Got the Life (A Nicki Sosebee Novel) (15 page)

I’ll be damned
.  Sean’s friend had a crush on Nicki again.  Maybe he was as pathetic as Nicki was—maybe he’d never gotten over her any better than she’d gotten over Sean.

And then she had an epiphany.  She knew all about the
bros before hos
motto and wondered how Sean would feel about that.
  She didn’t know how much Jesse knew about what had happened between Sean and Nicki.  Sean and Jesse were really good friends, so surely he had heard about The Night and Nicki’s embarrassing faux pas.  He probably had
not
heard the latest, but Nicki couldn’t even pretend to imagine what guys talked about when they were alone.  Maybe he had.

And maybe
Jesse knew that Nicki was only a friend
to Sean
.

But
maybe Nicki would have to test that out.  Just how would Sean feel if she dated (or even just slept with) one of his close male friends?
  She’d never done it before.

She might have to find out.  Soon.

But for now, back to chatting them all up and then she had to get back to work.  “Anyway, tomorrow I have an interview with Melissa Jacobs.”

Jesse asked, “Who’s that?”

Nicki gave Jesse the background on Jacobs and told the guys that she thought Jacobs might be able to give her a lot of good information.  Another front page article perhaps?  That was the plan.

Sean hugged Nicki when the guys left at ten.  They were going next door to the sports bar because they weren’t ready for the night to be over.  Jesse forced a hug on Nicki as well.  Between that and the huge tip on the table, Jesse was now in her crosshairs.

Chapter Seventeen

NICKI DIDN’T KNOW
what to wear to her interview with Melissa Jacobs.  Sometimes she wore cute dresses to court, and sometimes she wore business-type suits to some interviews, but she wasn’t sure what would feel most appropriate in this particular situation.

She spent far too long standing at the closet, but she finally settled on a light
white
cotton dress, one with short sleeves
, a skirt
that came to her knees
,
and a pair of white sandals
.  Conservative for Nicki, but appropriate for interviewing a woman who was no doubt nervous and upset.
  Nicki had written down a few questions but planned to wing a good part of it.  She preferred following her gut instincts.  She mainly wanted to know all the events that had led up to Edwards’s arrest.

She arrived at Melissa Jacobs’s modest home just a couple of minutes early.  The woman lived in a small house in one of the lower-income neighborhoods of
Winchester
.  There were no trees around the house and no lawn.  There were small weeds in the front yard that had no doubt been mowed down recently.  There was no fence around the house and just a makeshift driveway on the left side.  There were two vehicles parked there—one an old light blue Chevy pickup that had seen better days and a burgundy Subaru station wagon (also old).  Nicki’s
Jetta would feel at home here.

She parked in front of the house. 
She left her purse on the floor of her car, taking with her her keys, pad and pen, and cell phone (which she tucked into her right hand pocket).  She locked the door and turned around, taking in her surroundings. 
Jacobs’s home itself wasn’t that spectacular either.  It was white but part of the paint was peeling in spots.  She walked up the stone path (someone at some time had cared for this home, but she didn’t think it was the current occupant).  There was evidence that at one time there had been a screen door on the place but not anymore.  The doorbell was also missing its cover.  Nicki felt bad that this poor woman couldn’t afford upkeep for the place or, if she was renting, that the landlord didn’t give enough of a shit to fix things.

She knocked on the door—it had a window that was covered with a white and light yellow gingham curtain.  She noted that the window way over to the right also had heavy drapes that were closed.  Apparently Jacobs valued her privacy.

A slight breeze drifted past her legs.  Nicki was glad it was overcast today.  By the looks of this house, she didn’t expect air conditioning inside.  She glanced around the neighborhood.  There wasn’t much activity right now—no dogs barking, no kids playing, no cars driving by.  It was quiet.

