by S. K. Grice
“Wait. Back up.” My neck grew an inch, and my voice almost squeaked. “You believe me—that I didn’t kill Jackson?”
Noah examined my face. “Yes. One-hundred percent. Problem is, I got vocal about my views at the station a couple of times. The chief didn’t like that I was getting too emotional—as he put it—about the case. He believes I can’t remain impartial.”
It took a few moments for his words to make sense. Is Noah on my side? “I don’t get it. Why do you believe me?”
“While I always suspected you knew something about Mike Morton’s disappearance, I was sure you didn’t kill Jackson. It didn’t make sense. You kept Mike’s whereabouts a secret for years. And when his missing person investigation opened, you became even more protective of your secret.” He scooted his chair closer to the table and leaned in. “You’re a smart woman. Too smart to do something which could draw attention to you during Mike’s investigation.”
I slumped back in the chair, taking a moment to enjoy the light sense of relief. I had a cop on my side. “What other suspects do they have?”
“There are some crazy theories, but I’m sorry, even though I’m not directly involved, I’m not at liberty to discuss an open investigation with you.” He smiled. “I really came here as your friend.”
A niggle in my gut said to believe him, even trust him. “My friend. Okay. It’s nice to know not every cop thinks I killed Jackson.”
“I certainly don’t.” He clasped his hands and rested them on the table. “And as your friend, I don’t want you to feel you have to suffer anymore. You can always talk to me.”
There was that expression again. Empathy. “Why?”
“I-I know….” His gaze shifted to the table, he exhaled, and then looked up at me with the twisted face of anguish. “I know what it’s like to have a painful secret,” he whispered.
Hairs prickled on my arm, and I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or concern. I wasn’t used to seeing Noah this vulnerable. I sat straight and leaned forward. “Tell me.”
He glanced at the guard and then back to me, keeping his voice low as he went on, “I shot a man… killed him. He was a criminal, but it shouldn’t have happened.”
Were we friends now? I reached out for his hand then retracted. “When… how?”
“About four years ago, I was on duty, and we entered a house knowing there was an armed man inside who’d just killed his wife. I was the first in—I shot him. Killed him. He had a gun in his hand, but I should’ve told him to drop it. I didn’t. I got scared. I broke protocol.” He let out a deep breath. “During the investigation, I lied. I knew there were no witnesses, and I could get away with it and no one could find out. I just plain lied.”
I held back my gasp and it stuck in my throat. He’d shot someone and covered it up. He’d lied to the police. I’d always thought Noah was a by-the-book cop, like his father. “You’ve never mentioned this to anyone? Not your dad or Catherine?”
“No. I’m telling you this because, well—I understand how the burden of a secret can grow heavier each year. How it can negatively impact every area of a person’s life. Coming to terms with one’s past isn’t always easy.”
“I’m at a loss for words.”
“Good. Because it’s not really something I want to talk about. It’s something I never wanted anyone else to know.”
“You can trust me. I’m good at keeping secrets.” I smiled at the irony.
He laughed so hard that his shoulders shook. “Good one, Parker.”
A warm tingle spread from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone laugh. I like it.”
“That’s good. Because there’s another reason I’ve come.”
His tone had stayed casual, but tension returned to my neck. “Oh?”
“I’ve known you for a long time. And that’s a hard thing to say in this town. The area’s become more and more transient. And to be honest, I could use a friend too.”
Unease sent my stomach into knots. “What about your wife?”
“Not these days.” His lip twitched.
“Sorry—I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not. My relationship with Catherine has been strained for a while.”
I wondered if his secret had destroyed his marriage the same as my secret killed mine. I didn’t want to ask. “Ups and downs. That’s the nature of relationships.”
“Our relationship’s been down for so long that we’ve ended up on opposite poles,” he said.
My muscles relaxed then, and over an hour flew by as we talked and bonded over our lost-at-sea outlooks. His vulnerability had made it easier for me to open up. I finally told him, “The problem in my marriage was that I liked wine and pills and Aaron liked pretty twenty-year-old girls.”
The lines on Noah’s face deepened. “As long as we’re commiserating, the problem in my marriage is that I spend too much time at work. And when I am home, my head is still on the job. I can’t stop thinking about my cases.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t intend for it to happen, but I guess I fell in love with my job and neglected my wife.”
An ache pressed against my chest. Seeing Noah downtrodden bothered me on a level I hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was like watching a dear friend suffer. “That’s repairable. You and Catherine have Alex. Isn’t that enough to build on?”
“Maybe.” He rubbed his nose. “We’re organizing our schedules so we can get away for a short vacation. Just the two of us. We’ll leave Alex with my mom.”
“That’s exactly what you and Catherine need. Time to reconnect.”
He half-shrugged. “Maybe. Problem is, even though I’m not working directly on Jackson’s murder investigation, it’s going to be tough not being close to it.” He exhaled a breath. “Jackson’s parents call almost every day, you know. It’s hard telling them we have nothing.”
