Chapter 19
JESS
Even twenty-four hours later, it doesn’t feel real.
Whenever I have a quiet moment to actually think about it, it feels like I’m hearing about someone else’s story. Some terrible crime you read about on the news but blithely think, Oh, that could never happen to me.
But it did. And now I’m the one people will read about.
Me. Kidnapped and nearly killed by a serial killer who’s been living next door for years.
Unknowingly targeted just because I had the gall to start dating instead of hiding away like the insecure hermit I’d trained myself to be.
On the news I’m being referred to as a hero.
As the brave woman who took down a man suspected of killing at least half a dozen victims. Already I’ve received calls from four news outlets all requesting exclusive interviews, along with offers of money and all-expense-paid trips and promises of more media attention, if I want it .
I don’t.
I don’t want any of it.
I don’t want to talk about the terror I felt when I woke up in the trunk, or the despair that swept through me when I thought I might never see Kane again. I don’t want to recall those awful minutes when Adam carried me down into the silo, or the absolute panic when I realized his sinister intent.
And I really don’t want to talk about falling into the pit.
The icy water closing over me.
Kicking with all my strength just to stay afloat.
The pain that came with my frantic attempt to cut the rope around my wrists; knowing if I didn’t succeed, my chances of surviving would be even worse.
Seeing Adam floating there, his skull split open, both hoping and fearing that he was dead.
Knowing I was responsible for his death.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. As unsettling as it is—me, who hates to even kill a spider, dragging a man to a watery grave—I’d do it a hundred times over if it meant stopping Adam from killing again.
Does that mean I want to think about it?
No. And I definitely don’t want to go on national TV to share my gruesome story, complete with interviews from the families of the other missing women as they thank me for finally bringing them closure.
The police are still investigating, of course, but they found plenty of evidence at Adam’s house linking him to not just Eliza’s death, but those of five other women throughout the Northeast. And according to Kane—who didn’t want to talk to me about it, but I insisted—the prosecutor seems confident he’ll have plenty to close all the cases for good.
So I’m glad about that. I’m glad those poor families will finally get the answers they’ve been seeking for years, even if the outcomes aren’t what they hoped.
But selfishly, I wish I wasn’t the one who had to do it.
I wish I’d gone along with Kane’s suggestion of taking an extended leave of absence from my job until they found the person who was targeting me.
Then I would have been home yesterday—well, Kane’s house, but it feels more and more like my own—and we would have done our normal things once he got home like dinner and playing Tenebris Veil together and using the blindfold again like Kane promised.
But as I learned when I was eighteen, wishes are just that.
I couldn’t change what happened back then, just like I can’t now.
So as much as it sucks, I have to deal with my new reality that includes endless questions from the police and getting a new phone number to avoid all the intrusive calls and the nightmares that wake me up screaming in terror as I fall into the water over and over again.
“Jess, sweetheart, do you need another blanket?”
Kane jumps up from his spot beside me on the couch and hurries over to the ottoman, where he pulls a thick fleece blanket from inside it. With worry etched into his features, he tucks it around me before I can even answer, then takes my chilled hand between his.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, although admittedly, I am a little cold.
Not just from the reminder of my icy plunge, but the residual effects of mild hypothermia.
I was incredibly lucky it wasn’t worse. The doctor at the emergency room said if I’d been found ten minutes later, I might have lost consciousness and slipped beneath the surface.
“You don’t feel okay,” he retorts as he rubs my hand. “You feel cold. I told you to let me know if you needed anything.”
“You’ve been waiting on me all morning. I didn’t want to bug you again.”
“Jess.” Kane snugs both my blankets around me and lifts me onto his lap. “There is literally nothing you could do that would bug me. Want me to order a Michelin star meal from a restaurant in the city? Rub your feet for an hour? Hire someone to install a hot tub today? I’ll do anything you want.”
I kiss his cheek, feeling the brush of his stubble against my lips. “You don’t have to do any of that. I’m happy just sitting here with you.”
“Jess.” Emotion throbs in his voice. “I can’t tell you how lucky I feel to have you with me. Holding you in my arms. I—” He stops. Swallows hard. His eyes close for a moment before reopening to meet mine. “I’m just so damn glad you’re here.”
