CHAPTER 34 JESSALYN
JESSALYN
I’d escaped one nightmare, only to fall headlong into another. As I peeped between the drapes and spotted a hand holding a phone hovering above the fence, filming the house, I began wishing I’d stuck with the car camping. Sleeping in the back of the Altima would have been less stressful.
The police had just left, not only the officer I’d spoken with at the police station last week but a contingent of detectives and a full forensics team.
They’d rummaged through the house, bagged a bunch of stuff, and left the rest of the place in a mess.
Some of the items they’d taken were Justin’s, and others belonged to Melanie, plus they’d loaded both of his vehicles onto trucks and driven them away for further examination.
When Shiro growled at an officer, they’d threatened to take him away too, and yes, I’d freaking cried because my entire life had turned to crap and that was the last freaking straw.
Justin’s lawyer had told them to leave the dog alone, and I’d shut Shiro in my bathroom so he couldn’t get into any more trouble.
Oh, and then to add insult to injury, Special Agent Rimer followed me into my bedroom and acted all kind and caring.
And yes, I knew it was an act because how could she be genuine when she was being so mean to Justin?
Instead of accepting that he was a good man who’d spent the days after Amie’s disappearance helping me, she’d basically accused me of being brainwashed and suggested I was confused about the timings on the evening Amie went missing.
That maybe I’d shown up at Justin’s home a little later than I thought?
Or perhaps I’d been desperate and distracted and willing to overlook a few flaws to keep my meal ticket?
I might have been a poor judge of character when it came to men, and yes, I owed Justin for helping me, but I knew how to tell the freaking time.
Rimer handed me a tissue, and while I was wiping my eyes, she hit me with a zinger.
“Did you know there are two hours on the Friday morning after Amie disappeared when Justin can’t account for his whereabouts?”
“You mean the two hours he spent putting flowers on an old friend’s grave?”
He’d told me about it yesterday, as we ate a late dinner and tried to forget that our worlds were collapsing around our ears. Every so often, we heard a shout or a revving engine outside as chaos continued on the street. At one point, the police had arrived, and then we’d had sirens too.
Rimer raised an eyebrow. Surprised that Justin had been honest with me? Or shocked that he’d shown compassion by delivering an orchid for Ruby because pink had been her favourite colour?
“The two hours he spent putting flowers on his murdered roommate’s grave with no witnesses,” Rimer said.
“I saw him buy the plant. Does that count?”
“An orchid, right?”
“Yes, a pink one.”
“There was no orchid on Ms. Costello’s grave. We found a miniature rose and a mixed bouquet, but no orchid.”
No orchid? That… I didn’t know that part. Justin wouldn’t have lied to me about his visit to the cemetery, would he?
Would he?
“M-maybe someone took it. Justin visited over a week ago.”
“Why would someone take a plant?”
“Why would someone deliberately go on a trip with no alibi if he knew he was going to be a murder suspect?”
She snapped her fingers, and in that moment, I hated her. “Because he wasn’t really visiting a cemetery, Jessalyn. If you’re right about those timings last Wednesday evening, he had to find some other time to dispose of Amie’s body.”
I froze, but inside, I was shaking. “Have you l-l-lost your mind?”
“Think about it… Justin had a fight with Amie and killed her—it might even have been an accident—and he panicked and stashed her body in his truck. You arrived before he had a chance to dump it.”
“You think…you think he killed a woman, then came home and took a shower?”
“He was probably covered in blood.”
“There were no bloodstains on his laundry.”
“Did you check the trash?”
I bit my lip, because what was I supposed to say?
Of course I hadn’t checked the trash. His housekeeper had put it out for collection on Friday morning.
Lora was sweet and kind, and she’d told me Mr. Justin was a nice man.
Had the police interviewed her too? He’d given her paid time off rather than have her fight her way past the podcasters outside.
“You’re wrong about him,” I said, even as doubts warred with certainty. Where was that orchid?
“I don’t think I am. Ms. Packer, we can find somewhere better for you to stay. A safe house. Maybe even witness protection.” She dug around in her pocket. “Here, take my card. If you’re worried about anything—anything at all—you call me, okay?”
“Sure,” I said automatically, but I wouldn’t. No, as soon as she left, I closed the bedroom door, let Shiro out of the bathroom, and called Saylor. It was five a.m. in South Korea, but she’d told me to call any time if I needed her, and right now, I really needed her.
