NINE
Jessie’s first stop after leaving Olivia home with the dog was her dad’s house in East Sacramento off Riverside Boulevard. It was the house where she and Sophie had been raised. With its unstable foundation, cracked walkways, and neglected grounds, she was surprised the property had been accepted as a pledge toward bail. She knocked on the door, three hard raps.
Her dad used to be a carpenter, but after he’d started drinking, he couldn’t be trusted to show up on time. Now he worked as a handyman. Ethan Cole’s Handyman Services. She was about to get her hopes up when she heard lumbering footfalls approaching from inside.
The door came open.
“Hi, Dad.”
He tightened the sash on his robe. Although his thick salt-and-pepper hair was all over the place and he needed a shave, for a fifty-nine-year-old drunk, he was in pretty good shape. Clearly he wasn’t expecting visitors.
“Can I come inside?”
“Yeah, um, sure, of course.”
She stepped past him, walked down the hallway and into the family room. Empty beer cans littered the coffee table, and clear plastic cups used as ashtrays were filled to the brim. When she opened a window to air the place out, she saw the old swing set out back, where she and her sister used to play when they were little girls. It was rusty now and had one broken swing that dangled from a chain.
She went to the kitchen next and dug through drawers and cabinets until she found a garbage bag. As she walked around the family room, tossing empty cans and plastic cups into the bag, she held up an empty can of beer and said, “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“Did you come here to lecture me?”
“No. I guess not.” She set the can back on the table and the bag on the floor next to her feet. He might have his own handyman business, but he didn’t look very handy at the moment. “Don’t you work anymore?”
“I don’t appreciate your tone.”
She anchored her hair behind her ears. He was right. She hadn’t come all this way to make him feel like shit. “You shouldn’t have pledged your property, Dad. This house is all you’ve got.”
“I’ve got you and Olivia.”
“Not if you continue to drink yourself into an early grave.”
“A few beers are all I had.”
“Give me a break, Dad. It smells like Bourbon Street in here. There’s an empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the TV stand. Never mind that it’s noon and you look as if you just dragged yourself out of bed.”
“Why do you do this to me?”
“What am I doing to you, Dad?”
“I try to do something good, and you come over here pointing accusing fingers at me. I had a few friends over last night. That’s all.”
All he did was lie. “I never should have come.”
“Why did you?” he asked as he followed her to the door.
“To say thank you. It was a dumb idea.”
“This is all your mother’s fault, you know. She always wanted to turn you girls against me, and she did exactly that when she left us all here to rot.”
“Jesus, Dad.” Jessie turned toward him before opening the door. “Mom left a zillion years ago. Get over it. Thousands of men have been fucked over by their wives and vice versa. That’s life, Dad. When are you going to get that? You,” she said with an admonishing finger, “are the only one who can choose to change your life for the better. Friends and family have offered you help. I have offered you help, but for whatever reason, you just want to sit in your stupid recliner, guzzle booze, and sulk. I refuse to watch you continue to ruin your life because one selfish woman decided to up and leave.”
His eyes watered, but she felt no sympathy. She’d seen it before. “You’ve already wasted too many years. It’s time for you to realize you deserve better and then make some changes.” She opened the door and stepped outside.
“How did you do it?” he asked.
She looked at him. “Do what?”
“How did you stop thinking about her?”
She knew he meant Mom. “It was easy. Two months after she left, I read about a plane crash that killed everyone on the flight. I told myself she was on that plane. I even picked out which seat she’d been sitting in when it went down.”
Jessie didn’t wait for a response. She just walked off. No goodbye. No hug. No friendly wave. Just like always.
It was after one o’clock when Jessie arrived at the bank dripping with sweat. She should have taken her car instead of hopping on her bike.
Adelind Rain, the woman who had hired her to follow Parker Koontz, was a bank teller. The moment Jessie walked through the door, Adelind saw her and gestured for her to have a seat. Fifteen minutes later, Adelind approached and asked her if it was okay if they talked outside. The young woman was taller than Jessie remembered. Her light-colored hair was pinned back in a sleek and fashionable topknot. Everything about her was striking.
