Chapter 3: Peace Offering
1346 Words
~ HARRISON ~
I gripped the steering wheel of my Jeep, my knuckles turning white as the city streets blurred around me. My anger was bubbling beneath the surface like a dormant volcano on the verge of eruption. I couldn’t help my thoughts racing back to the fight with Jessica, her face etched with confusion and hurt as if she couldn’t fathom why I was so enraged.
It all started during a meeting with a security company in LA. The presentation was going smoothly until my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen to see a message from Detective Derrick. That man's name alone was enough to sour my mood, but that had not been the reason I saw red. It was the pictures he'd sent that had set my blood to a boiling point. I could barely contain my anger as I excused myself from the boardroom.
Detective Derrick had been working for my grandfather, Edward Williams, handling our family’s private investigations for years. I never liked the guy; I only tolerated him because of my mother. That was why when he approached me two weeks ago, suggesting that Jessica might be cheating, I had shot him down. I trusted my wife, or at least, I wanted to believe I did. But my mother had persuaded me to let Derrick investigate, saying, "If there’s nothing going on, then there’s nothing to find."
Reluctantly, I agreed, confident that he would come up empty-handed. Instead, Derrick hit me with pictures of Jessica smiling and having lunch with some doctor. It felt like a punch to the gut. Not because I was madly in love with her, but because I had finally decided to give our relationship a real chance. I had decided to be open to the idea of loving her, just as she seemed to love me. But I was wrong, and my mother was right.
That night, I drank heavily, trying to drown my anger and disappointment. My assistant and secretary, Sydney Walker, brought me some fruit and water as I had instructed her. I remembered her handing me the water, but after that, my memory was a blur. I must have passed out from the alcohol because the next morning, I woke up to find pictures of Sydney and me all over the internet. It was a scandal waiting to explode, and my head of IT, James, was working tirelessly to find out who took those pictures and posted them.
As I drove aimlessly around the city, my thoughts kept circling back to Jessica. She had always been so sincere, so loving. Had she really betrayed me? I needed to clear my head, to think rationally. The anger that had clouded my judgment was starting to lift, replaced by a gnawing sense of doubt and regret. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for those pictures. Maybe I had overreacted.
I decided to go home. My head was calm now, and I wanted to have a sane and mature conversation with Jessica. I owed her that much. As I drove, I passed by her favorite eatery. An idea struck me. I could bring her favorite food home as a peace offering. It was a small gesture, but it might help bridge the gap that had formed between us.
I pulled into the parking lot of the cozy little diner and ordered her favorite meal: a grilled chicken salad with avocado, a side of sweet potato fries, and her favorite strawberry lemonade. For myself, I got a hearty steak sandwich and a cold iced tea. With the food in hand, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe we could talk things out, clear the air, and find a way to move forward.
When I pulled up to our house, something felt off. The front door was slightly ajar, and an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I stepped inside, calling out for Jessica, but there was no response. The foyer looked normal, everything in its place. Maybe she was sleeping in our bedroom, trying to cool off after our fight.
I climbed the stairs and headed for our bedroom. But as I reached the top, I noticed a faint, unusual smell. I couldn't quite place it—bleach, maybe? Or something more metallic. Choosing to ignore it, I pushed open the door to our bedroom, and what I saw made my blood run cold.
The room was in complete disarray, as if there had been a struggle. Clothes were strewn across the floor, the bed linens were torn and tangled, and the faint scent grew stronger. I sniffed the air again, trying to discern if it was blood, but there was none to be seen around the room. My heart pounded in my chest as I took in the chaos.
"Jessica?" I called out again. Still no answer.
Frantic and scared, I headed for the security room to check the home security feed. My hands were trembling as I inputted the password. I stepped inside and settled into the chair in front of the screen. I switched the live feed to recorded and rewound the camera to when I had stormed out of the house. The footage showed me driving away, but then, a minute later, a car parked across the street. A man dressed in all black stepped out and casually walked towards the house, his face obscured by a cap. As he approached the door, the video feed went blank.
"What the f**k?" I muttered, trying to rewind again. Each time, the feed cut out at the same point. It became clear the footage had been tampered with. My mind raced with questions and a hint of fear. The only people with access to this system were me, my mother, and the tech team that worked for Spectra. So, how on earth was my security feed tampered with, who was that man, and what had he done to Jessica?
I grabbed my phone and dialed Jessica's line, but to my shock, her phone began to ring inside the house. I followed the sound to the living room and found her phone on the couch, her screen lighting up with my name. Panic surged through me. I was about to lose it when my phone rang in my hand.
It was my mother.
I answered, my voice shaking, "Mom?"
"Harrison, I was just calling to check up on you. How was your trip?" she asked casually.
"Hello, mother. My trip was fine, but I'm in the middle of something right now," I replied, my voice urgent.
"You sound worried, Harrison. What is it?"
I didn't want to tell her until I was sure, but maybe telling her would help. "I think something's happened. Jessica and I had a fight. I left the house, and now I'm back to see that the house is a mess and Jessica is missing. I checked the security feed, and it's been tampered with. I'm still trying to process what to do."
She's silent for a moment, and then she says, "There's no need to panic, son. Maybe Jessica just went for a walk or to visit a friend after your argument. She's probably fine. We'll find her."
"But the house—"
"I know, sweetheart. I know it looks bad, but we have to stay calm. I'm going to call Detective Derrick and get him on this right away. You need to try and rest from your trip. You're no good to anyone if you're falling apart."
Her words, though hard to believe, brought a small measure of calm to me. I reluctantly agreed, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. "Okay, Mother. Just, please, get Derrick on this as soon as possible."
"I will, Harrison. Try to sleep. She'll come back home."
I ended the call and sank onto the couch, Jessica's phone still in my hand. I was trying to believe she was okay, that this was just some awful misunderstanding. But the gnawing fear in my gut that told me otherwise wouldn't let go.
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