“You couldn’t tell,” I assure her.
Richard bends to hug Stella. When he straightens, he looks around. “Where did Jessica go? We brought you flowers too.”
I scan the crowd filtering toward the exits. She’s gone. No goodbye. No excuse. Just—gone. Noah’s hand finds mine, a brief squeeze.
Richard’s frown deepens. “That’s...odd.”
“Maybe she had a call,” I offer, though Noah and I both know better.
Stella chatters about her performance, oblivious to the tension crackling between the adults. And I let her. Because for tonight, she deserves to bask in her success.
As the crowd thins, the certainty settles.
Jessica’s absence vibrates through me like a struck wire—sharp, undeniable, truth confirming.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
Noah
Richard stands near the school entrance, phone pressed to his ear, scanning the parking lot for Jessica. I don’t wait to hear what excuse she’ll give him. When Alicia and Stella are buckled in, I step aside to make my own call, pacing toward the shadows at the lot’s edge.
Hudson answers on the first ring.
“Jessica’s tipped off,” I say, skipping the greeting. “She heard Danny’s name, realized we’re connecting dots, and bolted. Didn’t even say goodbye to Richard. He’s looking for her now.”
Hudson exhales sharply. “So Richard’s not involved.” It’s not quite a question.
“Yeah.” I grind my teeth. “Danny’s name meant nothing to him. He wasn’t even listening—too busy glaring at me for existing near his ex-wife.”
“Our plan was to loop in the detectives in the morning,” Hudson says. “But let me get ahead of this. I’ll send Jake to Jessica’s—keep eyes on her movements.” A pause. “And I’ll call Luca.”
“Good.” I glance toward the car where Alicia’s silhouette moves in the soft glow of the dashboard as she and Stella settle in. “I’m going to drive Alicia and Stella home.”
“I’ll keep you posted.”
Later, when Alicia and Stella are upstairs—laughing at play photos making their way through group chats—my phone buzzes.
Jake.
I step into the foyer and answer. “Talk to me.”
“No lights on,” he says. “No car in the drive. No sign she’s home. Back door’s ajar.”
“You in her yard?” My hand tightens on the phone.
“Townhouse. Tall hedges. If someone spots me, I’ll play lost visitor.”
“Must be nice,” I mutter. “I try that, cops get called before I reach the door.”
Jake snorts. “Daisy cut my hair. If I had my long hair, they’d call the cops on me too. Trust.”
A faint creak comes through the line.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Switching to earbud. Going in.”
“Wait,” I snap. “You’re supposed to be observing, not going full breach. Wait for me.”