Ch.21 - Jackson

Jackson took his time walking from room to room, taking in its simple construction. The square footage was much smaller than what he was used to, but it would have to do. He couldn't get much closer to the Wilson's than living right next door to them. Dealing with the tiny house was a sacrifice he would have to make if he wanted to follow through with his plan. And he was going to follow through. No matter what, he would see this through until the very end - when Talia Wilson was nothing more than a memory.

Walking into the master bedroom, he set his bags down on the bed and looked around. The walls had been painted a soft beige, relaxing and flexible in its ability to compliment most decor. Also dull and boring, much like the man who had met him in the driveway outside. A blue-collar man with a blue-collar life, something Jackson had great difficulty relating to. He felt the roughness of calluses as he shook Charlie's hand, meaning his body was no stranger to physical labor. Skilled or unskilled, it really didn't matter. Manual work was meant for men not smart enough to hold down valued positions in the work force. The working class was burdened with small minds and small wages. They were meant to occupy the jobs men like him were too good for. Just as well. Men like him needed someone to take out their garbage.

And that pitiful boat he had seen him pull up in - what in the world was that? Why would any man in their right mind choose to spend their free time rowing around in that gloomy patch of water, working their muscles outdoors when they could be exercising in a comfy, air-conditioned gym? There was nothing appealing about that swamp behind the property and it turned his stomach to know he would have to spend time pretending he cared.

Jackson rubbed at his jaw, grimacing as his fingers met rough stubble of hair. If he looked in the mirror no doubt he would see the dark shadow of growth marring his chin, so unlike his trademark close-shave. Years of working with business associates and clients told him a smooth, neat appearance and a tailored sense of style set an exceptional man apart from the rest. And he was exceptional.

Crossing the floor of the bedroom, Jackson strolled through the rest of the rental property. A tiny front room, and an even tinier kitchen. With each passing moment he felt increasingly claustrophobic. And the house next door, the one the Wilson's called home, was even smaller than this place. It made no sense. Why would a couple with a growing child decide to live in the smaller of two residences? Unless something was wrong with this home. . .

A gnawing sensation began to build in his stomach as the puzzle pieces slid into place. A crime had been committed here, inside these very walls. A crime so ugly the Wilson's couldn't bare to stay.

This was the place. The house he stood in now was where his son had lost his life. It had been stolen from him through no fault of his own. The familiar feeling of rage slid along his veins, chilling his blood. How had he not seen this before? He'd learned everything he could about the night Steven was murdered! He'd watched every news show, read every article. He'd even hired a private detective to fill in the blanks he couldn't make sense of. How had he not seen this coming?

And how would he be able to sleep in the house where his son had taken his last breath?

"Excuse me. . .Jackson?"

He looked up toward the voice in the doorway and cleared his throat. Jackson forced a smile. "Charlie. I didn't hear you come in."

An embarrassed grin spread across the young man's face. "I'm sorry. I knocked first and when you didn't answer I took a peek inside." Charlie pushed a hand through his wavy, brown hair. "You looked pretty far away. Is everything okay with the house? I know it must be weird renting it before you'd even had a chance to see it. Pictures aren't quite the same as viewing it in person. Do you still think it will work for you, or are you having second thoughts?"

Jackson lifted his chin. "No, no. The house is just fine. It will work out nicely. I was just lost in my own thoughts." He took one last glance around and headed toward the door. "You sure you don't mind showing me around town? We can do it another time if you'd prefer."

A friendly smile spread across his face as he held the door open wider for Jackson to walk through. "I'm ready when you are."

The drive into town was filled with light conversation. Charlie pointed out the landmarks he thought might come in handy, the places he thought Jackson would frequent the most.

"Is that a store?" Jackson asked, pointing to a small, corner market. "I need to run in quick to grab a couple of things. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Charlie parking in the lot and waited while Jackson ran inside.

Quickly, he scanned the aisles looking for what he needed, a purchase he'd forgotten to make before leaving home. His face lit up when he located the item. He hummed softly as he made his way toward the register.

"Good afternoon, sir," the cashier said with a smile. The round glasses he wore looked too large for the man's thin face. "Did you find everything you were looking for?"

Jackson didn't try to hide his satisfied smile. "I certainly did." He handed over his items and grabbed his wallet from his back pocket.