“Jess? One sec, one sec…” I heard rustling, and footsteps, and a door closing. “Sorry, sorry, Kevin’s asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him. You okay?”
“N-n-no.”
“Oh, man. What did that asshole do to you?”
“Which asshole do you mean?”
“Ridge. Or the new guy, anyone. Just tell me who I need to fight.”
“Uh, the police.”
“The police? Hell, they didn’t come after you for stealing Ridge’s car, did they?”
“No, it’s Justin. His PA is still missing, and they think he murdered her.”
There was the longest silence. Then, “Girl, run.”
“But I don’t think he did it.”
“You don’t think he did it?”
“Okay, okay, I realise that sounds bad. But I’m ninety-five percent sure he’s innocent.
” Yesterday, I’d been ninety-nine percent sure, but Special Agent Rimer had shaken me; I couldn’t deny that.
“The police came up with this crazy scenario and basically accused me of lying for free board and lodging.”
“Go on, hit me with the crazy scenario.”
“So they believe Justin left the office with his PA just before half past six on Wednesday, but he forgot some files and went back inside. That part’s on the security video, so I know it’s true.
But they say when he left again, he walked to his truck, which was parked in a different place from her car, and somehow, somehow, he managed to stop on the way home and kill her in a time window that was sixteen minutes max.
And instead of leaving the body where it was, or you know, burying it in the woods or something, he hid it in his truck for two freaking days. ”
“Huh. That does sound wild.”
“Exactly. So technically, I guess he could have done it, but…but… Saylor, he’s just really freaking nice.”
“They said that about Ted Bundy.”
“Oh, please. He isn’t Ted freaking Bundy. And last week, the police thought he dumped the body on his way home, but surprise, surprise, they haven’t found it, so now they’ve come up with a new story.” I sank onto the bed. “Their only evidence is a missing plant.”
“Come again?”
“On Friday morning, he said he was putting a plant on a friend’s grave; the police say he was disposing of Amie’s body. And just now, the detective told me that the plant isn’t on the grave; therefore, Justin must be guilty. She probably took it herself.”
“You think she’d do that?”
“I think she’s shifty and ungenuine. Is that even a word?”
“Probably? Weirdos steal stuff all the time. I used to live near this sweet old lady who volunteered at the hospital, and everyone loved her. She always used to bring candy for the nurses and flowers for the patients, but it turned out she was taking the candy from the Spend ’n’ Save and the flowers from the cemetery.
They caught her when she forgot to remove one of the sympathy cards. ”
“Ouch.”
“Worse than ouch. Whoever died must have had a sense of humour, because the card said ‘Life’s a dick—sometimes it just gets hard for no reason.’ And the guy who ended up with the flowers was being treated for complications following penis enlargement surgery.
My friend was a nurse on the surgical ward, and she said he started crying. ”
“Justin didn’t mention a card, so that’s something at least. This is a nightmare.”
“Your car got fixed, right? Can you find a motel for a few nights?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”
“Pack a bag. I can send you more money.”
“No, I mean I don’t know if I should leave.
A part of me is terrified to stay here because I have no idea what’s going to happen, but the street outside is full of crazies live-streaming for likes, and what if Ridge finds me in a motel?
I’d have to walk Shiro alone, and I’ll need to buy groceries, and how long will it even take for this to die down? ”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“And if I leave, what if I throw away the best thing ever to happen to me? Yes, I’ve only just met Justin, but he’s so easy to get along with. He’s kind, he’s generous, and he treats me like an actual person rather than the household help. And…and…he knows what a G-spot is.”
“Ohmigosh! You slept with him?”
“No. Yes? He did this thing with his tongue, and I didn’t just see stars, I saw a whole freaking galaxy.”
And I’d learned an important lesson. Justin Norquist was a giver.
On Monday night, he’d fallen asleep with me in his arms, and he hadn’t used my orgasm as a stepping stone to his own.
No, he’d focused on me, not himself. Which fit with everything else I’d seen—he’d taken me in off the street with barely a second thought, and Shiro too.
Violet said his exes took advantage of him, that his relationship with Melanie had been particularly unbalanced.
She’d taken everything he gave and still expected more.
I didn’t expect anything, but I was so incredibly grateful for everything he chose to give.
Especially an incredible orgasm.
“Ahhhh. So that’s why you made the comment about Ridge.”
