The second message was short: “Hey, it’s me. We’re on the road now. Call when you can.”
And my heart was in my throat as I listened to the third message: “Hi. We’re at the farm now, this number is the direct line to the house. If you call one of the staff will answer and I left instructions that they should come get me if you do. So…call me? Did I mention I miss you? …Bye.”
I immediately hit redial, praying she’d be available to talk. As she’d warned, one of the staff picked up and placed me on hold, apparently searching the house for her.
I could feel Beau’s split attention—between me and the mountain road—and he finally asked, “Is that Jessica? What happened? Is she okay?”
“Shhh…” I didn’t want him distracting me. With each passing second I grew more agitated—with the wait and with myself for leaving the phone in Beau’s car.
But relief flooded my chest when I finally heard her voice. “Hello?”
“Jessica, it’s me. It’s Duane. I am so sorry I didn’t get your messages. My phone was in Beau’s glove compartment and…you know what, it doesn’t matter. How are you? Are you okay? Do you need me to fly out? I can leave today.”
This was a thoughtless promise and I knew Beau was looking at me like I was crazy, but I didn’t care. If she needed me I would fly out, the Order and their threats could go to hell. Then they could go fuck themselves and go to hell again.
She sighed softly, but when she answered, her tone was low and stiff, like she was trying to keep from being overheard. “Thanks for calling. I…I’m glad you called.”
I paused for a second, then asked, “I’m guessing you’re with people?”
“That’s right…”
I guessed she was hoping I’d lead the conversation, do most of the talking, since she was being listened to on her end.
“Can you call me tonight? Nine my time?”
“Yes!” Her loud and enthusiastic response made me smile despite the situation. “I mean, yes. I can do that.”
“Good. You call me at nine. I’ll keep my phone on me.”
“Okay…” I heard her struggle, like she wanted to say more, something in particular. Instead she sounded resigned as she said, “Talk to you later.”
I guessed what she wanted, so I said it. “I miss you, Jessica James.”
“Me too,” she said immediately, like she was anxious I wouldn’t say the words, but relieved I had.
“I mean it, I miss you. You’re too far away. If you need me to fly out I can get on a plane tonight.”
“Don’t do that. Things are…well, anyway.” I heard her take a deep breath then say, “Okay, sounds good. Talk to you later.”
I hesitated, wondering if I should just go. In the end I decided I’d be talking to her that night and could reassess the situation then, fly out Friday if needed.
Eventually I said, “Okay, okay. We’ll talk tonight.”
“Yes. We will. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I set the phone on my lap, staring at the screen for a long minute before adding the Houston number to my contacts.
Beau exhaled loudly next to me. “You mind telling me what’s going on?”
“Jess’s aunt died. She’s in Houston, can’t make dinner tonight.”
“That’s terrible.”
I nodded absentmindedly, saving the number.
“So…no pie?”
I glared at my brother. “No. No pie for you, Beauford Fitzgerald.”
“No need for that tone, Duane Faulkner. I was just double-checking.” When I continued to glare he added, “The woman makes good pie. You can’t blame me for wanting more of it.”
“You’ll get her pie only if and when I say it’s appropriate.”
He grumbled something under his breath I didn’t catch. I ignored him in favor of glancing out the window and I saw the flashing police lights behind us through the side mirror just before the siren gave a yelp, making Beau jump in his seat.
“God in heaven!” Beau, obviously startled, frowned and squinted at his rearview mirror. “What the hell? Is that Jack?”
I nodded, grinding my teeth. Jessica’s brother Jackson was pulling us over and the hairs on the back of my neck abruptly itched. Something about the situation didn’t feel right, almost like it was an ambush, like he’d been waiting for us.
“Just pull off.” I sighed, closed my eyes, and rubbed my forehead. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I wasn’t even speeding, and this car doesn’t have a broken tail light. He is such a jackass,” my brother hit his steering wheel with obvious frustration, but slowed the car, navigating two more switchbacks before pulling carefully onto a mountain overlook.
Beau was now repeating all my earlier curse words under his breath as we waited for Jackson to approach the car. I was not surprised that Jackson, being the complete jackass that he was, shined his high-powered flashlight in Beau’s face even though the sun was still out.