The cashier looked down. "Duck tape, eh? I use this all the time around the house. Super useful."

He nodded his head. "Yes, it is."

"Especially if you want to bind someone up," the man said, leaning forward. He laughed loudly. "Am I right?"

Jackson smirked. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

The man rung up the items and dropped them into a paper bag. He leaned forward again, whispering so no one else could hear. "Oh, the things you can do with duct tape. My wife - she's a wild one! You wouldn't believe the stuff she comes up with. I'll tell ya what. I'm fifty-four years old and she's twenty-three. She's a hot tottie alright! My friends have no idea how I landed her. I'd say she's after my money, but I don't have any." The cashier cracked up at his own joke. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Jackson's eyes searched the shelves behind the counter. He nodded his head toward the top shelf. "I'll take a pack of Benson & Hedges."

"Benson & Hedges, eh?" He arched his eyebrows and reached up, grabbing the pack of cigarettes. He placed the small, rectangular box into the bag. "A big spender, eh? Nine dollars for a pack of smokes." The man whistled under his breath and punched some numbers into the register. "That'll be $18.23."

Jackson reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. After he received his change, he turned to walk away.

"You're not from around here, are you?" the man asked.

Jackson swiveled to face him. "What makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "Just a gut feeling. I haven't seen you around before." He slid his glasses up the length of his nose. "Plus, that accent. You're definitely not from these parts."

Jackson slid the wallet back into his pocket. "I'm from Louisiana."

The cashier nodded knowingly. "I been there once. Went on a cruise ship for my honeymoon. My wife, she wanted to hit the Caribbean Islands. . .she's a fancy one, let me tell you. We spent the entire time gambling on the boat. Anyway, we docked in Louisiana. I'd love to go back one day. Where exactly do you live?"

But Jackson wasn't in the mood to engage in small talk. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime." He waved and headed out the front door, the man still talking behind him. As he crossed the parking lot, he studied Charlie sitting in the truck. The newspaper articles had said Charlie was the one who pulled the trigger, shooting Steven through the center of his forehead. Ultimately, it had been him who had taken his son's life, but still he knew the fault lied with Talia. If it wasn't for her, Steven would still be alive. Now it was up to him to punish Talia. By taking her life the way she had taken his son's. And he would punish Charlie by stealing his wife from him. In the end. . .everyone would suffer.

He opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. "Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate you stopping here."

Charlie turned the key in the engine and slid the truck into gear. "It's no problem. I'd rather show you around than have you get lost."

Ha, like he could get lost in this Podunk town! Retrieving the cigarettes from the bag, he slapped the top of the box against the heel of his hand, packing the tobacco. He narrowly missed the tiny wound in the center of his right palm, the one he had stubbed a butt out on a couple days before. The damn thing was starting to hurt, too. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

Charlie looked at him sideways as he pulled the truck onto the road. "I wouldn't mind, but Talia hates smoking. She doesn't want the baby around it. If you light up, she'll smell it a mile away." He gave him a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind waiting."

So. Talia wore the pants in the family? Good to know. "No, not at all. I apologize. It was rude of me to ask." Jackson let the pack slide back into the bag, feeling the itch of desire growing stronger with each passing minute. Smoking had a way of calming his nerves and the thought of waiting filled him with agitation.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not offended at all." The streetlight ahead turned red and Charlie eased the truck to a stop. Jackson watched out the window as a few pedestrians crossed the road. "Would you like to stop by The Ivy House? I can introduce you to Talia and my mom. If I'm ever not around and you need me, chances are I'll be there. After this week she'll be closing the place down for awhile to get some painting and repairs done, so I imagine I'll be helping out quite a bit."

Jackson stretched in his seat, trying to release the tension in his back. The last thing he wanted to do was play nice neighbor. All he really wanted to do was get back to the house so he could hang up his clothes and relax with a cigarette. "That sounds great, Charlie. Thanks again. I really appreciate all the trouble you're going to."

The light turned green and Charlie stepped on the gas. "It's no trouble at all."

A few minutes later they pulled into the drive of a quaint bed & breakfast. Long strands of robust, green foliage crawled up the outside of the house and tidy rows of well-maintained shrubs and colorful flowers decorated the front. When they walked inside, the smell of baked goods tempted his senses and he felt his stomach stir with longing. When was the last time he'd eaten? He couldn't even remember.

