Jessica sat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. She let her gaze sweep his spacious office, taking in the numerous plaques and certificates hanging on the walls.
The sounds of typing suddenly stopped. “All done. What’s up, Mrs. Nobles?”
“I really wish you would call me Jessica.”
He grinned, making his normally appealing face, downright handsome. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jess relaxed, somewhat and returned his smile. “I paid a visit to Melanie Dayton, today.”
Steven’s smile faltered. “How did that go?”
“Not good. I told her about my sightings. Needless to say, she wasn’t happy about it.”
“I imagine not. From what I heard, she flipped out on Sandy Weaver for her psychic claims of seeing Terry.”
Jessica shifted in her seat. “They weren’t merely claims. Sandy really did see what she said she did. She even saw the same thing that I saw. But I’m no psychic.”
“Then what do you call seeing ghosts in windows and painting shallow graves?”
“Crazy?”
Steven shrugged. “Could be, but I doubt it. I believe there are people walking this earth with the gift of seeing things that are beyond our comprehension. In fact, we are probably all capable of it on some deeper level. Only most of us wouldn’t begin to know how to reach into that part of ourselves.”
“I’d give anything to be like everyone else,” Jessica whispered. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’m keeping secrets from my husband, slinking around and digging up everything I can on the Dayton investigation. I’ve become obsessed with it.”
Steven’s gaze softened. “Although, I’ve never seen anything even remotely close to a ghost, I do understand obsession. I quickly became obsessed with the Dayton case a week after I began following it. It took me three years and changing jobs to finally learn to move on. And honestly, I can’t say that I ever truly did.” He abruptly stood. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Jess pushed to her feet as well. “Where are we going?”
“My place.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jessica drove behind Steven’s car for several minutes before he took a left off the main road and pulled up onto a circle drive in front of a two-story brick home.
Following suit, Jess parked next to him and got out. “Wow. You live here?”
“No. Here in Sparkleberry Hills, we simply drive around until we find a suitable place to sleep in and take that one.”
A laugh bubbled up in Jess, sounding foreign and rusty. She hadn’t laughed in years. “Funny.”
“It was my parents’ place,” Steven corrected, waving her up the stone walkway that led to a large overhang.
Jessica trailed up to the front door and stood back while Steven unlocked it.
He pushed it wide. “After you.”
She stepped over the threshold. “Where are your parents now?”
“My father died when I was still in my teens, and then mother passed away a few years ago.” He closed and locked the door. “Would you like a drink?”
Jess nodded. “That would be great.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Steven strode through the foyer toward the kitchen, removing his jacket as he went. He tossed it onto the back of a chair and took down two wine glasses, which he promptly filled with a chardonnay from his fridge.
He handed one to Jessica. “Have a seat.”
She sat on a stool at the bar in his kitchen while he stood on the other side sipping his wine.
“Drink that,” Steven insisted, nodding toward her glass, “and I’ll pour you another.”
“I have to drive home.”
Steven picked up the bottle of Chardonnay. “You also need to loosen up a bit. You look stressed.”
Jessica downed her wine and then held out her glass for a refill which Steven promptly took care of.
Turning back toward the refrigerator, Steven pulled some covered dishes from the bottom shelf and placed them on the bar. He then grabbed two forks and slid one over in front of Jess. “Help me eat this.”
Jess laughed for the second time that night. “What is it?”
“Some stuff my neighbors brought over yesterday. I think they feel sorry for me because of my bachelor status.”
He peeled back the foil to reveal some barbeque pulled pork, potato salad, and chocolate cake.
Jessica stomach instantly growled. She stabbed some potato salad with her fork and popped it into her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she moaned as it slid down her throat. “This is delicious.”
She took another bite. “No plates?”
Steven shook his head. “It’s easier this way. Besides, it’s less mess to clean up afterwards.”
Another chuckle escaped her. She could feel the wine warming her insides even as the food filled the emptiness in her stomach. “Thank you for this. I hadn’t realized how much I needed some nonjudgmental interaction until now.”
“Your husband isn’t nonjudgmental?” Steven took a long healthy drink of his wine.
Jess shook her head. “Owen worries about me. A little too much, I think. He means well, but…”
“But what?” Steven prompted, setting his glass aside and digging into the food.
“We have grown apart since Jacob’s death. We’ve somehow become strangers who live under the same roof. I feel like he’s always watching me, waiting for me to mess up.”
Steven paused with a forkful of food near his mouth. “You ever talk with him about how you feel? Sometimes we men need to be told when we’re screwing up. We lack common sense when it comes to relationships.”
Jessica loved how easy it was to talk to Steven. His devil-may-care attitude was adorable, not to mention fun. And fun was something she hadn’t had in years. “I try to talk with him about it, but it usually ends with us arguing or him suggesting I go see a psychiatrist.”
“Ouch. I hate shrinks. They’re always watching you over the rim of their glasses like you have a gnat circling your face. And let’s not forget the dozens of questions about your mother as if she’s the root of all evil.”
A deep, belly laugh burst from Jessica with the image Steven created. “That’s a psychologist. The psychiatrists are strictly there to pump you full of pills.”
She’d said too much. She realized it when Steven’s gaze sharpened and he took another drink of his wine.
Setting the glass aside, he asked, “Are you speaking from experience?”
Jessica swallowed the bite of cake she’d just popped into her mouth. The wine she’d recently sucked down seemed to be loosening her tongue. “I was on antianxiety meds for three years. Antidepressants as well as something to help me sleep at night.”
Steven leaned forward, resting his elbows on top of the bar. “Because of your son’s death?”
“Yeah. I found it too hard to cope without Jacob. I still do at times, but it seems to be getting a little easier. I mean, the pain never goes away, it just becomes more manageable. Which is why Owen is so overprotective. He watched me wither away to nothing, merely existing with suicidal thoughts as a constant companion.”
“I’m sorry, Jess.”
“Thanks.”
Steven twirled his fork around in the barbeque. “So, what’s our next move?”
“Our next move?”
“In finding Terry Dayton’s killer.”
Surprised by Steven’s words, Jessica could only stare at him.
“What? You didn’t think I would let you search for him by yourself, did you?”
Her fork slid from numb fingers. Jessica jumped from her stool, rounded the bar and wrapped Steven in a hug. “Thank you for not assuming that I’m crazy.”
He hugged her back. “I never said you weren’t crazy, I only said that I would help you.”
She laughed again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was well after ten PM when Jessica pulled into the drive to find Owen’s car gone.
She switched off the engine, grabbed her keys, and got out in the dark. Owen hadn’t turned on the outside light when he’d left.