46. Jessica
September, Present Day
Maple Ridge
My phone pingsnext to me on Troy’s desk.
Emily: I’m outside the door.
Me: Be right there.
I grab Bailey’s leash from on top of a small pile of architect journals, click it onto her collar, and retrieve my purse from the bottom desk drawer. The sky outside the window is blue with a few wispy clouds streaked across it.
I walk through the reception area where I normally would be working and unlock the door. Emily is waiting for us in the brightly lit hallway.
She’s not the only one there.
“Hey, Kellan. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” I smile at him. He nods back.
“Mr. Talkative insisted on joining us on our grocery shopping trip.” Amusement and the equivalent of a hearty eye roll wraps around Emily’s tone.
He grunts. “Needed to stretch my legs.”
“Of course you did,” she deadpans.
I bite back a laugh, enjoying the show. “Don’t blame him. I’m sure Troy’s responsible for him being here.”
Kellan grunts again, which I take to be an affirmative.
We leave the building and walk toward the grocery store. The sidewalk and streets are busy with people checking out the shops or searching for a place to park. It’s early afternoon. Prime tourist time.
“Kellan, Emily!” an older woman’s voice calls out behind us. The pair stop and turn next to a giant concrete planter on the sidewalk. It’s filled with a collection of fuchsia, purple, and white flowers that still look great even though we’re in the final days of August.
I also turn and instruct Bailey to sit.
A woman shuffles in our direction, appearing a little out of breath. She’s wearing a bright Hawaiian-print sundress that hugs her generous curves. Wisps of white hair have fallen loose from her low bun.
“Hi, Mrs. Davies,” Emily says, smiling as if she’s talking to a favorite grandmother.
Kellan nods at the woman. His expression holds a softness most people normally don’t see on him and an almost-there smile.
“How are my two prize students doing?” Without waiting for them to reply, she breaks into a story about her granddaughter’s trip to the Portland Zoo. “Suzi was so excited to see the elephants, it was impossible to pry her away from the exhibit.” Mrs. Davies barely pauses to take a breath the entire time.
“Excuse me.” A faded accent—Aussie, maybe?—loops around the vowels of a male voice.
At hearing it, the flash of a memory assaults me from the night everything changed for me. Of an argument. My husband saying something about an insurance policy. An accent. British? Australian? Something close to them? I have no idea what the memory means—and it’s gone as quickly as it came.
I turn my head and find a man standing slightly behind me in jeans, sneakers, and a plain hunter green T-shirt. A dark five o’clock shadow covers his jaw, enhancing his rugged good looks. His kind eyes don’t hurt either. Something about him seems familiar. Like he’s one of those male models on the cover of a romance novel or an underwear ad. He probably isn’t. He just has that appearance to him.
“Yes?” I ask, turning fully to him. Behind me, Mrs. Davies is still chatting about her trip to the zoo with her granddaughter.
“Have you seen a little girl in the past few minutes? She’s eight years old with two blond braids and is with her mother. I stepped into that store for a moment.” He points at the clothing store that caters to outdoor adventurers and tourists. “They were gone when I got out. Which probably means they went into one of the other stores.”
“I haven’t. Sorry.” I glance down the sidewalk in case I can spot her—never mind that his height puts him at a greater advantage to see them. He must be at least six feet.
“Thanks. Guess I’ll just have to check inside all the shops.” Amusement crinkles the corners of his laughing brown eyes. “Just thought I could save time.” He turns to leave. “Oh, there they are. Thank you!” He strides off after a young girl with braids and a woman in a sundress. They’re heading in the opposite direction to us.
“And that’s why I will always be a big fan of support dogs,” Mrs. Davies says, and I swivel to her. Seems like we have something in common.
“This is Kellan’s and my friend, Jessica,” Emily tells her. “And her dog, Bailey.”
Mrs. Davies’s eyes widen, but her surprised expression doesn’t morph into the one I dread every time I see a protester outside my house. There’s no condemnation—just an open curiosity. Not the sort of curiosity you have for a caged animal in the zoo, with a small amount of fear for the damage its fangs could do if sunk into flesh. It’s a gentle curiosity fueled by understanding and hope.
It’s an expression I wish I witnessed on more people when they see me and realize who I am.
“Don’t believe the lies you hear about her.” Kellan’s tone is respectfully fierce, and more than ever, I’m glad to have him on my side. I would hug him, but he’s not the kind of man who’s into being hugged.
She flashes him a soft smile full of affection. “You would know about that more than anyone.” The smile she directs at me is friendly and bright. The kind of smile given to a stranger you hope to befriend. “It’s nice to meet you, Jessica. I hope all the fuss about you dies away soon so you can finally find peace.”
“Thank you.” Thank you for not treating me like a leper. “I’m hoping that too.”
“Oh, there’s Edward. I’m sure I’ll see you three again soon. Bye!” She waves at the white car pulling up to the sidewalk and shuffles toward it.
Kellan goes with her and helps her into the car.
“She was Kellan’s and my fifth-grade teacher,” Emily says. “She taught at the elementary school for forty years.” Em chuckles. “She had been there so long, I was beginning to think she’d one day be my kids’ teacher.” Her low laugh turns into a hard breath. “But alas, I’m still single and childless and she’s retired.” She winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t whine about that.”
“What happened to me isn’t your fault, Em. You have the right to be disappointed or happy or whatever. Don’t let my past make you feel bad about that.” I feel bad enough about it for everyone.
