Soul Possession(32)

Accounting was boring, no doubt, but who didn’t need an accountant? Companies always needed number crunchers and accountants were usually the last to be laid off. It seemed like a stable job, and above all, Jessie wanted some stability in her life.

Maybe in time she could open her own business. Do taxes and small-business accounting. The idea of having her own office space with her name outside gave her a ridiculous thrill.

The sooner she packed up and gave her notice, the quicker she could move on with her life. Things could only look up from here.

She let herself in and stared around the tiny efficiency, where she’d lived since her accident. No, she wouldn’t miss it.

Cheered by the thought of embarking on something new and exciting, she went into the bedroom and began packing her clothes. She went into the bathroom and tossed all her toiletries into a duffle bag and then lugged her suitcases to the front and left them by the door.

She was about to start into the kitchen when movement out her front window caught her eye. Frowning, she went over to peek out. Her frown got deeper when she saw a patrol car pulled right up to her front door on the narrow concrete driveway. Hell, she didn’t even park there and it galled her that some dumbass cop was blocking her now.

And then she thought that maybe Rick and Truitt were the dumbass cops in question and her cheeks warmed. Even if she hadn’t voiced the insult out loud she still felt guilty. Knee-jerk reaction after her experience with the police over the last few days.

She went to the door and stepped out onto her walkway, glancing toward the patrol car. To her surprise a tall, slender policewoman got out of the driver’s side and flashed a smile in Jessie’s direction.

Jessie frowned back at the woman.

The woman continued forward. “Are you Jessie Callahan?”

“What’s it to you?” Jessie asked belligerently.

“I wondered if you could come to the station with me. We need to ask you a few questions about one of your coworkers. We’re still investigating Merriam Powell’s murder.”

Oh, now they wanted her help? She didn’t care if this woman worked with Rick and Truitt. She could kiss Jessie’s ass. She may have forgiven Rick and Truitt but she wasn’t so forgiving to the rest of their department.

“I’m busy,” Jessie said shortly.

The woman’s eyebrows arched. “It won’t take long.”

“If it won’t take long then ask me here while I finish packing.”

Jessie started to turn away but to her surprise the woman quickly closed the distance and gripped Jessie’s arm.

“You going somewhere?” the woman asked softly. She let go and abruptly took one step back.

“That’s none of your b—”

The words broke off in midsentence as fire surged through Jessie’s body. Her entire body stiffened and she jittered from head to toe. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t cry out. Her lips were numb and her tongue instantly dry in her mouth.

Her bad knee buckled and she would have hit the ground but the woman pushed forward and held her up, smiling the whole while. Casually she half-carried, half-dragged Jessie the three feet to the passenger side of her patrol car.

She opened the back and eased Jessie in as if she worried they were being watched. Then she leaned in as Jessie started to sag sideways.

All Jessie saw was the butt of a pistol flying toward her head and then her entire world went black.

“I wonder why Jessie won’t answer her cell. She answered my text hours ago but then nothing else afterward.”

Truitt yawned and rubbed a hand through his hair. It had been a long-ass day spent interviewing the victim’s family, friends, and coworkers.

All he really wanted was to go home, feel Jessie in his arms, and then sleep for about twenty-four hours straight.

He glanced up at Rick and saw that his partner was worried. Not just a little bit either. He frowned. “She was moving stuff today. She’s probably busy. She might be with her friend.”

“That doesn’t explain why she won’t answer her cell. It isn’t turned off or it would go straight to voice mail.”

Truitt frowned but before he could respond, the phone at his desk rang.

“Cavanaugh,” he said in greeting.

“Is this Truitt Cavanaugh?”

“Yes it is. Is this Kirsten? Jessie’s friend?” He recognized the voice.

“Yeah, it is. Look, have you heard from Jessie since I picked her up from your house?”

Dread began to form in Truitt’s stomach and he glanced over at Rick, who was still frowning at his phone.

“No, Rick was just saying she hadn’t answered her phone or his texts. You haven’t seen her either?”

Rick came to immediate attention and hovered over Truitt, his brows drawn together as he listened to the conversation.

“No,” Kirsten said. “And the thing is, I went over to her apartment. Her car is still there but the front door is locked. It doesn’t look like she’s there but where else would she be unless she was with you?”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know, sweetheart. Rick and I will find her. I promise.”

“Let me know that she’s okay. I worry about her.”

“Will do.”

Truitt hung up and then stood abruptly, grabbing for his keys. Rick was leaned over Truitt’s desk, his palms planted on the surface and his face a mask of worry.