Jessica glanced at Owen, noticing the tense set to his jaw. “How did you know I’d been taken to the station?”
“I came home to find the house being searched. One of the officers told me where to find you.”
The attorney cleared his throat, bringing Jessica’s attention back to him. “I need you to tell me everything. Do you understand? Leave nothing out, no matter how small you think it is.”
“I didn’t kill that woman,” Jessica responded in a weak voice. “I barely even knew her.”
Lucas Hill leaned back in his chair. “I spoke with the Sparkleberry Hills police chief. It would seem that they found your fingerprints all over Mrs. Weaver’s living room.”
Owen’s head cranked around in Jessica’s direction. “Who is Mrs. Weaver?”
“The psychic I told you about. I went to see her a few days ago to talk with her about the missing Dayton boy.”
Owen exhaled loudly. “Were you planning on telling me about this?”
“No,” Jessica snapped before pinching the bridge of her nose. “I couldn’t tell you, Owen. You would only think I was crazy and demand I see a psychiatrist.”
A tense silence ensued and then Owen addressed the attorney. “I’m assuming the psychic is dead?”
“Apparently she was murdered in her own home last night. Your wife is suspected of being the last person to see her alive.”
“Jesus,” Owen breathed, glancing at Jessica before returning his gaze to the attorney. “What happens now?”
“Once I’ve heard everything there is to hear, I’ll determine if I need to be placed on retainer. But from what I’ve gathered so far, I think it’s safe to say that detective isn’t going to stop until your wife is behind bars.”
Jessica’s heart twisted. “But I didn’t do it.”
“I’m not here to judge you, Mrs. Nobles. I only need to know what we’re up against.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Owen drove Jessica home, his thoughts a jumbled mess of chaos and disbelief. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her for fear she would see the suspicion lurking in his eyes.
The Jessica Owen, he had married, would never do something as heinous as what she’d been accused of doing. But he wasn’t sure he knew her anymore. The woman sitting in the passenger seat of his car had been a stranger to him since their son’s death.
“Why don’t you ask me?” Jessica whispered, pulling Owen out of his dark thoughts. “Ask me if I did it.”
Owen finally met her gaze. “It wouldn’t matter, Jess. You’ve lied to me so much lately, I’m not sure I would believe anything you told me at this point.”
“Then why did you come get me? Why hire an attorney for me?”
He returned his attention to the road. “Because, you’re my wife, for better or worse.”
“So, I’m an obligation.” It wasn’t a question.
Owen ground his teeth. “Can’t you simply accept the fact that I’m trying to be here for you?”
“First, you accused me of vandalizing our own home, and then came running with an attorney when I’m being questioned for murder. I don’t know what to think anymore, Owen. Your mixed signals are driving me crazy.”
“You want to talk about crazy? You’re seeing things that aren’t there, chasing the ghost of a little boy who happened to be the same age as Jacob. How is that for crazy?”
She turned to stare out the window, her silent way of telling him the conversation was over.
Owen drove the rest of the way home in a state of disbelief. His wife had been accused of murder, and he honestly couldn’t be sure of her innocence at that point. “I want you to see a doctor.”
That brought her head around. “I’m not going back to a psychiatrist, nor am I taking anymore medications, so you can just forget it.”
“If you don’t go willingly, Jess, I’ll have you Baker Acted. I swear to God, I will.”
“What the hell is a Baker Act?”
Owen turned into their drive, switched off the car and faced her. “It’s a means of providing a person with a mental health evaluation and treatment when required…either on a voluntary or an involuntary basis.”
Her mouth fell open. “Involuntary? Meaning you’ll have me committed?”
“Evaluated,” he quietly corrected, his heart in his throat. “There’s a difference.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “To you, maybe. But to me, it’s a betrayal.”
“What do you expect me to do? Sit around twiddling my thumbs while you continue to spiral out of control? You’ve left me no choice, Jess.”
Jessica opened the car and jumped out. “If you do this, Owen, we are through.” The door slammed shut behind her.
Owen remained in the car, unable to move, to take a deep breath. The love of his life was fading away before his eyes. He had to do something quick before she hurt someone else, or worse…herself.
He exited the car, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had Jessica been responsible for the death of that psychic in Alabama? He didn’t want to believe her capable of such a thing, yet the niggling doubt in the far recesses of his mind, told a different story.
He entered the house and made his way to their bedroom to find her packing her things. “I can’t let you leave, Jess.”
“You can’t stop me,” she bit out, grabbing items from her top drawer and stuffing them into her suitcase.
Owen pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Please, Jess. Don’t make me do this.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “If you have me locked up, Owen. You will never see me again. That, I can promise you.”
Clenching his teeth to keep from snarling at her, Owen dialed the police department, and asked for a car to be sent to his home.
Jessica kept her back to him, her shoulder’s slumping in defeat. She closed the lid to her suitcase and spoke in a voice so soft he could barely understand her. “You break my heart, Owen…”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Mrs. Nobles? I need you to take this for me.”
