The carnival season was ushered in earlier than usual. It was the second week of February, and a slew of parties and parades were in full swing. Justin’s obsession with keeping Jess on lock down grew more intense with the flood of strangers who accompanied the thrill of Mardi Gras.
Jess was imprisoned, carefully kept within the confines of the townhouse and yard, unless Justin was with her. The routine was infuriating and cumbersome. She decorated the apartment and relished the endless stream of people, Blake and Lathan invited in to enjoy parades from the courtyard. With no control over the comings and goings in his home, Justin took two weeks off of work to keep watch over her.
When she protested, he threatened her. “Maybe, you should just go stay with Jordan…until things get back to normal.”
“Maybe not.” She turned her nose up at the suggestion.
He was a mad dog who patted down anyone who entered the apartment, and Jess had no problem telling him how ridiculous his behavior was. “You’re over reacting. And, it’s rude.”
“Since when do I care?” he shot back.
Despite the fervor with which he protected her, she had to admit he attempted to appreciate her need for independence. But knowing she needed it didn’t mean he granted her furlough. “Jess…just deal with it for a few weeks. Dawson’s car passes two or three times a day…what do you want me to do?”
What did she want him to do? She had no clue; she just wanted her life back. On days when parades rolled along the street in front of the apartment, he became almost impossible to deal with. “Why don’t you stay inside today?”
“Why don’t you just kill me?” She sneered.
She wouldn’t spend her life locked away, not even for Justin. There was fun to be had and it was no further than the backyard. She wasn’t going to miss it because some demon may or may not want her dead.
“I’m human, Justin. At some point, I’ll die. Get over it so I can live.”
Justin wouldn’t entertain any conversation about her mortality, so when this was the best argument she had to offer, he simply walked away.
On the Saturday before Mardi Gras, she made her way outside with an ice chest and used it to elevate herself over the crowd and fence. The floats rolled by, decorated in purple, green, and gold. The riders donned traditional masks and pounded her with plastic beads and cups. When she left the safety of the patio to dance with an old man on the corner, Justin stood full of fury and watched until she returned.
“I’m not trying to ruin your fun.” He insisted sulking in his chair behind her.
“I think you’re losing your mind.” Jess defiantly returned to her ice chest and taunted the float riders by screaming “Throw me something, Mister.”
When Vi finally arrived, she bounced into the courtyard and joined Jess atop the ice chest. “Ugh. I almost missed it.” She beamed as she handed Jess a Styrofoam cup.
Jess grinned, still unaffected by Justin’s mood, and wrapped her arms around Vi. They teetered together on the lid of the ice chest while Justin played sentry. She was purposely adding to angst, but a girl had to enjoy herself one way or another.
She strutted over and offered a kiss, and he managed a smile. “You having fun?”
Vi leaned across the fence to retrieve a rose from one of the masked float riders, and Jess saw the street sweepers who’s approach signaled the end of the parade. She plopped in the grass near Justin and rummaged through her loot. Enveloped in the contents of her bag, she ignored the vibration of her cell phone, and pressed a pair of cheap, neon, sunglasses on to her nose. Justin wrapped a purple boa around her neck and squeezed her cheek between his thumb and index finger.
Her cell phone vibrated again, and she fumbled to retrieve it. The screen flashed announcing she’d missed six calls. She scrolled through the numbers, all had Denham Springs prefixes, and she didn’t recognize any of the numbers. Who would call her number, again and again besides Jordan? Persistence of this degree was never a good thing. Why did she suddenly have the urge to vomit?
“What is it?” Justin was balanced on the edge of his seat, leaning forward in an obvious attempt to read her cell phone over her shoulder.
“Something’s wrong.” She looked up at him as she listened to the voice mail message.
“Jessica, this is Detective Ward at the Denham Springs Police Department. Please give me a call.” The line went dead for a moment, then a computer voice assured her, she had no more voice messages.
