by Dawn Edwards
Lisa and I were set to move into a 1-bedroom apartment on May 1st. I needed a plan, some excuses. It wasn’t going to end well, I knew that much.
Lisa still lived with her parents and had wanted to get her own place for a while, but she’d never been able to really afford a place on her own, not with the prices on the Cape. When I mentioned I was looking for a place, she proposed living together, and I agreed. Knowing how expensive places were on the Cape, it seemed to make sense. I only signed a year lease, and I was upfront with her that I may move to Boston eventually, and that I’d be there for extended amounts of time this summer due to the renovations of the departures terminal. It was a huge job, and I was in charge of it.
She didn’t like that I’d be away a lot, or that I was even considering moving. I saw how it looked, that I wasn’t fully committed to her, but the truth was, I wasn’t. My career was more important to me, it had always been. Jessa had been the only person it came second to. Lisa kept pressuring me to set up a base on the Cape, which I was considering; she would do anything to get me to plant roots here. I didn’t have a base at the moment, working from home, and meeting clients at their own offices or homes as needed.
After dinner at her grandparents, I wanted to drop her off at her aunt's and go back to the Cape. The whole drive I spent playing excuse after excuse in my head, but I didn’t want to make a scene in front of her family. I could withstand another night with her.
I pulled out my computer as soon as I got in, ‘I have to get some things done,’ I told her, heading for the door as she was changing into her pajamas. ‘I’ll be a few hours.’
I was able to get some work done, but what I really wanted to do was to call Jessa, text her, fly to her. It was still hard to believe. Until I heard her voice or saw her face, I didn’t think I would fully comprehend it.
Thankfully, Lisa was asleep when I changed and crawled into bed a few hours later. I couldn’t be with her again. Not when I knew Jessa was alive. Whether she was waiting for me or not, she was mine and we would be together again.
Lying in bed that night, I knew everything had changed. I knew that I couldn’t move in with Lisa, that I couldn’t in my heart continue my relationship with her. I belonged to Jessa, and even sharing a bed with another woman, while both fully dressed, seemed a betrayal.
Easter Monday, I was distracted, but I tried as best as I could to be as present mentally as I could muster. But I was constantly thinking of Jessa.
She was alive.
Fuck, she was alive. Had been alive all this time while I’d been suffering like a wounded animal. She’d better have a good fucking excuse.
Honesty, I didn’t think she needed one. It was Jessa and I think I’d forgive just about anything.
She was fucking alive. Why did I give in to the temptations Lisa offered? I should have been stronger. Deep down, I never accepted Jessa was dead; gone yes, but not dead.
I couldn't wait to hear her explanation. When I thought about the turmoil, she had put me and my liver through, I wanted to drown her myself, but then I remembered that she was alive, and I wanted to run to her, wherever she was in the world and hold her tight and never let her go.
I was also a bit hurt that she had told her parents months ago, and I was still in the dark. I thought that I meant more to her than being an afterthought. However, it sure did explain their drastic change in their lease on life when I came back from my hiatus after the Christmas holidays.
Lisa and I drove back to the Cape later that evening. The drive felt long, and the silence only intensified the tension. I dropped her off at her parents’ place, but stayed seated in Jessa’s Audi. I didn’t even make a move to take off my seatbelt or help her with her small carry-on.
‘You coming in?’ she asked me as she was getting out.
‘No,’ I looked straight ahead.
She closed her door and sat back down. ‘What’s up with you, you’ve been off since yesterday.’
‘Lisa, I’m sorry, I can’t keep seeing you,’ I said in a low voice, not able to make eye contact with her. Yup, I was a coward, I didn’t want to hurt her, or see the hurt I caused on her face. Worse, I can’t stand to see her cry, I’d never want to hurt her intentionally, but this was out of my hands, Jessa was my heart.
I saw Lisa’s jaw drop out of the corner of my eye and heard her take a deep breath. ‘What do you mean you can’t keep seeing me? We’re moving in together in a few weeks.’