Regret wrapped around my chest, constricting my breaths. The Howell’s lives had been torn apart by one person. I’d done the same to the Morton family, but as much as I liked to think my time in jail offered redemption, I’d never feel okay about what I’d done. I needed to do more. And Noah and I both wanted the same thing—justice for Jackson. “Does his family think I killed Jackson?”
“That, I don’t know. But they most likely know you are a suspect.”
A fire burned in my belly. The Morton family had suffered a long time because I’d never spoken out. They’d found their justice. Now, I wanted justice for Jackson’s family. It wasn’t a matter of should I tell Noah about the ominous creepy caller, stalker, and leaves—I had to tell him.
“I feel terrible for Jackson’s family,” I said. “I’d do anything to help find the killer and give them some sense of closure.”
Noah placed his hand on mine. “I know you would.”
Something in my core softened, and I exhaled a breath. The letter with the leaf. Could I tell him? We were both looking for a clue to the caller and Jackson’s killer. Or would he react like Riley and think I was crazy?
No. Noah treated me like a normal person, like a friend, and I wanted to take a chance and trust him. Adrenaline charged through my veins and shot a random thought into my head: What if Noah was the sender of the leaves. The stalker. Then I’d be handing him my proof.
A quiver rippled from within, and I shook the theory from my head before it had a chance to grow legs. It was an unjustified and meaningless thought. I had control over that shit.
Trust your instincts.
If ever I’d needed my instincts to be right, this was it. This wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about Jackson too. Justice for Jackson.
My fear of not being believed, of being looked at as crazy, it had slowed my ability to find my tormentor. No more. I was being released in less than two weeks. If I was going to tell Noah everything, I had to do it now. “I want to show you something. A letter.”
“From who?”
“It’s anonymous. A
nd I’m certain the sender is also the anonymous caller and Jackson’s murderer.”
“Whoa.” Noah pulled back. “You mean the caller who reported where Mike was buried?”
“I think the same person who called the station has been calling me.”
Noah scooted his chair closer and rested his arms on the table. “Go ahead.”
“It started with heavy breathing calls on Patsy’s old landline. I figured it was kids playing pranks. But on the night before I left for jail, I received another call.” Goosebumps covered my skin. I rubbed my arms and continued. “This time the caller spoke through a voice synthesizer. He said only one word, ‘gotcha.’”
“No kidding.” Noah’s eyebrows drew together into a V.
“This is what I don’t understand,” I said, “if the anonymous caller who reported Mike being buried under the tree only wanted justice, why am I still getting letters and freaky calls? I think someone is carrying a grudge or has a vendetta. I don’t know. But I have no proof of anyone threatening me or causing me harm, so I can’t exactly report this to the police. I exhaled a puff of air and dropped my shoulders. “I just need someone to believe me. Someone to help me figure out why this is happening to me.”
“I believe you, Jolene.” Noah turned his head and stared out the barred window for a moment. “What’s the letter say?”
“It’s easier to explain if I show you, but it’s in my cell, and if I leave—”
“Don’t worry.” Noah pointed his chin to the guard. “I can let administration know you need to retrieve paperwork for me. I know the warden here.”
I pressed my lips together. It was time to take a leap of faith.
Chapter Thirty-One
I followed the guard back to the visiting area carrying the envelope in my hand. Earlier today, I wouldn’t have expected that I’d team up with Noah to find answers. I squared my shoulders, bracing myself for what I was about to do. Would Noah believe me?
Noah rose from his chair when I walked into the room. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Something like that.” I looked around the visitor room. I wasn’t sure how to start because the whole scenario was jumbled in my head; it was only a theory, not completely woven into reality. I sat and kept my voice just above a whisper. “Someone’s been following me, stalking me for years.”
Noah sat and leaned close with his arms crossed. His expression flitted from shock to concern.
“Don’t look at me like I’m a delusional nutcase,” I said.
“I don’t think you’re delusional or a nutcase.” He pointed to the envelope in my hand. “Is that the letter you think has something to do with your stalker and anonymous caller?”
I handed him the envelope. “I think it does.”
He scanned the front and back of the envelope, and then pulled out the folded waxed paper. His face scrunched as he unfolded the wrap. “A leaf?”
“An American Red Oak leaf.”
“Hmm.” Pinching the stem, he held it to the ceiling light and looked closer. “Same as the family tree?”
“It appears so.”
“Why would someone send you a leaf?” He put it back inside the folded waxed paper.
“To scare me. To taunt me. To remind me that someone else saw what I’d done. I… I really don’t know.”
Noah examined the front and back of the envelope again. “The return address?”
“Fake. I’ve been getting the envelopes with a leaf in the mail for the past four years. The first one came when Aaron and I were still married. They’re always postmarked from the main post office at Lighthouse Beach.”
He sat back. “Do you have any idea who would do this?”
“Not a clue.”
“Have you told anyone else about the leaves?”
I blew out a hot breath, frustrated at how Riley had suggested I’d been sending the letters to myself. Noah didn’t need to know about that. “I told my attorney.”
Noah tilted his head. “Riley Baxter didn’t see a connection between the oak tree on top of Jackson, the oak tree you planted over Mike, the anonymous calls, and these letters?”
