Girl Three by Tracy March Read Free Book Online

Beanie Babies, and all the clothes were hers.”
    “I remember how packed her tiny closet was when we went to see her.” Nina stood and straightened the pillows on the sofa. “Why don’t we go upstairs?”
    Jessie swallowed hard. “Obviously the bedroom is up there.” Where Sam died. They stepped into the foyer and stopped at the base of the stairs. Nina looked at Jessie for her agreement before heading up. Jessie nodded and they climbed the stairs in silence. Facing the urn filled with Sam’s ashes had been painful, but Jessie braced herself against the sorrow she’d feel seeing the details of Sam’s life—a favorite pair of earrings, a half-read novel on her nightstand, an almost empty bottle of shampoo. And maybe something telling about her death?
    Nina flipped the light switch at the top of the steps, softly illuminating Sam’s bedroom. It was contemporary yet serene, decorated in ivory and blue with black furniture.
    Jessie hesitated. “This looks more like a centerfold in House Beautiful than someone’s actual bedroom.” She forced herself to walk across the room and open the closet.
    Sam’s clothes hung neatly or lay folded on shelves amid the faint scent of floral perfume. Shoes were paired in compartments, belts dangled from hooks, and the clothes hamper was empty. In the bathroom, the shower gleamed. Fluffy towels hung on the racks. The vanity cabinets contained nothing but basic toiletries.
    Nina shadowed Jessie as she moved around the rooms, her nerves wrenching tighter with each step. Stopping beside the bed, she dropped her purse on the floor and flung the pretty pillows aside. Frustration building, she grabbed a fistful of the duvet and yanked it into a pile. She shoved back the top sheet and ripped the fitted sheet away from the corner of the mattress.
    Nina rushed to her side. “Jessie, stop!”
    Jessie faced her, her pulse swishing in her ears. “It’s new. Look at it. The mattress, the sheets, all of it’s new. Sterilized.” She sank onto the bed amid the crumpled mess. “This is where Sam died. It’s beyond disturbing. But I need answers and there aren’t any here—I can feel it. All of this is staged.”
    Nina gave her a pained look. “Did you really think your father would leave it like it was and expect you to stay here?”
    Jessie realized how unrealistic her expectations had been. “No. I’m not thinking straight.”
    After a quiet moment, she stood and began making the bed while Nina skirted around to the opposite side. They tightened the sheets, tugging and smoothing until they were wrinkle-free. Fluffing a pillow, Jessie’s fingers skimmed a raised area on the hem of the pillowcase—a cursive, sky-blue monogram. JCR . Her stomach knotted.
    “These are my initials,” she said, just above a whisper, and backed away from the bed.
    Nina had a closer look and winced. “That’s a little unnerving.”
    “It’s sick, is what it is.” Jessie dragged her hands down her face, then drew them together in front of her mouth. “Why would my father do this?”
    Nina didn’t answer quickly—one of many reasons why Jessie valued her judgment.
    “There’s no arguing that he’s been an insensitive narcissist, but maybe he wants to make up for it. Maybe he’s trying to change,” Nina said sincerely. “Having you settle Sam’s estate may be an excuse to get you to stay.” She scrunched her shoulders, her turtleneck sweater bunching beneath her chin. “He’s lost the rest of his family. You’re all he has left.”
    A little hope filled the hollow in Jessie’s heart, but she’d learned it was better to expect nothing from her father, because that was usually what she got.
    “He could be as clueless as you were that foul play caused Sam’s death.” Nina put the last pillow on the bed.
    “I’d like to think that,” Jessie said, “but doesn’t it seem like he had the most to lose if there’d been an investigation? No journalist worth his or her byline would’ve