Finding Tessa, Jaime Hendricks [best e reader for android .txt] 📗

sick is that we had a fight last night.”

“Did Jace hit you?” Her eyes go from concerned to furious in less time than it takes me to blink.

“No!” I want to clear that up immediately. “He said he wanted to protect me. He got a gun.”

“A gun? Are you kidding?” Now she looks at Caleb, likely playing out every scenario of him walking down the block alone, like that would ever happen, and Jace coming out and pumping her child full of lead. Not that she lets him walk. He’s four and she still puts him in a stroller. She reminds me of those people that put their dogs in strollers. “How did he even get a gun?”

“That’s the thing. He just ‘got one,’ ” I say, using air quotes.

“Oh, hell no. You need to go to the police.”

Overbearing Gwen now wants control of my marriage as well as her toddler. “I can’t. I don’t want him to go to jail. He thought he was doing the right thing. I don’t know. I just hate guns. Like, hate them.”

“Me too. And I don’t want one around Caleb. Oh, God, I can never come over again now. What’s he going to do?”

A bit of an overreaction, but sadly, it doesn’t shock me. “I told him to get rid of it. By any means possible.”

“Good. You think he’ll listen?”

“He better!” Just talking about it makes me feel queasy again. Plus, this entire visit has been a waste of time. I don’t know what I was expecting to get out of it or why I expected her to take her eyes off that child for an entire minute. “I’m going to go. I think I’m getting a bug. Thanks for the talk.”

“Ugh, I think it’s going around. Caleb was a little snot machine all morning. I think he’s coming down with something too. Hey, if you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Gwen.”

A quick hug and I’m out the door. My walk turns into a jog and it’s all I can do to not vomit all over the front lawn. I’m surprised I make it inside.

32

JACE

The garage door opened, Candy barked, and Jace sat up on the couch. He thought quickly about cleaning up but decided he didn’t care if the place was a mess. Evan wouldn’t care.

Candy ran to Evan as he walked in. He petted her on the head, then looked at his best friend, and his face dropped.

“Jace, man, I’m sorry. Now they’re saying double homicide.”

Jace’s whole body ached as he lifted himself up. “This could only be good though, right? Can’t they do a DNA test? It’s not mine. Can’t it help prove I’m not having an affair? It could help clear me. They should be looking for my wife. And when they find her, I’m going to sue these fucks.” Jace was determined.

“On what grounds?”

Evan, always the lawyer. “I don’t know. False arrest, once this shit is cleared up.”

“Well, technically they had—”

“I don’t give a fuck about technically anything. Poor Rosita was pregnant when someone killed her. I wonder if she knew. Oh, God, imagine her last moments.”

Jace didn’t want to out anyone, but he was pretty sure he knew who the father of that baby was.

Could Trey be a killer?

No one would believe it at this point. The whole damn state thought Jace was the killer.

Jace’s cell rang, yet another number he didn’t recognize. He grabbed it, and like he was the pitcher at the all-star game in the bottom of the ninth, he whipped it into another wall so hard it left a mark before it shattered on the ground. Candy shot across to the other side of the room in a panic.

Evan’s eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you got any real sleep? You look like shit, man. I mean, I get it. But you have to sleep.”

“I know, but I can’t. I have a missing wife who I can’t even look for because I’m fucking locked up here, I’m wrongfully accused of murder, I’ve got that fake reporter who I let in the house—”

“Whoa. What fake reporter?”

Jace rubbed the top of his head. His hair was greasy, sticking up in every direction. At this point he’d rather shave it all off than bother dealing with it. Or washing it. “Some lady called yesterday and wanted my side of the story. She came by this morning. Said her name was Bella Johnson, new with the local paper. I gave a whole blubbering interview, but Robert thought there was something off about her because of all the—” He paused, unable to say baby talk. “She was just full of shit. No one with that name even works there. I had her here. Even had her tour the house. I don’t even know who the fuck she was.”

“But Robert’s looking into it?”

“Yep.”

“Good.”

Jace looked at his cell phone on the floor and picked it up. The screen, of course, was shattered. He was able to make out the remnants of one text message. From Trey.

You’ll have to see Clara Clayton for an exit interview. When this is done.

Jace laughed, that maniacal laugh that a crazy person on the edge does right before they get their one-way ticket to batshit silly land. Sure, Jace was now accused of double homicide, but wasn’t it funny how Trey covered his ass immediately?

Evan texted Robert, explaining what happened to Jace’s phone and said to give him all the details for the time being. Robert answered—he talked to the DA, and there was new information.

“Well, there’s more,” Evan said after a long pause while reading a detailed text. “Do you want to hear it?”

“I don’t know. Do I?” Jace asked.

“Robert seems to think this could be good.”

“Jesus, there’s nothing good about this,” Jace snapped.

“No. Not that.” He scrolled through his phone again. “Forensics found out that there was more DNA at the scene. Here. At your house. In addition to Tessa’s.”

“What does that mean? Proof that someone else took