“Hey, Em. Jess.” Katelyn approaches us, all smiles, and my stomach drops like a boulder thrown off a cliff. There’s something a little too bright and cheery about her expression. “I just saw Theresa’s wedding photos. They look great. The photos of her flower girl were super adorable.”
Her compliment takes me by surprise, but my stomach stays where it landed. “Thank you.”
“You should do children’s photography. You’re really talented, and it’s in such big demand from what I’ve heard.”
I doubt anyone in Maple Ridge wants me to take photos of their kids. Not when protesters are chanting for my removal to protect their children.
“You could start with Olivia and Nova,” Katelyn goes on, digging a rusty nail into my sore spot. “And of course Troy too. Nova and Troy are so adorable together. They’re like the perfect family.”
“Katelyn…” The name comes from Kellan on a warning growl as he stalks back to my side.
“I’m just saying that Jess is such a talented photographer. Nothing wrong with that. See y’all around.” She grins like a cat who’s devoured a family of canaries and is picking her teeth with their bones.
She walks off, and I can imagine she’s happily humming a tune. Her mission accomplished. My blood, drawn.
Emily touches my arm, pulling my attention away from Katelyn. “Don’t listen to her, Jess. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Emily’s right. I should ignore Katelyn. She has caused Troy and me enough trouble. But she also didn’t point out anything I haven’t already thought myself.
I think back to what I overheard Troy’s mother say two months ago, before she decided I wasn’t good enough for her son. “I can’t understand how a mother could ever leave their daughter behind.”
She doesn’t know about Amelia, but I bet she wouldn’t want me in Troy’s life if she did know about my daughter.
Olivia on the other hand…
Joanne has known Olivia forever. She adores Olivia’s little girl. She loves Nova like a granddaughter, no doubt.
Troy wants to one day have children.
I can’t be the woman to give him that. I really wish I could. Olivia could give him all the kids he wants, and I bet Nova would love to have him as her daddy. She would be the luckiest girl alive if that happened.
* * *
After my lunch break,Kellan and Emily escort me and Bailey to the office. A standard white envelope is propped against the door, waiting for me. Same style of envelope as the other day. Same handwriting spelling out my name.
I pick it up and open it, my hands shaking. I’m vaguely aware of Kellan saying something, but it’s like the words are trying to make their way through water. They sound distorted to my ears.
I read the letter:
Savannah,
You murdered your husband and didn’t serve the time like you deserved. Cop killer! Unfaithful bitch!
Die, bitch, die!
Signed,
A concerned citizen
“Fuck.” Kellan snatches the letter from me, touching only the edges of the paper. “Unlock the door, Em.”
She takes the key from me, probably because my hands are too shaky to be of much use. She opens it, and we follow Kellan into the office.
He places the letter on my desk and takes a photo of it and the envelope with his phone. He taps at the screen and lifts the phone to his ear.
“Noah,” he says after a moment. “It’s Kellan. We have a problem. Are you on shift?”
There’s a pause while Noah speaks. Kellan then tells him about the letter and reads it to him. “Okay. I’ll stay here with Jess until you arrive.” He ends the call. “Noah’s on the way. We’re not to touch anything until he and Officer Hunt get here.”
“Don’t call Troy,” I tell Kellan.
Dark eyebrows draw together above bright-blue eyes. “Why not? He’s gonna want to know about this, Jess.”
“He will. But right now, he’s got enough stress without me adding to it. Pushing Limits had to pull from the festival.” I know Troy. I know he’ll take the loss of the rock band hard because he’s made the festival too personal. He doesn’t have enough room in all that worry to pile this—the threat on my life—on top of it.
Something will eventually give—leaving him to crumple under the weight of it all.
And I’m scared. Scared at what cost it will be to Troy’s mental health.
Em gives an imploring shake of her head. “Jess, we’ve got to tell him. He’ll want to know about this.”
“I will tell him. But not now when he’s got so much on his plate.”
It’s bad enough clients are canceling their bookings with him because of my past. I can’t add more to his stress level than I already have.
Olivia wouldn’t be a burden to him.
My stomach twists and burns at the reminder.
“Please promise you won’t mention this to him. For his mental health,” I infuse a heavy dose of pleading in my tone, praying it’s enough for them to see reason.
Troy has too much going on with the festival, his company, volunteering at the Veterans Center, and the Warrior weekends. He doesn’t need me dumping my problems on him too.
“This is a matter for the police to handle,” I remind Emily and Kellan. Not that I have much faith in the Maple Ridge police department…or any police department.
Olivia isn’t risking Troy’s mental health. Her past isn’t harming his company.
“Okay, for now,” Kellan says, a slight stiffness to his voice. “You’re right. There’s nothing he can do about it, and he’s already trying to balance way too much.”
Noah and Officer Hunt arrive and ask the same questions as last time. Did I notice anything suspicious when we left the building or when we returned? Do any of us recognize the handwriting?
The building cameras didn’t give the police any clues as to who left the message last time. The man wore a hat that hid his hair and he made sure to keep his head down the entire time.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask Noah once they’re finished and have bagged the evidence.
“What kind of favor?”
“Don’t mention this to Troy.”
The expression on Noah’s face warns me it’s too late. Troy knows.
Fuckers. For once,couldn’t the universe be on my side?