Nicki was starting to suspect that Jacobs had changed her mind. 
But if she was here, Nicki wasn’t going to leave without trying more than once.  She knocked on the door
again, and she’d call the woman’s phone
if need be.

At last,
Ni
cki heard the doorknob turning.  Maybe the woman hadn’t heard the first time Nicki knocked.
  Nicki inhaled deeply and put on her reporter face.

The woman who opened the door had
her light brown
hair pulled back into a ponytail.  She wasn’t wearing any makeup and looked tired.  Or stressed.  Nicki wasn’t quite sure which.  She wanted Melissa Jacobs to feel at ease with her, so she wouldn’t become more stressed with the questions she’d get around to asking.  So she put on a friendly but not overbearing smile.  “Ms. Melissa Jacobs?”  The woman nodded her head.  “Hi.  I’m Nicki Sosebee with
the
Winchester Tribune
.  We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

“Yes.”

Nicki stood there, waiting for the woman to invite her in
,
but she simply stood in the doorway.  “Um,
as I said on the phone,
I’d like to ask you some questions.  Can I come in for a few moments?”

The woman seemed a little nervous.  “Can’t you just ask me here?”

Nicki had to put her at ease.  She smiled.  “You might get tired of just standing here, don’t you think?  And I want to make sure I quote you properly, so it would be best if I could take notes somewhere.”  She decided to try a different tactic.  “Can I maybe take you out for a cup of coffee?”  To clarify, she added, “My treat.”

“Well, I need to be here for my sons.”

Kids?  Oh, okay.  But she needed this interview.  How could she entice this woman to talk, really talk?  “McDonalds, then?”

Jacobs was uncomfortable.  “How long do you think this will take?”

Nicki scrunched up her mouth, then said, “Ten minutes at the most, I think.”

The woman sighed.  “Then why don’t you just come in and let’s get this over with?”

Well, that’s what Nicki liked.  A good attitude.  This was going to be a great interview. 
Not
.

Nicki followed Jacobs into a small kitchen.  The room, just like the outside, had seen better days.  The floor was covered in linoleum that had a brown and yellow pattern, no doubt popular eons ago, and it was pock-mar
ked with cooking mishaps and furniture wounds.  The walls were off white, but the window facing the driveway had the same yellow-and-white gingham curtains.  These were open and letting in a little light, but the overhead light was turned on.  In the center of the small room was a white-and-gold-flecked Formica-topped table, no doubt kept from the era the linoleum came from.  Nicki felt like she’d stepped into the past.

Nicki noticed a few dishes piled in the sink but nothing outrageous.  The home—though worn down—appeared to be pretty clean.  She stood beside the table, not feeling welcome enough to just sit down.  Finally, though, Jacobs pulled a chair out and indicated with a wave of her hand that Nicki should sit down as well.  So…no formalities, no foreplay.  Just get to it and get out.

“Okay, Ms. Jacobs,” she said as she opened her steno pad.
  “I have just a few questions. 
Because I want to be fair and impartial, I might ask some questions that seem
to have
obvious
answers
, but I don’t want to just jump to conclusions.  I’d rather hear the answers from you.” 
Nicki
said this, because she had already formulated
her own opinion.  She suspected that Michael Sterne,
Melissa Jacobs’s
ex-boyfriend and half-brother of Jason Edwards, was jealous of Jacobs’s relationship with Charles Baker.
  What that relationship was, only Jacobs could tell her.
  But she wanted to hear what Jacobs herself had to say.  “According to Jason Edwards’s arrest affidavit, he and your ex-boyfriend Michael Sterne are suspected of setting fire to Charles Baker’s home in
Colorado Springs
.  What is your involvement in all this?”

“What do you mean
,
‘involvement’?”

“I don’t mean that you were directly involved.  I mean more like where did you fit into all of it?”

