If someone hadn’t questioned the evidence six months ago and realized the expert witnesses had been wrong, Jess would still be in prison or possibly dead.
An urge to kick something—a cabinet by the wall, the old barbecue in the middle of the garage—explodes in me. It takes all my restraint to rein in the urge. Kicking or shouting or punching won’t solve anything. It won’t make me feel any better either. Why the hell would anyone want to target her? That’s what I want to know. Why target Jess and why murder her husband?
Kellan looks at me and his eyes mirror the same fury burning inside me. “The big question is…if someone wanted to end Jess’s life while she was in prison, do they still feel that way now that she’s out?”
“If they do, the media conveniently told them where to find her,” I grumble, eyeing the barbecue again. I rake my hand through my hair.
“No one else in Beckley has reached the end of their sentence or has been out on parole since Jess’s release.” Garrett pushes away from the workbench.
“What about the death threat she got last week?” Lucas asks. “You think it could be linked to what happened in prison?”
I get Noah up to speed on that. “I doubt it. The threat was for her to leave Maple Ridge or else she would be leaving in a body bag. Sounds like something one of the protesters could have written.” Or someone who hasn’t been protesting but is angry that Jess lives here.
“Fuck,” Kellan says under his breath. “People are assholes.”
Noah shoves his hands into his shorts pockets. “Did she report it?”
“To the police?” I nod. “Officer Hunt responded to the call.”
“He’s a good cop. He’ll do what he can to figure out who left it.”
Frown lines deepen on Garrett’s forehead. “Christ. Between the death threat and Mom’s behavior last Thursday, I can’t imagine how Jess is doing.”
“She’s surviving,” I tell him. “But I want her to be doing more than just surviving.” She deserves to be living the life she’s dreamed of for too damn long. “The protesters, the threat, the feeling someone is stalking her, her brother-in-law refusing to let her see her daughter—it’s all taking a toll on Jess.”
I feel so goddamn helpless. I’m not sure what I can do to help her, and it’s killing me. I want to protect her, make her feel safe, take away all her heartbreak and pain.
But even though I feel helpless over the situation, that’s got to be nothing compared to what she must be feeling. And how she has felt for so many damn years. “As it is, her freedom is forfeit for a while. When she’s at work, the main door to the company office will remain locked.” But even that precaution won’t be enough. The glass isn’t bulletproof. She’ll have to work in my office to keep safe. Or better yet, I should demand that she stays home and keeps the curtains closed.
But I can’t do that. I can’t force her to give up the job because of one individual who might not even be a physical threat to her. I can’t take away what little control she has over her life right now. Too many people have already chipped away at it. Chipped away until there’s barely anything left for her to hold on to.
We return to the house and get to work on the renovations. By the time we clean up three hours later, the renovations Jess and I had planned to do to the house are officially completed.
And it looks amazing, especially compared to how the place looked when we started the project four months ago.
Everyone has seen most of the renovations. It’s the work done in the spare bedroom that the women haven’t seen yet, and that includes Jess. The day she hid in the secret room, she’d been too distraught to check out the space.
The room won’t have the same impact for Jess now that Amelia will never see it. But that’s not what I’m concerned about.
Jess got a tattoo to symbolize her daughter and everything she lost. Will this room trigger the land mine I’m most worried about? “Are you sure you want to see the guest room decorated like we’d planned?” I ask as she and I stand in her bedroom, my voice quiet so only she hears me. “If not, I can redecorate it.”Will the room cause you too much pain to come back from?
Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Determination then slips in, brightening the honey color in them. “I want to see it, Troy. Just like we planned it.”
“Alright.” I tie a silk scarf around those beautiful eyes and kiss Jess on her forehead. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she whispers.
I take her hand and lead her out of her bedroom and across the hallway. Everyone else goes into her room and waits there. I want Jess to see the guest room without them witnessing her raw from the pain of knowing Amelia will never see it.
Jess and I step into the room, and I close the door behind us. I turn her so she’s facing the window and press a light kiss on her parted lips. A small smile lifts at the corners of her mouth.
I brush my lips against the shell of her ear. “Ready?” The word comes out low and husky, my voice not betraying the nervousness pumping through my veins at what her reaction will be—especially since a lot of the extras I bought for the room, like the cushions, I got before she told me about trauma bonding. Now, I’m hoping she won’t take it the wrong way—that they won’t scare her.
“Yes.”
“Keep your eyes shut while I untie the scarf.”
“Okay.”
