No Rules(24)

Jess had to agree with her there. The story seemed to have no significance except what Donovan had first suggested, as a ruse to get her there. Mitch and Kyle added their nods.

Evan seemed to give it serious consideration, finally looking disappointed. “I’m afraid Wally was simply reminiscing. He loved Jessie, and he knew he was seeing her for the last time.” His gaze touched hers, apologetic and sad. “I remember him talking about those stories you wrote just before your mom left and took you with her. They were good memories for him.”

Great, she’d been ridiculing their friend’s fondest memories. Jess sank back in her chair, saying nothing and wishing this would just be over.

“Can we please move on?” Avery complained. Jess would have seconded it, except that Avery’s annoyed glare was aimed directly at her. “This Mossy Log crap is about to put me to sleep.”

Jess bristled. She’d admit to having more fears and insecurities than the average person, but she was on firm ground when it came to her knowledge of children’s literature; no one got to make fun of her books. “Sorry to be so dull,” she said, smothering it in sarcasm.

Avery’s flat stare was cool. “I’m sure you can’t help it.”

Bitch. The word banged against her skull, wanting out. She heard a muttered curse from Donovan, but ignored him as she narrowed her focus on Avery. “I didn’t realize you had difficulties with comprehension. Should I use simpler words?”

For a brief moment a static-charged stillness hung between them before Evan shot to his feet. “We’re done for tonight.” His stern look hit Avery first, then touched each of the others. “Be back here at seven tomorrow morning.”

Mitch got to his feet, throwing Avery a grin as he left. “Appreciate the entertainment.”

Avery looked away, avoiding eye contact as she stalked out of the room. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Kyle trailed her out, pausing by Donovan. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, and left.

Evan turned to Jess. “I’m sorry, we’re all a little short of patience right now. We’ll start fresh tomorrow. Your bags are in a bedroom upstairs. Donovan will show you the way. Good night.”

She rose as he left, suddenly feeling out of place and lost. For once, Donovan waited patiently, not trying to hustle her along. It was the first time she’d seen him looking drained of energy and tired. Less dangerous. It gave her enough courage to take a jab at his team member. “What’s her problem?”

He glanced at Avery’s empty chair, his expression growing closed and defensive. “Leave it alone, Jess.”

She should have known better—they were a unit. No one would take her side here.

“Come on, let me show you to your room.”

Resigned, she followed him back toward the living room with the distinct feeling that she was an unwanted burden. “Why am I staying in this house?”

“It’s the only place you’ll be safe.”

“Do you all live here?”

“No. But we stay here during times like this, when we’re getting a team ready to go and need to work on it together.” He led the way upstairs to a branching hallway and turned left. Just inside the second doorway she saw her three suitcases in a neat line. “This is Wally’s old room,” he said. “The one he used when he stayed here. I imagine any personal items in here are yours now.”

She made a slow circuit of the room, ending at a small writing desk. It would have been perfect for a laptop computer, and she guessed he would have brought one with him. Only two items occupied the space now. She ran her fingers over a stone replica of Anubis, the jackal-headed ancient Egyptian god of the dead, then picked up a double picture frame with two portraits. She sucked in a sharp breath as she recognized her high school graduation photo, but didn’t have time to wonder how her father had obtained a copy. The other photo was even more shocking—an unposed, candid shot from her college graduation, taken on the lawn outside the auditorium as she laughed with her friends. It would have required a telephoto lens. She stared for several seconds before she was able to speak around the lump in her throat. “He…he was there?”

“Looks like.” Donovan slid open a drawer and pulled out a stack of letters. “You might be interested in these, too.”

The top one was addressed to her, with a red stamp slanting over one side: return to sender. It was too much, too fast. She didn’t want to look, yet couldn’t stop herself from sliding one shaking finger over the pile, exposing the next two envelopes. Both bore the same red postal stamp, with dates several months apart.