Jessica sat in a chair in her small room in the local psychiatric ward and watched as the pretty, young nurse approached, holding a tiny paper cup.
She handed the cup to Jess. “Would you like some water?”
Jess nodded, unable to form words. She was in the Sparkleberry Hills hospital; on the fifth floor which was reserved for mental illness patients. They’d drugged her, entering her room only to administer meds or to help her shower.
“The doctor will be seeing you today,” the nurse commented, handing Jessica a cup of water.
Swallowing the pills, Jess took a sip of the water. “How long do I have to stay in here?” She read the nurse’s nametag. “Cindy?”
Cindy’s gaze softened. “I don’t know, Mrs. Nobles. I suppose it all depends on what the doctor decides after your evaluation.”
“You mean if he thinks I’m crazy or not,” Jess shot back, taking her frustration out on the young nurse.
When Cindy didn’t answer, Jessica asked, “Has my husband called?”
“He stopped by earlier to check on you, but you were asleep.”
“I don’t want to see him,” Jessica responded more harshly than she’d intended. “If he comes back, do not allow him in here. Under any circumstances.”
Cindy nodding her understanding. “Yes, Mrs. Nobles.”
“I need to use the phone.”
The nurse glanced toward the door. “We have a phone in the recreation room. I can walk you down if you’d like?”
Jessica pushed to her feet in a haze of drug induced numbness and followed the nurse from the room. They trailed down a short hallway and then turned right into large room with tables scattered throughout.
Dozens of people occupied the area, some sleeping in their chairs while others watched television or paced the room.
A beige colored phone hung on the wall next to a woman sitting at a desk behind a glass window.
“Mrs. Nobles would like
to use the phone, Alice,” Cindy informed the woman at the desk.
Alice nodded toward the phone. “Local calls only. And keep it short. Calls cut off after ten minutes.”
If Jessica had hoped for a little privacy, she was sadly mistaken. The woman behind the glass watched her every move.
Jess picked up the receiver and dialed the only person on the planet that she could trust.
“Ruckle,” Steven answered on the third ring.
Relief poured through Jessica. “Steven, it’s Jess.”
“Hey you. You finally decided to return my call?”
Confused, Jessica mumbled, “You called?”
“Like twenty times.” Humor lined his tone. “What’s going on?”
“I need to see you, Steven.”
He must have picked up on something in her voice. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” Jess whispered, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Everything’s bad, Steven. Really bad.”
“Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you.”
Jessica’s throat closed briefly. It took her a moment to gain enough composure to answer him. “I’m in the Sparkleberry Hills Psyche Ward.”
“What?”
“Owen had me Baker Acted last night.”
A long pause followed. “I’m on my way.” The call ended.
Relieved to know that Steven would be there shortly, Jessica moved to the recreation room to wait.
She took a seat at an empty table, not wishing to engage in conversation with anyone.
Leaning her head back to stare up at the ceiling, Jess let her mind drift to Owen and the closed off look on his face when he’d prevented her from leaving the house last night. He truly thought her crazy.
Her mind drifted back further, back to her wedding day.
Marrying Owen had been the happiest day of Jessica’s life aside from Jacob’s birth. Owen had been the most handsome, fun-loving man, Jess had ever known.
The two of them had met in college and married not long after graduation. Life couldn’t have been more perfect, that is, until their son had been born.
Jacob had quickly become Jessica’s entire world. With his mother’s dimples and his father’s chin, the tiny bundle of joy had been the apple of his parents’ eyes.
Losing Jacob had destroyed Jessica, along with her relationship with Owen.
She supposed she didn’t blame Owen for distrusting her. Jess had, after all, experienced hallucinations and suicidal thoughts for the better part of the past three years. But she’d gotten stronger, or so she thought. She’d tried so hard to please Owen, had even moved to Florida against her better judgement just to make him happy.
The woman Jessica had seen sitting behind the window stuck her head inside the recreation room. “You have a visitor.”
Jessica glanced at the clock on the wall. It had only been a few minutes since she’d spoken with Steven. “Who is it?”
Alice held her gaze. “It’s your husband.”
“I don’t wish to see him.”
“Are you sure? He seems really intent on seeing you.”
Jessica waved a hand in the air. “I’m positive.”
Alice stood there a moment longer, sighed rather loudly and then disappeared from view.
Chapter Thirty
Owen stared down at the short, blonde-haired woman refusing to allow him to see his wife. “Will you at least let her know that I’ve brought some of her things?”
“She’s not permitted to have them, Mr. Nobles. No shoes with strings, no belts, and no jewelry.”
It occurred to him that Jessica would be on suicide watch. His stomach tightened in grief. She would never forgive him for having her locked up. No matter how brief her stay might be.
“I understand. Would you mind asking her one more time if she will see me? I won’t stay long, and I promise not to upset her.”
The lady wearing the nametag ALICE, blew out a solemn breath. “I’m sorry, sir, but your wife was very adamant about not wanting to see you. And since she’s a patient here, I have to respect her wishes.”
Owen could only nod in return. “I’ll just try back later.”
He left the hospital and drove the short distance to Lucas Hill’s office.
