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CHAPTER TWELVE

T he knock on Jacob’s door came just after he’d finished leftovers of last night’s dinner. The pot pie his housekeeper made was big enough for four people, so he stretched it out when he didn’t have the brainpower to choose what to have for dinner and sometimes froze a serving or two for later.

He tugged the door open wearing shorts and a T-shirt, his feet bare. Hair a mess. On his doorstep were a uniformed police captain and Addie, in her official capacity, since she immediately flashed her badge at him. “We’d like a word.”

Jacob stepped back.

The man entered first. “I’m Captain McCauley, and I believe you know Special Agent Franklin.”

“Not exactly in that capacity. But yes, I know her.” He closed the door behind them and ushered them to the living area. “Care to sit? Coffee?”

The captain glanced at Addie. She shook her head and turned to survey the apartment. Four thousand square feet. His agent had recommended an interior decorator. Jacob hadn’t thought about what she did with it. All he cared about was that the couch wasn’t uncomfortable, and he could see the TV without straining his neck.

The view from the windows was what sold him on the place.

He motioned to them with a tip of his head. The skin around Addie’s eyes flexed, and she headed over to look. “Wow.”

“It’s even better when the sky is clear. And at night, when you can see the city lights.” He could see why people loved big cities like New York and Chicago. Downtown bustled with life. The fact he was up here alone most of the time didn’t matter when he felt like part of something. One in the crowd of a community.

Grandpa had taken him to the top of Golden Hills Bluff early so they could see the sunrise. There Grandpa had told him that anytime he saw the dawn, he would know there was always hope.

He hadn’t been able to look at it since. But he still liked the sky.

“Mr. Wilson?” The captain tucked his hands in his pockets. “The police department received a call last night from a young woman recently in your employ.”

He’d only done one shoot recently.

“Sammie…something.” Jacob shook his head. “I paid them in cash, but I’ve got their information written down somewhere.”

“Why her? When I mentioned a woman, why do you assume it’s her?” The captain had a staid expression that made him extremely hard to read.

“How about you tell me why she called the police department?” Then he’d know whether he needed his lawyer.

“The statement she gave is that you harassed her. She’s not pressing charges but wanted it on record just in case you, in her words, ‘tried it on some other unsuspecting girl.’”

Addie turned from the windows. What did she think of the view?

Instead of asking that, he said, “Is this something the FBI usually investigates?”

The corner of her mouth curled up. “Harassment against women?” She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe it should be.”

He turned to McCauley. “She made it clear she was interested. Touched my arm a couple of times when Dylan was either not paying attention or out of the room. Asked too many questions.”

“And that made you angry?”

“Excuse me?”

McCauley shrugged. “I’m just trying to gauge your state of mind.”

“Of course.” Jacob held it together on the outside even though his head spun. “Is she pressing charges?”

“No. Like I said, it was only a report.”

“Is there anything else?” He’d figured this was about the body Hank had run off to look at. Assumed it was about the missing girl who worked at the retirement home. Maybe she wasn’t dead.

“Yeah, there is.” McCauley glanced at Addie.

Addie put her hands in her coat pocket. “Can you confirm for us your whereabouts between midnight and five this morning?”

So this was about Celia. She’d been found dead, and right now he was the prime suspect. Instead of answering what hadn’t been a question, he said, “Why would I need to do that?”

Hopefully Sammie hadn’t disappeared since she called the cops to report her own actions. He didn’t get people sometimes. Why sabotage his reputation and business, all because he’d shut down her advances? It didn’t make sense to him.

Then again, people rarely made sense to him.

“Celia Jessop’s body was found this morning,” McCauley announced.

Jacob walked to the couch and sat. He knew, of course, since Hank had told him. Still, he couldn’t help it hitting him.

He ran his hands down his face and thought about that woman on the phone, Celia’s mother. She’d accused him of being the one who took her daughter. But the grief in her voice? The pain she felt had caused her to lash out, looking for an explanation where there often was none.

Or she heard about that fight he’d had with the boyfriend and drew her own conclusions.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He hated that a life had been snuffed out. “She was a sweet girl. That’s a…it’s a shame.” Her family would know what it was like to lose a loved one too soon.

“As I said,” McCauley started, “where were you last night?”

“Midnight to five?” Jacob glanced at Addie, and she nodded. “Here. In my apartment—alone—until three-thirty.” Both of them stiffened, just a fraction of a shift. Jacob’s life was about visual nuances. There was something significant to it that time. “Then I was downstairs at the gym. When I got back up, Detective Maxwell was here making breakfast.”

“Does Hank do that a lot?” Addie asked.

“He has a key.”

“Do you do that a lot?”

He didn’t exactly know what she was asking. “He’s the only person who has a key. If for nothing else than he can get in if no one’s seen me for a few days because I slipped getting out of the shower.”

“Like one of those medical alert things?”

The captain cleared his throat. When they both looked at him, McCauley lifted his chin. “Can security for the building confirm you never left?”

“My key logs entry and exit. It’ll show when I went to the gym. And that I never left the building. It might suffice.” Jacob shrugged. “Until you discover I own the whole building, and the salaries for all security and housing staff are paid out of my accounts.”

Addie shifted, a movement he spotted out of the corner of his eye. “You own the building ?”

She glanced around, and he realized he’d surprised her. He’d figured she would do her due diligence. Run his credit and see if he had a rap sheet. Unless she’d had no intention of seeing him again—until it became necessary to question him about a murder.

He might’ve hugged her, but clearly he meant nothing to her aside from ancient history. How long until the cops heard about the incident with Celia and her boyfriend?