Jessie followed her out the double doors and to the right, where a couple of benches had been placed for workers to take a break. Traffic was thick this time of day. Across the street were apartment buildings, a coffee shop, and a Mexican restaurant. Another bank employee stubbed out a cigarette in the dirt circling a tree and headed back inside.
“I only have a few minutes,” Adelind told her. “What’s going on?” She looked around worriedly. “Is he here?”
“I take it you haven’t seen the news.”
Adelind pulled a face. “It’s too depressing.”
“Parker Koontz is at the hospital. He’s in critical condition.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How?”
Jessie pointed across the way. “He stood at that street corner yesterday waiting for you to appear. I knew you had taken the day off, but he didn’t. When he left, I was following him through Capitol Park when suddenly he turned and fired two shots at me. I fired back. Hit him in the chest.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. He was shooting blanks.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea. But his partner at the law firm is upset. Apparently Koontz had been telling him he was the one being stalked and harassed.”
“That bastard.”
Jessie nodded. “The woman he’s been describing looks a lot like me.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I’ll have to make a court appearance in a few weeks, and I’ll need your help to prove he’s been stalking you and others. The first time we talked, you hinted about not being the only woman Koontz has been harassing. I need a name.”
Adelind said nothing.
“My ass is on the line here,” Jessie said, wondering why she would hesitate.
“Fiona Hampton is the other woman who was stalked by Koontz. She works at the coffee shop on the corner of Sixteenth and N.”
“Are you two friends?”
“No. About a month ago, I was waiting in line for my coffee order when Fiona asked me if I knew the man in the suit sitting at the table outside. Although I had never seen him before that day, it was Parker Koontz. She said he was a pervert and that he’d stalked her for weeks before finally disappearing.” Adelind took a breath. “Fiona said that wasn’t the first time she’d seen him follow me to the coffee shop. I was surprised, but I wasn’t too worried. I went outside to confront him, but he rushed off before I could talk to him. Sure enough, after that day, I saw him everywhere. It didn’t matter where I went—to the grocery store, to work, to a bar to meet a friend, he would show up. That’s when I knew I had to do something to stop him.”
“Did you ever try to confront him after that first time?”
She nodded. “More than once. He was always far enough away to run off before I could catch up to him. I called the police a couple of times, hoping they could question him, but he always disappeared before they showed up.”
“So he never approached you or tried to have a conversation with you?”
“Never. But there is more to the story that I haven’t told you. Only because I thought I was being paranoid. As of last night, though, I knew it wasn’t my imagination. Someone has been in my house when I’m gone.”
“Did you call the police?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure I have enough proof.”
“How do you know someone has been inside your home?”
“Lots of little things,” Adelind said. “A brand-new carton of milk, opened and half-gone by the time I got home from work. The smell of my perfume in the garage. A dirty glass left in the sink. And pictures on the wall that had been reorganized. I was really starting to think I might be going crazy. But then I decided to conduct a test. I placed my workout clothes neatly on my bed. When I came home, they’d been moved, everything back where they belong.”
Jessie whistled through her teeth.
Someone exited the bank. “Adelind,” the woman called. “Jerry is looking for you.”
Adelind stood. “Jerry’s my manager. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”
Jessie watched her take brisk steps back into the air-conditioned bank. About to get up and go, Jessie had a weird feeling she was being watched. She examined the cars parked at the curb: A Jeep with fancy hubcaps. Silver Acura with a dent in the driver’s door. Beat-up Nissan truck without a bumper or a license plate. And so on and so on. Every vehicle was empty. Her gaze drifted to the luxury apartments. Eight stories high. Some of the windows were covered with blinds or curtains. Some open and some closed. Her gaze roamed over the apartments until she spotted a shadowy figure. Her skin prickled. Someone was standing at the window in the center apartment on the sixth floor. If she’d had her backpack with her, she would have pulled out her binoculars to get a better look.
But this wasn’t her day. She didn’t have her backpack, camera, or anything else of any use, so she stood and walked away without so much as a backward glance.