Page 16 of Threat of Danger
Zelda reached for the remote. “Mind if I turn on the TV? I watch my cookin’ shows in the evenin’s. Helps me to get sleepy.”
“Go ahead. Mind if I shower and go to bed?”
“I saved some stew for you. It’s in the fridge.”
“I’ll have it tomorrow. Thank you. If I eat this late, I’ll have heartburn.” Her stomach felt off already, filled with odd flutters.
“You go rest, child.” Zelda’s smile was pure love, her face a Welcome Home banner. “I’m so glad that you’re here.”
Jess still couldn’t wholeheartedly sayMe too, so she said, “I’m glad we’ll get to catch up.” She grabbed her duffel bag from next to the couch and headed upstairs. She stopped at the top to call down, “Good night.”
Zelda called back her usual. “Good night. Don’t let the sugar fairies bite.”
Jess grinned. But as she walked to her old bedroom, the grin slid off her face. Then she opened the door.Oh God—the place time forgot.She dropped her bag inside.OK. Oh, wow.The blast from the past was a little too much, the small room a time capsule.
Since she still had nervous energy to burn, and she needed to stay in shape for work, she did a hundred sit-ups, a hundred push-ups, a hundred squats. Facing the door the whole time, with her back to the room. Better to ease back into all that in stages.
She started into a hundred lunges. Did Derek do the same? Exercise like this to keep in shape? He must be doing something. And it definitely worked.
What were the chances that he would actually stay away for the next three weeks?
“Sixty-five, sixty-six.” She began counting out loud to stop herself from thinking about him.
When her muscles were burning, she quit. She gave the room a second, more careful, look.Insane. Nothing has changed.
On a lark, she reached under her mattress where she’d kept her diary back in the day. Her fingers swept around and found nothing. Her mother must have found the diary and put it someplace else. Jess glanced around, then decided to find the little pink book later.
She grabbed her pajamas from her bag and headed to the bathroom. Her heart honest-to-goodness fluttered at the sight of the old cast-iron claw-foot bathtub. Her father had always been talking about switching it out for a fiberglass shower unit. Looked like he’d never gotten around to the task.
Jess’s heart squeezed at the thought.Oh, Dad.She closed her eyes, not even bothering to fight the grief.
When she finally opened her eyes again, her gaze fell on a bag of lavender Epsom salt sitting on the shelf above the tub.Forget the shower.
She was chin-deep in the comforting scented water when she reached for the newspaper that Zelda probably had left on the sink. Zelda read the news daily, from first page to last, but it took her all day, reading an article here and there in between chores.
Jess folded the paper so it wouldn’t get wet. Better theTaylorville Timesthan to think about Derek. Thinking about Derek when she wasnakedseemed exceptionally unwise.
She settled in for small-town minutiae: sale at the farm store, lost dog, local students who won scholarships, a notice that the gardening club was gearing up for spring meetings. In a minute or two, she was feeling positively nostalgic. The heat of the bath seeped into her body and soothed the aches and pains left behind by the last few weeks of intensive shooting in New York. This was nice. After the day she’d had, she deserved this.
The lovely state of relaxation didn’t last long, however. Jess turned the page, and her eyes fastened on the article at the top. The headline made the blood run cold in her veins.
Missing Taylorville Student’s Body Found. No Foul Play Suspected.
Hannah Wilson, eighteen, missing for more than a month, had been found in the river. Her car, also found, had apparently gone off the bridge.
Thump-thump-thump.Jess’s heart drummed a rushed beat. Her hands shook so hard, she couldn’t read the rest of the brief article, although she did catch the byline: Mark Maxwell.
She dropped the paper on the white tile floor.
No connection.
A coincidence.
Nobody had ever had any proof that the occasional missing-girl cases in the area were the work of a serial rapist/killer. Jess had always been the only one to think otherwise. She’d had to accept that the whole labyrinth of paranoia that made her see threatening patterns was the result of PTSD. The continued threat was something she’d made up in her head.
So not going down that rabbit hole again.She forced her muscles to relax. She stretched out and sank as low in the water as she could while keeping her nose above the water.Think about something else.
She needed defined goals for the next three weeks. She would work on those goals, then leave. She would not allow herself time for wild theories.
