Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jessica stared at her three suitcases resting on the extra bed in her dumpy motel room. After what had happened in the doorway of her home earlier that morning, she couldn’t bring herself to return to Steven’s guesthouse.
He’d kissed her. Steven Ruckle had touched his mouth to hers before she realized his intent.
Though she’d enjoyed the sensation of being wanted, it wasn’t her husband’s lips touching hers. It had felt wrong…as if she’d betrayed Owen somehow.
Leaving the motel room, Jessica retrieved her paint supplies along with her easel and a couple of blank canvases from the back of her SUV and returned to the room.
She set up a place on the small table near the kitchenette and mixed up several different colors.
Plucking up a brush, she dipped it into the paint and touched it to the canvas. The first pattern of clouds began to form.
* * * *
The trill of a phone ringing penetrated Jessica’s numb brain. She blinked to clear her vision, her eyes slowly focusing on the picture sitting before her.
She tilted her head to the side, taking in the image of a small gray cabin situated on the bank of a lake.
Why she’d painted the picture was beyond her. Jess had never been to nor seen the lakefront cabin before.
Something else caught her eye. She squinted at the still waters of the pond she’d created, and her breath caught. The reflection of a face stared back at her from the water’s surface. Terry Dayton’s face.
Jess pushed to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her. What did it all mean? she wondered in more than a little shock.
Then she noticed another reflection, not far from Terry’s. Though the face wasn’t clear enough to make out any details, she was fairly certain it belonged to a young girl.
She glanced at the clock, realizing it was after midnight. She couldn’t possibly call Steven at that time of night. He would surely be sleeping.
Jessica sat back down in front of her latest creation, her gaze sweeping over every inch of that canvas. What was she supposed to do now? She could call the police, but tell them what? I unknowingly painted a picture of a cabin with two people’s reflections in the water? One of them, I’m fairly sure, is Terry Dayton’s. They would have her hauled back to the Sparkleberry Hills Mental Institution faster than she could blink.
She could take the painting to Melanie. But there again, she ran the risk of Melanie turning her in as well.
No, Jess needed to speak to Jasper. She’d seen the curiosity in his eyes, had no doubt that he’d wanted to hear what she had to say. But how to get him alone and away from his wife?
With a sigh of exhaustion, Jess stood once more and ambled over to the bed free of suitcases.
She peeled out of her clothes, pulled back the covers, and climbed onto the less than comfortable mattress. Her eyes slid shut and darkness claimed her before she could turn off the bedside lamp.
* * * *
Jessica awoke the following morning with a pounding headache and gritty eyes that felt like they’d been scrubbed with sandpaper.
She rolled over and glanced at the small alarm clock that sat on the nightstand between the two beds. It was two in the afternoon. She’d slept half the day away.
Throwing back the covers, she stood and padded across the room in her bra and panties to find the painting wasn’t merely some dream she’d had in the middle of the night. It was definitely real, and just exactly as she remembered it.
Touching the now dry canvas, she gently ran her fingertip across the boy’s reflection in the water and then touched on the female’s face as well.
The longer she stared at the images before her, the harder her heart began to pound.
“What is happening to me?” she whispered in confusion, staggering back a few steps.
Jessica spun around and unzipped one of her suitcases with unsteady hands. She grabbed up a clean change of clothes, made her way to the bathroom, and showered.
Once clean, Jessica dressed in jeans, a white silk blouse with matching flats and then pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She bypassed her makeup, opting to wear sunglasses instead.
Snatching up the latest painting, Jessica loaded it into the backseat of her SUV next to the previous image she’d painted of Terry Dayton in that shallow grave.
She opened the driver’s door, tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, and got behind the wheel.
Steven picked that moment to turn into the parking lot of the motel. He pulled up next to her and rolled down his window.
Jessica lowered hers as well. “What are you doing here?”
“I tried calling you last night, but you didn’t answer. Nor did you answer this morning. I figured you were still upset with me about what happened yesterday.”
She knew exactly what he referred to. “I’m assuming you mean the almost kiss.”
Disappointment flickered in his eyes. “Yeah.”
“I’m not upset with you, Steven. I just have a lot on my mind…a lot to think through.”
Steven’s elbow came up to rest along his door frame. “And I’m a complication you don’t need right now.”
“I didn’t say that. Look, Steven, you’ve been a Godsend through all this, and as attractive as I find you, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a married woman.”
He glanced down at the ground for a moment before returning his disappointed gaze to hers. “In case you’ve forgotten, your husband had you locked up in the mental ward against your will.”
Jessica inwardly flinched. She didn’t need to be reminded of Owen’s damnable Baker Acting of her person. “I haven’t forgotten, and I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive him for what he did, but in his defense, he thought he was doing what was best for me.”
“How can you defend him after what he did?”
“I’m not defending him, Steven. I’m only saying that had I been in his position, I might have done the same thing. Especially if I thought it would keep him alive. Owen has experienced the unthinkable where I’m concerned.” She couldn’t bring herself to mention the attempted suicide she’d put Owen through only two years before.
Steven opened his car door and got out. He leaned in the window of her SUV and cupped the side of her face. “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you need me.” He paused. “For anything.”
Jessica stared back at him from behind the safety of her sunglasses. He was everything any woman could ask for. Handsome, successful, and charismatic. But he wasn’t Owen. “Thank you, Steven. That means a lot.”
He straightened away from the door. “Where are you headed?”
She wondered how much to tell him. The last thing she wanted was him following her to the Daytons’ house and causing trouble. Yet the longer she sat there gazing up at him, the more she wanted to tell him. “I’m going to see Jasper.”
Steven’s eyebrows lifted. “What for?”
Jessica jerked her thumb toward the backseat. “To show him my latest painting.”
Steven opened the back door to her SUV, retrieved the painting and studied it for several heartbeats. “Why would you want him to see this?”
Jessica climbed out and joined Steven in his perusal of the painting he held. “I painted it late last night. See the faces in the water?”
Lifting the canvas higher, Steven squinted at the image. “I see them. What does it mean?”
“I have no idea, but it has something to do with Terry Dayton’s disappearance.”
Appearing unconvinced, Steven set the painting back onto the seat and shut the door. “Are you sure you didn’t subconsciously dream this one up? I’m not saying it doesn’t have something to do with Terry Dayton, but the last image you created, Terry was in a shallow grave, not a lake.”
Doubt quickly trickled in. “Maybe so, but this is the second time I’ve painted something with no recollection of it during or after. And both times had to do with Terry Dayton…” Her voice trailed off.
“Jessica,” Steven began, only to falter. He tried again. “Look, maybe you should try to put Terry’s disappearance behind you for a little while. At least until we can clear up the suspicion surrounding Sandy Weaver’s murder.”
Climbing back behind the wheel of her SUV, Jessica closed her door. “I’ll give it some thought.”
“That’s all I ask. Will you stop by later tonight and have dinner with me?”
Jessica nodded and put the SUV in gear. “I’ll text you when I’m headed your way.”
“Be careful.”