Jenessa nodded. “And I’ll have the server box up our food to go.”
Michael stalked away, leaving her to deal with Logan.
She looked up and noticed that it was Sara, a couple of tables away, moving closer, watching as Jenessa took another napkin and dabbed Logan’s lip. “Logan,” Jenessa shook her head, “what am I going to do with you?”
Logan grabbed her wrist when she raised her hand to dab his lip again. He looked her straight in the eye. “I love you, Jenessa,” he whispered.
Stunned, no words came to her. Then, she recalled her sister had been approaching.
Sara.
Jenessa lifted her gaze and scanned the place for her sister, hoping she hadn’t overheard what Logan said. She caught the back of Sara rushing toward the door. Apparently she had.
~*~
Once the taxi arrived, Logan climbed in the back. He stared out the window at Jenessa and Michael standing on the curb as the car pulled away, one side of his face bruised and swollen.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Michael asked.
Jenessa wasn’t sure if he was referring to the bloody napkins she sneaked into her handbag or the exchange between her and Logan. She chose to assume he meant the former.
“The napkins?”
“Yeah. Why did you stick them in your purse?”
“I need to capture Logan’s DNA.” She turned and briskly walked toward Michael’s car.
He followed close behind her. “Wait up.”
She slowed and he grabbed her arm to stop her. “That’s not a sterile way to do it. The DNA can become compromised,” he said. “Besides, you’re not law enforcement, why are you collecting his DNA?”
“I know it’s not sterile.” She pulled her arm away. “But it’s not like it’s exposed to anything that could contaminate it either.”
“Your hands.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “If it’s important, it needs to be handled with latex gloves and put in an evidence bag and tagged. Now there’s no chain of evidence. If it was vital to the case, now it’s useless.”
“It’s not useless,” Jenessa argued. “I’m collecting it so…” she stopped when she recalled her promise to Detective Provenza. She couldn’t tell Michael she knew about the comb and the hair, and that she was hoping to help identify the DNA. She dropped her gaze. “I can’t tell you.”
“What do you mean you can’t tell me? I’m a cop.”
“I know, and soon to be a detective.” George would have to fill him in.
“That’s right, so if you know something about the murder case, you need to tell me.”
“You’re starting your training with Detective Provenza tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll tell you then, if I can.”
“If you can? You’re not making any sense.”
Jenessa looked him in the eye. “You’re just going to have to trust me, Michael.” She walked off toward his car, and with his long strides, he quickly caught up with her.
“You’re killing me here, Jenessa.” He opened the car door for her.
“I tell you what. Let me make a call and see what I can do.”
“What you can do?” His brows furrowed in an expression of confusion.
“Why do you keep repeating me?” She pulled out her phone and tapped the numbers.
“This is Detective Provenza. What do you need, Jenessa?”
She looked across the car at Michael, who was studying her intently, obviously wondering who she was calling. “I think I have something you can match to that DNA. Where are you right now?”
“I’m at home. Meet me at the station in fifteen minutes.”
“I have Michael Baxter with me,” her focus held steady on him, “but I haven’t told him anything. What do you want me to do?”
“Don’t say a word, but you can bring him along. I’ll be the one to explain it to him.”
“Got it.”
“So, what’s going on? Who was that on the phone?” Michael asked. “I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
“I can’t reveal my sources.” Jenessa put her phone away. “Let’s head to the police station. I need to see someone down there.”
“Is that what your mysterious friend on the phone told you to do?”
“You might say that.”
Michael started the engine and pulled away from the curb. “Woman, you can be so frustrating.”
Chapter 29
Detective Provenza was in the reception area when they arrived.
“Hello, George,” Jenessa said.
“That’s Detec—” He raked his fingers through his white hair. “Oh, forget it,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Baxter, why don’t we all go back to my office?”
They followed him and took their seats around his desk.
Jenessa gingerly pulled the bundle of paper napkins out of her purse. She handed them over to Provenza. “The napkins inside have Logan Alexander’s blood on them. I hoped you could use it to see if it matched the other thing, you know?”
George nodded.
Michael frowned and cocked his head. “I’m going to begin my training with you tomorrow, Detective, so I hope you’ll read me in on whatever this is,” he said, gesturing toward the napkins.
“Miss Jones, could you excuse us for just a moment?” Provenza asked.
“Sure, I’ll step out into the hall.”
When the door shut all the way, Jenessa assumed George would explain to Michael what had been discovered by the CSI team, namely the plastic comb and the hairs.
Jenessa leaned her ear against the door and listened to them.
“Why did you share that with a civilian, sir, if you don’t mind my asking?” Michael said.
“She’s just so darned anxious to help, and I thought she could access people and things we couldn’t.”
“So you’re using her?”
“She offered.” Provenza replied. “When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, son, well, let’s just say sometimes you have to find creative ways to solve a case.”
“Creative, huh?” Michael paused. “So you think the hair on the comb is Logan’s?”
“It’s a possibility, somewhere to start. The case is so old that we don’t have many leads. We’ll have to start with our best guesses first.”
