“Bingo jail?”
“It’s where they put old men who get grab-ass-y. Bingo jail. I’ve had to bail Pop out more than once.”
“He always was a pistol.” I place the last dish in the cabinet. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I go to use the Wi-Fi?”
“Positive,” he says. “Go ahead. The door is open and the password is on the back of the modem on the kitchen counter.”
“Thanks, Jake.” Impulsively, I step onto my tiptoes, put my hand on his shoulder, and kiss him on the cheek.
He leans in to kiss me on the cheek too, but accidentally grazes the corner of my mouth. My heart begins to beat double time. “You should go,” he whispers, his cheek lingering close to mine.
“I should go,” I say. But I don’t. I stand there next to him, breathing the same air as Jake, enjoying the moment.
Suddenly, the door opens and we spring apart. “Hey, Jake,” Alex says, tossing the football up in the air and catching it. “Want to toss the football around?”
“Hell yeah,” Jake says, and he dries his hands on a towel. Then he opens his arms and Alex tosses him the ball. “Go ahead, Katie,” he tells me. “Take the golf cart.”
“Thanks, Jake.” I get my computer from the bedroom and take Mr. Jacobson’s golf cart to their house.
It’s a big house set on a hill, with a fantastic view of the water. I set up the Wi-Fi and open my computer, then check my email.
There are hundreds of emails, mostly from him. The one person I don’t want to talk to is the only one who seems to want to communicate with me. The emails go from pleading and sweet to venom and loathing. They’re threatening, then apologetic, then loaded with curse words and swearing. He swears he will find me. He swears he will love me. He swears he will never stop looking. He swears he will be a better person. He swears he will change. He swears he will get help.
I believed that one. Once. I believed he could.
Then, the very last email, which was sent four days ago, opens up in my inbox.
Dearest Katie,
If you don’t come home, I will find you and kill you.
With utmost affection, Me
I drop my head into my hands. Then I forward all the emails, every last one, to the agent back home who is assigned to my case.
The baby kicks, and I suddenly have to pee.
I leave the computer open, because I still haven’t done the Web searches I wanted to do. I wanted to check the newspapers back home and see if there’s anything I need to be aware of. There’s always the tiny chance that he has done something stupid and he’s in prison again. That would be a blessing. But the agent assigned to my case would have gotten a message to me by now if that had happened.
I wander down the hallway, trying to remember the way to the bathroom. I open the first door I come to and stop when I realize it’s Jake’s room. It hasn’t changed. His baseball trophies still line the shelf and he has pictures stuck to the corners of his dresser mirror. I step closer and see one of him and Fred when they were young. Fred came here every summer, from what Jake told me. They were pretty close, partners in crime. They got into more trouble than two people should be allowed to get into. The picture of Fred with his bright red hair makes me smile. We had a lot of good times together, the three of us.
But what makes me stop, heave in a breath, and clutch my heart, is the picture in the frame on the edge of his bedside table. It’s grown-up Jake. And a woman. He has his arm around her and she’s glowing. So is he. She has golden hair that hangs past her shoulders, and her face is radiant in the sunshine. She’s also very, very pregnant.
“I was supposed to be a dad,” a voice says from behind me.
I startle, and Jake walks up behind me.
“What happened?” I ask.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” he says, his voice heavy and full of emotion. He swallows hard.
“What does that mean?”
“You first, Katie,” he says. He jerks a thumb toward the kitchen. “I saw your computer.”
“What right do you have to snoop through my computer!”
“I have every right,” he says. I open my mouth to ream him a new one, but he holds up a finger and shushes me. “I have loved you since I was a kid, Katie.” He lays a hand upon his chest. “I still love you.”
My breath hitches. He has no idea how much I needed to hear that.
“Who’s stalking you, why, and why the hell is he telling you he’s going to kill you when he finds you?”
I blow out a breath. “Jake…”
“Katie…”
I point at the picture. “Tell me about her.”
“She was my wife. And she’s not anymore.”
“And?” I roll my finger to make him keep talking.
“And nothing. That’s all there is to it.”
“Liar. There’s more.” I narrow my eyes and stare at him. “She’s why you’re here. She’s why you’re not working. Tell me everything, Jake.”
He glares at me. “You first.”
20
Jake