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backpack and schoolbooks sat scattered on her desk, along with makeup and hair bands. The dresser and night table had a few trinkets and mementos. Alongside some discarded change and a pack of gum sat a picture of her mother. Dylan took special notice of the woman he’d never met.
    Jessie was the image of her mother, with long, dark wavy hair, hazel eyes, and that flawless satin skin. He wondered how a beautiful woman like Jessie’s mother ended up with a man like Buddy. Maybe Buddy had been a different man when they were young. Time had slipped away, until Jessie’s mother couldn’t deal with the consequences of marrying an alcoholic.
    Always a neat freak, none of Jessie’s clothes littered the wood floor or hung from the drawers. Nothing out of place except the black gown she’d worn to the prom hanging on the closet door. Her high heels sat on the floor, one tipped on its side. He imagined her lying on the bed looking at the dress and remembering the night they’d shared together. He wondered if the few short days she’d had left after the prom were happy or sad. Did she miss him? Curse him? Hate him?
    He hoped looking at that dress brought her happy memories of their night together. Standing there now, looking at the gown and imagining her wearing it, a multitude of emotions washed through him. Mostly anger because she wasn’t here. He gripped the dress and buried his face in the material, inhaling deeply, hoping for even a hint of her scent. After all this time, even that was gone. He smoothed his hand over the material, adjusting it just so, his stomach in a knot, his heart heavy in his chest.
    He’d always wanted a chance to make things right. He’d thought a thousand times what he’d say.
    Ah, Jess. I was so damn young and stupid.
    I wanted you to no end.
    Why’d I have to fall in love with you right when I was leaving?
    I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I’d been here for you. I wish I’d realized Buddy was hurting you. I wish a lot of things. I wish you were here.
    I miss my best friend.
    Dylan ran his hand over the dress. He remembered how he’d slid the zipper down her back, her soft skin at his fingertips. She felt so good in his arms. She’d given herself completely, trusted him completely.
    The dress went out of focus, along with his memories. His eyes burned and his throat constricted painfully.
    He missed her more each day.
    He owed her for so much. The years of friendship they’d shared. The career he’d chosen. Most of all, he owed her for showing him just how much a person could be loved. He had no doubt she’d loved him with her whole heart.
    Unable to look at the dress any longer, he opened the closet door, peering inside. Just like her room, nothing appeared out of place. What little clothes she owned were neatly stacked or hanging. Her work boots were gone. She’d probably been wearing them the night Buddy killed her. As far as he could tell, everything stood as if she’d just left.
    For all intents and purposes, it appeared Buddy and Jessie argued and Buddy killed her, then hid her body. But where? Now, he’d never know. That thought disturbed him more than anything.
    Dylan closed the door to her room and walked out of the house without a backward glance. Jessie wasn’t there. He’d lost her. He couldn’t feel her presence in that house, or in her room. The pressure in his chest grew so great, he collapsed into his truck seat. He sat and stared at the stars for a good long while before he could breathe enough to drive himself home.

 
    Chapter Four
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    J ESSIE SPENT THE evening making calls and settling her father’s affairs. Brian hadn’t done a single thing to set up a cremation or funeral for their father. No surprise there. She’d made all the necessary phone calls and doled out her credit card number. She spent the rest of the evening carving a chunk of wood into a horse, alternating between denying the fact she had to go back to Fallbrook and resigning herself to the