Jess crawled to a small patch of grass away from the crowd and threw up. She struggled just to get her footing. Something ugly conspired to turn her world inside out, again. She could feel it. The happiness she’d been reveling in just minutes before was smothered by a growing rage that oozed inside her.
“Get up, Jess. What’s wrong?” Justin rubbed her neck, and his touch relieved the nausea, but not the mounting anxiety.
She finally got to her feet using his body for stability. His face was full of concern as he gently tucked her hair behind her ear. She handed him her phone and stumbled inside where she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and chugged it.
“Who was on the phone?” He was behind her, the magnitude of his size stifling her.
“The Denham Springs Police Department…some detective.” She shifted in the opened door of the refrigerator, grateful for the cold air that kept her from fainting and drilled an expectant look into him. Could he not see something was terribly wrong?
“Call them.” He thrust her phone at her, his face starting to take on the ridges which would soon expose his charade.
Black spots filled her vision, making it difficult to navigate through the kitchen. She snatched the phone from his hand and rushed to the bathroom. She’d been in this space often passing time or cleaning, but just then it felt foreign. She perched on the edge of the tub gripping the cold ceramic in her hand. The door flew open as Justin, Vi, and Rory crowded into the small room.
Jess was studying the phone, ignoring the worry and expectation in the eyes around her. The dread, of what she’d face next, had rendered Jess unable to dial the digits. Finally, her brain convinced her hand to move to the keypad, but she botched the number several times and had to start over. Then the line rang once. Why did they answer so fast? She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to say.
“Denham Springs Police Department,” a cheerful voice repeated.
Her tongue was growing, her words seemingly unable to free themselves from its surface. The taste of iron filled her mouth triggering her teeth to release her tongue from their vice.
“Hello?” The woman on the other end of the call seemed less cheerful and more impatient.
“Yes, um, this is Jessica Hunter. Is Detective Ward in?” Jess closed her eyes and hoped he wasn’t.
“Hold on, I’ll patch you through to his cell phone.” The line went quiet long enough for Jess to hear the thunder of her heart. She nervously tapped her fingers on the edge of the tub in an effort to keep her mind occupied.
Justin’s shoes were embedded in the floor next to her. He bit his finger and eyed her intently. Why did he choose now to be nervous?
“Detective Ward.” The officer’s voice was low and throaty.
“This is Jessica Hunter.” She rocked back and forth like a child trying to find comfort and waited for him to speak again.
“Oh, Ms. Hunter. I’ve been trying to reach you.” His words faded. He was too kind, the compassion palpable, and the change in his tone confirmed her fears. “Ma’am I hate to do this on the phone. Is it possible for you to…”
Jess cut him off. “Detective, I’m going to fall apart in about fifteen seconds. Can you just say what you have to say?” She stared into Justin’s eyes needing an anchor to hold on to. Justin kneeled in front of her.
“Well, your brother is Jordan Hunter, correct?” Jess heard the detective flip through a pile of papers.
“Yes.”
“Ma’am, a neighbor found him dead this morning in your home. It looks like suicide.” The sound of a folder, perhaps landing on a desk or car seat, traveled down the phone line.
Jess stood up and immediately sat back down. “Are you kidding me? Jordan wouldn’t…” Her mind went blank; she could no longer hear Detective Ward’s voice. She saw Jordan’s face and collapsed on Justin.
“Ma’am? I’m sorry, ma’am? I know this is hard. Will you be making funeral arrangements?” He rushed now, an attempt to end the conversation.
“Yes, I’ll come right away.” She threw the phone down on the tile and bawled against Justin’s chest.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Justin pushed her hair away from her face again, his face, kinder than she’d seen it in some time; Vi wrapped her arms around her shoulders, squeezing her, refusing to let go; Rory paced the tiles in front of them. Jess wanted out. They were going to smother her, but it was deeper than that, she wanted to run from her life.
“My brother’s dead.”