A pleasant-looking woman close to his own age, ambled out of what appeared to be a kitchen, wiping her hands along the front of her apron. She stopped when she saw them, her blue eyes latching onto his.

"Mom," Charlie said, walking over and kissing her on the cheek. "I smell your famous chocolate chip cookies. Do you need me to take a few of those off your hands?"

After a long pause, the woman drug her gaze away and looked at her son. She smiled and pat his cheek with her hand. "As soon as they're finished you can take as many as you like." She glanced back at Jackson, her eyes slightly weary. "Who's your friend?"

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, Charlie pulled her to him. "This is our renter, Mr. Jackson Levitt. This is my mother, Enid Wilson."

Jackson nodded his head and painted on a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Wilson." Walking over to greet her, he extended his hand.

Enid hesitated a moment before reaching out to take it. "Please, call me Enid." When their hands met, Jackson flinched back in pain.

"Are you alright?" she asked, alarm in her eyes.

Jackson looked down at his palm. The tiny open sore was painful and oozing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Apparently, I injured my hand the other day grabbing a hot pan." He tried to laugh it off. "I'm not sure what I was thinking."

Enid stepped closer and reached for him, turning his hand over so his palm faced up. "Well, no wonder it hurts. It looks like it might be infected." She glanced up, her gaze meeting his once again. For some strange reason the look in her eyes unsettled him. It was as if she could see inside his soul, uncovering all his secrets. "Why don't you come with me, Mr. Levitt. We'll put some medicine on it and bandage it up."

Jackson felt his face grow warm. "It's Jackson. No need to be formal." He gave her a small smile. "It's okay. You don't have to go through the trouble. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Nonsense. This will only take a minute." Gently, Enid let go of his palm. "Follow me, Jackson. We'll have you fixed up in no time."

He swallowed back the bile that crept up his throat and glanced at Charlie before following her down a long hallway into a small bathroom. Opening up the mirror cabinet, she retrieved a few items and set them down on the sink, one by one. "We need to take care of this before it gets any worse." She grabbed a cotton ball from a porcelain container on a nearby shelf and pressed it to a bottle, allowing the cotton to soak up the liquid inside. Turning over his hand over, she dabbed at the wound, making sure to stay away from the healthy skin surrounding it. Jackson flinched, the sting taking him by surprise. He bit the side of his mouth, forcing himself to stay still.

"So, what brings you to Florida?" She tossed the soiled cotton ball into the trash and reached for another.

Jackson took a deep breath and looked away, uncomfortable with the degree of her closeness. "Business of sorts." He shifted on his foot, anxious to leave the stifling room. When had it gotten so hot?

Very gently, she blotted away the access moisture. "We're almost done here, but you'll need to keep still." Her voice was firm, making him feel like a child. He pursed his lips tightly and stood straight, catching a glimpse of their reflections in the mirror. She was petite woman, slender and attractive. Her chestnut bob was tucked behind both ears, extenuating high cheek bones. She exuded a sense of strength and control, a woman in charge. A woman who meant business.

He didn't like her.

Removing a bandage from a box, she applied a small amount of clear ointment to the cotton center then fastened it to the inside of his hand. "That wound is in a funny spot so this dressing might not stick. You may need a gauze wrap to keep it in place. Unfortunately, I don't have any here." She met his gaze in the mirror and held it for a moment, studying him intently. "You're all set."

Jackson broke away from the stare, a sense of unease swirling through him. What was it about her that made him uncomfortable? Why did she look at him the way she did? He nodded his head and pulled his hand away. "Thank you, ma'am. That was awfully kind of you."

"It was my pleasure." She took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I'd better check on my cookies."

Without another word, she left the room. Jackson stood there for a moment, trying to make sense of what just happened. He glanced at his reflection one last time then followed after her.

"Jackson." Charlie's face lit up when he entered the room. "I'd like you to meet my wife."

Jackson let his eyes linger on the beautiful, long-haired brunette standing in front of him, a young child straddled across her hip. For a moment all he could do was stare - stare at the woman who'd been responsible for his son's death. She stepped forward, offering him her hand. When he didn't take it, she shifted uncomfortably, a blush rushing over her cheeks. He shook his head, forcing himself to speak.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, holding up his hand. His palm faced forward, revealing the bandage. He chuckled. "Like an idiot, I grabbed the handle of a hot pan. Charlie's mother was kind enough to wrap it up for me. I hope you don't mind if we skip the handshake for now."

