Chapter 11
Waiting for Eric to disappear around the corner, Jesse slammed shut the door and shoved home the heavy bolt. She was starting to worry that she’d have to hide under her bed to get a few hours of peace.
It’d been a long time since she’d lived in a small town where neighbors dropped by without warning. Plus, she now had a paint-spraying vandal who was lurking in the shadows and an overly zealous Realtor who were both trying to drive her out of town.
Ignoring the folder Reese had left on the table, Jesse headed to the back of the building and climbed the stairs to the private apartment. She wasn’t sure if it was lunchtime or not, but her stomach was rumbling. She needed food in her gut, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t multitask.
Jesse stepped into her bedroom to grab her laptop before entering the kitchen.
Then, she threw a frozen pizza into the oven and placed the computer on the table, pulling up the various websites offering a reverse image search.
She chose the free one and downloaded the photo of the birthday party she’d saved on her phone.
It was a long shot, but a long shot was better than no shot, right?
Letting the program do its thing, she gathered a paper plate and a bottle of water before pulling the pizza out of the oven and cutting it into small slices. She was starving, but she’d discovered over the past few weeks that it didn’t take much to satisfy her hunger.
A reaction to Parker insisting that she finally confront her past.
Once this was all over, she had full confidence her appetite would return.
Tossing a couple of slices on her plate, she carried it with her water to the table and settled in a chair in front of the computer.
There were several results that’d already popped up, but none looked promising. With a sigh, Jesse concentrated on her lunch before returning her attention to the computer and the dozen links that looked like advertisements or travel sites. What did that have to do with the people in the photo?
More annoyed than curious, Jesse at last clicked on the first link, not surprised when it took her to the website of a local gym.
“A waste of time,” she muttered, about to click out when her attention was captured by the image of a man with bleached blond hair and a square face that had the orangish hue of a fake tan. Beneath the photo was a banner:
Dixon Hooper, certified personal trainer. Call today to start living your best life! Walk-ins welcome.
At first she wasn’t sure why the photo had captured her attention, not until she looked back at the picture she’d uploaded and realized there was a remarkable resemblance between Dixon Hooper and the mystery boy.
Was this the dude who’d helped Bea during the birthday party? The one Victoria was glaring at as if he’d shit on her Louboutins?
It sure looked like the same person.
Certainly it was worth investigating.
Checking the gym hours, Jesse covered her pizza with a napkin and shoved it in the fridge before washing her hands and grabbing her purse.
Jesse was in high school when the gym first opened, but she’d never been there.
Probably because she’d never been a health nut.
More of a work-until-she-dropped-and-eat-junk-food kind of nut.
Half an hour later, she was across the bridge that spanned the Mississippi River and in Quincy, driving down Broadway.
She weaved her way through traffic before pulling into the parking lot of the shopping mall.
Angling through the marked spaces that looked depressingly deserted, she circled to the back.
There were a few more cars in the shaded area, but Jesse could remember when this place would be packed on a Sunday afternoon.
Either enjoying a movie or hanging out with friends at the food court.
Feeling weirdly old, Jesse entered the mall and headed toward the far end of the building. Her shoes squeaked on the tiled floor, echoing eerily against the shuttered storefronts. At last reaching the double glass doors, she pushed one open and stepped inside.
Long ago, this place was a roller rink, followed by a BBQ joint, and then a video game arcade.
Now it was a sleek, open facility with a surprising number of weight machines, ellipticals, and treadmills.
At the moment, there were only a handful of customers spotted around the gym, but she suspected it would quickly fill up once people started getting out of church or finishing lunch.
At her entrance, the blond-haired man she’d been hoping to find straightened from stacking the free weights in a corner and sauntered toward her with a smile he’d no doubt practiced in front of a mirror.
He was predictably buff, with a tee stretched tight over his broad chest and biker shorts that emphasized his bulging thighs. He only topped her by an inch, but he held his spine stiff, as if trying to appear taller.
“Welcome,” he murmured with a faint Southern accent, his gaze boldly sweeping down her body before returning to her bare arms. “Nice ink. That’s not local.”
“No.” She studied his features, which were handsome in a Neanderthal kind of way, trying to determine if this was the man in the picture. “Dixon Hooper?”
“You can call me Dix.”