I shook my head, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’
‘Well, you don’t have a choice, we have a lease,’ she spat out, refusing to accept my answer. I gripped the steering wheel as if it would give me strength.
‘Feel free to move in, I’ll pay my half of the rent for 6 months,’ I told her. I wasn’t about to leave her high and dry. After all, it wasn’t as if she did anything wrong. This was all on me—or rather, Jessa.
I was angry now. If I had known, I’d never have gotten involved with Lisa and wouldn’t be in this messy situation at the moment.
‘What’s going on?’ she demanded, turning in her seat, reaching out to grip my face harder than needed, turning my head with force so I had no choice but to look at her. I’d never seen her mad, not like this. I knew I couldn’t tell her the truth. ‘Everything was fine a few days ago.’
I couldn’t say anything, I just shook my head. ‘I’m sorry Lisa. I just can’t do it.’
‘Ok,’ she sniffed, and I looked at her to see her tears had started. ‘But, are we…’
‘I can’t, I’m sorry.’ I took her hand, ‘It’s nothing you did, and I promise you that. You’re awesome, there are just some things I need to sort out, and it’s not fair for me or you to be strung along while I sort my shit out.’
‘And you didn’t know about this shit last month when we agreed to move in?’ She tore her hands from mine, not wanting any part of me. She was moving past angry and was well and truly on her way to hating me, and rightly so.
I shook my head. ‘Not really.’ It was the only truth I could give her.
CHAPTER 8
JESSA
8 months ago
It was only fitting that my journey to finding myself started on a boat. Water was always moving, just like life, it ebbed and flowed. And just like my journey, I was finding myself. I was building my boat to sustain me, and to aid me in self-discovery, so when I was done, I’d be able to navigate my life and not be towed along.
I had always been a passenger on my father’s boat, following him on the course he had set for me, never really deviating. Even with Matt, I felt I just jumped ship, but was still tethered, that my father was still charting the way, my destination already known. I was now weathering my own storm, some days were smooth sailing, and others I battled the waves, just barely keeping my head above the water. But I was a fighter and grew stronger every day, so on the days the undertow wanted to pull me under, I fought the current, surfacing stronger than I was before.
Drew had been the only person to ever ask me what I wanted, encouraged me to find who I was, to find the real Jessa and live her best life. The only problem with that at the time, I really had no idea who Jessa was. He asked me what I wanted to be, and because my life had been pre-planned, I’d never thought to explore my options.
I was Jessa Cahill, daughter of Steve and Colleen. I was exactly who they expected me to be, the good daughter, the bright student, the dedicated volunteer, and above all that, I exhibited kindness and was polite, even when I wanted to show my true feelings. Then I was Jessa, fiancée to Matt, and again, he had molded me into what he wanted me to be, stole my voice through manipulation, made me submissive through blackmail, and broke my will to fight and ruined my spirit of discovery.
I would never have found the real Jessa without a change of scenery, without removing the most influential people in my life. Even Drew who wanted me to find myself, I knew that I’d morph into his version of me. Even if he didn’t have one yet, he would one day. If we stood a chance, I needed to
be alone on my path of self-discovery. For it to work long-term, I needed to come back with a purpose. With any luck, he’d still accept the new me.
If I wanted any chance of living my best life, I had to first find out what that entailed.
Feigning surprise was just another act I was putting on as Matt led me onto the yacht on a beautiful August day last summer. It was one week prior to our wedding, and Matt thought he was surprising me with a weekend on a mini-yacht.
The only surprise was just how gullible Matt and his sister had been thinking they could possibly get one over on my cousin Breton and myself.
