His name was Terry, Jess thought, clicking on one of the articles, only to recoil when they boy’s picture came into view. Staring back at her from the screen of her computer was the very boy she’d seen in the window of the house next door. The same house he’d lived in when he’d disappeared.
She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, unable to look away from the small boy’s face.
His long dark hair appeared unkept, framing his thin face and resting just above his large, green eyes—eyes that held mischief, and something else she couldn’t name. Sadness?
Her gaze traveled down to the same striped T-shirt he’d had on the day she and Owen had moved in.
She forced her attention to the article below Terry’s image. Seven-year-old Terry Dayton went missing from his home on January tenth.
Jessica noticed the date in the article. Terry had been missing for thirteen years, just as Marge had said.
She continued to read. Terry’s parents, Jasper and Melanie Dayton have offered a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for any information leading to the whereabouts of their son. Suspicion surrounding his disappearance is being investigated, though no charges have been filed at this time.
With her heart pounding out of control, and her pulse thumping in her temples, Jessica finished reading the article before moving on to another. And on it went. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there soaking up everything she could on the missing boy when the sound of a car door came from the drive.
Jess glanced at the corner of the computer screen in shock. She’d been sitting there reading non-stop for the past three hours.
“I’m home,” Owen announced as he came through the front door. “Jess?”
Jessica closed the lid to the laptop, not wanting to reveal what she’d been reading. If Owen had any idea that she thought the boy she’d seen in that upstairs window was the missing child from thirteen years ago, he would think her crazy. Truth be told, she’d wondered the same thing herself.
Chapter Nine
Owen pulled on his running shoes, deciding to go for a jog while Jessica made dinner. He’d changed from his suit to a pair of gym shorts and a white tank top. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Jessica scrambled around the kitchen with more energy than she’d displayed in years. “Burgers okay with you?”
“That’s fine,” he assured her, getting to his feet. He stood next to the dining room table, watching her buzz about in the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”
She slowed her steps but didn’t look back at him. “I’m good. Why do you ask?”
Afraid to jinx her energetic mood, Owen ambled toward the front door and called out, “No reason. See you soon.”
Once outside, he briskly strode toward the street. Several folks from the neighborhood were bustling about. Some mowing their lawns, while others dragged trashcans to the curbside. Kids rode their bikes, laughing and glancing over their shoulders to taunt the slower ones behind them.
Owen lifted a hand to return the many waves sent his way and took off in a jog.
In the brief time that he and Jess had been in Sparkleberry Hills, Owen had found it calming, if not downright soothing. He’d never realized that leaving the madness of the big city would bring him such peace. But that is exactly what had happened. He actually felt…peace.
Jess, on the other hand, seemed keyed up, more nervous than usual. Owen wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but he’d like to think it was.
He’d almost made it to the end of the street, when a tall, blond man sitting on his porch, stood to watch him jog past.
Owen waved, expecting the guy to reciprocate. The man just stood there, his eyes squinting in an aggressive manner.
Okay then, Owen thought, averting his gaze. Apparently not everyone in the neighborhood was friendly.
Owen had run for a good twenty minutes when he decided to turn back and head home. Jessica would surely have dinner ready and she wouldn’t eat without him.
Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he turned onto Meadowbrook Circle, intentionally avoiding the sour gaze of the tall, blond still standing on his porch.
A distressed cry reached Owen’s ears. He slowed his steps, scanning the rows of houses on either side of the street.
The sound came again, louder this time.
Owen picked up his pace, realizing the cry came from the red brick house up on his right.
It surprised him to see the surrounding neighbors that were once outside, scurry up their driveways to return indoors.
He left the street, jogging across the of the red brick house. “Mrs. Martin?”
No answer.
Owen sailed onto the porch and rapped on the door. “Mrs. Martin? It’s your neighbor, Owen Nobles.”
The door swung open and Eustice stepped out. “What do you want?”
“I heard someone cry out.” Owen attempted to see inside the house, but the balding man stood in the way. “Is everything okay?”
Eustice crossed his arms over his beefy chest. “Everything is fine. Now be on your way.”
Owen wasn’t about to leave without making sure that Mrs. Martin wasn’t injured. “I’ll be on my way when I speak to your wife.”
The neighbor’s eyes narrowed. “What happens on my property is none of your business. Now, I suggest you get off my lawn before I run you off.” Eustice touched the pocket of his jeans for emphasis.
The bulge resting there left little doubt in Owen’s mind that his neighbor carried a gun.
Bringing his hands up in front of him, Owen slowly backed away. “I’m going.”
Without turning his back on the insane man, Owen carefully made his way home and immediately went for his cell phone.
Jessica entered the dining room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “You’re back.” Her gaze fell on the cellphone in his hands. “What are you doing?”
“I’m calling the police.”
Alarm registered in her eyes. “The police? What for?”
Owen held up a hand for silence after dialing 911. He brought the phone to his ear and waited patiently for the dispatcher to go through her spiel. “911-what is your emergency?”
“I believe my neighbor is hurting his wife.”
Jessica’s gasp wasn’t lost on Owen.
“What is the address of the dispute?” The sounds of typing could be heard in the background.
Owen spouted off the address before answering the rest of her questions.
Once the dispatcher had the pertinent information, she demanded he stay on the line with her until the officers arrived.
Her face pale and drawn, Jess took a seat next to him at the dining table and fidgeted with her hands.
More than ten minutes ticked by before the sound of sirens could be heard coming up the street. Owen informed the dispatcher of the officers’ arrival and then disconnected the call.
He met Jess’s worried gaze. “I hope I didn’t just make things worse for Mrs. Martin.”
“How could you make it worse?”
“Trust me. It can always get worse.”
Shouting suddenly ricocheted off the trees out front, sending both Owen and Jess surging to their feet. They scrambled to the front window.
Eustice stood on his porch, his hand waving angrily in front of him as he faced off with the police officers. He abruptly turned, jerked his front door open and Mrs. Martin stepped outside.
Even from a distance, Owen could see the bruising on her face.
Putting a finger to his lips for quiet, Owen eased his window up in hopes of hearing the conversation. Alas, Mrs. Martin’s voice was too soft to make out her words.
The police stayed for a few minutes more, and then trekked their way across the yard of the abandoned house to Owen’s place.
Owen promptly let them in.
“Are you the one who called in the complaint?” a tall, thin officer asked.
Owen nodded. “I am.”
The officer reached into his shirt pocket and pulled a small notepad free. “Your name, sir?”
“Owen Nobles, and this is my wife, Jessica.”
Jessica cleared her throat and jerked her chin toward the window. “Is Mr. Martin going to jail?”
The officer shook his head. “We have nothing to charge him with.”
“Nothing to charge him with?” Jess blurted. “But he was obviously beating on his wife.”