“What about the boyfriend?”
“We’re still looking for him.”
“Mr. Alexander will hit the roof if he finds out you’re investigating his fair-haired son.”
Ain’t that the truth.
“That’s why Jenessa and I wanted to get something to test the DNA against to see if it matched—under the radar, you know?”
“I wish you hadn’t involved her, though.”
“Why not?” Provenza asked.
Yeah, why not?
“They have a history together,” Michael said.
“I see. You think that’ll be a problem.”
“I hope not.”
~*~
Michael drove Jenessa home. He walked her to the door and paused as she unlocked it.
“Want to come in?” she invited.
“I’d better not. I’ve got to pick Jake up from my folks. Don’t want to abuse their help.”
She leaned her back against the door. “I had a wonderful time.”
“You mean until Logan interrupted things.”
“Even that was pretty exciting. You handled yourself like a pro—he didn’t know what hit him.”
“And you got your DNA sample.”
“Yeah, and there’s that. I hope it doesn’t match though. I’d hate to think Logan was capable of killing someone.”
“Under the right circumstances, anyone is capable of taking a life, Jenessa.”
Was he speaking from experience, from his time as an Army Ranger or as a police officer? They had never spoken of how many people he may have killed, but she knew that was true. Under the right circumstances, even she could do it.
/> “It could have been an accident, though,” Michael proposed, “or self-defense.”
“Maybe. But if he buried the body to cover up what happened, that only made it worse.”
“Enough talk about Logan, how about you and me?” he said. “What do you say we try this again on Friday night?”
“I’d love to.” She couldn’t help but grin at the thought of it.
Michael slid a hand around her waist, leaning down he kissed her. His kiss was so warm and moist and full of desire that she grabbed the door handle to steady herself.
When their lips parted, he gazed deeply into her eyes for a few moments. She anticipated another kiss, wanted it, but he took a step back instead.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” she asked.
“I’d better get going while I can.” He stepped off the porch. “Sweet dreams.”
~*~
Jenessa was getting ready for bed, the afterglow of the kiss still lingering on her lips. Her phone jangled on the nightstand. She picked it up and read the screen—Logan Alexander. How did his number get saved in my phone?
She ignored it. He was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. After what he had said to her, and with Provenza’s suspicions that he might be the killer, she was determined to put a wide berth between them, especially knowing Logan’s declaration of love was overheard by her heart-sick sister.
After she crawled into bed, she clicked off the lamp and pulled her bedding around her. In the morning, she had a ribbon-cutting ceremony to cover for the new City Hall building and a few obituaries to write, but right now Michael’s lips on hers was all she wanted to think about as she happily drifted off to sleep.
But the phone rang again and she checked it—Logan again. A few minutes later it rang for the third time—still Logan. Irritated, she turned her phone off and snuggled against her pillow.
~*~
Jenessa awoke early, refreshed from a good night’s sleep. She stretched lazily and slapped the button on the alarm clock to kill the repetitive buzzing. Before she hopped in the shower, she turned her phone back on in case someone other than Logan had tried to get hold of her.
A tone from her phone announced she had at least one voicemail. She looked at the voicemail icon—she had five. She’d better listen to them in case they weren’t all from Logan.
The first one was Logan, apologizing for making a fool of himself at The Brass Razoo the night before. The second one was Logan, apologizing again. The third was Logan asking her to call him back. The fourth was from Ramey, asking how her date with Michael went, and the fifth was Aunt Renee, reminding her of the reading of the Will, scheduled for later that afternoon at the office of her father’s attorney.
Jenessa tensed at the thought of running into her sister after what Sara had likely overheard. Logan had been drinking, she would tell Sara, he didn’t know what he was saying.
Was this going to deepen the rift between them because of Sara’s feelings for Logan? He obviously didn’t love her. Jenessa or no Jenessa, Sara needed to move on. But how? The burden of that question weighed on her mind.
Jenessa stepped into the steaming shower and let the hot water beat on her shoulders, hoping to relax them. She thought of the reading of the Will, wondering what that would bring. Had her father split the assets in an equitable way, or in a way that would cause even more strife between the sisters?
Chapter 30
When Jenessa arrived at City Hall, there was a crowd of about a hundred people already gathered around the entrance of the building. It was an attractive new structure, made of red brick with details that blended into its historic surroundings.
She snapped a few photos of the building and the crowd before a small contingency of important-looking people stepped to the main entrance, where a thick gold ribbon was draped across the oak and glass doors. One of those people was Grey Alexander. Seeing him made the hairs on the back of Jenessa’s neck stand up.
The mayor stepped to a small podium to the left of the doors. Jenessa took a picture of him and his entourage before pulling out her micro-recorder. She held it toward the man to tape his address. Then the mayor introduced Grey Alexander, who was also slated to say a few words. He was a minute or so into his speech when Jenessa felt a presence close behind her, so close she felt breath on her hair.
“Dear old dad. He’s quite the speech maker, don’t you think?” Logan said in a low voice.
So much for a wide berth.
