Her Last Day (Jessie Cole #1)(62)

“It’s okay,” Jessie told Higgins as she made her way to the window.

Ben Morrison stood at the front door. He looked up, saw her standing there, and waved.

“It’s Ben,” she told the dog. “You’ve met him before.” But Higgins didn’t care who it was. He stayed close to her heels, growling all the way down the stairs. Holding tight to his collar, she opened the door.

It took Ben only a moment to calm Higgins down. When he finally straightened, he looked at her and frowned. “What happened to you?”

“I was attacked yesterday. Nine stitches. I look worse than I feel.” She gave the dog a pat on the head. “Thanks to Higgins, I was able to use my pepper spray and get away.”

“Good dog.” He stroked the animal’s back. “Where did it happen?”

“A few blocks from here.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. I went to your office first, but I realize now I should have called.”

“No worries. Come on in.” She headed up the stairs, leaving him to shut the door.

“Random attacker or something else?” he asked when they reached the living room.

“Not sure, but there’s a chance it could have something to do with Parker Koontz.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My lawyer, who also happens to be a good friend, lives a few miles from here. She was also attacked yesterday. Tied up inside her home while the place was ransacked. The only thing they took was the device I had used to get a video of Parker Koontz as I followed him across town.”

“Last I heard he was in critical condition.”

She nodded. “Nothing has changed in that regard. But this whole Koontz thing has spiraled out of control. My friends and loved ones are at risk, and yet so far I have found nothing to point me in a particular direction.”

It was quiet as he appeared to mull the news over.

“The police are looking into it.” Gazing at Ben, she noticed the telltale signs of little sleep: frumpy hair, wrinkled shirt, and heavy eyelids. Her gaze fell to the leather case at his side. “I’m assuming you came to talk to me about Sophie?”

“Correct.”

“Have a seat. Olivia is at a friend’s house, so now is a good time to talk. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks.” He took a seat and then picked up a book on the table in front of him: The Sherlock Holmes Book, Big Ideas Simply Explained. “You’ve been studying, I see.”

Jessie smiled. “Olivia is doing a report on Sherlock Holmes.”

“Following in her aunt’s footsteps?”

“Seems so. She believes investigative work might be her calling.”

“What do you think?”

“She’s only fourteen. I’m sure she’ll change her mind a dozen times before she graduates high school.”

“What about you?” he asked.

She sat in the chair across from him. “What about me?”

“Is what you do your calling? Your passion?”

She didn’t know what to think about the man. Even if he didn’t have amnesia, she had a feeling he would be a mystery to her. Although she hadn’t known him for long, he was easy to talk to. But something in those eyes of his told a different story, a dark story filled with twists and turns. Who was he, really? Even he didn’t know.

“My wife tells me I have a tendency to get overly personal. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

He chuckled.

“When I was Olivia’s age, I wanted to be a doctor,” she told him without further prompting. “But that plan was shot to hell when my friend rode her bike straight into a mailbox. Seeing all that blood did me in.”

“Did you faint?”

“Nope. Just stood there like an idiot. My blood pressure dropped, and I couldn’t function.”

“And you didn’t know about your aversion to blood before that?”

“No. Not until that day. And I knew it was worse than I thought when years later my sister was cutting a piece of fruit and sliced right through the tip of her finger. I froze. It was as if I was having an out-of-body experience. I could see her, the knife, the blood, the look of surprise on her face, but I was unable to do anything about it. Seeing her blood was too much. I’ve read that my reaction to blood is supposed to be unique to humans and primates, but possums and some breeds of goats also become unresponsive when they see blood. It supposedly triggers something inside that tells them they’re in danger.” She paused to take a breath. “After being cut open yesterday, I realized nothing had changed. I had hoped I would grow out of it, but I barely made it home after the attack.”

“But at least you didn’t freeze.”

“True. I could feel the blood oozing down my neck, but I refused to look. But enough about that—you asked about my dreams and passion in life.”

He said nothing.

“Two years after Mom left,” she said, “I was putting myself through school at Sac State when I discovered Dad was falling apart and Sophie was pregnant.” Jessie shrugged. “It didn’t really matter what my dreams and life goals were after that. My sister needed help.”

“So you quit school.”