Chapter 3 #2
As much as she wanted to cling to the belief that her dad needed time and space to reconcile himself to the strange disappearance of his wife and stepdaughter, there was no way he wouldn’t have reached out to contact her.
Which meant he had to be dead.
Either whoever was responsible for making Victoria and Tegan disappear had lured him away from the courthouse and murdered him. Or Victoria had returned and been the one to kill him and dispose of his body.
Why anyone would hurt him was a question she couldn’t answer. But she couldn’t continue to wallow in the endless guilt and nagging questions. She had to make a clean break or go mad.
Driving the thirty miles to Quincy, the closest town with a big box store, Jesse loaded up on supplies before returning to the Tap Room and throwing herself into a flurry of cleaning. Surely if she kept herself busy, she could block out the memories? Both good and bad.
By nine o’clock she was exhausted. Thankfully, she managed to get rid of the top layer of grime from the public rooms, and for the most part she’d kept herself focused on her task. A major achievement. She wasn’t going to dwell on how many layers she still had to go through.
Climbing the back staircase, she headed to the third floor.
She’d instinctively chosen her old bedroom when she’d first arrived.
The master bedroom would always belong to her father, and she hadn’t been in Tegan’s room since the girl disappeared.
It just felt wrong to invade her privacy. Even if she was dead.
She soaked her sore muscles in a hot bath before pulling on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
Usually this would be the time she’d be arriving for her shift at the club, preparing for a long night of serving drinks and fending off drunken creepers.
Tonight, she hoped her exhaustion would allow her to fall asleep despite the early hour.
Pulling back the covers that she’d washed when she’d first arrived in town, she was about to slide into bed when the sound of three heavy knocks echoed through the silence. Jesse froze, her breath tangled in her throat as she counted to five. Then, on cue, there was another loud knock.
Her breath burst out with a harsh gasp.
Her dad.
That was his knock. The one he used when she was young to let her know it was him if he forgot his keys. Or if he was carrying in supplies and needed a hand. She was never supposed to open the door unless she knew it was him.
No one else knew that knock.
No one.
Not giving herself time to think, Jesse vaulted down the stairs, taking them two at a time as she hit the foyer in less than a minute. Yanking open the back door, she gazed into the darkness that shrouded the alleyway.
What the hell?
There was a part of her that had dared to hope for just a second that her dad would be standing there. Even after all this time. But there was no one.
Not even a stray cat that might have turned over a trash can.
Jesse stepped out, wincing at the gravel that dug into her bare feet. If she’d been asleep she might have accepted that the knock was a figment of her imagination. But she’d heard it. Loud and clear.
Which meant that someone had been there. Someone real. So where were they?
Glancing from side to side, Jesse searched for any sign of movement.
There were no streetlights back here, but she could make out the dumpster behind Bea’s restaurant and, closer to her, the Tap Room’s rusting air-conditioning unit, which was tilted at a precarious angle.
Another problem she needed to deal with, but tonight she only cared about the fact that there was no one around.
The downtown was settled in for the night with nothing to see or hear but the proverbial cricket.
Was someone trying to scare her? Not everyone in town was convinced her dad was innocent of his wife’s disappearance, and they’d occasionally harassed Jesse when she was running the bar.
Word of her return was no doubt circulating through the gossip pipeline.
Were they hoping to run her out of town?
Maybe it was just kids messing around.
But how would they know that specific knock?
Shivering despite the heat, Jesse took another step forward. Wait. Was there something …
A screech of terror was wrenched from her lips as a harsh, grinding noise exploded behind her.
Whirling around in horror, she prepared to fight off a demon.
Instead, there was nothing more threatening than the ancient air conditioner that was rattling to life, the motor belching and the blades whirling in a shrill protest.
Shit.
She pressed a hand to the center of her chest.
The stupid thing had nearly given her a heart attack.
Obviously she was too on edge to think clearly. With a curse, she stepped back into the foyer and slammed shut the door, making sure it was locked and bolted.
Tomorrow she’d do a closer investigation of the area.
Someone had been out there.
