Yesterday, she had sounded sure when she’d told Eric that Jason would get bored and move on. But she didn’t know for sure. Perhaps he’d continue to pester and hound her to give him another chance.
She fisted her hands. If he did, she’d have to take more drastic measures, like changing her phone number and filing a restraint order against him.
She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. But if he left her no choice then she’d do it.
She took a deep breath. At least she’d had forty-eight hours of peace. Jason hadn’t called her or texted her ever since she left on this trip with Eric.
That was a relief. She turned up the volume on the MP3 player when the Rolling Stones Paint it Black came on. She picked up her pace.
Soon she felt all the tension begin to melt away. She could take deeper breaths without feeling the walls of her lungs tightening. It was invigorating.
She continued to run for several minutes until she felt eyes on her. She looked behind her and swore she saw a moving dark shadow in the woods.
Creeped out and checking her watch, she decided the jog had lasted long enough.
This place was isolated and although she had self defense skills to take down an unarmed assailant, she’d have a harder time defending herself against someone who wielded a knife or gun.
She’d left her gun in her suitcase in the hotel along with her cellphone. Not a smart move on her part.
She transformed her job into a run, shutting off the music so she could hear if someone were following her. Which she did. Someone was running in the bushes some twenty feet away.
She turned several times, most of the time she didn’t see anyone, but on a couple of occasions she thought she saw black and white whirr by her in the woods. But soon whoever was chasing her fell back. She didn’t know if it was because they couldn’t keep up or if they realized they’d been caught.
Whatever the case, she was grateful. She ran back to the motel room, unlocked the door and then locked and bolted it once inside.
She ran for her gun and her phone. Placing the loaded gun beside her on the desk while she stood near the curtain, she peeked out making sure no one walked out of the woods and into the clearing while she called Eric.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Eric, I’m being followed,” she blurted out. Time was crucial. She had no leeway to brace him.
“Okay, did you see who it was?”
“No, but whoever it was, was dressed in black and white I think. I couldn’t tell.”
“I’m leaving the library right now. Don’t hang up. Keep talking to me until I get there so I know you’re safe.”
“Yeah, all right.”
“Are you keeping an eye out?”
“Uh-huh. I got my eyes glued to the window. If someone comes out of the woods, I’ll see him or her. No one has come out of the trail yet.”
“You’re sure you saw someone?”
She tsked. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
He half-laughed. “Sorry, I’m so used to questioning civilians. I forgot I was talking to my special agent, smart-ass sister.”
Suddenly, a knock came at the door. She jumped and could hear Eric shout, “Who the fuck is that?”
She quickly tossed her phone on the desk and grabbed her gun. She placed her eye on the peephole. Her heart was pounding frantically against her chest. She could barely breathe.
She saw Vincent standing there fixing his tie. He obviously didn’t know she was spying on him. Quickly shoving her gun in the desk drawer, she opened the door greeting him with a big smile.
“Hi, you’re early again.”
He ran his eyes appreciatively up and down her body. Unlike the creepy Wentworths, she didn’t mind Vincent’s roaming eye or his attention.
He shrugged. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. But I figured we have more time to talk. Do you mind?”
She laughed. “Of course I don’t mind.” Now it was her turn to ogle him. He looked so dapper and irresistibly sexy in his black suit and white crisp shirt. “Why so formal? Are we having lunch at a high class restaurant?”
He snorted. “I wish. No, not in Whitewater. There aren’t any that are worth it. This isn’t the Big Apple, you know.” He glided his hands over the front of his jacket. I have to be in court at two.”
“So are you ready to go?” he asked perking his left eyebrow.
She peered down at her sweaty attire. “Um, no. But if you give me ten minutes, I’ll shower fast and dress.”
“Sure,” he said pushing the desk chair out and having a seat. “Do what you have to do and I’ll wait here.”
She hurried to her suitcase. She hadn’t yet unpacked and was thankful she hadn’t. She grabbed it and carried it into the bathroom.
She began to undress when Vincent rapped on the door. “Sorry, Jessica, but someone is screaming on your phone.”
Embarrassed, she wrapped a towel around her torso and stuck her hand out of the crack of the open door. “It’s my brother.” She’d completely forgotten he was still on the line.
“Yeah,” she said, bracing herself for the backlash.
“What the fuck is going on?” he shouted.
She cringed moving the phone farther from her ear. It throbbed. “Relax,” she started, trying to reassure her twin that everything was under control.
Chapter 20
Eric scratched his head. There was something he was missing. It niggled at the back of his mind, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure it out.
Maybe it was the fact his paranoia kept him distracted. He’d peeked out the narrow opening between the curtains in his motel room at least ten times since he’d returned from the library. He was looking for Jessica’s stalker. Had someone been following her on the trail or did she imagine the whole thing? She was a trained FBI agent, so odds were no she didn’t imagine it. But who could it be and why was he or she after Jessica? Did they want to kidnap her or simply scare her? Could it have anything to do with their case? Was someone trying to scare the Firth twins away? What were they hiding? What were they worried Eric and Jessica would uncover?