“Hi, I’m Jesse Hudson. I was wondering if you have a minute for a couple of questions?”
He glanced toward the front desk, which was empty. She assumed there was a surveillance camera currently watching them.
“Sorry, but if it’s about exercise or training, you’ll have to book a session. Gym rules.”
“It’s not about training,” she assured him. “It’s personal.”
“Nice.” He stepped closer. “What’s up?”
Jesse ignored his flirtatious tone. He no doubt spent the bulk of his time hitting on the women who came to the gym.
“I was cleaning out my father’s bar and I found a picture of you.”
He looked perplexed. “A picture?”
Jesse suddenly realized how weird her words had sounded. “I thought you might want to see it. And since I was in the area …”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “I’ve been in a lot of bars. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“The Tap Room. In Canton.”
Something that might be bitterness darkened his pale eyes. “Ah. My less-than-glorious college days. Blew out my knee a week into my sophomore year and lost my baseball scholarship. I ended up working here.” He glanced down at his leg, which was marred by two long scars. “Been here ever since.”
“That sucks.”
“Not really.” He lifted his head, his bitterness replaced with resignation.
“I spent more time partying than going to class. I was only there for baseball, and when that was gone I was ready to bail. Although I don’t remember doing much partying at the Tap Room.
That was the place they always carded the students, right? ”
“Yeah, my dad was pretty strict.”
“So what’s the picture?”
Jesse pulled her phone out of her purse and tapped on the photo, zooming in on the mystery guy’s face.
“Is this you?”
Taking the phone, Dix’s brows lifted in surprise. “Yeah, that’s me. But I don’t remember this.” He glanced up with a puzzled expression. “Where was it taken?”
Excitement sizzled through Jesse. This was the dude from the picture, which meant this wasn’t a wild-goose chase. Of course it could still fizzle into a mire of unanswered questions. That seemed to be a depressing theme lately.
“It’s Lara Yost’s backyard,” she said. “Her husband is the chaplain at the college. This picture was taken during a birthday party for her daughter, Samantha, as well as my stepsister, Tegan.”
He shook his head. “I’m still clueless.”
“I think you were there to help Bea Hartman.”
Another shake of his head. “Who?”
“She owns the local diner.”
“Oh yeah.” His confusion cleared, as if he’d managed to dig up a distant memory.
“I was short of money that summer.” He snorted.
“Hell, I was always short of money. Still am. Anyway, my coach suggested I ask the old woman at the diner for a job that didn’t interfere with my training.
She was pretty cool about it. I mostly worked in the kitchen washing dishes, but she also asked me to do a few catering gigs. This must have been one of them.”
“But you don’t remember that day?” Jesse pressed.
“I don’t remember much from any of those days. I was probably stoned the whole time I was working. Sorry.”
She forced a fake smile, reaching to take her phone. “No worries.”
He held the phone out of reach, a smile that was supposed to be sexy plastered to his lips.
“I hope you didn’t come here just to show me this picture. I mean, I’m happy for any excuse to meet you, Jessica—”
“Jesse.”
“Close enough.”
“Not even.” She snatched the phone from his hand, rolling her eyes. Typical gym rat. She tapped the screen to zoom in on the image, framing Victoria’s face in the center. “I’m here because I was hoping you could tell me about this woman.”
He leaned forward as she turned the phone toward him. “Tell you what about her?”
“It looks like she’s glaring at you. As if the two of you had an argument.”
“Really?” He shook his head. “I have no idea. Like I said, I was probably toasted.” He straightened, looking bored. “Now, unless you’re interested in some up close and personal training, I need to get back to work.”
“That’s it.”
“A shame,” he murmured, about to turn away. Then, without warning, his brows snapped together, and he grabbed her wrist to prevent her from lowering the phone. “Wait.”
She forced herself to endure his touch.
“What is it?”
“I remember something from that day.” He nodded toward the phone. “This woman.”
“What about her?”
“I thought I recognized her.”
Jesse was confused. “You recognize her or you don’t?”
“I mean, when I saw her in Canton, she reminded me of someone I knew back home.”
Jesse’s breath tangled in her throat as a tiny seed of hope began to bloom. Had his caveman brain managed to dig up a nugget of information that might be helpful?
“Where’s back home?” She struggled to keep her tone casual.
“Little Rock, Arkansas.”