Chapter 18
Jesse shook off Adam’s pudgy hand, refusing to acknowledge his threat as she walked to the corner and turned onto the side street. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the anxiety that bubbled through her.
Instead, she concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, scanning her surroundings in search of danger.
It didn’t matter that the stalker had had plenty of opportunities to kill her when she was alone in the bar.
And that it made no sense to wait until she was on a public street in broad daylight to do the deed. She wasn’t going to let down her guard.
Not as long as she was in Canton.
Entering the quiet neighborhood at the edge of town, Jesse turned the corner and made her way to the white farmhouse at the end of the block. She climbed onto the wraparound porch and used the key Noah had given her. Once inside, she carefully locked and bolted the door.
That should have made her feel safe, but after last night, she wasn’t taking anything for granted. Hadn’t she just told herself she wasn’t going to let down her guard?
Telling herself it only made sense to make sure she was alone, Jesse dropped her purse on the low coffee table before she began her search through the surprisingly tidy house, peering into closets and under beds.
Probably there wasn’t any need to examine the medicine cabinets or to check through the kitchen drawers, but she was already looking around, so it was impossible not to pry.
She didn’t find much. She now knew that Noah was a neat freak, and that he didn’t take any prescriptions. She also knew that he’d scrubbed the place of any hint of his former wife and their life together. Even the sturdy furniture was shrouded in dust covers, as if being condemned to the past.
Beyond that … he remained a mystery.
With her search done, Jesse headed into the kitchen. Her mouth was still annoyingly dry from whatever drug had been used to knock her out. She was in desperate need of water. At the same time, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and hit a familiar number.
The sound of a female voice floated through the air as she grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.
“Hi, Sam, its Jesse Hudson. I don’t suppose I can talk to Eric?”
“Actually, he told me to put you right through if you called,” the receptionist assured her. “Hold on.”
Jesse shuddered. She shouldn’t be shocked that word had already gotten around town that she’d discovered a skeleton in her cellar.
And probably the fact that her dad’s wallet was found with it.
But the thought that the people she’d known all her life were gathered at the coffee shop savoring the latest gossip made her stomach cramp.
“Jesse.” Eric’s sharp voice sliced through her misery. “Where are you?”
With an effort, she forced herself to concentrate. Later, she could wallow in all the self-pity she wanted.
“At Noah’s house.”
“Good. Have you talked to anyone?”
She took a drink of water. His crisp, professional tone wasn’t doing anything for her dry mouth. He sounded like a lawyer who was worried about his client.
“No. I was waiting until you could go with me to the sheriff’s office. Adam is demanding I give him a statement.”
“Okay. I’ll call and tell him that we’ll be there in an hour. I’ll come by and get you. That way we can go over what you’re going to say before we go in.”
A portion of the fear squeezing her heart began to ease. At least she didn’t have to face the sheriff on her own.
“Thanks, Eric.”
“In the meantime, stay put and don’t talk to anyone,” he commanded. “Do you hear me?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, a shiver racing through her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The call disconnected, and Jesse shoved the phone back in her pocket as she emptied the bottle of water and paced the floor. She was reassured by the fact that Eric was going with her to confront Adam Tillman, but that didn’t help with her other worries. Worries that threatened to crush her.
That was why she kept moving.
If she ever sat down and genuinely considered what had happened over the past few days, she might start screaming and never stop.
She was on lap—actually she’d lost count after one hundred—when there was a knock on the front door.
Assuming that Eric had arrived earlier than expected, Jesse scurried into the front room. She headed directly for the large picture window, cautiously checking the porch. She was done taking risks, right?
Her caution was rewarded as she discovered that it wasn’t Eric who’d knocked, although she still hurried to yank open the door. A second later, Bea Hartman stepped over the threshold and pulled her into a comforting hug.
“Oh Jesse. Noah just told me what happened.” Bea squeezed tighter, threatening to cut off Jesse’s air supply. “You poor thing.”
Jesse returned the hug, although she couldn’t share the woman’s obvious grief. She was thankfully numb.
“I can’t cry,” she muttered.
Bea released her hold and stepped back, her own face blotchy from tears. “Of course not; you must be in shock.”
Jesse managed a jerky nod. “I suppose I must be. I mean, I just can’t wrap my brain around the fact that he was there … all this time.”