“I tried calling you last night,” he continued. “Why didn’t you call me back?”
“Shhh, I’m working,” she whispered.
He leaned in even closer, his mouth near her ear. “I need to talk to you.”
A fine layer of goose bumps rippled over her body. She didn’t want him that close.
“Please, go away,” she pleaded, keeping her voice down, trying to concentrate on her assignment.
“Meet me at Crane Park when this is over.”
“I can’t. I’ve got work to do.”
“Then this afternoon.”
“I’ve got an appointment this afternoon,” she said.
“After that.”
He wasn’t going to drop it, she could see that. “Okay, but just for a few minutes.”
“So, four o’clock at Crane Park?”
“Yes, yes, now go away.” She waved him off. Had she just made a date to meet the devil or an old friend?
~*~
Sitting around a conference table at her father’s old law firm, Jenessa admired the rich carved-wood walls and thick forest-green carpet. Her sister was there, seated across from her, as were Ramey and Aunt Renee. Mr. McCaffrey walked in with a file in his hand and sat at the head of the table. His assistant took a seat in the far corner of the room with a notepad and pen in her hands.
“This will all be rather informal, ladies. David laid out his instructions very clearly and succinctly. I’m sure you’d all like to just get to it. Shall we begin?” He glanced at each face at the table, receiving nods all around.
“To my sister, Renee Giraldy, I bequeath my antiques, except for my desk,” Mr. McCaffrey read.
Aunt Renee nodded.
“To Ramey St. John, who has been like a daughter to me, I bequeath fifty thousand dollars.”
Ramey’s face lit up and she clapped her hands lightly.
“To my daughter Sara, I leave her mother’s half-interest in The Sweet Spot Bakery & Café.”
Sara smiled politely, as if it wasn’t all she thought she would get.
“And to my daughter Jenessa, I leave my house, my car, and my antique desk. It was your mother’s and my hope that these things would bring you back to Hidden Valley to live.”
Shocked, Jenessa huffed a laugh of disbelief, incredulous of her good fortune. The house is mine? And the Roadster? Then the real shocker settled in—he had wanted her to move back to Hidden Valley? Well, yes, now that he was gone.
“She gets the house?” Sara asked in a voice displaying her irritation. “That’s not fair.”
“Sara,” her aunt chided. “You now own half of The Sweet Spot, which is a very successful business. Don’t be greedy.”
“But the house, Aunt Renee. I love that house. I wanted to raise a family in that house.”
“There are plenty of other houses, Sara,” Aunt Renee said.
Sara crossed her arms and sat back with a pout.
“Is that all, Ian?” Aunt Renee asked.
“One more thing.” He looked down at the Will and began to read again. “The cash, stocks and bonds, and all other assets in my estate, are to be split equally among my daughters.”
“See there, dear,” Aunt Renee patted Sara’s arm, “your dad took care of both of you equally. He loved you equally.”
Sara scowled at Jenessa. “But I was the good daughter. I was the one who stayed.”
“Sara Louise Jones. You stop that right now,” Aunt Renee exclaimed. “Your dad loved you girls the same, just as a good fathe
r should. You will bite your tongue and be grateful for the generous gift your father bequeathed to you. That’s the way your mother would have wanted it.”
“Don’t bring Mom into this.” Sara’s eyes moistened. “She’d still be alive if Jenessa hadn’t run off and refused to come home for Christmas.”
Jenessa’s heart thumped and her eyes misted as well. Though words were her forte, she could think of no witty comeback, no eloquent defense. As much as she wanted to argue the point, she believed Sara was right.
Ramey’s eyes widened as she watched the argument, shifting back and forth between the sisters, as if she wanted to say something to make the situation better, but she didn’t seem to be able to find the words either.
Aunt Renee’s lips grew thin as she gathered her purse from the floor and stood up. “If that’s all, Ian, I think it’s time we go before we embarrass the family any further. Girls.”
Jenessa couldn’t agree more. She shot out of her chair and headed for the door. She didn’t dare talk to Sara right now, for she would certainly end up saying something she would regret.
~*~
At four o’clock, Jenessa arrived at Crane Park, spotting Logan sitting at a picnic table waiting for her. She parked her sports car and wandered over to him.
Was this really a good idea?
“Hello, Jenessa.” Logan rose and motioned for her to sit on the bench beside him.
“Hello.” She met his gaze, feeling herself being pulled into the deep blue of his eyes. She lifted her wrist and checked her watch to avert her eyes and break the connection. “I don’t have much time. What did you want to talk to me about?”
He sat down on the bench again, his back to the table. She followed his lead and looked out over the park.
“First, I want to apologize for how I acted last night. I must have been pretty drunk to take a swing at a cop.”
“It’s Michael you should be apologizing to,” she said, taking a quick sideways glance at him before returning her gaze to the expansive lawn. His lip was split and one eye was blackened, but it did nothing to diminish the magnetic pull she hoped to avoid.
Was he sober enough to remember the last thing he said to her?
The Lake House Secret, A Romantic Suspense Novel (A Jenessa Jones Mystery) Page 17