“I know I shouldn’t have done it, but he never once made the effort.”
“It was a stroke of genius. Not only did you let the whole world know that Ridge is a loser, but you also got people talking about your new blog.”
“That wasn’t why I did it, I swear. I was just…angry.”
“As you should be. You spent more than six years with that jerk, and all you had to show for it was a black eye. He can pay for it with his reputation.”
“If he ever finds me, he’ll do more than give me bruises.”
“You’re seven states away. You should do a whole series of Ridge videos—serve up cocktail wieners with a side of shrivelled grapes and thank him for the inspo.”
“His head would literally explode.”
“Excellent—that would save you from hiring a divorce lawyer.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Watching him melt down in the comments is giving me life.”
“I couldn’t.” Could I? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him to stroke out. Hmm… “And I’m more worried about the Justin situation right now. What am I supposed to do?”
“You’re going to hope this story ends up as a Hallmark movie and not an episode of Dateline.”
“Saylor…”
“I know, I know.” She sighed. “Do you feel safe there?”
“I feel…I feel…unsettled. I’m not scared of Justin, but the crowd outside is getting bigger, and the police don’t seem to care.”
“They’re probably trying to get Justin to crack.”
“I think you’re right.”
The true-crime groupies had been all over the trails behind the house as well, but then one of them got run down by a horse.
Another lurking in the bushes scared the bejeezus out of the seniors’ Wednesday walking group, and Dottie Benedict got taken to the hospital with a twisted ankle and chest pains.
According to Marion, who was calling daily with updates and had also dropped off a bag of groceries—what a sweetheart—a “spirited discussion” had followed, and it turned out most of the seniors in Greenway Park had concealed carry permits.
So now the podcasters were congregating at the front of the property and steering clear of the forest at the rear.
“If he’s innocent, this will blow over soon. Are his friends still at the house?”
“They all left, but then some of them came back yesterday. The PI he hired has this crazy theory that Justin’s old roommate—the one who’s in prison for murder—framed Justin for Amie’s kidnapping to make himself look innocent.”
He’d told me about it last night when he crawled into bed.
So far, there hadn’t been a repeat of Monday night.
On Tuesday, he’d passed out on the couch, and I’d tucked a blanket over him.
On Wednesday, he’d been speaking with the lawyer until the early hours, which probably cost him a fortune if the guy’s rates were anything close to Ridge’s.
And then there was the body discussion. But we’d been sharing a bed, just falling asleep in each other’s arms, and that was okay.
I was actually grateful for the lack of pressure.
“That’s… I mean, yikes. Is the PI one of those conspiracy theory whackos?”
“If she is, then everyone else is drinking the same Kool-Aid. They went out to search for a body.”
“Wow.”
“You think I should leave?”
“I think you should trust your instincts this time.”
This time. I’d once confessed to Saylor that I’d said “no” to Ridge on at least twenty occasions before he wore me down.
Giving in had seemed like the easiest option.
He’d offered me everything I needed—help with probate, support with the insurance claims, a shoulder to cry on.
My friends said he was a catch, a charmer, and who wouldn’t want a sugar daddy?
Those same friends had melted away after our lavish wedding.
I’d declined several invites at Ridge’s behest, and they’d just stopped calling.
Instead, I’d found myself with a country club membership, and when I was due to return to college after my leave of absence, they’d questioned my sanity. Why would I want to waste time with food science when I could stay home and focus on being a wife and mother?
Eager to please and sluggish from antidepressants, I’d believed them.
And then I’d spent five years drowning in quicksand before I managed to claw myself out.
Never again.
Think, Jessie. Think.
Okay, worst-case scenario, Justin was guilty. He wouldn’t murder me in the house, would he? Not with an audience outside. His three ex-fiancées were still alive, and his friends—who knew him better than I did, or the police, or the overly judgmental podcasters—thought he was innocent.
Best-case scenario? Amie showed up alive tomorrow. She could be fine, just in the middle of a breakdown—I understood exactly how that felt—and all this drama was for nothing.
My instincts told me Justin was the man I’d been waiting my whole life to meet.
“I’m going to stay, at least for a while.”
“Make sure you check in with me every day.”
“I will, I promise.” Footsteps sounded in the hallway, the squeak of rubber sneakers on tile. “Justin’s coming.”
“Call me later, okay?”
“Wish me luck.”
“Good luck. You’ve got this, Jessie.”