He’d wanted to ask Jessica questions of her experience when he returned from the library. But by the time he’d gotten back, she’d already left for her lunch date with Vincent. She’d texted him from the restaurant saying she’d be back by two and wanted to know what he’d uncovered in his research at the library.
He harrumphed. “I found diddly squat.”
The local news articles he’d uncovered didn’t reveal anything they didn’t already know, except how adamant Sheriff Atkins had been that their father was guilty. The smug picture of the sheriff on the front page of one of the newspapers had the quote, “We’ve got the killer. He’s behind bars. Justice has been served.”
There was no doubt about it, from what Jessica had told him of the trial transcripts she’d reviewed, everyone in the Whitewater Police Department who worked on the case and testified believed Robert Firth was guilty of first degree murder of Sam and Elizabeth Firth.
If they believed it, then of course it would sway the jurors. After all, this was a small town and usually law enforcement officials in small towns were respected and admired by town folk.
It was no surprise that the juror’s verdict had been unanimous. All twelve jury members had voted guilty.
So in Jessica and Eric’s eyes their father hadn’t had a fair trial. And although Jonathan Archer had appealed the discussion in the Court of Appeals and then in the Supreme Court, he couldn’t get the conviction overturned.
But just because the trial had been biased, it still didn’t mean their father was innocent. He could very well have done it.
From the police investigation reports and witnesses who had been brought to the stand to testify, there had been no one with whom their mother or brother had had an argument or disagreements in the months, weeks, or days before the murders. Except for their father. He and their mother had a turbulent marriage, his alcohol add
iction and aggressive behavior when he was inebriated were the cause of their problems.
Al Wentworth had called Robert Firth a no-good drunk, a big loser when they’d spoken to him this morning. The way he’d spoken to Jessica, thinking she was their mother, wasn’t how a neighbor would act, or even a friend. It was more like a lover would have reacted.
Had their mother and Al Wentworth had an affair? Could that have been the reason why their dad and mom argued? Was that the reason their father murdered her?
But what about Sam? Where did his killing come into the equation? Why would he want to kill his own son? Was Robert Firth so drunk that evening that he swung his axe at Sam simply because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time?
Eric sprinted from his bed to the desk at the door. He grabbed Jessica’s motel key she’d given to him that morning when they’d gone to the front desk to change their rooms. Jessica had brought the SD card with the PDF files of the trial transcripts so they could reference the data during their investigation.
Jessica had read over Al Wentworth’s testimony in the trial and had relayed the gist of it to Eric. But that wasn’t enough. He had to read his testimony in detail. Hopefully, he’d find the answer he was looking for. Had his mother and Al Went worth had an affair?
The last time he’d seen the SD card, Jessica had inserted it in her tablet. He remembered it because he’d commented about her still having the tablet Jason had given her.
Jason had wanted it back, had made a hullabaloo about it and had even stalked her apartment floor waiting for her to arrive.
First he took a hissy fit for her to give it back and when she did, he does a 180, saying that he had a change of heart and wanted her to keep it.
Jason Reuben was not working with a full deck, that was for sure.
And although Eric’s sister said she had everything under control, he knew she didn’t. He’d seen a hundred Jason Reubens in his years in the Bureau.
They were troublemakers who thought they were above the law. They could say and do anything and get away with it.
Well, that was not going to happen this time round. Once they returned from this trip, Eric would have a nice, or rather a threatening, chat with Jason. If Jason didn’t stop harassing Jessica, Eric would use all his FBI clout to make Jason’s life miserable.
He shook his head in frustration. If Jason were standing here beside Eric, Eric would have clobbered him, broken his jaw with one powerful punch. But he wasn’t, so Eric might as well focus on something else, like those blasted transcripts.
He plumped himself in the armchair beside Jessica’s bed and turned on the tablet. He accessed the file and searched until he came to the document that read Al Wentworth’s Testimony.
With keen eyes, he read every word. There was no mention of his mother and Al having a relationship, nor one that they were good friends. All Al Wentworth testified was that he was Robert and Elizabeth Firth’s neighbor. They said hello and goodbye whenever they met on the road either by car or by foot.
Eric shook his head. That wasn’t the impression Al gave them that morning. What wasn’t Eric seeing?
But when he came across Al’s recount of the night the murders took place, alarm bells flared in Eric’s mind.
“Someone is not saying the truth, so siree,” he mused taking his notebook out of his jacket pocket.
Chapter 21
Jessica didn’t want this date to end. Their hour and a half lunch had breezed by. It felt like a mere ten minutes. There was so much more she wanted to ask Vincent about his childhood, about his daughter Maggie. She obviously was his pride and joy. Everything he did and said was for her.
Jessica had always desired to be a mother. When the right man came along, she’d wanted at least two kids, a boy and a girl. If they were blessed with more she wouldn’t’ mind. She’d thought Jason had been the right man, but he’d turned out to be the wrong man, the very, very wrong man,
Her thoughts floated onto another tangent while Vincent drove her back to the hotel. Today made a full forty-eight wonderful hours without a harassing or pleading email or message. She pondered how long she’d have peace. Several times during the past weeks, she been tempted to block his number, but if she did that it’d only trigger another wave of anger and hissy fits from Jason. He knew where she lived. Blocking his number would not stop his unrelenting behavior.
