comedy club.

  “Whose truck are you in?” she brings up, remembering I arrived in a gray Silverado. “Mine. The Dodge Charger is a decoy for when I’m undercover.”

  “Oh, that makes sense,” she decides.

  She gets herself all dolled up and I tell her we’ll go anywhere she likes. She chooses a seafood place not far away because she says they have great lobster. I cringe a little because I have a fried hush puppy pocketbook. Does she think because I have a decent vehicle I am also made of money? I can’t help being a little nervous. What if she realizes I’m poor and decides to leave me for someone with a more prestigious job and a higher paycheck? Then again, she saw my W-2. She knows I’m less than financially solid.

  “I have a two-for-one coupon,” she says, checking her purse to make sure she has it on her.

  “Here, I’ll hold onto it for us,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief, knowing I won’t have to wash dishes to get us out of the place.

  I volunteer my truck as transportation. A few minutes later, we are seated at a quaint table in the corner of a dimly lit restaurant. Soft music is playing in the background and a lit candle sends a glow across Rachel’s beautiful features.

  “This coupon is still in effect, correct?” I ask the waiter, noting the white tablecloth which is a sure sign of an expensive tab.

  “Yes sir. The coupon goes out monthly in the voucher package,” he assures me as he fills crystal goblets with sparkling water.

  We both order the twin lobster tails, with loaded baked potatoes and house salads. Rachel is sitting opposite me and we are holding hands across the table. When I look into her blue, almond-shaped eyes, in my brain and in my gut, I know she is the one for me. I am glad today forced the issues. Now our feelings for each other have been exposed and we don’t have to wonder or worry. All cards are on the table. It is like the saying goes, “sometimes things happen for a reason.”

  My phone interrupts my thoughts and when I stretch my leg out and fish it from my pocket, I see Rob’s name on the caller display. “Hey,” I say in introduction.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” he says, skipping all pleasantries.

  “What?” I ask, straightening up in my seat and sharpening my ears.

  “The preliminary results are in on the autopsy,” he says and then stops to drag out the damned drama.

  “Go on,” I anxiously huff out.

  “Eugene Smith had ice crystals in his heart tissue.”

  “Well it was freezing when he disappeared, not to mention he was found in the cold river,” I point out.

  “All true,” he agrees. “But get this – and bear in mind I’m not a medical expert so I may repeat this incorrectly – the Medical Examiner says the body is about sixty percent water, and the brain is even more. According to him, if a body is frozen, it takes on a crystalline structure and, based on his results, Eugene Smith suffered a harsh blow to the head, then he was stuffed in a freezer for a few days, and then he was dumped into the Trinity.”

  “You’re shitting me,” I say, just as the fancy waiter places a loaf of bread on the table.

  “I mean, are you certain?” I rephrase, refining my mouth.

  “Hell yeah, why would I shit you?” he says back, not understanding I am in a highfalutin restaurant.

  “We both know it was Dawson’s freezer. Do you think this is enough to get the search warrant?” I cross my fingers and hope.

  “I called Sutton and he isn’t optimistic. He pointed out, just because Eugene Smith was placed into a freezer, it doesn’t mean it was the one belonging to Jarrod Dawson. We don’t have anything connecting Dawson to the crime, other than Rachel taking a picture of his empty cold storage chest. We need the insurance company to produce evidence of a policy linking Dawson to Smith for some ulterior purpose. We both know it’s not going to happen until business hours on Monday, possibly even Tuesday depending on how quickly the insurance company gets back to us.”

  “Jesus, it seems like we have plenty.”

  “I know,” Rob sympathizes. “But just because he wrote some insurance policies and has a chest freezer, doesn’t make him a murderer.”

  “What about the picture of him with Rachel’s husband? We know they weren’t exchanging Christmas cards.”

  “We don’t know what they were doing. The two of them being seen together doesn’t mean anything. For all we know he may have hired Dawson to take pictures of you with Rachel to get a better divorce settlement.”

  “Then I’ll get something else,” I say with fierce determination, balling my hand into a fist. I will not sit idly by and let that ruthless man kill my Rachel. And for that matter, I’m not allowing Richard the chance either.

  Chapter Sixty

  Rachel

  When Jackson asked me out to dinner, I wanted our first date to be somewhere especially nice. Yes, our first date. I wasn’t counting our walks to the door, or even the comedy club, though it probably was. This place was upscale and expensive, but with a half-off coupon it would ease Jackson’s pocketbook. Jackson wasn’t wealthy like Richard. My eyes were wide open as to the limited perks Jackson could afford. Financially, he wou
ld provide me with much less than I have been accustomed to, but it was the wealth of caring and nurturing that would be fulfilling. I was already aware that Jackson was the opposite of Richard. And for those reasons, I was excitedly looking forward to being with him.

  Right now, he was on the phone with Rob, and from the sound of their discussion I knew the detectives didn’t feel they had enough for a search warrant. Hopefully, the insurance company would provide the missing blanks on Monday. Maybe Dawson would even roll over on whatever it was Richard was up to and those plans for me would be foiled too. With any luck at all, this would all soon be behind us.

  As the meal progressed, Jackson explained in more detail about Veronica. He also admitted to having slept with a lot of women in the past. Thankfully, he was recently tested for any sexual diseases. Being on birth control, and not knowing he had been such a cad, I hadn’t considered using a prophylactic when we had sex. In a way, it eased my mind to learn he had only been with Veronica for the last several months. And, amazingly, after hearing his full side of the story, my overall conclusion was in believing Jackson had a big heart. I saw no reason to doubt that he had taken Veronica in when she needed a place to stay and he’d been helping her out. He was going to continue to pay his apartment rent, but with a deadline for her to find a job and begin standing on her own two feet. Though I might be stupid, I found it admirable. It really didn’t matter in the long run. Jackson and I were either committed to each other, or we weren’t. There were no guarantees when it came to love, but we’d decided to give our relationship a whirl. Hopefully neither of us would disappoint the other. And either way, we intended to have a lot of fun together on our journey.

  After a delicious meal we had returned home and now we were watching the ten o’clock news.