She’d bet her life on it.
Unfortunately, her plan to inspect the alleyway bright and early was delayed by her restless night.
It was almost dawn when she finally fell into a deep sleep, which meant that she’d struggled to drag herself out of bed in time to pull on a pair of clean jeans and a sleeveless yellow sweater that didn’t need to be ironed before heading to her meeting with the lawyer.
Jogging the three blocks north, Jesse halted outside the low, gray brick building with a double-glass door painted with WALKER & WALKER Law Offices in bold black letters.
Interesting. When her father hired Eric Walker to take his case there had only been one Walker.
She assumed that he had a son or daughter who had joined the firm since then.
With a shrug, Jesse pulled open the door and stepped into the hushed lobby, which was decorated in the same muted gray as the outside bricks. There was a white leather couch with matching leather chairs, along with a round table stacked with old magazines.
“Welcome home, Jesse.”
Jesse turned toward the reception desk where a young woman with curly brown hair and deeply tanned skin was smiling at her as if they were long-lost friends.
It took a second for Jesse to sift through her memories before she plucked out the image of a young girl running through the cramped apartment above the Tap Room, and tagging along when Jesse was forced to drive her stepsister to the movies. Samantha Yost. Tegan’s best friend.
Without warning, a sharp-edged guilt sliced through her.
She wasn’t proud of the resentment she’d harbored when Victoria and Tegan moved into the apartment.
She’d never wanted them there, and during the stormy two years of her dad’s marriage, she’d done her best to make the younger girl feel unwelcome.
Not that Tegan had made it easy. The girl was spoiled rotten and jealous of Jesse’s tight relationship with her father. She indulged in epic tantrums and demanded constant attention, even making herself sick to gain sympathy.
Honestly, Jesse did her best to avoid being in the same room with her.
Now …
Swallowing a sigh, she forced a smile to her lips. “Hi, Samantha. How are you?”
“Can’t complain.” The receptionist shrugged. “I mean I do, but I shouldn’t.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Jesse nodded toward the framed picture on the desk that showed Samantha in a white wedding gown with a beaming young man standing next to her. It looked recent. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” The receptionist lifted her hand to flash a modest diamond ring. “I’m now officially Samantha Walker. I married Caleb, Eric’s son, after he graduated from law school last year. He always planned to return to Canton so he could work here with his dad and we could settle down together.”
“That explains the Walker and Walker on the door.”
Samantha looked pleased. “A full partner.”
“That’s nice,” Jesse murmured, not pointing out the fact that they hadn’t added an extra Walker on the window for her. Jesse hoped they at least paid the girl a decent salary.
Blissfully unaware of Jesse’s jaded concern, Samantha pointed toward the door behind her.
“Mr. Walker is ready for you. Just go on through.”
With a small wave, Jesse walked past the desk and opened the door to the main office.
Like most small-town lawyers, Eric Walker was a general practitioner who took care of everything from contracts to personal injury claims. He’d been the first call that Mac Hudson had made after discovering he was the prime suspect in his wife’s disappearance.
Eric had agreed to represent him, although he’d made it clear that if her father’s case went to trial, they would have to hire a seasoned defense attorney.
Thankfully, that hadn’t been necessary.
He’d also been Mac Hudson’s estate planner. Which was why she was there. Who better to help her navigate the legal maze to get a death certificate?
Entering the large office, she closed the door and crossed the silver carpet to shake the hand of Eric, who leaned across his desk with an outstretched arm.
He was a nice-looking guy closer to sixty than fifty, with brown hair brushed from his narrow face and shrewd green eyes.
He was wearing a crisp white shirt that was unbuttoned at the throat and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and slate gray slacks that matched the jacket tossed around the back of his office chair.
Jesse hadn’t decided whether his air of dependability was natural or taught at law school. Either way, he’d kept Jesse from panicking after her father was arrested.
“Jesse.” He held on to her hand, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe. “How are you?”
“Busy,” she admitted. “I didn’t realize how much work the Tap Room was going to need.”
“If you need to reschedule—”