Chapter Twenty-Three
Owen listened to Jessica’s message again as he turned onto Meadowbrook Circle. It took him a moment to make out her words and another to see the flashing lights coming from his front yard.
“Shit,” he whispered, his heart in his throat. Something had happened to Jess.
He stepped on the gas, speeding the rest of the way to the cul-de-sac. Throwing open his car door, he jumped out and sprinted up the drive. “Jess!”
A police officer quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his entrance into the house. “Whoa. Stand back, sir.”
“Where’s my wife?” Owen attempted to see around the officer.
“You live here?”
Owen met the officer’s gaze. “Yes, this is my home. Where is my wife?”
“She’s across the street at the neighbor’s house. We suggested she wait there until we finish processing the scene.”
Continuing to peer around the officer, Owen’s gaze landed on the words written on the wall. “What the hell?”
“Go wait with your wife, sir. We’ll be finished here shortly and then you can return home. She’s in the white house trimmed in black.”
Spinning around, Owen jogged back down the drive, across the street and into Mrs. Hawthorn’s yard. He rang the bell.
Marge Hawthorn opened the door, her face full of concern. “She’s in the kitchen. Come on in. I’ll put on some coffee.”
Owen thanked her and hurried inside.
A heavy-set man with graying hair sat at the kitchen table speaking to Jessica in a soothing tone. He stood when Owen entered the room. “I’ll just give y’all some time alone.”
“Thank you.” Owen immediately rushed to Jessica’s side, pulled her from her chair, and wrapped her tightly in his arms. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. God, Jess, are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Did you see what was written on the wall?”
Kissing the top of her head, Owen pulled back enough to look into her beautiful eyes. “I saw. Who the hell would do such a thing?”
“I’ll tell you who,” Marge piped in, stepping into the kitchen. She moved to the counter and picked up the coffee pot. “That Eustice Martin is who.”
Fury and helplessness warred inside Owen. He ambled to the opposite side of the counter to face Marge. “Did you see something?”
“No, but I didn’t need to. That Eustice is a snake in the grass. The whole neighborhood knows it.”
Owen glanced at his wife’s pale face before returning his attention to Marge. “But what would Eustice have to gain from breaking into our home?”
Marge shrugged. “Have you stepped on his toes in some way?”
“We called the police on him for knocking his wife around.”
“Well, there you have it,” Marge stated in a matter-of-fact way.
Owen inhaled the smell of the coffee that began brewing beneath his nose. “What about the people that previously owned our home? Did they ever have trouble with the Martins?”
“The Lovejoys? Not that I recall. Of course, they worked a lot, and so they weren’t home during the day much.”
Owen watched as Jessica eased over to the window and parted the blinds enough to see out. It tore at his heart to see her so fragile and afraid.
Once the coffee finished brewing, Marge poured them all a cup and then pushed Jessica’s toward the edge of the counter before handing one to Owen.
“Thank you.” Owen picked up Jessica’s coffee and moved to sit at the table.
Jessica joined him, wrapping her hands around the warmth of her cup and meeting Owen’s gaze. “This changes everything.”
Owen reached out and covered her hand with his. “I know. I’m so sorry, Jess.”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I no longer feel safe, Owen. He was in our home, touching our things…”
“We don’t know that it was him, Jess. It could have been some neighborhood kids or teenagers who got high and thought it would be funny.”
A spark of hope flashed in Jessica’s eyes. “Do you think so?”
He didn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. “If I were a betting man, my money would be on pranking teenagers.”
Nearly an hour passed before one of the officers knocked on the Hawthorn’s door to inform Owen and Jess that it was safe to return home.
They thanked Mrs. Hawthorn for her hospitality. Owen followed the officer across the street while Jessica moved her SUV into the drive.
Owen’s stomach clenched as he stepped over the threshold into his home and took in the words painted on his wall.
Jessica rushed inside, hurrying down the hall, obviously checking the rest of the house for thievery.
“Is that what I think it is?” Owen questioned one of the officers after nodding toward the graffiti.
“It definitely looks like blood. We took some samples to give to the lab. Hopefully, it’s not human.”
After another ten minutes of speaking with the officers, answering dozens of questions and assuring them he’d call if he found anything missing, Owen walked them to the door. “What happens now?”
“We’ll run any fingerprints we found along with the blood samples, and someone will be in touch.”
Owen gripped the back of his neck, attempting to relieve some of the tension forming there.
He thanked the officers for their help, closed the door behind them, and turned to stare at the bloody words written on the wall.
A thought entered his mind. Where had Jessica been for the past several hours? Did she know more about what had happened than she was letting on? Worse still, did she have something to do with it?
Guilt flooded Owen the longer he stood there thinking the worst. Of course Jess had nothing to do with it. Why would she stage something so horrific in her own home? Unless she no longer wishes to stay…
Owen went in search of his wife.