The Girl in the Mist (Misted Pines 1)

So the muscle racing up his cheek was unhidden.

“You do know how much it says about you that what you found has affected you so,” I said in a gentler tone.

“You’d have to be that fuckin’ guy for that shit not to twist you up,” he bit off.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

He looked appalled. “And give it to you?”

“Yes.”

His body listed.

It started with a dip of the shoulder and ended with his chin lazily drifting to the side.

Through this, he stared at me.

Because through this, puzzle pieces were landing.

For Jesse.

About me.

“I’ll talk to somebody,” he said quietly.

I released a breath.

“I don’t know…” he began but didn’t finish.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know…”

I waited patiently.

Shame filtered through as he admitted, “I don’t know if I can finish this job.”

“Your father will understand.”

“We find him, I’ll kill him.”

“Your father will understand.”

“The things he did to her.”

My stomach hurt.

“Your father, Jesse, honey, will understand.”

“He shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

“He knows how to deal.”

“Does he, Delphine?”

I nearly gagged, my mouth filled with saliva so fast at the same time my throat closed.

“He’s got years of seeing shit like that and hunting the monsters who do it,” Jesse continued.

“Do you sense that he—?”

“What is dark on dark?”

“Dark.”

“How much dark can someone absorb before they’re consumed by it?”

“Jesse, do you sense your father is having issues dealing with this case or his work?” I demanded.

“He’s human.”

“And I offer this with great care, but you might be projecting.”

“You didn’t see her, Delphine. He did.”

I didn’t say anything or move.

Jesse didn’t say anything or move.

That bad?

Worse.

He turned to gaze out the window.

I did the same.

That window was a bonus to the closet. It even had a window seat. David knew a talented seamstress in town, I’d ordered some material online, and she was making a fitted pad and some toss pillows for it.

Considering the age of the house, I couldn’t imagine this closet was fit for purpose. That room was meant to be a nursery, a studio, a reading nook.

Why the old guy who lived there before me, considering a wife or partner was never mentioned, made it into a closet, I didn’t know.

I didn’t care.

It had room for an island, which David had also crafted. He’d found a beautiful antique bureau, gleamed it up, and in a clever way that made it seem like that was how it had always been, he’d added onto it at the sides and back. Now it had boxes for shoes or scarves, and shelves at the back for sweaters and folded jeans. He’d also located an offcut of marble to put on the top.

It was divine.

When I’d first seen the island, which had come only after David had looked at my closet design and said, “Trust me,” and then I found out he had a hobby/side business of repurposing old furniture, I marveled at all the varied signs that pointed me to Misted Pines.

I knew without a doubt that piece would be worth thousands of dollars in LA.

And yet there it was, crafted in David’s garage in his free evening hours, just for me, and it wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t what he’d get in the big city.

“Celeste is worried about him too, you know,” Jesse informed me.

That cinched it.

“I’ll talk to him,” I said.

I then jumped.

Because Jesse moved, coming to me, giving me a brief, tight hug, letting me go, and then he walked away.

Eighteen

A Fan

My conversation with Jesse was two days after my conversations with Agent Palmer and Bohannan.

And now, it was two days after that.

I was on edge, because this meant the week that Bohannan had given it before my stalker killed his hostages was coming to an end.

I was on edge because I figured this two-day thing was a good pattern, and it was now a good time to assess where Bohannan was at mentally in dealing with the murder of Alice Pulaski.

As yet, I’d heard no word that Jesse had extricated himself from the investigation, which, considering the boys never shared anything about the investigation with me, wasn’t a surprise.

I had also not heard if Jesse had sought someone to talk to, but as he’d told me he’d do this, I had every faith he had, and from now on, that was none of my business.

I was also on edge because Bohannan was over to my place for dinner, and although he had brooked no further argument, and either Jason or Jesse slept on my couch since he said they were going to (and I had a feeling he stayed home so I wouldn’t freak about Celeste not being under his personal watch), now was the first time he was over for dinner alone.

And last, I was on edge because Bohannan played his cards close to his chest. I was getting a better bead on him, but I wasn’t even close to focused, and still…he wasn’t hiding that he was on edge.