63. Troy
October, Present Day
Maple Ridge
The late afternoonsun casts shadows on the leaf-covered ground as my brothers, the veterans, and I approach the rental vans, our backpacks loaded with camping and climbing gear. Various vibrant shades of gold, red, and orange color the surrounding trees.
The veterans, a group of men and women in their early forties who served together in the Iraq War, are laughing and teasing each other. They’ve been like this all weekend. The weekend and the group have been the perfect distraction now that the festival and the planning for it are over.
My life is now only filled with the Warrior weekends, volunteering at the Veterans Center, working out, and running my company. And that’s giving me too much time to dwell on the one person I don’t want to think about. We only have bookings for a few more weekends, and then things will slow down in the offseason. Soon, I’ll have way too much free time. Free time for my thoughts to easily stray to Jess.
Maybe instead of hiring a new office assistant, I’ll do everything myself. Might as well. I’ve already been doing that since Jess quit. I haven’t gotten around to finding her replacement yet.
I can tell the moment the van I’m driving enters cell-phone range on our way back to town. Everyone’s phones ping with messages. The veterans laugh and joke as they post on social media about their weekend.
“Shit,” Kellan mutters under his breath from the passenger seat next to me, the word a near quiet explosion.
“What?” I keep my voice low, in case he isn’t interested in sharing the news with everyone in the van.
“Jess has gone missing.”
“What do you mean she’s gone missing?” My voice comes out louder this time but still low enough not to snare everyone’s attention. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
“Exactly that.” Kellan’s phone rings. He answers it. “Yeah. Got the message. I haven’t talked to her since Wednesday.…No.…No.…Nothing.…I’ll ask him. Troy, when was the last time you talked to Jess?”
I keep my eyes on the road. “Last Saturday evening. I took the guys from Pushing Limits to meet her after the festival. The lead singer wanted to talk to her.”
“Did she say anything about going out of town?”
“No.” Not that we actually talked, just the two of us. The guys in the band and Jess did all the talking.
“He doesn’t know anything about it either,” Kellan tells whoever is on the other end of the phone. “Shit.…What did Lucas and Garrett say?…Okay.…I’ll head to her place as soon as we get to town.…Thirty minutes.…Call me if you hear anything else before then.”
I frown. “Are you going to tell me what the hell’s going on?”
“Jess hasn’t been seen or heard from since Friday?—”
Kellan’s phone rings again. He answers it.
I’m close to ripping it out of his hand so he can tell me what’s happening. But his hand with the phone is too far from me to grab without getting us all killed.
“Yes, Zara just called…” Kellan tells whoever is on the other end of the line. “I’ll go to Jess’s as soon as we get back into town.…Okay.” He ends the call. “Delores spotted Bailey walking on the street late Friday afternoon, looking distressed. Jess wasn’t with her.”
“Where was she?” A bad feeling settles in my gut.
“That’s the thing. No one knows. Her back door was unlocked and the alarm wasn’t activated. Delores went inside, thinking Jess was hurt. No one was there. She left a note for Jess, saying she had Bailey.”
My hands white-knuckle the wheel. “This was Friday afternoon?”
“Yes. When Jess didn’t get back to Delores by early evening, she called the police.”
“And?”
“Nothing. There was no sign of a struggle, and no one knows where she went.”
“Dammit. The death threats…” I can’t even say the next part.
“It wasn’t him. The man was arrested early Friday afternoon. She hadn’t gone missing yet. Noah saw her.”
“Shit, this feels like déjà vu,” I mutter. Christ, please tell me she didn’t get into another accident. Except she doesn’t have a vehicle and she didn’t have my truck this time. “Is her bike in the garage?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe she borrowed someone’s car and drove somewhere? Or she took the bus to Eugene.”
“Without her wallet? And without telling the girls she wasn’t going to their movie night as she’d planned?”
Uncertainty and unease slice me open, turn me inside out. I don’t know what to say. All the possible scenarios play out in my head—places she could’ve gone, reasons she would’ve left the alarm off and let Bailey run in the street.
And I don’t like what they’re adding up to.
She might be hiding in her secret room again, but without being there, I can’t explain how to open the door if it’s shut. I also don’t think that’s where she is if she’s been missing for two days.
“What’s wrong?” Jaxon asks from the seat behind Kellan’s. I’d forgotten about the men. The laughter that filled the van a few minutes ago has gone silent. I’m only realizing it now.
Kellan and I exchange a long questioning glance. I nod for him to go ahead and tell them. They sense something’s wrong, and I’m not going to bullshit them by telling them it’s nothing.
Kellan fills them in. I focus on the road without pushing the speed limit. As much as I want to race to Jess’s house, it’s my responsibility to get everyone home in one piece.
