9:30 p.m., Chatham, MA

Jess

Jessica's heels clicked on marble as she crossed the entrance foyer. She expected company, but the sound of the doorbell still set her on edge. Given what she’d learned today, nothing felt safe anymore.

She peered through the peephole, puffing out a sigh of relief when she recognized the visitor.

"Hi, Jim!” she called out, opening the door to greet him. “Come on in.”

Jim Rollins, the newest trustee of the ‘Save the Sound’ Coalition, smiled and thanked her for agreeing to see him on such short notice. He’d called a few hours ago to request this emergency meeting. Apparently, the Cape Energy Consortium had just released a new environmental impact statement that promised to be a real game changer. ‘Save the Sound’ needed to move fast, maybe even file a response by tomorrow morning.

Talk about shitty timing. With her personal life unraveling, Jess had all but forgotten she still had professional obligations.

Which is why she’d agreed to this last-minute meeting. She owed her client the truth. ‘Save the Sound’ needed new legal representation, since there was no way she could give them the attention they deserved. It wouldn’t be an easy topic to broach, but Jim seemed like the kind of person who would understand.

Rollins strolled into the foyer, head tilted back to appreciate the architecture. This wing of her parents’ summer home had been built to impress, with a soaring ceiling capped by a Moorish dome, skylights and a Baccarat crystal chandelier to illuminate the gallery of artwork below. Leading her guest through the atrium now, Jess glanced up at the familiar paintings and sculptures, prominent local artists mingling with a stray Picasso or Matisse. “The Museum,” as she and her friends used to call it.

Her guest whistled, the sharp sound echoing off the colorfully tiled dome. “Wow. Quite a place you have here.”

“Oh, I don’t live here,” Jess corrected. “This is my parents’ home.”

“Well, please tell them it’s stunning.”

She thanked Rollins for the compliment, leading him into the even grander living room.

“We can go over that new impact statement in here,” she suggested, pointing to a couple of Barcelona chairs. “Could I get you something to drink before we get started?”

Rollins took his seat, declining her offer with a polite smile. “Are you sure I’m not intruding? I don’t want to interrupt your family time.”

Jess shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry about that. The kids went to sleep an hour ago and my parents are out as usual. Some social function at the club.”

Rollins scanned the room. “And your husband?”

“He’s, um… still at work.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to get too personal. Jim Rollins certainly seemed like a decent guy: a ruggedly handsome, wealthy Bostonian with a trust fund and enough social conscience to put it to good use. From what she’d gathered during their initial meeting last weekend, Jim made philanthropy his full-time career. Still, she didn’t exactly know the guy. And what was with those wandering eyes? Had he just checked out her legs?

She shifted forward in her seat, smoothing the skirt over her knees. 

“Listen,” Rollins said, seeming to sense her unease. “I really don’t want to take up much of your time, so…” He reached into his satchel to pull out a clipped stack of papers. “Here it is: the CEC’s environmental impact statement, in all its bullshitting glory.”

She accepted the bulky document, wondering how best to break the news she’d be leaving the case. Her mind was already elsewhere, feverishly trying to piece together the Caulder jigsaw puzzle. Even if her suspicions turned out to be true, who apart from Jake would believe her?

“Jess? You still with me?”

“Hmm?” She looked up to give her guest a distracted smile. “Yeah… hey, sorry I’m spacing out. It’s been a really long week.”

“I sure know what that’s like.” Rollins leaned toward her, his gaze sharpening. “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

“Oh… it’s nothing, really. I probably just need to get some rest.”

“Not a problem. Listen…” He stood to retrieve his satchel, apparently getting the hint. “You look exhausted. You’re a real trooper for agreeing to meet me like this, but maybe we should continue some other time?”

“Maybe,” she agreed, taking the impact statement from his hands with a weary smile. “But since you came all this way, the least I could do is look over what you brought me.”

Two pages into the document though, she realized he’d made a mistake.

“Hey, Jim? I think you gave me the wrong papers. This looks like the old impact statement. You know, the one I gave you last week.”

Rollins slapped his forehead. “God, I’m such an idiot! Sorry about that. I know it’s in here.”

“No worries, Jim. You can always e-mail me the file when you get home.”

“But I know I’ve got it, right… here.”

He rooted through the satchel, eyes lighting up when he finally found what he wanted.

It wasn't a document. 

***

© Copyright 2025 graymartin. All rights reserved.