* * * *
Jessica awoke the following morning with a pounding headache and gritty eyes that felt like they’d been scrubbed with sandpaper.
She rolled over and glanced at the small alarm clock that sat on the nightstand between the two beds. It was two in the afternoon. She’d slept half the day away.
Throwing back the covers, she stood and padded across the room in her bra and panties to find the painting wasn’t merely some dream she’d had in the middle of the night. It was definitely real, and just exactly as she remembered it.
Touching the now dry canvas, she gently ran her fingertip across the boy’s reflection in the water and then touched on the female’s face as well.
The longer she stared at the images before her, the harder her heart began to pound.
“What is happening to me?” she whispered in confusion, staggering back a few steps.
Jessica spun around and unzipped one of her suitcases with unsteady hands. She grabbed up a clean change of clothes, made her way to the bathroom, and showered.
Once clean, Jessica dressed in jeans, a white silk blouse with matching flats and then pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She bypassed her makeup, opting to wear sunglasses instead.
Snatching up the latest painting, Jessica loaded it into the backseat of her SUV next to the previous image she’d painted of Terry Dayton in that shallow grave.
She opened the driver’s door, tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, and got behind the wheel.
Steven picked that moment to turn into the parking lot of the motel. He pulled up next to her and rolled down his window.
Jessica lowered hers as well. “What are you doing here?”
“I tried calling you last night, but you didn’t answer. Nor did you answer this morning. I figured you were still upset with me about what happened yesterday.”
She knew exactly what he referred to. “I’m assuming you mean the almost kiss.”
Disappointment flickered in his eyes. “Yeah.”
“I’m not upset with you, Steven. I just have a lot on my mind…a lot to think through.”
Steven’s elbow came up to rest along his door frame. “And I’m a complication you don’t need right now.”
“I didn’t say that. Look, Steven, you’ve been a Godsend through all this, and as attractive as I find you, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a married woman.”
He glanced down at the ground for a moment before returning his disappointed gaze to hers. “In case you’ve forgotten, your husband had you locked up in the mental ward against your will.”
Jessica inwardly flinched. She didn’t need to be reminded of Owen’s damnable Baker Acting of her person. “I haven’t forgotten, and I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive him for what he did, but in his defense, he thought he was doing what was best for me.”
“How can you defend him after what he did?”
“I’m not defending him, Steven. I’m only saying that had I been in his position, I might have done the same thing. Especially if I thought it would keep him alive. Owen has experienced the unthinkable where I’m concerned.” She couldn’t bring herself to mention the attempted suicide she’d put Owen through only two years before.
Steven opened his car door and got out. He leaned in the window of her SUV and cupped the side of her face. “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you need me.” He paused. “For anything.”
Jessica stared back at him from behind the safety of her sunglasses. He was everything any woman could ask for. Handsome, successful, and charismatic. But he wasn’t Owen. “Thank you, Steven. That means a lot.”
He straightened away from the door. “Where are you headed?”
She wondered how much to tell him. The last thing she wanted was him following her to the Daytons’ house and causing trouble. Yet the longer she sat there gazing up at him, the more she wanted to tell him. “I’m going to see Jasper.”
Steven’s eyebrows lifted. “What for?”
Jessica jerked her thumb toward the backseat. “To show him my latest painting.”
Steven opened the back door to her SUV, retrieved the painting and studied it for several heartbeats. “Why would you want him to see this?”
Jessica climbed out and joined Steven in his perusal of the painting he held. “I painted it late last night. See the faces in the water?”
Lifting the canvas higher, Steven squinted at the image. “I see them. What does it mean?”
“I have no idea, but it has something to do with Terry Dayton’s disappearance.”
Appearing unconvinced, Steven set the painting back onto the seat and shut the door. “Are you sure you didn’t subconsciously dream this one up? I’m not saying it doesn’t have something to do with Terry Dayton, but the last image you created, Terry was in a shallow grave, not a lake.”
Doubt quickly trickled in. “Maybe so, but this is the second time I’ve painted something with no recollection of it during or after. And both times had to do with Terry Dayton…” Her voice trailed off.
“Jessica,” Steven began, only to falter. He tried again. “Look, maybe you should try to put Terry’s disappearance behind you for a little while. At least until we can clear up the suspicion surrounding Sandy Weaver’s murder.”
Climbing back behind the wheel of her SUV, Jessica closed her door. “I’ll give it some thought.”
“That’s all I ask. Will you stop by later tonight and have dinner with me?”
Jessica nodded and put the SUV in gear. “I’ll text you when I’m headed your way.”
“Be careful.”
Chapter Forty
Jessica nibbled at the food she’d picked up in the drive-thru and drove around for over an hour, periodically driving past the Dayton home in hopes that she’d catch Jasper’s truck in the driveway.
Her mind continued to drift back to her conversation with Steven in the parking lot of her motel.
He’d seemed out of sorts, antsy and almost…nervous. He had grown even more unsettled after seeing the latest of Jessica’s paintings.
A strange feeling swept over her in that moment. Why the sudden change in his demeanor? There had been a certain desperation in his eyes, as if he hadn’t wanted her to speak with Jasper.
