“Mr. Hill is with a client at the moment,” the attorney’s legal assistant informed Owen at once. “If you’d like to have a seat and wait, he should be finished up in the next thirty minutes.”
Owen meandered over to a row of brown leather chairs and sat facing the assistant. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would say to the attorney once he saw him, he only knew that Jessica needed his help, and Hill was the only person Owen could think of to ask for that help.
Was she responsible for the alleged break in? Owen wondered for the hundredth time. Moreover, had she killed that psychic? If she had, what could her reasoning have been?
He knew that she’d been seeing things, such as the missing boy in the window. But surely that wouldn’t warrant murder. Unless she’d had a mental break and believed Sandy Weaver had been responsible for the Dayton kid’s disappearance.
Jessica hadn’t been completely sane since Jacob’s death. That much Owen knew, yet she couldn’t possibly be a killer. Could she?
The door to the attorney’s office opened, and a woman stepped out, holding the hand of the man at her side. She briefly met Owen’s gaze and then trailed off toward the exit door.
“Mr. Nobles?” the attorney murmured, gesturing toward his office. “Come on in.”
Owen followed Lucas Hill through the open doorway and took a seat in front of his desk. He waited for Hill to sit as well before getting to the point. “I had Jessica Baker Acted.”
Lucas Hill rested his elbows on the desktop and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “That’s not going to help her case. Can you tell me what prompted that decision?”
Owen dropped his head momentarily and then met the attorney’s gaze once again. “I think she’s had another psychotic break.”
The attorney’s eyebrows shot up. “Another, as in she has a history of psychotic breaks?”
Feeling guilty for disclosing Jessica’s past, Owen shifted in his seat. “She had a temporary break after our son’s death a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your son, Mr. Nobles. My deepest sympathies on your loss.”
Owen gave a weak nod. “Thank you.”
“What led you to believe your wife had a psychotic break?”
Filling the attorney in on everything that had happened since moving to Florida, Owen ended with, “I think it’s strange that the psychic ended up dead shortly after Jessica began hallucinating again. She’s seeing things that aren’t there and disappearing for hours at a time without answering her phone or text messages.”
“She has an alibi for the day the Weaver woman was killed. We’re still checking surrounding cameras that can prove she never left the motel later that night. If we can find evidence that she never left that room, she’ll be cleared of any suspicion. On another positive note, the murder weapon hasn’t been found, which means they have nothing to charge her with.”
Owen could only stare at Lucas Hill’s face. He hadn’t heard much past the alibi Jessica had for earlier that day. “Who is the alibi you mentioned?”
“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information, Mr. Nobles. That’s something you’ll have to ask your wife.”
“But she’s not the one who hired you. I am.”
Hill leaned back in his chair. “I realize that, but there is a thing called attorney-client privilege that prevents me from disclosing information about the case.”
“She’s my wife, Mr. Hill. I’m trying to help her. I would never do anything to hurt her case.”
The attorney pinned him with a serious look. “You may already have by Baker Acting her.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Jessica looked up when Alice poked her head around the corner once more.
“You have another visitor, Mrs. Nobles. A gentleman named Ruckle.”
“Please, send him in.” Jessica jumped to her feet and rounded the table.
The short blonde nodded and moved out of view.
Seconds later, Steven Ruckle marched into the room, his shoulders back and his eyes reflecting his empathy. “Jesus, Jess.”
He wrapped her in a hug, squeezing her hard enough she found it hard to breathe.
Not that she was complaining. It felt good to be held and comforted by someone who wouldn’t judge or question her sanity. “Thank you for coming.”
With one last gentle squeeze, Steven pulled back but kept his hands on her upper arms. “Of course. What the hell are you doing in this place?”
“Owen felt that I belonged here, I guess. I should never have mentioned what I saw in the upstairs window of the Dayton house.”
Steven guided her to a chair, before pulling one up directly in front of her. He took hold of her hands. “Just breathe and start from the beginning.”
Once Jessica began talking, she couldn’t seem to stop. She told Steven everything that had happened between Owen and her since Jacob’s death. “So, you see? He thinks I’m crazy. And rightfully so. I haven’t exactly been the model wife for many years now.”
“Jessica, listen to me. You are not crazy. Granted, you’ve been through something that would break even the strongest of people, but you’re far from insane. And you damn sure don’t belong in this place.”
Tears sprang to Jessica’s eyes. Steven’s words, his faith in her sanity, gave her the strength she needed to get through the ordeal that lay ahead of her. She would be alright. The evidence of that fact shone from Steven’s eyes like a beacon in the dark.
“Don’t cry,” he soothed, wiping away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “No matter what happens from here on out, know that I believe in you.”
Jessica sniffled. “That means more to me than I can say.”
“Listen to me, Jessica. I am going to do everything in my power to get you out of here. Worst case scenario, you have to stay for a couple of days. They can’t legally hold you here for more than seventy-two-hours, and you’ve already been here for twenty-four. Right?”
At her nod, he continued, “I have a guest house you can stay in until you and your husband can work things out.”
Jessica shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered. Now, next question. Did you kill Sandy Weaver?”
“No,” Jess wheezed, her heart in her throat. “I could never have done such a thing.”
Steven reached for her hands once again. “Easy. I just wanted to look into your eyes when you told me. I believe you, Jessica, and I’ll do everything I can to help you clear your name.”
Jess studied his handsome face. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because I covered this case for over three years. A lot of strange things went on that were never investigated. I believe you’re being set up.”
“But why? Why would someone want to murder poor Sandy Weaver, and then make it look as if I did it?”
A muscle tightened in Steven’s jaw. “I believe you pose a threat to the person responsible for Terry Dayton’s disappearance. We just have to figure out who that individual is.”
“I really did see Terry in that upstairs window.” Jessica watched Steven’s eyes for any signs of doubt, but he only stared back at her in open curiosity.
“If you think you saw Terry’s ghost, then I believe you.”
Running a hand down her face, Jessica whispered, “I don’t think I saw him. I know I did.”
“Good enough for me.” He got to his feet.
Jess stood as well. “Where are you going?”
“To see if I can speak with the doctor on staff. Hopefully, we can get you out of here sooner rather than later.”
Jessica hoped so too.
Steven returned a half hour later, tension obvious in his every step. Running a hand through his hair, he approached Jessica. “There’s nothing I can do to get you out of here before the seventy-two-hour evaluation period is up. Especially since you’re married, and your husband was the one who had you Baker Acted.”
Jessica hated Owen in that moment. “So I’m stuck here?”
“I’m afraid so. But the good news is, you’ll be free in two more days. In the meantime, I’ll be working on clearing your name.”