My throat goes thick. “Me too.”
Kane’s arms tighten around me and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
His chest rises and falls as he takes several deep breaths.
Then he looks down at me again. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want?
Are you hungry? It’s been a couple of hours since breakfast. I could make some sandwiches…
No. Soup would be better. And we have that stew Grant brought over from Scarlett. ”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’m not hungry yet.”
His gaze narrows as he inspects my face.
“What about your head?” The back of his knuckle grazes across the bruise on my cheek.
“Do you want to lie down in the bedroom for a while? Or I can grab one of those chilled eye masks Thea dropped off. What about another pain killer?” He checks his watch. “I think you’re just about due.”
“My head doesn’t feel that bad.” Mostly. Another fun souvenir from my adventure yesterday is a concussion from where Adam hit me, plus the residual dizziness, light sensitivity, and a headache that makes my head throb each time I move.
But I don’t see the point in mentioning all that to Kane. Not when he’s so worried already. And it’s not like he can magically make my concussion go away. Like the doctor said, unless I suddenly start throwing up or have blinding pain, all I can really do is wait it out.
“Jess.” Skepticism tinges his voice. “Are you just telling me you feel okay so I don’t worry?”
“Of course not.”
“You don’t have to hide things from me. I’m not going to freak out if you tell me your head is bothering you.”
This time I’m the one looking at him in disbelief.
“Fine,” Kane amends. “Maybe I’ll worry a little.”
I snort, which hurts my head, but I can’t help it.
“Can you blame me?” he asks. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. And I’d rather you tell me than keep it to yourself.” A beat, and then he busts out the one argument I can’t dispute. “If the positions were reversed and I was the one hurting, wouldn’t you want to know?”
“Yes,” I admit. “Of course I would.” A beat, and then, “Fine. I’m a little cold. And my head hurts a bit. But it’s nothing too bad. I don’t need to lay down or take another pain killer or have my feet rubbed for an hour. Really.”
“But you didn’t rule out the Michelin starred meal. Or the hot tub.”
“Kane. Do you even realize how much food we have here? I think everyone who visited brought something to eat. I think we’re stocked up on meals for a month, at least.”
Which makes me feel pretty awesome, when I think about it.
Ever since we got back home yesterday evening, we’ve had a steady stream of visitors bringing gifts and food and offers to help.
Thea and Ben stopped by with a huge gift basket filled with recovery supplies, as Thea called them, like the chilled eye masks and herbal teas and aromatherapy candles.
Grant came over loaded down with at least half a dozen casserole dishes from Scarlett and the promise to help build a fence around Kane’s house as soon as possible so I’d feel even safer.
Ari brought over a sweet stuffed bunny this morning, with the explanation, “I know you have Kane to snuggle with. But this guy is stuffed with lavender and he’s weighted to help with anxiety. So I thought he might help, too.”
And they weren’t the only ones who stopped by for a quick visit.
Cole and Zane came over once they got back from Plattsburgh to make sure I was okay.
Ian and Rose stopped by with muffins and pastries from the Hungry Horseman this morning.
Oliver and Shea brought over dinner from Antonio’s last night along with a gorgeous flowering plant that brightens the room.
Even Mrs. Plimpton got into the mix, knocking on the door at seven this morning with her own pile of casserole dishes to share. “You need anything,” she informed me, “don’t hesitate to ask. I know some of the people in this town are small-minded jerks, but they don’t speak for all of us.”
It’s kind of surreal, really.
All these years spent believing that no one liked me, that I’d never get out from underneath the shadow I created, and now I’m finally realizing the truth.
It wasn’t everyone.
I wasn’t a terrible person.
There are people who want me here.
“Jess?” Kane touches my chin, gently tipping my head up to look at him. “Are you sure you’re not hurting worse than you said?”
“I’m not. Why?”
He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “Because you have tears in your eyes.” Worry darkens his gaze. “Maybe we should go to the hospital just to be safe. Or I can call Scarlett to come over, since she’s a nurse, if you’re really set on not going.”
Am I crying?
I guess I am; a little. But it’s not from pain. It’s from the warmth filling my heart.
“It’s not that,” I assure him. “I was just thinking about everyone who came over. And everything I used to think about living in Sleepy Hollow.”