“Mr. Hill is with a client at the moment,” the attorney’s legal assistant informed Owen at once. “If you’d like to have a seat and wait, he should be finished up in the next thirty minutes.”
Owen meandered over to a row of brown leather chairs and sat facing the assistant. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would say to the attorney once he saw him, he only knew that Jessica needed his help, and Hill was the only person Owen could think of to ask for that help.
Was she responsible for the alleged break in? Owen wondered for the hundredth time. Moreover, had she killed that psychic? If she had, what could her reasoning have been?
He knew that she’d been seeing things, such as the missing boy in the window. But surely that wouldn’t warrant murder. Unless she’d had a mental break and believed Sandy Weaver had been responsible for the Dayton kid’s disappearance.
Jessica hadn’t been completely sane since Jacob’s death. That much Owen knew, yet she couldn’t possibly be a killer. Could she?
The door to the attorney’s office opened, and a woman stepped out, holding the hand of the man at her side. She briefly met Owen’s gaze and then trailed off toward the exit door.
“Mr. Nobles?” the attorney murmured, gesturing toward his office. “Come on in.”
Owen followed Lucas Hill through the open doorway and took a seat in front of his desk. He waited for Hill to sit as well before getting to the point. “I had Jessica Baker Acted.”
Lucas Hill rested his elbows on the desktop and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “That’s not going to help her case. Can you tell me what prompted that decision?”
Owen dropped his head momentarily and then met the attorney’s gaze once again. “I think she’s had another psychotic break.”
The attorney’s eyebrows shot up. “Another, as in she has a history of psychotic breaks?”
Feeling guilty for disclosing Jessica’s past, Owen shifted in his seat. “She had a temporary break after our son’s death a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your son, Mr. Nobles. My deepest sympathies on your loss.”
Owen gave a weak nod. “Thank you.”
“What led you to believe your wife had a psychotic break?”
Filling the attorney in on everything that had happened since moving to Florida, Owen ended with, “I think it’s strange that the psychic ended up dead shortly after Jessica began hallucinating again. She’s seeing things that aren’t there and disappearing for hours at a time without answering her phone or text messages.”
“She has an alibi for the day the Weaver woman was killed. We’re still checking surrounding cameras that can prove she never left the motel later that night. If we can find evidence that she never left that room, she’ll be cleared of any suspicion. On another positive note, the murder weapon hasn’t been found, which means they have nothing to charge her with.”
Owen could only stare at Lucas Hill’s face. He hadn’t heard much past the alibi Jessica had for earlier that day. “Who is the alibi you mentioned?”
“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information, Mr. Nobles. That’s something you’ll have to ask your wife.”
“But she’s not the one who hired you. I am.”
Hill leaned back in his chair. “I realize that, but there is a thing called attorney-client privilege that prevents me from disclosing information about the case.”
“She’s my wife, Mr. Hill. I’m trying to help her. I would never do anything to hurt her case.”
The attorney pinned him with a serious look. “You may already have by Baker Acting her.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Jessica looked up when Alice poked her head around the corner once more.
“You have an
other visitor, Mrs. Nobles. A gentleman named Ruckle.”
“Please, send him in.” Jessica jumped to her feet and rounded the table.
The short blonde nodded and moved out of view.
Seconds later, Steven Ruckle marched into the room, his shoulders back and his eyes reflecting his empathy. “Jesus, Jess.”
He wrapped her in a hug, squeezing her hard enough she found it hard to breathe.
Not that she was complaining. It felt good to be held and comforted by someone who wouldn’t judge or question her sanity. “Thank you for coming.”
With one last gentle squeeze, Steven pulled back but kept his hands on her upper arms. “Of course. What the hell are you doing in this place?”
“Owen felt that I belonged here, I guess. I should never have mentioned what I saw in the upstairs window of the Dayton house.”
Steven guided her to a chair, before pulling one up directly in front of her. He took hold of her hands. “Just breathe and start from the beginning.”
Once Jessica began talking, she couldn’t seem to stop. She told Steven everything that had happened between Owen and her since Jacob’s death. “So, you see? He thinks I’m crazy. And rightfully so. I haven’t exactly been the model wife for many years now.”
“Jessica, listen to me. You are not crazy. Granted, you’ve been through something that would break even the strongest of people, but you’re far from insane. And you damn sure don’t belong in this place.”
Tears sprang to Jessica’s eyes. Steven’s words, his faith in her sanity, gave her the strength she needed to get through the ordeal that lay ahead of her. She would be alright. The evidence of that fact shone from Steven’s eyes like a beacon in the dark.
“Don’t cry,” he soothed, wiping away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “No matter what happens from here on out, know that I believe in you.”
Jessica sniffled. “That means more to me than I can say.”
“Listen to me, Jessica. I am going to do everything in my power to get you out of here. Worst case scenario, you have to stay for a couple of days. They can’t legally hold you here for more than seventy-two-hours, and you’ve already been here for twenty-four. Right?”
The Boy in the Window: A Psychological Thriller Page 10