"Of course not." She glanced away for a moment then returned her gaze, offering him a shy smile. "I'm Talia. It's nice to finally meet you."

Jackson straightened his stance, the uncertainty he felt just a moment ago melting away. "It's nice to meet you too, Talia. And who's this lovely young lady?" His eyes moved toward the infant who was watching him intently.

Talia turned to look at her, pride taking over her face. "This is our daughter, Carter."

"Carter. What a beautiful name." He reached out his hand, taking the baby's tiny fingers in his. "A beautiful name for a beautiful little girl."

An unexpected wail escaped the infant's mouth and she yanked her hand away, as if she'd been burned.

"Oh," Jackson exclaimed, taken by surprise. "I didn't mean to frighten her."

Talia bounced the baby on her hip, attempting to quiet her down. "No, I'm sorry. She's not normally so sensitive." She looked back at him and smiled apologetically. "But she did just wake up from a nap. I'm sure she'll be in a better mood later."

He nodded and forced a smile, his eyes shifting back toward the squirming child. "I understand completely." This trip was not starting out as he'd planned. A feeling of agitation sliced through him. "I guess I'm a little tired myself. My drive was a long one."

"I'm sorry," Charlie exclaimed. He gave Jackson a sympathetic smile. "I didn't mean to keep you out so long. We can head back if you're ready."

"That's probably a good idea." Jackson returned his attention to Talia. "It really is nice to finally put a face with the name. The rental house is perfect. Exactly what I was looking for. I'm sure I'll be quite happy there."

A look of relief stretched across her face. "Oh, I'm so glad. I was worried you wouldn't find it to your liking once you saw it in person."

"It's perfect. No need to worry." He looked back at Carter who was still eyeing him suspiciously, her big blue eyes holding onto his, daring him to look away. What was it with the females in this family? The quicker he got out of there the quicker he could regroup his thoughts.

Just then, Charlie's mother came back into the room holding out a plate piled high with cookies. "Alright, who's hungry?"

Charlie reached for one. He broke it apart and popped half of it into his mouth. "As delicious as always." He turned to Jackson. "Would you like one? I guarantee they're the best you'll ever have."

He'd been starving when they walked into the house but now all he felt was sick to his stomach. "No thank you, I shouldn't," he said, shaking his head. "I think what I need right now is rest. It was very nice to meet everyone." He looked at the women, giving them a small wave. "I promise I'll be better company the next time we meet."

"I'll see you later," Charlie said, turning toward his mom. Grabbing another cookie, he kissed her on the cheek then moved over to Talia. "And I'll see you when you get home." His hand wrapped around the back of her head as he pulled her in for a lingering kiss. After they parted, he stepped back and pushed his fingers through the baby's blonde curls. "See you at home, cutie." A wide smile spread across her tiny oval face.

Jackson followed Charlie to the door. "By the way, Mom," Charlie added, turning back around. "Talia and I are having a cookout this Saturday. It'd be great if you could stop by."

She looked thoughtful as she broke off a tiny piece of cookie, popping it into the baby's mouth. "I should be able to do that. The last of the guests will be leaving that morning. My afternoon will be free."

"Great. And if you want to bring your homemade mac and cheese, that's be okay, with me."

Enid laughed. "Duly noted." She turned to Jackson. "And will you be there?"

Charlie glanced over at him. "You're more than welcome to join us," he said, arching his eyebrows. "What do you say? Let us welcome to Florida with a proper meal."

Jackson observed four pairs of eyes watching him expectantly. "Thank you. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

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Hello and thank you for reading Secrets and Lies! If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving a vote or comment—I'd really appreciate it! 

This chapter's dedication goes out to writer @Darkstar1699 and her mystery/thriller, Truths and Lies! Stop by her page and give it a read!

So, Jackson figured out that he's staying in the house where Steven was killed—how creepy would that be?! Could you do it? 

Today I'd like to thank readers from Papua New Guinea, Qatar, Namibia, Guyana and Azerbaijan—thank you for reading! :)