Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
Jasmine
T hree Weeks Later
“I’m really sorry,” I told Eric over the phone, feeling like shit, literally and figuratively that Friday morning. “I was really looking forward to seeing your parents again.”
“I already told you not to worry about it,” he said, his understanding and compassionate tone drifting through the phone line. “I’d rather you get your rest so you’re feeling better when I come home.”
Instead of being able to answer, a coughing fit shattered my lungs. Out of nowhere I’d caught some kind of virus. It had taken root in my chest, made my nose runny and my throat feel like I was in a constant state of swallowing razor blades. I was supposed to accompany Eric to visit his parents again for a long weekend, Friday through Monday, but there was no way I was going to survive the flight, let alone be safe enough to be around his parents.
“See?” he pointed out. “Please, rest. I’ll have Jeff bring by some soups and meds for you in a bit.”
A part of me warmed at his thoughtful, caring gesture. “You don’t—” cue massive coughing fit “—have to do that, Eric.”
“I know that I don’t, but I want to,” he insisted, and I knew he meant it. “Please, Jasmine. Rest. I’ll be in touch when I get back.”
When we disconnected the call, I did exactly what I was told. I bundled myself up in my bed covers, put on trashy reality TV, and let the first round of medication work its magic to put me to sleep…until I got a knock on my door that startled me awake.
Head stuffy, my mind groggy, I forced myself out of the bed to retrieve whatever Eric had Jeff pick up for me. It was probably a good thing that I hadn’t gone with Eric, if my wobbly, freshly birthed baby deer walk was any indication. I clearly had no business being upright, let alone conscious.
When I answered my door, Jeff was there, standing a respectful distance away as he handed me a brown bag. “All the items that Mr. Maxim requested. Soup for three days, as well as medication for your flu. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
“Thank you,” I managed in a hoarse voice.
I didn’t have the state of mind to even care whether or not I was going to like the soup. I just cared that I wouldn’t have to cook for myself.
The next few days were a blur of microwaved soup, rounds of medication, and enough reality TV to rot my brain irreparably. Every once in a while, I’d receive a message from Eric checking in on me, which helped to boost my spirits. The man was not chatty when it came to texts, which made me appreciate the effort all the more.
On the fourth day, Monday, I was beginning to feel better. When I got another knock on my door, I assumed that it was Jeff again, coming to deliver the next round of goodies. My stomach actually grumbled hungrily, a good sign that I was definitely on the mend. I wrapped myself in a robe and headed for the entry.
I was so certain it was Jeff that I didn’t even bother to look in the peephole. A careless mistake on my part when I opened the door and found James standing on the other side instead.
I stiffened, and my entire body flashed cold. My first instinct was to slam the door in his face, but I decided in that moment that I refused to cower or show fear where this man was concerned. I reminded myself that he held no power over me any longer, emotionally or physically.
I folded my arms over my chest and glared at him. “What are you doing here?”
He had the gall to smile, as though we were friends and hadn’t shared a tumultuous past. “I have something I think you’d be interested to see.”
I snorted. “There is absolutely nothing that you might have that I’d even be remotely interested in.”
“I suppose I deserve that,” he said, and hung his head almost…sheepishly. “But I thought you’d want to know that I found out who killed your parents.”
I gasped, those words filling me up with instantaneous shock, following quickly by disbelief. During one too many glasses of wine one night on one of our first few dates, I’d confided in James about what happened to my parents, the hit and run and the fact that nobody had ever been held accountable.
My mind raced, and while I was trying to process what James had just told me, he took that opportunity to stroll right past me and into my apartment. Leaving the door open because I didn’t trust him and his motives, I followed him a few feet inside.
“I…I don’t believe you,” I stammered, hating that slip of emotion. “You need to leave, now, before I call the police.” Unfortunately, I’d left my cell phone in the bedroom, and that was not a place I was comfortable leading this man in order to retrieve the device.
“It’s all right here,” he said, showing me the manilla envelope he had in his hand. “The reports, who actually killed your parents, the cover up…”
God, this felt like a cruel joke, which was right up James’ alley. Yet my heart pounded in my chest, the smallest glimmer of hope warring with my better judgement. “That’s impossible.”
“No, not really,” he said, meeting my gaze. “Not when you have enough money to cover things up and make them disappear. I promise, it’s all right here for you to read.”
Still not trusting anything he said, I narrowed my gaze on him. “Why would you do this for me?”
“Let’s consider it a truce.” He flashed a gregarious smile.
James had the ability to be charming when he wanted to be, and he did so now, but I was still wary of his motives. “Are you even capable of a truce, James?”
He shrugged. “When I’m motivated, yes.”
Before I could ask what he meant by that, I jumped at the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat behind me.
“Everything okay here, ma’am?” Jeff asked.
I turned around, seeing the frown on Jeff’s face as he glanced from James, then back to me, a paper bag from a nearby market in his hand. I’d been so engrossed in the possibility of finally discovering who’d killed my parents that I hadn’t heard him arrive.
I was unsure how much of the conversation he’d overheard, not that it mattered, and sought to reassure him. “I’m fine, Jeff. Thank you.” Then I faced the other man still standing in my apartment and said more firmly, “You need to leave, James.”
“Okay,” he said agreeably, and set the envelope on my kitchen table, giving it a little tap with his finger. “I’ll leave this here for you. It’s yours to do with as you please.”
James strolled past Jeff, nodding amicably at the younger man as he headed out the door. Jeff quietly set the bag of groceries on the table next to the envelope.
The last thing I wanted was this encounter with James to get back to Eric before I could tell him myself. Before I even knew what was inside that envelope. “Can we please keep that other visitor between us, for now?” I asked Jeff.
He gave a nod, a bit of conflict in his eyes. “If you need anything else, just let me know,” he said, and then he was gone, too, leaving me alone with the desperate longing to know who was responsible for my parent’s death.
My stomach was in knots, but my heart was filled with hope. I wanted to believe James, even though I didn’t trust him. There was only one way to find out if the truth was inside the manilla envelope.
I reached for the packet and opened it.