“The fact you have the means to craft yourself an alibi doesn’t bode well for you.” McCauley assessed him with a long stare.

“My cell phone will confirm I was here all night.”

“You could’ve left it here,” McCauley pointed out.

“So prove I was somewhere else. The onus is on you, I believe. But I can save you the trouble. I didn’t kill Celia. What reason would I have to end her life?” He included Addie in that question. After all, she was the one who figured out what people were thinking.

“But just so you’re not surprised when you learn about it.” Jacob paused. “Celia and I had a conversation in the retirement center parking lot. We happened to be leaving at the same time, and she asked for advice. What she should do about her boyfriend.”

McCauley snorted.

“Continue,” Addie said.

Jacob didn’t mention the fact it hadn’t felt genuine. But what reason would Celia have had to play him like that?

“She asked what I thought, and I asked her a few questions in response. To try and get her to think it through and decide on her own. The boyfriend showed to pick her up, saw us talking, and lost it. He ran up and tried to shove me around. He hit me. I hit him. It was over pretty quickly, and no one was hurt badly. I didn’t let it escalate, but Celia was freaked over his reaction. She left with him.”

“And you didn’t call the police?” McCauley seemed to think that was suspicious.

Jacob stood. “That’s all of it. So if you have any further questions about anything, you’re welcome to direct them to my lawyer.”

Addie had turned away to study the photo he’d hung above the fireplace. The sunrise above the bluff, a picture taken by his grandfather years ago. The only part of the decoration he’d had input into, and that was only to tell the lady which of his framed photos he wanted to be hung there.

She moved on to study the books on his shelf. Jacob twisted around and winced, thankfully where McCauley couldn’t see. That stupid scrapbook Hank had pulled from his backpack and left on the table. He still hadn’t put it away.

If she saw it…

Part of him wanted to know what she would think.

Did she do the same, processing what had happened to them and the hold it still had—while at the same time trying to convince herself that it was done? It was nothing. The past was over.

Jacob didn’t want McCauley realizing what he had in his possession, and neither did he want to explain it. The captain wouldn’t understand. Not the way Addie might.

He strode to it and put the scrapbook in his backpack. Addie shot him a questioning glance. Since she had no intention of seeing him again, what was the point of letting her into what his life was like now? It wasn’t like she cared.

“One moment.” He headed for the study and pulled a business card from the desk drawer. Back in the living room he handed it to the captain. “Here’s my lawyer’s information.”

McCauley took it, but the guy didn’t seem happy Jacob shut them down.

“Some place you’ve got here.”

Jacob shrugged.

“Is this all down to that book you did? My wife has a copy in the guest room.”

“Life in Story?”

“That’s the one.” The captain lifted his chin. “Her dad is part Cherokee, so she liked reading all the firsthand accounts of your grandfather’s life.”

“I’m working on another one.” Jacob figured he could at least use it to solidify his case. “That’s why I was at the retirement home. I’m interviewing some of the residents, trying to find a story to tell.”

He didn’t tell them he thought one might be a murderer. Cops tended to react, even if the statute of limitations were way past. What was the point of dragging an older man with dementia into a court case when he might not even live to serve out a sentence? Hank knew about it, and he hadn’t seen reason to drag the past back up.

“That’s how I knew Celia.” He wanted to ask them to pass on condolences but figured the family wouldn’t be receptive. Jacob didn’t want to cause them more grief. “She was a nice girl who didn’t deserve to be killed.”

He was only assuming this was a murder. After all, they wouldn’t come around like this if it were natural causes or an accident.

The captain turned. “Special Agent Franklin?”

“I have no questions, but I’d like a minute. I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

“Very well.”

Jacob figured he’d be on the other side of the door, which McCauley would leave open just in case he had to rush back in and save Addie.

She walked to him but stopped several feet away. The couch between them might as well have been as wide as the Atlantic.

“I didn’t kill that girl.”

She nodded. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“But you’re still wary of me because I might be a murderer. So you’ll stay over there just in case I did kill that girl.”

“I’m not exactly supposed to get close to a suspect or person of interest.”

“But you want to?”

Addie shook her head, the ghost of a smile on her face.

That was all the answer he needed.

“You’ve made a nice life for yourself.” She glanced around, her cheeks pink.

He shrugged.

“I’ve seen that book. It’s amazing. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Thank you.”

“I should go.”

He nodded.

“You’re very talented.” Addie crossed to him, hesitating a fraction. As though she might kiss his cheek or offer her hand to shake. Instead, she did neither. Just headed to the door and slipped out. He heard the murmur of conversation, and the door clicked shut.

Now he knew how it felt.

After the hospital. The reporters. The recovery. That conversation they’d had in the hospital, where her mother had screamed and wailed in the hall and Jacob had snuck into her room during the drama. They’d been talking when her mom interrupted, and their breakup had been inevitable after that. Neither had wanted to admit they were in pain. They just took it out on each other in the moment—with her mom adding her opinion.

When it had all died down, somewhere between Christmas and the new year, he’d shown up at her house. Half drunk, the only way he’d gathered the courage to talk to her. Tell her he couldn’t see her anymore. They were over. After being all either of them had during that time, he just hadn’t been able to do it again. Be alone with her. Find comfort after all the pain.

He’d walked out of Russ’s house and never looked back. Before the door shut, he’d heard her start crying.

“Goodbye, Addie.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before his feet numbed on the tile floor, and he remembered how much work there was to do. Jacob winced as he walked sensation back into the soles of his feet.

He found his phone and sent a text to Hank asking why he never got that heads-up.

Hank didn’t reply.