Kellan tells them Jess is my girlfriend. I don’t bother to correct him. He also gets them up to speed on Jess’s past. My gut tightens. I’ve heard enough negative comments as it is about her on social media, from the regular media, from people in town, and from other Warriors we’ve taken to the mountains. I don’t want to hear if the six men in the van also have asshole opinions to add to the list, especially since two of them are cops from California.
“I remember hearing her husband was murdered,” Jaxon says, the disgust in his tone setting me on edge. “I was in prison at the time after being framed for stealing drug evidence. Before that, I’d worked for the SDPD.”
This is news to me. “Did you know Jessica’s husband?” I ask, not bothering to sound casual. There’s a hardness to my voice that has to do with her disappearance and the fact Jaxon knew the monster.
“I did. He was a charismatic man. Most people liked him.”
Christ, don’t tell me Jaxon’s another prick who believes Jess killed her husband.
Something about his tone slowly registers, sneaks past my protectiveness toward Jess. “But you didn’t?” I glance in the rearview mirror and catch Jaxon and Nigel, the other cop, exchanging their own wary glances.
“My twin sister had been in an abusive relationship at one point,” Jaxon explains. “It was while I was in the Army. I returned home during one leave and noticed the subtle changes in her. I brushed it off as my imagination—the result of serving in Iraq. But I was wrong. Her boyfriend turned out to be an abusive asshole.”
“Did you ever meet Jessica?” My gaze flicks briefly back to the rearview mirror again.
Pain and regret cloud his features, the emotions so fleeting, I almost missed them. “I saw her several times over the span of about a year. I never talked to her, if that’s what you’re asking. But there was something about her that’d reminded me of my sister when she was with her abusive boyfriend. It was like Jessica was emotionally withdrawn. Nervous.”
He shakes his head, as if disappointed about something. “The last time I saw her was at a barbecue Wayne was throwing. I knew then I needed to gain her trust, knowing she probably didn’t trust men anymore if I was right about her relationship with him. I wanted to help her in the way I hadn’t helped my sister while I’d been on leave. So I smiled at Jessica, letting her know I wanted to be her friend. I’d had a feeling she didn’t have any, if I was right about Wayne.”
“What happened after that?” I ask, appreciating him telling me this, but also knowing none of what he’s saying will help me find Jess.
“I was arrested a few days later. Never had a chance to talk to her. That’s one of the reasons I came on this trip. I heard Jessica was living in Maple Ridge, and I wanted to tell her how sorry I was that I didn’t do something when I first suspected Wayne was hurting her. Maybe if I had done something, I could have gotten her and her daughter out of their situation. I could have protected her and saved them from what did happen.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that,” I tell him, despite wishing he had stepped in. I likely wouldn’t have met Jess if that had happened, but given that we’re not together anymore, it wouldn’t have mattered. She would at least still have Amelia in her life.
“So you weren’t responsible for the drugs being stolen?” I ask, wondering why the hell someone would frame him.
“My husband took away a lot of things I loved. That was his way of controlling me. But my camera…my camera was different. That he smashed because he thought I was having an affair.”Was Jaxon the man Wayne had accused her of having an affair with? He had seen Jaxon smile at Jess, became jealous, and framed the man?
“Definitely not,” Jaxon explains. “But the evidence was too strong against me. A year ago, I was exonerated of the crime. I still wanted to be a police officer—to make a difference despite everything that happened—but I couldn’t go back to San Diego. After everything, I only trusted a few people in the department.”
Can’t say I blame him. “So you think Wayne was responsible for you ending up in prison?”
“He was definitely a dirty cop, so that wouldn’t surprise me,” Nigel pipes in. He doesn’t work for the SDPD. He’s from San Francisco. “There was a woman officer who’d suspected he was a dirty cop, but she didn’t have enough evidence to prove it. She was sexually assaulted by a different officer, but when she reported it to her captain, he turned a blind eye.”
My gaze flicks to the rearview mirror again, my foot pushing slightly harder on the accelerator. I’m hoping some part of their story might help me figure out where Jess is. So far nothing they’ve said has given me a clue as to her whereabouts.
A scowl turns Nigel’s expression stormy. “From what she told me, before she quit the force and moved to San Francisco, several of her colleagues made her feel uncomfortable. She started struggling with depression. She had survived hell in Iraq, but this proved to be worse than that.”
“This all happened after I was arrested. I didn’t even know she was going through this at the time,” Jaxon continues. “She later told me there were several other cops in the department she suspected were involved in some sort of illegal operation with Wayne Townsend. She didn’t know what it was, though.”
“And this included his brother,” Nigel adds. “She didn’t know how far the corruption went in the department, but she did know he was involved.”
Shit.“Is this the brother who adopted Jess’s daughter?”
“Adopted?” Jaxon’s eyebrows draw together into a dark line in the rear mirror. “I don’t know anything about that. The last I heard, Lincoln didn’t have any kids or a wife or girlfriend.”