Breton had been meticulous in planning possibilities for months now. Ever since he found Julie's connection and I told him I was willing to do whatever it took to take them down, even when he begged me to walk away, that it was serious, and he didn’t want me to end up dead too. He’d spammed Matt and Julie's computers with ads and emails about glamping sites, yachts for hire, and B&Bs. I’d done my part by picking the movie overboard one night, commenting again on how much I loved sailing; but Matt had already known this. The best plan involved the yacht, and we were banking on them choosing it, so I did my part to steer Matt in that direction.
Brett and I weren’t surprised at all when they booked the yacht, and took the captain’s suggestion of the route, and all of his recommendations for excursions. Breton had left nothing to chance, everything was calculated.
With the security cameras at the marina rolling, they captured me looking surprised, heading back to my car to fetch my bag and bring it on board. What it didn’t capture was that, inside it, I had the satellite phone and tracking device. Days before, Breton had arranged for a flotation suit to be stored onboard for me, along with other supplies that I would need for my covert getaway.
Over the course of the next two days, I played my part, pretending to enjoy time with Matt, keeping him at arm’s length, and ensuring that when we had disagreements and the big argument, it was done in front of the crew. The final night, waiting until Sonja had been in earshot, I brought up the sex tape, the prenup, and that I wasn’t happy with him and his actions.
I made our drinks, adding only a splash of rum in mine, while making his doubles at first, and reducing the amount each time I made them so he stayed somewhat conscious, until the crew retired and I slipped a roofie into his last drink.
‘Listen, we’re clearly not getting anywhere,’ I said a few minutes after he was halfway done his drink and his eyes started to droop. ‘I think I’m going to head to bed.’ I picked up my glass and downed the rest of my drink. He mirrored my action and followed me down the stairs, a bit unsteady on his feet. I had to lead him down and help him into the master cabin, then plopped him down on the bed.
When I was sure the drugs had truly taken effect on Matt, it was time to go to work. I had been coached and had been practicing over the past few weeks to do exactly what was needed, to stage a set-up so expertly that no suspicions would be raised, or a motive questioned. The time was here, and while I was scared and nervous, knowing that I was setting him up to pay in hard time helped me push past my fears.
From my purse, I pulled out what appeared to be a toiletry bag, then opened the storage closet where extra pillows and blankets had been stored, hiding the duffel bag that had been placed there earlier in the week. Inside was my float suit that I would need very shortly.
I took out a pair of medical gloves from the toiletry bag and put them on as I walked up to the kitchen, taking the bottle of bleach and some towels from under the kitchen sink. Back in the master cabin, I made sure that Matt was well and truly out cold before I moved on to putting the next part of the plan into place. I took out the vial of my blood I’d had housed for safe keeping in the toiletry bag, that the partners Breton had contracted to help us this weekend had drawn right before I met with Matt yesterday morning.
I dipped a straw into the vial of blood as I had practiced and walked back into the bedroom. I blew it slightly towards the ceiling, where small little drops of blood splattered on the ceiling; practice really did make perfect. I did the same on the floor, letting the blood dry, as I went back into the bathroom and dipped the straw back in the blood and put some on the stairs going up into the main room.
As that dried, I took a safety pin, and added drops of my blood into crevices of Matt watch. I then took off my engagement ring, put little drops of blood on it. I took one of his dirty socks from his laundry bag and shoved the ring inside, and then put the sock in a side pocket of his messenger bag, but not before I had him touch the ring, placing his fingerprint on the stone. I would let the detectives think he robbed me of my jewelry before he dumped me—literally. Not that the ring would fetch all that much, it still didn’t make him look good, and that was my point, selling the motive he killed me in a jealous rage. I needed to give the police as much ammunition to believe he had killed me, to arrest Matt and buy Breton and I more time.
I put some blood on Matt’s fingers, rubbed the bottle of bleach with his fingers, smearing my blood on the bottle before running it under water knowing trace amounts of my DNA would be found. When the bottle was dry, I put it back in Matt’s hands, so his fingerprints were all over it before placing it under the sink in the master bathroom. I then wiped up the blood on the floor and the stairs with a minimum amount of bleach on the towel. I smeared trace amounts on the back of the boat and didn’t bleach it, to make it look that I was pushed off from there. I took the straw once more and blew it over the black shirt Matt was currently wearing. He wouldn’t see it, but if forensics looked, they most certainly would.
