69. Troy
October, Present Day
Maple Ridge
Jess’s doorbell rings.
“That’ll be Noah.” I inwardly groan at his crappy timing. I finally get to kiss Jess after being apart from her for more than six weeks, and he picks now to show up.
I go answer the door. The sooner Noah updates us on the investigation, the sooner Jess and I can go back to making up.
Noah isn’t alone. A woman in a white blouse, navy pants, and suit jacket is with him.
“Hey, Troy,” he says with a casual nod. “This is agent Deidre Knight with the FBI. And this is Troy Carson. Jessica Smithson’s…” He looks to me to fill in the blank.
“I’m her boyfriend.” I open the door wider and let them into the house.
Noah flashes me a quick glance that’s easy to read. He’s both surprised and delighted to hear the news about Jess’s and my new relationship status.
They kick off their shoes, and we go into the living room. Jess is sitting on the couch with Bailey by her feet.
I introduce her to the FBI agent. Noah and Agent Knight take seats on the armchairs. I sit next to Jess and link my fingers with hers for moral support. And because I can.
“How are you doing, Jessica?” Agent Knight asks.
“I’ve been better. But I’ve also been a lot worse. I guess it’s all relative.” Jess gives the woman a fragile smile.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you. The abuse, the wrongful conviction, the kidnapping, and the events with the former Maple Ridge chief of police. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”
Jess nods but doesn’t say anything. I have no idea what her stance is regarding the FBI and how much she trusts them. From the sounds of it, she’s never had to deal with them, other than two months ago when she tried to save Violet from Cole Dunbar.
“I’ve been working on the case surrounding your late husband’s death,” Agent Knight continues.
Jess’s hand tenses in mine. I caress the side of her hand with my thumb, reminding her she’s not alone. Whatever this is about, I’m here for her.
“I’ve also been working on the case surrounding Alex Wilson, since the two are connected,” Agent Knight explains.
“You mean because I was involved with both of them?” Jess asks.
“No. That was just an unfortunate coincidence. I’ve been working for the past few years on cracking one of the largest crime rings in the U.S. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say, your late husband, Lincoln Townsend, Scott Moore, Cole Dunbar, and Alex Wilson were working for the same crime organization—as were numerous other officers from different police jurisdictions all over the country.”
Agent Knight leans forward in the armchair. “Unfortunately, when the news story leaked information about your new name and location, Lincoln Townsend and Scott Moore were able to track you down. We had been preparing to arrest the two men after incriminating documentation was recently found in your grandmother’s old house, Jessica.”
Shock rounds Jess’s eyes. “It was? You mean like the insurance policy Lincoln had been going on about?”
“That’s right. I can’t give you details about what was in it, other than it was enough to incriminate a lot of individuals. One being Wayne’s former supervisor. It also incriminated Lincoln and Scott.”
“They never mentioned that part while they held me captive. Lincoln made it sound like it would’ve kept them out of trouble if anyone planned to double-cross them.”
“They might not have known about that part,” Agent Knight explains. “It looks like your late husband kept it as an insurance policy against anyone he thought might turn on him.”
None of this surprises me given what lengths he went through to get Jaxon out of the picture, after the man tried to reach out to Jess and help her. Wayne probably wasn’t the only one responsible for Jaxon’s arrest. Were Lincoln and Scott Moore also involved?
“Why is it you only recently found the documents?” I ask instead of the question in my head. “Hasn’t someone been living in Jess’s grandmother’s house for several years now?”
“We wouldn’t have known about them if the new homeowners hadn’t decided to do renovations. They pulled down a wall and found the memory stick behind the floorboards.”
Jess’s forehead crinkles into a shocked frown. “Wayne hid it in my grandmother’s house? He must have stolen the key from me after she died and then hid the documents. Maybe that’s why he never insisted I put the house on the market after I inherited it. It was another way to keep me from disappearing on him. He knew I would never just abandon the place. And as long as I didn’t sell the house, the documents were safe.”
Shit.If the FBI had figured out Wayne Townsend had been part of the crime ring sooner, they could have spared Jess from going to prison. They could have spared her from the nightmares that still affect her physically and emotionally.
“Why did Scott kill Wayne?” Jess asks Agent Knight. “Because he was worried Wayne would double-cross him?”
“We’re still figuring out all his motives, but yes, that’s a strong possibility. We believe he framed you because you were a convenient scapegoat. If you were found guilty of your husband’s death, the case would be closed and he would get away with it.”
“Please tell me the asshole will never get out of prison.” The snarl in my tone is aimed at the asshole in question and not at Noah or the FBI agent.
“That is our goal.” Determination tightens the agent’s jaw, steadies her voice.
“Lincoln was so sure I was the one who murdered his brother.” Jess shudders and the ghost of an emotion flickers on her face.
I take her hand and tap ILU on her palm. The reason for kidnapping and torturing Jess might’ve been because Lincoln and Scott thought she knew where the information was located, but I suspect revenge also fueled Lincoln’s motive.
“We’ve also been investigating the allegations of misconduct that took place while you were in Beckley State Correctional Institution,” Agent Knight goes on to add. “It looks like Lincoln had connections with several of the prison guards. We believe he might have been indirectly linked to the attacks on you, which explains why some of the ones you told Noah about were never entered into the incident logs.”
My fingers pause their tapping. “Because he thought Jess killed his brother?”
“That looks to be the case,” Noah says.
Agent Knight and Noah ask Jess more questions and fill her in on the investigation as much as possible. Once they’re finished, I walk them to the door.
I return to Jess on the couch. “How are you surviving? You wanna go upstairs to rest? Or I can make you lunch.” At some point, I’ll need to fetch Butterscotch and my stuff from my house, but they can wait a little longer.
“I was thinking more along the lines of making out.” The spark that was missing in her eyes while Noah and Agent Knight were here shines bright with lust…and love. “We have about six weeks’ worth of kissing to make up for.”
I drop down next to her on the couch, my smile taking up much of my face. “Sounds like a plan. I’ve missed kissing you here.” I lift her hair and kiss the back of her neck. Her breath quickens. “And here.” My lips graze the shell of her ear. “I love you, Jess.” My voice is a low rumble, heat and adoration seeping into the words. My mouth traces along her jaw. “And I’ve missed kissing you here.”
A tiny whimper escapes Jess, and I grin at the effect my kisses are having on her. “Enjoying that are you?”
“Absolutely.” She cups my face and strokes her thumb along my bottom lip. “I love you, Troy.” She leans in and brushes her mouth against mine, teasing me.
The doorbell rings, and we both groan.
“I’ll get that.” I push to my feet. “Don’t go anywhere.”
She laughs softly. “I’ll be waiting right here for you.”
I hurry to the front door, eager to get rid of whomever it is. Maybe I should put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door so Jess and I can have some alone time for a few hours.
I open the front door. A man and woman I don’t recognize are standing on the stoop. The woman’s shoulder-length hair is dark blond, and she’s wearing a navy sweater dress and heeled boots. The man’s hair is light brown, and he’s wearing brown slacks and a gray blazer.
But it’s the girl standing in front of them, with long golden-brown hair and familiar honey-brown eyes, who halts my breath. She’s eight years old and holding a small bouquet of flowers.
She smiles at me, her face lighting up. “Hi! Is this where my Auntie Jessica lives?”