It wasn’t a wasted trip, though. She had come away with a strong suspicion that there was more to her sister’s suicide than she’d initially thought. Judge Peterson didn’t want her having access to Priscilla’s information. He’d even told her, in so many words, to leave Harmony Grove and go back to Miami.
Well, she wasn’t going. Something didn’t smell right, and she wasn’t giving up until she found out what. She could wait it out indefinitely. She didn’t have a job to go back to anyway. Her overbearing, unreasonable boss had told her to be back in forty-eight hours, or to not bother coming back. She was taking his threat to heart and not losing any sleep over it. The position had been just one more in a series of dead-end jobs she’d had no choice but to accept since her decorating business went belly up eight months ago.
Although the job was no great loss, giving up her apartment in the upscale Brickell area of Miami would be the pits. She loved where she lived, but with less income, it was just a matter of time until she’d have to let it go. She was paid through the end of January. Her lease had ended six months ago, and she’d been on month-to-month ever since. With no notice, she wouldn’t get her security deposit back, but c’est la vie.
As she pulled onto Broadway, church bells sounded, drawing her attention to the stately white building on her right, its tall steeple topped with a metal cross. Churches were nice to look at. But that was about all. People came to do their duty and pay homage to a God who neither saw nor cared about the petty struggles of man.
Her gaze fell on the sign out front, where black letters proclaimed their message of hope—Seek God while He may be found.
She emitted an unladylike snort. Why? What did God ever do for her? He didn’t stop father number one from leaving. Or make father number two give her the time of day. Or protect her from father number three.
Doesn’t look like He did a whole lot for Pris, either.
Shane watched the Volkswagen screech to a stop in the driveway across the street, Jess at the wheel. As soon as she stepped from the vehicle, she slammed the car door and charged toward the house with determined steps. Evidently her trip to court hadn’t gone well.
By the time he made it downstairs and across the street, she was already inside. He rang the bell, and the door swung inward. Jess stood framed in the opening, leash dangling from one hand and signature form-fitting jeans and biker boots gone. Instead, she wore a simple straight skirt and matching jacket with a modest pair of pumps. The blazer and skirt hugged her curves like they were custom made for her body. But the whole look was so not Jess. At least not the tough, sassy-chic Jess he’d come to know over the past three days.
“You look like a lawyer. Something tells me that wasn’t pulled together from your current wardrobe.”
She flashed him a crooked grin. “How’d you guess? No, I’m afraid this entailed raiding Prissy’s closet. I wanted to look professional. Although I can’t say it did any good.”
“I take it things didn’t go well.”
“Not at all. I got Judge Peterson.” She clipped the leash onto Buttons’s collar and brushed past him to descend the porch steps. “He was the juvenile court judge that I kept winding up in front of as a teenager. Guess what? He doesn’t do juvie anymore.”
That shouldn’t make a difference. Judges were supposed to be impartial. Of course, he knew better. “What happened?”
“He isn’t making me executor of my sister’s estate or giving me access to any of her accounts. He says they need to try to find my mother.”
“You said no one knew where she is.”
“My point exactly, but he’s insisting on going through the motions. Meanwhile, I’m supposed to keep her bills paid by pulling money out of thin air.” She waved her arm for emphasis.
The dog moved along the hedge lining the foundation of the house, and Jess followed. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes held hardness. She was probably still running the events of the morning through her mind. First the chief and then the judge. She was hitting roadblocks at every turn.
When Buttons had finally finished his business, she led him back into the house.
Shane followed. “You think the judge was just being difficult?”
“Yes and no.” She kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the couch. Buttons jumped up next to her and snuggled against her thigh, tail thumping against the back of the couch. “I think he’s enjoying hampering me at every turn, but I also believe there’s something he doesn’t want me to see.”
Shane took a seat on her other side. He’d come to the same conclusion. “What do you mean?”
“My sister wasn’t the goody two-shoes she always pretended to be. Good law-abiding citizens don’t get their houses ransacked. I’m guessing there’s something suspicious in her banking or other records.”
Yes, there was, and he had that something right across the street. Unfortunately, he couldn’t share it with her without blowing his cover.
She rested an arm on the dog’s back and entwined her fingers in the shaggy fur. “I guess I’ll be staying here longer than I planned. I am going to get to the bottom of this. I refuse to be run off by Judge Peterson or Chief Branch.”
The stubborn determination on her face set off all kinds of alarms in his head. Just what he needed, an overzealous sister charging blindly into danger