I took out the satellite phone I had been given and sent a message to the one Breton had on the other end.
JESSA: Are you close?
BRETON: We’re about 25 nautical miles from you
I knew once it was time for me to get in the water, I’d be waiting about five to ten minutes for them to pick me up. My tracking device would be broadcasting directly to them my exact location. I drained the small amount of blood that was left down the sink, and wiped the counter with the towel, wringing it out and putting it with the bottle of bleach under the counter in Matt’s bathroom. I took the empty vial and straw and placed it in a Ziploc bag in the pocket of my jeans. I made sure my phone was charging in the room I had been using, and my tablet was still upstairs in the main room.
I was taking nothing with me. Just like when I left the house yesterday morning; I took only heartbreak and the clothes that were in my carry-on bag.
On Friday night—just two nights ago, but it felt so much longer already—I went to Drew’s room and all but asked him to wait for me. If he still wanted me when this was all said and done, I’d gladly still have him. I knew my feelings for him would never waver. But he could hate me for what I was about to put him and my parents through when I was reported missing. It was hard to leave him sleeping early Saturday morning, he looked so at peace. It was the last image I wanted of him, as I didn’t know when I'd see him again. I knew if he woke up, there was a small chance I could let him talk me out of going through with the plan. Breton and I had come too far, invested too much for me to spoil it now.
If Drew and I were meant to be, we could weather the storm I was about to rain down on him and my family.
Breton and I had gone over it time and again. It was the only way to make it look real. My parents, they weren’t good actors and were too nice for their own good, even strangers might have been able to read them like a book. They needed to think that I really was missing, that Matt had killed me. Also, I didn't think they would want me to go away, alone and unprotected. I needed the clean break, not only to buy us more time to investigate and gather evidence to take Matt’s family down, but time to find myself. If anything, I hoped they would in time understand this.
With any luck, Matt would be arrested, and due to the publicity in an election year, his trial would be pushed up. With no money, he’d get a public defender and hopefully I did a good enough job wi
th the planted evidence to convict the bastard.
As much as I wanted to trust in Drew’s love for me, I wasn’t sure how far I could trust him. Leaving him sleeping was absolute torture. I sat there, watching him for too long, taking in the sight of him, the sound of his sleeping breaths. Before I left, I placed my hand over his heart, feeling it beat under my palm. Knowing how I was going to break it by going with Matt, and knowing how much pain I could potentially inflict on him in the coming months, if not years, caused me emotional pain as I’d never experienced before.
“The next time you see me, I’ll be free of him and we can finally be together, as I wish we could have been all along.”
I had meant it. He just didn’t know at the time he’d have to wait to see me.
The captain was still sailing the boat, he wasn’t going fast, and wasn’t able to see the back of the boat from the bridge. I confirmed that earlier yesterday. After a long day, it was highly unlikely for either Sonja or the chef to be out back either. They had told us good night before they took off earlier.
I put on a small life vest that had been put in the duffle bag for me and attached the tracking device to it via a clip. It was waterproof and would continue to broadcast my location to Breton’s device.
I put on the float suit over my clothing and life jacket. It would help keep me afloat and protect me from the water temperatures. Even though it was August, the open Atlantic Ocean water was still too cold to spend prolonged time in.
I messaged Breton one final time.
JESSA: About to jump in, hurry the fuck up.
I was terrified of sharks, and with the blood I had been handling, I feared ending up as a midnight snack as I lowered myself to lie flat on the deck that extended into the water. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I pivoted my body slowly to minimize any noise, so that my legs were now straight out behind me, as to not go under the boat. I’d been told the propellers were too far away, but it was still a fear nonetheless.
