What Jessie Did

Jessie said nothing. For several seconds, the only sound in Mrs. Alvarez’s apartment was the television playing softly behind her. Someone on the screen was laughing, the kind of canned, cheerful laughter that belonged in a completely different universe. Jessie stared at the photograph of Emily and Mrs. Alvarez and tried to make Gabriel’s words fit inside her head.

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I was.”

“You just told me Daniel died in that fire.”

“No. You assumed that because that’s what the newspapers reported.”

“The obituary said he died.”

“I know.”

Jessie’s fingers tightened around the phone. “And now you’re telling me I killed him. Which is it?”

Gabriel exhaled. “Both.”

Jessie closed her eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will.”

“Then make it make sense.”

“Not over the phone.”

Jessie’s eyes opened. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Decide what I’m allowed to know.” Jessie glanced again at the photograph on the table. “For twenty-four years, you’ve known something about my life that I didn’t. You watched me become a thief. You worked with me. You lied to me. Every time I mentioned being nineteen, every time I couldn’t remember those months, every time something from that period came up, you knew.”

“I was keeping a promise.”

“A promise to a nineteen-year-old girl who was traumatized enough to ask people to erase half a year of her life. That wasn’t a promise you should have kept.”

“I know.” The admission stopped her. There was no defence in his voice and no argument, just regret.

Jessie looked again at Emily and Mrs. Alvarez. “Where are you?”

“I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“You have ten.”

“Jessie—”

“Nine fifty-eight.” He disconnected.

Jessie returned to her own apartment and began thinking instead of reacting. Someone wanted her at St. Catherine’s. That meant going there immediately was exactly what they expected. The old Jessie would have gone anyway. She would have considered herself clever enough to overcome whatever waited for her. The new Jessie had learned something the old one had never understood: being predictable because you believed yourself invincible was still being predictable.

So she didn’t go. Not yet.

She photographed everything she’d received and made copies of the notes, the photographs, the address and Daniel’s image. She gathered the material carefully and placed the originals where they wouldn’t disappear easily. Then she called the police.

That decision cost her more than she expected. For twenty-two years, calling the police had meant failure. It meant exposure. It meant inviting people into a world designed specifically to keep them out. But now two innocent people were being held, and Jessie’s pride did not outrank their lives.

She reported Mrs. Alvarez missing and explained that she had reason to believe her disappearance was connected to Emily Carter. She gave them the photograph she’d received and the address connected to St. Catherine’s. She did not tell them everything, not yet, but she told them enough.

When she finished, Jessie stared at the phone. “Look at me. Practically respectable.”

The joke didn’t help.

Gabriel arrived eleven minutes later. Jessie opened the door before he knocked.

“You’re late.”

“By one minute.”

“Unacceptable.”

He looked at her face and apparently decided humour was not going to save him.

“Where’s Mrs. Alvarez?”

“Gone.”

Gabriel stepped inside, and Jessie closed the door. He saw the photograph on the kitchen table, and his expression changed immediately.

“They sent that?”

“Yes.”

“And the address?”

“St. Catherine’s.”

Gabriel swore.

“I called the police,” Jessie said.

He looked at her sharply. “Good.”

Jessie had expected resistance. “You’re agreeing with me?”

“They have two civilians. This stopped being something we handle privately.”

Jessie stared at him. “I’m trying to decide whether you’ve been replaced by a pod person.”

“Can we do this later?”

“No.” She pulled out a chair. “Sit down and tell me why I killed Daniel Mercer.”

Gabriel looked suddenly exhausted. Not afraid or evasive. Old. Jessie had known him for more than two decades, but she’d rarely thought about his age. Gabriel carried himself like someone who had made an arrangement with time and expected it to honour the contract.

Tonight, it wasn’t. He sat while Jessie decided to remain standing.

“Start at the beginning.”

Gabriel rubbed both hands over his face. “The beginning isn’t where you think it is.”

“Try me.”

“You met Daniel when you were eighteen.”

Jessie felt the first tremor of recognition, but nothing more.

“He wasn’t a thief,” Gabriel continued. “Not originally. Daniel worked with young people who were living rough, running scams, stealing, doing whatever they had to do to survive. St. Catherine’s had a community program operating out of the old rectory.”

Jessie glanced at the photograph. “That building?”

“Yes.”

“Why was I there?”

“Because Daniel caught you stealing from him.”

Despite everything, Jessie almost smiled. “That sounds plausible.”

“You stole his wallet.”

“That sounds extremely plausible.”

“He followed you three blocks.”

“Less plausible.”

“He found you because you stopped to buy food with his money.”

Jessie frowned. “That’s embarrassing.”

“He thought so too.”