“We’re definitely not talking about the same man.” Which is good. It’s been hard enough for Jess to lose her daughter, never mind to find out that Amelia’s adoptive father was a bad cop like her biological father. “Did any of this ever come up after Wayne Townsend’s murder?”
Jaxon shrugs. “I wasn’t involved in the investigation since I was in prison at the time, so I can’t answer that. But my release did result in the opening of a new investigation. I don’t know anything beyond that.”
Kellan glances at his phone. “Does the brother still work for the SDPD?”
“Last I heard he was a vice detective,” Nigel replies. “Also heard he was vocal about Jessica being released from prison. He was adamant she killed his brother.”
“I wonder if he knows anything about Jess’s disappearance,” I say, voicing my thoughts out loud. Sure, there are other reasons she could be missing. For all I know, she’s run away or has left to try to see Amelia. But she wouldn’t have left Bailey on her own, and she certainly wouldn’t have left her to roam on the street. In my gut, I know something is wrong. And this brother seems a likely suspect.
“I still have contacts in the SDPD,” Jaxon informs us. “Let me call them and see if I can find out if anyone has seen him recently.”
“Do it,” I urge. My next words are directed to Kellan. “Call Lucas and Garrett and tell them we’re going straight to Jess’s house.”
Kellan does that while Jaxon talks to someone on his phone.
“According to my contact,” Jaxon tells us a few minutes later as I pull into town, “Lincoln is on vacation for the next nine days. He left Wednesday. My contact has no idea where he went, other than on some fishing trip.”
“Shit. So we have no idea if he knows anything about Jess’s disappearance, but he does have a reason for going after her. Revenge—if he believes she killed his brother.”
“If he does have Jess”—anger tightens Kellan’s tone, his usual ability to flatline his emotions gone—“we have no idea where he would’ve taken her. She could be anywhere.”
“Call Noah!” The gravel-rough command fires from me. “He’s working today. Tell him everything. And tell him to meet us at Jess’s house. Now.”
It feels like a lifetime before the van tires screech to a stop outside Jess’s home. Police sirens scream in the evening air.
Flashing red-and-blue lights turn onto the street. The sirens cut off abruptly.
During the drive here, I compartmentalized everything Jaxon and Nigel told me, locking my fears away. But now that I’m in front of her house, those fears surge through me like a rogue wave. I might have pushed Jess away once and for all, but I haven’t stopped loving her.
And now it might be too late to snatch back the words I hurled at her four weeks ago.
No. No. No. I’m going to find her. I’m not letting her down like so many other people have.
I sprint to the front door and turn the doorknob. It’s locked. I use the spare key I never got around to returning to Jess and rush into the house.
“Jess!” I yell, even knowing that she’s not here. I feel her absence in the cold air.
I race upstairs to the guest room and go into the closet. The bookcase is in place, and there’s no sign Jess is hiding in the secret room. No heartbreaking sound of her crying like there was the day I learned about the space behind the shelves.
I pull the bookcase away from the wall. The blankets and pillows that were in the secret room are gone.
Noah enters the house as I jog down the stairs. I don’t acknowledge him. I walk into the living room, searching for signs of where she could’ve gone.
A floral box I haven’t seen before sits on the coffee table. I lift the lid, but the only things inside the box are the Morse-code messages I left around the house for her. I hadn’t realized she’d kept them. I still have the ones she gave me. They’re in my sock drawer.
An ache pulls in my chest at how she saved the messages I wrote for her—like they still meant something. I close the box lid and head for the kitchen.
The medicine container on the granite counter catches my eye. I pick it up and read the label. Sertraline. The prescription belongs to Jess. One of the physicians in town wrote it for her.
I google the drug. It’s an antidepressant. According to the date on the container, she’s been taking it for almost a month, starting after we broke up. Shit. I look up what could happen if she stops the drug cold turkey and read the list of withdrawal symptoms: headache, nausea, mood changes, sweating, tremors, seizures.
“Troy?”
I spin around to face Noah. “Her brother-in-law, Lincoln Townsend, might know where Jess is.” The words come out in rapid fire, fear and anger pulling the trigger. “You should talk to the man you arrested. He could be linked to Lincoln.”
“I don’t think he is. Someone tried to break into Jess’s garage. I thought the man I arrested was responsible for the damage. He claims the door was already like that when he was causing mischief, and I believe him. The evidence doesn’t suggest he did it.”
“Shit.” My hand tightens on my phone. I would’ve been happier if the man Noah arrested was responsible. Now we have no idea where Jess might be.
“Before you do something rash and stupid,” Noah says, a harsh command to his tone I’ve never heard from him until now, “let the police deal with this, Troy. We don’t need a hotheaded civilian messing up the evidence and the case.”
“I don’t give a damn about that. I just want Jess back.” Never have spoken words been any truer. I’ll only rest once she’s in my arms again.