29. Jessica

Even before she got into bed, Jessica knew she wouldn't fall asleep that night. The bones belonged to a child. Maybe even a baby. A baby.

This changes everything,Alicia had said. Jessica had always found it difficult to think about her upbringing at Wild Meadows, and there was no question that this new piece of information—that a baby had been buried under the house—made it infinitely more difficult. But Alicia was wrong when she said it changed everything. It wasn't possible. There had to be another explanation for what happened to this child or baby. One that had nothing to do with them.

Jessica pottered about the bedroom, trying her best to re-create her home routine—showering, brushing her teeth, taking her Lexapro and melatonin, washing her face—hoping to convince her body that it was time to sleep. But of course, her body was too clever. If anything, it was insulted by her pathetic attempts and more determined to stay awake. Norah, judging by the snoring sound that traveled through the wall, wasn't having the same trouble. As for Alicia, who knew?

Jessica was concerned about her. It had been so shocking seeing her crying. For as long as Jessica had known her—or at least since her grandmother had died—Alicia had kept her emotions so tightly contained that even she couldn't access them, let alone express them outwardly. It had always troubled Jessica. Norah's troubles were right out there for everyone to see. Alicia's troubles were better hidden but just as serious. Jessica needed to keep an eye on her. If she started to spiral, Jessica wanted to be on hand.

On the bedside table, her phone lit up with a voicemail message and Jessica lunged for it, desperate for something to distract her from her worries.

But sadly, the message just brought more worries.

"Jessica, it's Cate McDonald. Can you call me ASAP? I've just had a conversation with Debbie Montgomery-Squires and—"

Jessica ended the message and swore out loud. Could she sue Debbie for defamation? Although Jessica was pretty sure you had to prove the person was spreading lies about you and she wasn't sure she'd be able to do that. She scrolled through her phone in search of her lawyer's details and fired off an email, cc-ing Sonja. As soon as she heard back, she'd decide how to handle this.

Until then, she was alone with her shame.

Jessica was no stranger to pain, but shame was its own specific brand of agony. Something about its assertion that all of your worst fears about yourself were true, its unrelenting focus on your negative qualities. Thankfully, Jessica had ways of dealing with shame. She tipped two of them out of a bottle and into her hand, and then, after a moment's consideration, she tipped out another two. Everything would be better after a good night's sleep, she reminded herself. She swallowed the pills and waited for peace to descend.