Chapter Eighteen
Jessica stopped her SUV along the curbside of Jasper and Melanie Dayton’s house. At least she hoped it belonged to them. She’d called Ruckle and talked him into giving her their address.
She sat outside for several minutes, trying to work up the nerve to get out, when the front door to the house opened and a petite blonde exited the home.
Quickly climbing from the SUV, Jessica strode across the yard, her high heels sinking into the freshly mowed grass of the manicured lawn. “Mrs. Dayton?”
The blonde woman stopped, surprise registering on her face. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
“No,” Jessica admitted, reaching the woman’s side. “My name’s Jessica Nobles. Do you have a minute?”
Melanie gave a curt nod. “I was just about to head into town. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to speak with you about your son, Terry.”
A shadow passed through Melanie’s eyes. “Are you a reporter?”
“I’m not. I moved into the house next door to your old place. I’d like to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind?”
Melanie hesitated a moment and then waved a hand toward the house. “Would you care to come inside?”
“Thank you. That would be great.” Jessica followed the pretty blonde through the front door of a pale yellow, stucco home. The first thing she noticed were the lack of pictures in the front room. Not one photograph of Terry adorned the walls or any of the tables that made up the large space.
Melanie gestured to the sofa. “Please, have a seat. What is it that you would like to know?”
Jessica waited for Melanie to sit in a straight-back chair before lowering herself onto the sofa, facing her. “I’m really not sure where to begin. Let me start off by saying how sorry I am for your loss.”
“I appreciate your kind words, Mrs. Nobles, but Terry isn’t dead. He’s missing. I would know if he were dead.” She rubbed her palms over her knees. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
Holding Melanie’s gaze, Jess responded softly, “I do understand. I lost my only child a little over three years ago. He was seven years old when he passed.”
Melanie paled. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I—”
“You’re fine, Mrs. Dayton. There was no way you could have known.”
An awkward silence fell. Jessica nervously cleared her throat. “Tell me about Terry.”
A faraway look entered Melanie’s eyes. “He’s twenty years old now, did you know that? It’s hard to wrap my mind around. I often try to imagine what he looks like today, but I can’t. In my mind’s eye, he’s still the seven-year-old little boy who went missing so long ago.”
“The newspaper articles stated that he was taken in the middle of the night. It also said there were suspicions surrounding his disappearance.”
Melanie’s eyes sharpened, losing the lost look they’d exhibited only seconds before. “Yes. There was this woman who lived across the street—this psychic they were looking into. Also, Eustice Martin. Have you met him yet?”
“Unfortunately, I have.”
“Well, then you’ve seen what type of person he is.”
Jessica nodded. “I know that he’s been in prison for murder and that he abuses his wife.”
“Why are you interested in Terry?” Melanie suddenly asked, catching Jessica off guard.
Wondering how much to reveal of what she’d seen, Jessica hedged, “Since finding out about your son and what happened in that house next door to me, I haven’t been able to think of much else. I’ve read everything the internet has to offer on the investigation, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Eustice had something to do with his disappearance.”
“I understand your curiosity, Mrs. Nobles, but why would you want to get involved?”
Jessica looked down at her fingernails. Her heart began to pound, and her palms grew sweaty. She decided to be honest with Mrs. Dayton. If the woman threw her out on her ear, then so be it. “I saw him.”
“Saw who?”
Jessica lifted her head. “Your son.”
“You—” Melanie’s mouth opened and closed several times. “You saw Terry?”
“More than once…”
All the color drained from Melanie’s face. “Where? When? I don’t understand!”
Jessica recognized the signs of a panic attack, and Mrs. Dayton was definitely on the verge of one.
Surging to her feet, Jessica skirted the coffee table that sat between them and touched Melanie on the shoulder. “This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to please hear me out.”
Melanie raised a tear-filled gaze but remained silent.
“I…” Clearing her throat, Jess tried again. “I saw him in the upstairs window of the house next door to me. Your old house.”
When Melanie didn’t respond, Jess continued. “He-he had dark hair, and he was wearing a striped T-shirt. I saw him the first night I moved into the house next door.”
Melanie pushed to her feet, forcing Jess to take a step back. “You came here today to tell me that you saw the ghost of my son Terry?”
“I know it sounds crazy, Mrs. Dayton, and I wish to God I had a different reason for being here, but I don’t. I know what I saw, and I’ve seen him more than once.”
“Please leave.”
Jessica’s heart ached for this woman who’d lost her child. She ached for the sadness Melanie tried to hide, the deep grief that lay just beneath the surface. “I didn’t come here to upset you. I came here hoping that I could help.”
Melanie marched to the door and held it open. “You can help by not contacting me again.”
“Sandy Weaver saw the same things I did. Things that didn’t make the papers, things I had no way of knowing about.”
Something flickered in Melanie’s gaze. “How do you know what Sandy saw?”
“Because I saw her.”
“Saw her where? She left the area thirteen years ago. Just up and disappeared in the middle of the night.”
Jessica stopped at the open door but remained inside. “She lives in Summerville, Alabama. I paid her a visit to reveal to her what I’d seen. I had no idea that she’d seen the same things.”
“I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, Mrs. Nobles, but I want no part of it. Now, good day.”
“Melanie, please…”
“Go.”
With an apologetic nod, Jessica stepped out onto the porch, the click of the door closing, echoing behind her.
Unsure of what to do next, Jess jogged to her SUV, grabbed a pen and paper from her purse, and wrote down her cellphone number. She strode back across the yard and slipped the paper beneath the door.