“I haven’t been charged in Jackson’s murder, so he didn’t seem interested since he wasn’t defending me for any crime there.”
“But you could have reported your suspicions earlier—back when you made your confession at the station.”
“Are you kidding? I already have enough suspicion hanging over my head as it is. And I’m fully aware that just because I have a feeling these leaves are connected to Jackson and the anonymous caller at the station and my house, there’s no proof of any crime.”
“But what does this have to do with the stalker?”
A cold shiver crept over my skin, and I shuddered. It still unnerved me to recall details of that night, but it was getting easier. “On the night we buried Mike… I saw someone run across the lawn.”
Noah hesitated. “Okay…”
“Mrs. Nichols… she didn’t see Annette and me, but she told me she’d seen someone dressed in all black running along Willow Road that night. You should know about that. She reported it to police.”
Noah scratched his chin. “I remember reading her interview, and I did talk to my dad about the report. He said the police at the time checked out the area for footprints or any other evidence. Came up with nothing.”
Tired of not being believed, I glared at Noah and pounded my fist on the table. “Someone was on the lawn that night,” I said, loud enough for the visitors at the next table to give me the side-eye.
The guard turned his gaze to us, and I clasped my hands on the table. Don’t make a scene.
“It’s okay, Jolene.” Noah put his hand over mine. “Tell me more about this stalker.”
Noah’s dulcet tone and solid touch calmed my nerves, and I continued, “The anonymous caller… it has to be the person I saw on the lawn that night. Someone who saw Annette and I bury Mike. Someone who’s sending me leaves now. Someone with motives I can’t begin to imagine.
“He shows up at random places, like the grocery store, school, or even near my house. Always dressed in black pants. Sweats, maybe jeans. But always with a black hoodie over his head. As soon as I notice him, he disappears.”
“You know it’s a man?”
“Not certain. But I can’t help but think it’s the same person who’s sending me the leaves and making the calls. What I can’t figure out is who would want to torment me this way? What would they have to gain?”
“Think hard. Would someone from your past have a grudge against you?”
One person came to mind. “Nancy Miller. But I don’t remember her resenting me in the past. Only recently…when she thought Jackson was flirting with me. She was obsessed with Jackson. Could that be motivation?”
“Maybe. The detectives know a lot about Nancy and Richard. But I’m going to investigate this further. I promise.” Noah glanced back at the bored guard staring at the floor, then squeezed my hand. “I’ll personally look into this. And I’m glad you confided in me.”
A warm flutter rippled through my abdomen. For a moment, I dared to imagine being closer to Noah. He knew me better than most people. But it could never happen. Noah the honorable man with me, the dishonorable woman. I valued our friendship too much.
He pulled his hand back. “I’d like to see if we can get fingerprints. You mentioned other envelopes—”
“Ten in total. I have them hidden away at the house.”
“How can I get them?”
My leg jiggled, and I wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs. I was doing this. Handing him all of my evidence. “I’ll give you the access code to the security system, but you’ll need a key for the locks. Mrs. Nichols, my neighbor down the street, she’s watching over my house while I’m gone. I’ll have to call her and let her know it’s okay to give you the key.”
“Great. Tell her I’ll come by to pick up the key in the next couple of days.”
“You’ll f
ind the letters in the wall cabinet in the garage. Top shelf behind the cans of paint. Look for a brown envelope.” I paused. Noah was sincerely interested in what I was telling him. I felt vindicated, like someone was really paying attention to what I had to say. It was a strange and uplifting sensation, but I knew better than to get my hopes up too high. “You’re seriously going to look into this? You don’t think I’m being paranoid?”
“Yes, I’m seriously looking into this. And no, I don’t think you’re being paranoid. Relax. We’re in this thing together, remember?”
“Thanks for being on my side.”
“Hang in there. You’re almost out of here. Unfortunately, I’ll still be out of town when you’re released—on that holiday with Catherine—so I won’t be checking into work until I get back.”
“Sounds romantic.”
He snickered. “More like a last-ditch effort to save the marriage.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Yeah.” He half-smiled, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. “At what point do you throw in the towel? No, never mind, please don’t answer that.”
I didn’t like seeing Noah downtrodden. As much as I’d like a chance to get closer to him, I hoped he and Catherine patched things up on their get-away.
“Ten minutes to wrap it up,” the guard called out to the room.
My shoulders dropped, and it was hard not to frown. Talking to Noah had given me new hope, and I wasn’t ready for him to leave. “How’s your father?” I asked, hoping to extend our conversation. “I suppose he’s satisfied the case is solved.”
“Oh, yeah. He’s happy. He was relieved to hear Patsy wasn’t involved. The old man actually has more energy these days.”
“That’s good.” I meant it and held no grudge. Solving the mystery had brought closure for many people. I should have done this years ago.
Noah tapped his finger on the envelope with the leaf on the table. “I’ll make this a priority check at the station and get back to you when I return from Florida. Next time we talk, it’ll be outside of this place.”
