Because You're Mine(17)

“Here we go again,” he muttered.

His mother twisted her hands together. “Why can’t they let you be, Jesse?”

“They’re just doing their job.” He stepped out onto the stoop to meet Detective Adams, who scampered up the drive with a toothpick in his mouth. The man’s small stature and sharp features reminded him of a rat.

Jesse nodded at him. “Detective Adams. What’s this all about?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Adams took the toothpick from his mouth. “Got any of your memory back yet?”

“No.”

“Talked to the court-appointed psychologist you saw the other day. He thinks you’re starting to recall things.”

Nothing that matters. Just stuff like the smell of an Irish bog and the green of an Irish summer. It was worrisome but nothing he could explain, especially not to this detective with the cynical eyes. “I don’t remember what happened.”

“Don’t or can’t? How about just before you met Liam Connolly that night?” He leaned closer, and his minty breath washed over Jesse. “Like the fact you’d been talking about suicide.”

His pulse skipped in his chest, and he tugged at his shirt collar. “Who told you that?” Had he been depressed? No one had mentioned it to him.

“Sometimes people in distress think death is the only way out. And they take out a loved one with them. Everything I’ve heard says you and Liam were as close as brothers.” He jabbed a finger in Jesse’s chest. “I think you planned for both of you to die that night, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to put the bomb under your seat. So you put it under his.”

Don’t show any agitation. “I wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Liam.”

Adams looked smug. “I thought you didn’t remember anything.”

“I-I don’t. But I wouldn’t do something like that.” Lame, very lame. He had no idea what he wouldn’t or wouldn’t do, but the thought he might be that kind of man scared him.

“There’s more to this than meets the eye, and I’m going to find out what it is.” He tossed his toothpick to the ground, then turned on his heel and walked back to his car.

Jesse’s knees threatened to give out as he went back to the house. His thoughts rambled through all the detective had said. Just last night on the news there had been a report of a man who shot his wife and kids, then himself. He’d wondered what drove a man to carry out such a heinous act. Surely if he’d tried to do something that horrific, he wouldn’t have had such a strong reaction against the idea of it.

His mother was waiting by the door. “What did he say?” She followed him into the living room when he didn’t answer. “If he’s harassing you, I’m calling our attorney.”

“Mom, was I depressed before the explosion? Did I talk about suicide?”

She pressed her lips together. “The doctor said you were going to be fine, just fine. Don’t try to force the memories to come.”

“Did I seem unstable?” he asked, knowing he was going to have to pin her down somehow.

“You were just going through a bad spell. You’d lost your job. What man wouldn’t be upset after a false accusation?”

This was the first he’d heard of it. “What false accusation?”

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “That secretary. She accused you of sexual harassment.”

“And my boss believed her?”

She shrugged. “She’s his sister. Women have always pursued you, Jesse. It’s not your fault. I’ve seen it play out before. When you didn’t show the interest she wanted, she set her mind on revenge.” She touched his arm. “You were getting on top of things and had two job interviews lined up. Things were looking up for you.”

Maybe he had been the sort of man to do these things. Maybe he had harassed this woman, even planted that bomb under Liam’s seat. “What was the woman’s name?”

Her nostrils flared. “Rena Mae Anderson.” She spat the words like they had a bad taste.

He was going to have to go see this woman, find out the truth. “How well did I know Liam and Alanna?”

She sighed. “Why are you going over all this, Jesse?”

“I have to know.”

She sat on the sofa and drew her legs up under her. “You went to college with Liam in Ireland. The two of you roomed together for four years. He was your best friend, and even after college, you talked to him at least once a week.”

So he had been to Ireland. The memories he had of seeing the sea were real. “What about Alanna?”

Her nostrils flared. “You met her first and dated a few weeks before she threw you over and took up with Liam. You saw Liam maybe twice a year, but she usually wasn’t along.”

Then why did he feel this connection to her? Why was her name the first one on his lips in his initial coherent moment after the explosion? “I think I should see Dr. Phillips.”

“I’m sure he’d be glad to see you. He’s called several times.”

The psychiatrist’s messages were the only reason Jesse knew the name. “You have his number?”

She nodded. “By the phone in the kitchen.”

He went into the kitchen, found the number, and called the doctor’s office. There’d been a cancellation that afternoon, so he took it. Two hours later, he was in Dr. Phillips’s office sitting in a chair by a window that looked out on the Atlantic.