She supposed what she sensed in Steven could have been jealousy or resentment over the fact that she’d planned on visiting the Dayton’s without first consulting with him about it.
Shaking off her unsettling thoughts, Jessica made another sweep around the Daytons’ neighborhood when she noticed Melanie standing out front, her arms crossed over her chest.
Jessica cringed, realizing she’d been caught stalking them.
With no choice but to stop or play ignorant and drive on past, Jess pulled up along the curb and got out.
Melanie unfolded her arms as Jessica approached. “How many trips were you planning on making before you stopped?”
Embarrassed to the roots of her hair, Jessica muttered, “As many as it would take until Jasper arrived home.”
“I see.” Melanie’s gaze swept over Jessica’s attire. “Any particular reason why you wish to speak to my husband and not me?”
Left with little choice but to be honest, that’s exactly what Jessica did. “I knew you would become angry. I also knew you wouldn’t believe what I had to say.”
Uncertainty flashed in Melanie’s eyes before they blanked of expression. “You’re probably right, but you might as well spill it.”
Unsure of what to say next, Jessica held up a finger. “I just need to grab some things from my car.”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
Jessica jogged across the Daytons’ yard, terrified and filled with anxiety. She had no doubt that when Melanie saw the two paintings Jess had in her SUV, she would lose her temper, and most likely call the authorities. Damn.
The sound of a vehicle pulling into the drive caught Jessica’s attention. She snagged the two paintings in the
backseat and turned to find Jasper emerging from his truck.
Relief was instant.
Jasper waved as he trekked across the lawn to stand next to his wife.
Jess returned the greeting, closed the door to her SUV, and hurried back to Melanie’s side.
“What’s going on?” Jasper placed his arm around his wife’s shoulder.
Melanie spoke before Jessica had a chance to respond. “Mrs. Nobles has something she wants to speak with us about.”
Jasper sent Jessica a reassuring smile. “Come on in. No sense in us standing around in the yard. It’s about to rain.”
Jess hadn’t noticed the clouds gathering in the darkened skies, but she did then.
Thunder picked that moment to roll in, followed by a flash of lightning.
Jasper spun toward the front door. “We’d better hurry.”
Jessica followed the Daytons into the oversized living room. Too nervous to sit, she opted to stand next to a dark brown recliner.
Melanie and Jasper took a seat next to each other on the couch.
“What do you have there?” Jasper nodded to the paintings Jessica held in her hands.
Clearing her throat, Jessica met Melanie’s gaze. “The first time we met, I told you of how I saw your son in the window of the house next door to me.”
Melanie’s expression became closed off. Though, she didn’t speak, she continued to watch Jessica as if waiting on her to get to the point.
That’s exactly what Jessica did. “The night I saw him in that upstairs window, I went into my office intending to paint a portrait of my son, Jacob. I blacked out at some point, and when I came to, I was still holding the paint brush in my hand. But instead of Jacob’s image on the canvas, I’d somehow painted this…” She turned the painting toward Jasper and Melanie.
Melanie cried out, her hand slapping over her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes and her body began to tremble. She shook her head, lowering her hand from her mouth. “What kind of sick game is this?”
Jessica couldn’t speak around the lump welling up in her throat. She set the painting on the floor to rest against her leg and then reached out a hand toward Melanie Dayton.
Springing to her feet, Melanie fled the room in a flurry of tears and heart wrenching sobs.
“I’m so sorry,” Jessica wheezed, barely able to get the words out.
Jasper, though pale and obviously shaken, remained on the couch. He lifted his gaze to Jessica. “You painted Terry’s grave?”
When Jessica simply stood there, staring back at him through her tears, he nodded toward her other hand. “And that one? What is that?”
“This was a bad idea,” Jess choked out. “I’ll just be going now.”
Jasper unsteadily got to his feet, rounded the coffee table and stopped in front of Jess. “Show me.”
Jessica shook her head. “I made a mistake. Please—”
“Show me!”
Taking a step back, Jessica lifted the painting she still held and turned it to face Jasper Dayton.
He peered down at the image for so long, Jessica was beginning to think he’d become hypnotized by it.
Jasper lifted his gaze to Jessica’s. “What is this?”
Jess wasn’t sure if she should be relieved that Jasper didn’t recognize the place she’d painted, or worried that Steven had been right, and she’d subconsciously created the image from a dream she’d had. “It doesn’t look familiar to you?”
“Should it?” Jasper rumbled, obviously confused.
Jessica lowered the picture. “I suppose not. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
Lightning popped somewhere nearby, sending nerves scattering through Jessica’s body. She glanced toward the window, noticing how dark it had grown in the short time she’d been there.
Jasper’s gaze flicked to the window as well. “I’m going to check on Melanie. You’d better get going if you hope to get ahead of this storm.”
“I’m really sorry I upset your wife, Mr. Dayton. Truly, that wasn’t my intention. I won’t bother either of you again. You can rest assured.” She picked up the painting propped against her leg and turned to go.
“Melanie is a good person, Mrs. Nobles. She just can’t accept that Terry isn’t coming back.”