“Oh, my dear.” Bea clicked her tongue. “Don’t think about it.”
A humorless laugh was wrenched from Jesse’s throat.
Not think about it? From the moment Adam had waved the wallet in her face, she’d been obsessing over the gruesome fact that his skeleton had been hidden at the bar.
God knew it was easier to fixate on the details of death than the overwhelming sadness waiting to crush her.
Whatever the reason, she couldn’t stop the questions from churning through her mind, like a hamster on a wheel.
“I don’t understand,” she said, her words coming out like a plea from her soul.
“There are some things we’re not meant to understand, sweet Jesse. Death is one of those things. It’s the great mystery.”
It was the same thing she’d said when Jesse had asked why her mother was taken when she was just a baby. And it offered the same lack of comfort.
“I don’t mean I don’t understand why he died, although I don’t,” she retorted, her voice harsh. “It’s obscene that he was taken in the prime of his life. I meant that I don’t understand how his body got into the foundation of the Tap Room.”
Bea made a sound of distress, clearly unwilling to discuss the gruesome details. “Please don’t do this to yourself,” she pleaded, her plump hands twisting together. “Now is the time to mourn, not to dwell on such morbid thoughts.”
“Don’t you see? I have to know,” Jesse insisted. “Not only is it going to drive me crazy until I figure out what happened, I’m going to be in danger.”
“Danger? From what?”
“Whoever’s been stalking me.”
“Wait. Are you suggesting the person pestering you is connected to your dad’s death?” Bea demanded, as if surprised by the suggestion.
“That’s the point, I don’t know. But it seems a little coincidental that someone would be doing their best to frighten me out of the place my dad’s body was discovered. Why else were they trying to get rid of me?”
Bea clicked her tongue. “I wish you would leave the investigation to the law officials, Jesse.”
“Adam Tillman?” Jesse shuddered. “Are you kidding me?”
“I get that you don’t like him—”
“I loathe him with every fiber of my being.”
Bea continued as if Jesse hadn’t interrupted. “But he is the sheriff. He’ll have to investigate whether he wants to or not.”
“That doesn’t mean his investigation will be anything more than a sham. Just like the pretend investigation he did when my dad first disappeared. I don’t trust him.”
“Who do you trust?”
“No one.” The words burst from her lips before she could halt them. Probably because they were true. Her past had destroyed any faith in her fellow human beings. It wasn’t until Bea flinched that she realized she’d been too blunt. “Except you, of course,” she lamely tagged on.
Bea reached up to cup her cheek in her hand, as if to prove she wasn’t offended by Jesse’s fierce words.
“You can’t do this alone, Jesse. Let the professionals do their job.”
Jesse stepped back. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate Bea’s attempt to talk some sense into her, but she’d walked away nine years ago. This time she was staying until she knew exactly what happened.
“Adam’s not going to do a damned thing to find out the truth. Not unless he can somehow pin the blame on me. You said yourself that he hated my dad. As far as he’s concerned, Mac Hudson got exactly what he deserved.”
Bea parted her lips, as if she intended to argue; then, perhaps sensing that Jesse was never going to trust Adam, she heaved a resigned sigh.
“I hate to say this because I’m not sure that he deserves you, but maybe it’s time for you to go back to Chicago and start a new life with that man of yours.”
Jesse grunted, the words hitting her like a blow. It was hard to believe that just a week ago she’d been in Chicago, wandering through an empty nightclub she was planning on opening with the love of her life. She’d been focused on the future, never dreaming her past was about to destroy everything.
Including her relationship with Parker.
“He’s not mine,” she said, a surprising hint of sadness in her voice. As if she was ready to mourn the loss of her lover, even if she couldn’t face the grief of her father. “I don’t think he ever was.”
“But I thought the two of you were getting married and starting a business together?”
Jesse shrugged. “That was the plan, but plans change. I’ve learned that the hard way.”
“Then find a new future,” Bea insisted. “I’m terrified that staying stuck in the past is going to kill you.”
“I can’t.”
“Jesse—”
“How did he get there?” Jesse interrupted the older woman’s protest, turning to pace across the living room. The words tumbled out of her like water gushing out of a broken dam. “It couldn’t have been an accident. Someone must have put him down there after they killed him.”
“I suppose,” Bea grudgingly agreed.