24. Chapter 24

It's easier than I thought it would be for us to sneak to the back of Jessica's house. I barely hear Kacey's footsteps behind me, but I can feel him, like some phantom extension of my own body.

We can see Jessica through the window, facing the other direction, sitting on her couch watching television like an average night.

The back door is solid timber, and Kacey murmurs softly into my ear, "Do you have any tools to pick that lock with?" I give him a droll look, reaching out and gently turning the handle until it opens. Jessica clearly has an overinflated ego; she likely assumes that no one would dare enter her house while she"s inside.

We keep low, avoiding any reflection that might catch her attention. The only illumination comes from the flickering light of the television and a small lamp next to where she"s seated. I spot her gun resting on the lamp table and signal to Kacey, motioning for him to approach from that angle while I circle around to her other side. It"s crucial to divert her attention away from the weapon to prevent any instinctive reaction.

Once I"m certain Kacey is within reach of the gun, I stand up and move closer. Jessica still hasn"t realized I"m there, a testament to her lack of awareness of her surroundings. "Nice house," I finally say, and she jumps, already turning toward the gun. However, her gaze is drawn to the one in Kacey"s hand, and she freezes. "You should really lock your doors, though," I add, and her eyes snap back to me as the realization of the situation dawns on her.

"Ash," she breathes out, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Hey, Jess," I respond softly, taking in her appearance. She has aged, like we all have, with stress lines etched around her eyes. It surprises me, given her obsession with appearance back in high school. But here she is, little Miss FBI.

"You never called," she whispers, genuine hurt evident on her face. I furrow my brow, confused. "You promised you would call when you were safe. You never called, not once in twelve years."

I sigh and nod before moving around to sit on one of her armchairs. "Because I wasn"t safe. I"m still not entirely safe now," I say gently.

She scowls in response. "But yet you"ve been back with your foster brothers," she retorts.

I raise a shoulder, acknowledging her observation to a degree. "Only for about a week. I ran into them while trying to find a friend of mine who had been abducted," I explain, offering part of the truth.

"You cared enough about them to break them out of federal holding," she accuses, her scowl deepening.

I can"t help but grin. "I love them," I say simply.

Her eyes narrow as she looks at me, assessing. "You"re lucky your guy there is good. He gave a believable enough performance to be able to leave with them. Or you and he would have just joined them in custody," she remarks.

I laugh. "Oh, he actually really is a US Marshal," I clarify, and she blinks at me, shocked. "They really are good guys, Jess," I assure her.

"Then why did you run away? Why have you been missing for twelve years? Even I looked for you because I was worried they went after you, and your body was buried in an unmarked grave somewhere. When they found out we helped you, I thought they were going to kill us," she snaps at me in frustration, her emotions running high.

I sigh heavily, then proceed to explain everything: the letters, the threats, and the explosive on Nix"s mustang.

After I finish explaining, we sit there in silence. I can see that the anger she had toward me has dissipated now that she has all the pieces of the puzzle. "Is that why you came tonight, to explain what happened?" she asks, her tone softening.

Guilt washes over me because that should be the primary reason for my visit, but it isn"t. "Partly, but I was hoping that we might be able to discuss the FBI not pursuing anything with them. I was hoping that we could come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement if you remove them from your radar again," I suggest slowly, hoping to find some common ground.

She hums, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind. "To be honest, I probably would have come to you years ago to let you know had I known how worried you were and what you thought had happened. I"m actually surprised Jason didn"t tell you I was okay after we started working together. He certainly will be hearing about how pissed I am that he didn"t tell me what you thought happened," I say, watching as her frown deepens.

"I"m so confused. That doesn"t make sense at all," she murmurs.

I am about to ask what doesn"t make sense when she reaches over to the lamp table, and I see Kacey lift the gun again. I hold up a placating hand when all she picks up is her phone.

"I don"t understand why he would have sent me this then, why is he even involved," she says softly, almost like she is talking to herself as she looks at something on her screen, and my curiosity and wariness hit breaking point.

"What are you talking about? Who sent you what?" I ask with a frown, my voice steady but tinged with concern.