Chapter Forty-One

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Francine, Wisconsin

I t took Jazz all of two hours to decide that the place where Serena had grown up was as close to heaven on earth as one could get.

Ed and Mallory Allen, Serena’s parents, had welcomed her into their family as if she were one of their own. She had been ushered into their home and treated as if they’d been anticipating her visit for months, when she knew for a fact that Serena had called them about an hour before they arrived.

She’d been given the bedroom of one of their sons, and it still had baseball trophies and sports paraphernalia on the shelves. After a quick, delicious meal of beef stew and cornbread, Jazz had barely been able to keep her eyes open to get to her room. She hadn’t expected to sleep a wink last night, sure that with all the turmoil of yesterday, her brain wouldn’t shut off or her heartache wouldn’t let her close her eyes. Instead, the minute her head hit the pillow, she was out. She woke ten hours later, amazed not only at how well she’d slept, but how good she felt.

Embarrassed to have slept so late, she quickly showered and headed downstairs. Following an incredible fragrance, she entered the kitchen to find Serena and her mother baking bread.

Looking up from kneading a mound of dough on the counter, Serena flashed a bright smile. “Morning, Jazz!”

Surprising herself, she laughed out loud. After yesterday, she hadn’t been sure she’d ever feel joy again. But somehow, being with Serena and her family helped her to remember the sheer simplicity of family, affection, and loyalty.

“I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”

“You slept well?” Serena asked. She turned away from the dough, wiped her hands on a towel, and went to the coffee carafe. Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, she turned back to Jazz. “Still two creams and three sugars?”

Grinning, Jazz nodded. Xavier always teased her that she liked dessert coffee. Her heart turned over as she remembered how careful and loving he’d been with her yesterday. He hadn’t wanted to be away from her, but she knew he was focused on finding what other threats were out there.

He had texted her last night, and she’d read it numerous times before she’d fallen into bed. The message had been short but had said everything she could have wanted. I love you, Jazz. I’ll talk to you soon.

She hadn’t heard from him yet today, but she knew he was in Chicago with Ash, Eve, and Gideon. If they learned anything valuable after meeting with Doyle’s son, she knew they would let her know.

A thick slice of bread slathered with bright yellow butter appeared before her. “Eat this up, and then I’ll show you around.”

Even though her appetite had been nonexistent the last few days, her stomach made an embarrassingly ferocious growl of approval. She practically swallowed the slice whole, and then, when Serena smilingly put another slice on her empty plate, she ate it, too, albeit a little more politely.

“While you finish up, let me get this bread in the oven.”

Settling back in her seat, Jazz enjoyed the gentle chatter between Serena and her mother as they worked together in the kitchen. A pang of longing hit her, one she hadn’t felt in a long time. If her mom were still alive, she liked to think they would have worked together in the kitchen this way. Jazz had barely learned how to scramble an egg before she had lost her mother.

Even though she hadn’t brought it up yesterday, she hoped that in the course of finding more intel on Doyle, perhaps they could also find out who was responsible for her parents’ deaths. She wished she had thought to ask Brody if he knew that information, but their extremely brief conversation had prevented even the most basic questions.

Feeling sadness sweep through her again, Jazz stood and walked over to the window looking out into the backyard. Everywhere she looked, she saw beauty. From the flowers that seemed to spring up everywhere, often without any kind of pattern or symmetry, to the lush green bushes and giant ancient-looking trees.

“Your backyard is lovely, Mrs. Allen.”

“Thank you, Jazz, but you call me Mallory, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “I’ll—” She broke off and leaned forward, trying to make out what was running across the yard. Excited, she turned to Serena. “There’s a goat running across the yard.”

“Uh-oh. Is it black with a white face and black and white ears?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a tall, slender lady with short gray hair running after it, holding a red flyswatter?”

She turned back to the window and saw the exact scene Serena had just described. “Yes. How did you know?”

“That’s Henry, and the lady running after him is my aunt Jackie. It’s a game they play. He eats her gladiolas, and she pretends she’s mad at him, when we all know the only reason she plants them in the first place is because he loves to eat them.”