She had so much on her plate at the moment, adding anymore drama to her life would be too overwhelming. There were those, like her brother, who thought she wasn’t being tough enough with Jason. She should be firm and not cave to his fanatics.
But these people hadn’t loved the man like she had. No matter what he’d done, who he had become, a part of her would always love him.
She wondered if her mother had gone through the same thing with her dad. He’d been a drunk, an aggressive one. Jessica’s grandmother had said he’d hit their mother on several occasions when he was drunk.
But Jessica didn’t remember her father ever hitting her mom or any of them for that matter. There had been arguments, a ton them. Sometimes her father had put his first through the wall in frustration. Sometimes Sam got in his face when he came home stinking of alcohol.
San had always made sure the twins were in their room when he got into his father’s face. Most of the times the twins were fast asleep, but there were times when they were still awake. Eric would cover his ears and cry while Jessica comforted him. Telling him everything would be all right. Their daddy would soon pass out and when he’d awaken in the morning, he’d be his happy self again.
Eric had been the sensitive emotional twin when they were kids and even growing up. But after he reached adulthood, he’d learnt to contain his emotions. Years of therapy helped him cope.
Though he was still sensitive and emotional, he was able to keep it buried inside.
She’d always been the empathic twin. She knew what Eric was feeling and thinking before he said anything, simply by looking into his face.
She’d honed her talent as she grew older, wishing to help others like she’d tried to help Eric.
But it was in her first year in college that she’d made her mind to become a criminal behavioral analyst. The fact her mom and brother had been murdered when she was a child spurred her ambitions. Just like they instigated Eric to become an FBI special agent.
They no longer wanted to be the helpless victims. They wanted to protect and aid victims of crimes.
Life was indeed ironic when it evolved.” Well, we’ve finally made it,” Vincent said putting the car into park right in front of her hotel room.
His voice broke her mind’s wandering thoughts and brought her back to the present.
He turned to face her in his seat. He fixed his concerned eyes on her. “Are you okay? You’ve been awfully quiet ever since we got into the car.”
She smiled reassuringly. “Oh, yeah. I was just thinking about my dad.”
He squinted intensifying his stare as if it would allow him to pierce her façade and see exactly what was bothering her. “Are you sure it isn’t something else? Is it the food you ate at the restaurant? Or are you not enjoying my company?” He widened his lips flirtatiously.
“The food was amazing and so has been your company.”
He glanced at the dashboard clock before focusing back on her. “Me too. I really enjoyed our time together.”
For a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes. It was intense and electrifying. Her whole body tingled.
He then slowly moved in closer while he never broke eye contact. I wish I didn’t have to get back to court.” When he was so close, she could feel his warm breath on her neck, her voice hitched.
Her body was anticipating his kiss. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest. Her lips throbbed with want. God, the sexual pull was intoxicating.
Her body, her heart, wanted her to give into it, but her mind screamed for her to move away. She must stop this before anything happened. She wasn’t
ready for it.
She stretched her shaking hand to block his further advance. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” she murmured.
His sultry deep hazel eyes seemed to take on a look of annoyance for an instant before he blinked, then he diverted them to the door beside her.
He cleared his throat. “I’m just opening the door for you.”
Embarrassment at her assumption, she beat him to the punch. “No, that’s okay. I got it.”
Within seconds she had it open. She sprung out as if her seat were on fire.
A strong gust of wind whipped her long black hair against her face, stinging her cheeks. She tried to comb it back, but failed miserably. It was as if the wind wanted to cover her face with her hair so Vincent couldn’t see her embarrassment.
He bent so he could keep eye contact with her through the passenger’s side. He smiled, his merry eyes beaming as if the awkward moment between them never happened.
“What are you and Eric doing tomorrow night?” he asked.
“Nothing at the moment, why?”
“Would you and your brother like to come over to my place for dinner? My dad will be there, so will Maggie. I’d like her to meet you and Eric.”
She grinned, touched that he wanted to introduce Eric and her to his daughter. “Sure, we’d love that. Thank you.”
He put the car into drive. “See you tomorrow. It’ll be fun. Okay, I really gotta go. I’m late.”
“Good luck in court,” she said pulling her hair completely back so she could see him.
“Thanks, bye.”
She waved as he drove off. She stared at his black BMW as it steered to the end of the street and turned.
She had a warm, fuzzy feeling growing inside her. Although she had made a complete fool of herself, she’d had a wonderful time. They connected on so many levels. It was refreshing to be able to talk freely and laugh, forget about her woes for just a little while.
The wind continued to whip around her, bringing with it a sense of foreboding. She suddenly had a haunting feeling someone was watching her. It rolled through her like a flood after a damn broke.
The Girl Who Saw Too Much (The Firth Twins' Series Book 1) Page 9