“Well, I don’t know if you know, but Mike and I were together for a long time…eight or nine years.  He’s the boys’ dad.  Anyway, we separated, and then I was dating Charles for a time.  Charles came here to visit me and he and Mike got into a fight.  Right out there in front of the house.  And if the neighbors hadn’t called the cops, they probably would have worked it out
without anybody getting in trouble
.”

Okay, that was weird.  Nicki hadn’t studied domestic violence much, but this woman definitely sounded like a victim.  She’d obviously had the balls to leave the jerk
in the first place
(and, if he was anything like his little brother, Nicki could only imagine what a piece of work he was) but could never really get away.

“So are you still dating Mr. Baker?”

Jacobs’s eyes widened.  “No.”  She didn’t intend to expand on her answer.

“So why do you think Edwards actually set fire to Baker’s house?  Do you think it was to keep the police from suspecting your ex
of being involved
, Ms. Jacobs
?”

The woman raised her eyebrows. 
“You can call me Melissa.”  She lowered her voice and leaned over the table.  “Have you ever met Jason?  Does he seem stable to you?”

Nicki rolled her eyes.  “Yes, I’ve met him and, frankly, he scared the hell out of me.”

“So you don’t think he might have been tempted to do that all on his own?”

“But why would he, Melissa?  Did he have an axe to grind with you or with Baker?”

Melissa looked down at her hands and then shrugged.  “No, not really.  Not that I know of.”

“Does he have a prior relationship with you that would make him act like a jealous ex?”

Melissa swallowed hard.  “Heavens, no.”

Nicki was missing something here, that much she knew.  Melissa Jacobs was forthcoming, but something just wasn’t right.  Nicki knew it in her bones.  But how to get to the core of the truth?  That she didn’t know.

And then it hit her.  What if this woman were still under her ex’s thumb, fugitive or no, and…? 
Holy shit.
  What if she knew where he was?

And how did Nicki ask that question?

She would ask it the only way she knew how—straight and to the point:  “Ms. Jacobs…I mean, Melissa, do you have any idea where Michael Sterne might be?”

Nicki imagined Sterne and Edwards camping out at their mother’s place, bullying her into whatever it was they wanted.  She couldn’t forget the short
few seconds
she’d spent with the
ir
mother
and the disrespectful, antagonistic way Edwards had treated the woman who’d given birth to him.  And if
Sterne
were that close by, surely Melissa Jacobs would know it.

But if she did, she wasn’t going to admit it.  “Why would you think I’d have any idea?”  Nicki’s pen was poised on her steno pad, but she hadn’t looked down at it in a while.  She was glad she hadn’t, because she wouldn’t have noticed the way Melissa’s eyes darted toward the living room.  The woman hadn’t done it intentionally, but Nicki was no idiot and had grown proficient at reading body language.

And if Nicki understood her correctly, Michael Sterne was in Melissa Jacobs’s house, right here, right now.

Chapter Eighteen

NICKI WAS AN
expert at playing it cool.  She had to do it almost every night at work, and hell, she did it with Sean on a weekly basis.  She knew she had to keep a level head right now, especially if her theory was correct.

So, if Sterne was
hiding
out
in this house
, with or without Melissa’s permission, Nicki was like a doe walking into the midst of a dozen blaze orange jackets on the first day of deer season. 
It all made sense now, why Melissa had been willing to do the interview yesterday and then reluctant today, not even willing to let Nicki into
her
house.

Nicki took a deep breath to give herself time to think.  How did she leave gracefully, and—more importantly—quickly, without arousing suspicion?
  She looked down at her steno pad, pretending to jot a note, then
moved her eyes over the page and flipping back one, just to give the impression that she was trying to be thorough
.
  As to rescuing this woman, if Sterne really was in her home, she’d ask her editor how he would handle that.  Or maybe she could call the stupid detective she’d visited last week.  In the meantime, there would be no rescue if she couldn’t
remove
herself from the situation.
  “Well, Melissa, I think you’ve answered all the questions I have today.  Can I give you a call if I have other questions
later on
?”