Jessica reached for the doorknob, peering at him over her shoulder. “Have you?”
“Accepted that he’s not coming back?”
“Yes,” she softly responded.
“A long time ago.” With that, he moved off in the direction his wife had disappeared.
Jessica opened the door and stepped onto the front porch of the pale-yellow home before making a run for her vehicle.
She set the two paintings in the backseat and hurried around to the driver’s side door.
Lightning popped again, scaring the daylights out of her. She quickly climbed in, slid behind the wheel, breathing a sigh of relief as she made it inside the SUV just seconds ahead of the pouring rain.
Jessica started the engine and turned on the windshield wipers, her gaze landing on her cell phone resting on the console.
Snatching it up, she swiped her thumb across the screen. Her heart stuttered as Owen’s digits appeared.
She wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, to tell him how sorry she was for not being honest with him. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Jessica had been a needy baggage of instability for the past three and a half years. No matter how insane she’d felt or how hopeless things had become, Owen had been by her side through it all. But Jess had broken him. She’d seen it in his eyes…heard it in his voice.
Owen deserved better. He deserved someone stable, someone capable of intimacy and passion. Not some mentally unstable individual who saw spirits and painted images of the dead.
Dropping her forehead against the steering wheel, Jessica allowed her tears to flow. She cried for Jacob, for little Terry Dayton and his parents. But most of all, she cried for Owen. Jasper Dayton may have lost his only son, but he still had his wife. Poor Owen had no one. He’d lost everything that had ever mattered to him.
“I love you, Owen. I’m so sorry…”
Jessica wasn’t sure how long she sat there, crying in the rain before she gathered her resolve and lifted her head.
She pulled the gearshift down to drive and eased away from the curb. She would go back to the motel, gather her things and head back to Chicago where she couldn’t hurt Owen any longer.
With her mind made up, Jessica switched on the defrost, squinted through the rain at the oncoming headlights and took a left at the stop sign.
Chapter Forty-One
Owen paced along the foot of his bed, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his hand.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on his next pass across the carpeted floor. He looked like hell.
Turning up the bottle, Owen reveled in the burn of the whiskey as it slid down his throat. It told him two things. He was still alive, and he’d be in a comfortable state of numbness in the next thirty minutes.
His gaze touched on a photo of Jessica, perched on his nightstand in the pale wooden frame he’d carved for her some years back.
He rounded the bed and plucked up the photo. “Ah, Jess. My beautiful Jessica.”
Tears of sorrow gathered in his eyes. He’d lost his wife just as he lost his son. She might not be gone in the same sense as Jacob, but she’d left him nonetheless.
He dropped his weight onto the mattress, hugging the image close to his chest and took another long pull of the blessed whiskey.
Thunder boomed in the distance, drawing his attention to the window. The Dayton house sat in his line of sight, silhouetted by the flash of lightning streaking across the sky.
Owen laid the picture he held on the bed next to him and stood. He moved closer to the window, unable to take his gaze from the desolate looking house that stood before him.
Jessica had become obsessed with that place—obsessed to the point she’d br
oken into it to reach a boy that had been missing for over a decade.
Lightning flashed again, illuminating the upstairs windows. But nothing appeared save for the rain washing down its panes.
Pushing away from the sight, Owen meandered off down the hall to stop at the door to the office. He flipped on the light and moved into the room.
Setting the bottle of whiskey down on the corner of the desk, Owen opened the lid to Jessica’s laptop.
It booted up to the sign on screen, prompting him for a passcode. He typed in JACOB, knowing without a doubt that Jessica would choose their son’s name as her password.
The computer quickly loaded to the last page Jessica had visited. Seven-year-old Terry Dayton went missing on January tenth…
Owen continued to read, somehow feeling closer to Jess with every word he consumed.
A thought occurred to him the longer he sat there reading about the missing Dayton boy. He immediately visited the computer’s history.
Every page that Jessica had loaded could be found there, including one that read STEVEN RUCKLE.
Owen clicked on the name, stunned to find the face of the man he’d seen in the elevator with Jess.
Anger and jealousy warred inside him the longer he studied the image of the man before him. Anger won out.
He snatched up a piece of paper, along with a pen and jotted down Steven’s name.
Clicking out of that screen, Owen did a reverse name lookup on the computer and pulled up Steven’s address. He entered it into his phone’s GPS.
With phone in hand, he jumped to his feet, closed the laptop lid, and rushed from the office to grab his keys from a hook in the kitchen.
Owen opened the side door in the living room and pressed the button on the wall in the garage. The garage door instantly began to rise, revealing the pelting rain now flooding his drive.
He rounded the front of his car, hopped inside, and inserted the key into the ignition. The engine revved to life with the flick of his wrist.
Owen eased out of the garage, switching on the windshield wipers as he backed down his driveway and entered the street beyond. He would pay Mr. Ruckle a visit. If the ex-reporter thought to take Owen’s wife from him, he’d better be prepared to fight, because Owen wasn’t giving up on a Jess without one.
The Boy in the Window: A Psychological Thriller Page 14