“Why a red flyswatter?”

Serena shrugged. “She says it’s his favorite color.” Grabbing her arm, she tugged Jazz to the door. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to both of them.”

Five hours later, Jazz was sitting amid the largest family gathering she’d ever seen. Serena had explained that every Thursday evening, everyone gathered in the field just beyond the house for a family dinner.

Jazz had never met so many people at one time. She’d met all five of Serena’s brothers, their wives, and children, as well as aunts, uncles, cousins, and both sets of grandparents. Considering she rarely spoke to a half-dozen people outside her OZ family in a month’s time, this should have been overwhelming. She’d always considered herself an introvert and quite shy. These people had changed her mind. They had welcomed her as if she were already one of them.

Since she wasn’t much of a cook, she helped set tables and ran interference for the kids who raced around the tables, almost tipping over an entire table filled with desserts. She loved that they all seemed to enjoy one another’s company and that laughter was the noisiest part of the meal.

Her day had been filled with milking a cow, cuddling baby goats, feeding chickens, and petting more dogs than she could count. Now, she sat at the table with her belly full of some of the most delicious food she’d ever consumed. She could have made an entire meal of the fried cheese curds alone.

“Is all this too much for you?” Serena asked. “They’re wonderful, but I know they can be a bit much at one time.”

“No. It’s lovely…really.”

“Feel like a walk?”

After all that food, a walk sounded perfect. From the look on Serena’s face, she had an ulterior motive.

Standing, Jazz followed her friend to the front of the house and onto the road. “Where are we going?”

“I need to show you something. I’ve not told Ash about it yet. Still feel like it’s too soon, but I want you to see it. Get your take.”

Getting more curious, Jazz said, “Okay.”

“Have you talked to Xavier today?”

“Not yet. I texted him that I milked a cow and cuddled goats, and he sent me a laughing emoji back. Have you talked to any of them?”

“I heard briefly from Ash. He didn’t have any real information other than he doesn’t believe Doyle’s son knew anything about your abduction. Says he’s so clean looking, he should squeak when he walks.”

“So it’s back to square one.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” Serena stopped in front of a pretty gray and white cottage and took a key from her pocket. “Follow me.”

Jazz went into the house behind Serena, surprised that they would just walk into someone’s home, even if it did belong to a family member. It was a lovely, simply decorated home but had an empty feel to it. “Who lives here?”

“No one. It’s actually the first house that was built here. My great-great-grandparents lived in it when they first married. It’s been remodeled and redone over the years. My dad fixed it up for my great-uncle Percy a couple years back. Percy stayed here a week in January and decided Wisconsin winters were too harsh for him, so he moved to Florida. We keep it for occasional guests.”

Confused on why they’d come here, Jazz asked, “Is this where you want me to stay?”

“Goodness no. You’re my sister. Family stays with family.”

Before Jazz could respond to her sweet statement, Serena went to the back of the house. She stopped at a door and, using another key, unlocked it. Turning back to Jazz, a glint of excitement in her eyes, she explained. “My dad tore down a lot of the original house, but one thing he kept was the bunker below it.”

“Bunker?”

“Yeah. My great-great-grandparents were worried about the atom bomb in the fifties. They built the bunker, thinking they might have to live in it for years. We don’t really use it since all our houses have a safe room, but we do keep supplies and odds and ends here.”

She switched on a light and then started down the stairs. “The last time I was here, I swept out the cobwebs and filled it with some other things.”

“Like what?”

Stepping onto the concrete floor, she flipped a couple of switches on the wall and said, “Take a look.”

Jazz stepped down beside Serena. The room was about the size of a small auditorium. And though she spotted some shelves at the end of the room filled with a substantial stash of canned food and bottled water, most of the space was filled with at least fifteen large, freestanding whiteboards that lined the walls. Over half of them were filled with writing.

“What is this, Serena?”

“I found him, Jazz.”

“Found who?”

Turning to face her, Serena’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “I found the head of the snake.”