Something flickered in her mind. A voice.

You are possibly the worst criminal I’ve ever met. Jessie grabbed the back of the chair.

Gabriel noticed. “You remember?”

“Keep talking.”

“Daniel didn’t report you. He bought you dinner.”

Another fragment came. A diner. French fries. A man’s hand sliding a wallet across the table. Jessie staring at it while Daniel smiled.

Next time, check the photograph before you use somebody’s credit card. We’re different races.

Jessie inhaled sharply. “Oh my God.”

Gabriel stopped.

“I remember that.”

Jessie sat down, not because she wanted to but because her knees had suddenly become unreliable.

“He helped me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what Daniel did.”

Jessie stared at nothing as more pieces surfaced. Daniel teaching her how to change a tire. Daniel leaving groceries outside her basement apartment because Jessie had refused to accept them directly. Daniel pretending not to notice when she stole twenty dollars from his coat, then deliberately leaving another twenty the next week.

Jessie laughed once, but the sound broke halfway through. “He knew.”

“He always knew.”

Jessie covered her mouth. The grief returned. Not new grief, but old grief that had apparently been waiting twenty-four years for permission to exist.

“How did we become…” She couldn’t finish.

Gabriel understood. “You were nineteen.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“He loved you.”

Jessie looked at him. “And I loved him.”

“Yes.”

The word hurt more than she expected. Jessie looked down at her hands.

“Then why did I kill him?”

Gabriel’s expression changed. “Because Daniel wasn’t exactly who you thought he was.”

There it was. The turn. Jessie had known it was coming.

“Who was he?”

Gabriel leaned back. “There were people using the St. Catherine’s program to recruit kids.”

Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”

“Crime. Mostly theft, fraud and smuggling. Things teenagers could do without attracting the same attention adults would.”

Jessie felt sick. “They were using homeless kids.”

“Yes.”

“Daniel knew?”

“At first, no.”

“At first.”

“He discovered it and started collecting evidence.”

Jessie looked at the photograph of him. “Nathan’s file.”

Gabriel nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

“Twenty-four years later?”

“I don’t know what Nathan found, but Daniel kept records.”

“Where?”

“No one ever found all of them.”

Jessie’s mind began assembling the pieces. “Someone killed Daniel because he found out.”

Gabriel looked at her. “No.”

Jessie stopped. “You said I killed him.”

“You did.”

“Then explain it.”

Gabriel leaned forward. “Daniel infiltrated the people running the operation. He convinced them he wanted in.”

Jessie’s stomach tightened. “They believed him?”

“For a while.”

“And I didn’t know.”

“No.”

Jessie stood again. She needed movement. “Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“Because you were exactly the kind of person they recruited.”

Jessie stopped pacing.

Young. Angry. Poor. Stealing. No family worth relying on.

She would have been perfect.

“They wanted me.”

“Yes.”

“And Daniel was protecting me.”

“At first.”

Jessie turned. “At first?”

Gabriel looked toward the table. “Then they realized how good you were.”

Jessie felt something cold settle inside her. “Good at what?”

“Reading people.”

That hit differently. Not stealing, people.

“You were nineteen, Jessie, and already doing things experienced con artists couldn’t do. You could walk into a room and know who was weak, who was lying and who wanted approval. Daniel told me once that you didn’t manipulate people deliberately back then. You just understood them.”

Jessie looked away. “They recruited me.”

“Yes.”

“Did I agree?”

Gabriel hesitated.

That hesitation answered her.

“I did.”

“You didn’t understand what they were.”

“I was nineteen.”

“You wanted money.”

Jessie laughed bitterly. “Of course I did.”

“You wanted control more.”

That silenced her.

Gabriel continued. “You’d spent your entire life feeling like other people decided what happened to you. These people made you feel powerful.”

Jessie didn’t like how believable that sounded.

“They trained me.”

“Yes.”

“Combat?”

“Some.”

“Psychology?”

Gabriel nodded.

Jessie stared at him. The skills she had spent twenty-two years believing she’d accumulated gradually had begun somewhere much earlier.

St. Catherine’s.

“Daniel tried to get me out.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s when everything went wrong.”

“Yes.”

Jessie sat again. “Tell me about the fire.”

Gabriel was quiet for a moment before he began. “Daniel had gathered enough evidence to destroy the organization. Names, payments, locations, people in legitimate businesses who were involved. Police. Lawyers. Politicians. Criminals.”

Jessie stared at him. “How big was this?”

“Bigger than you knew.”

“Did you work for them?”

Gabriel’s face tightened.

Jessie immediately understood.

“You did.”

“Yes.”

She stood so quickly the chair struck the wall.

“You were one of them.”

“Jessie—”

“You recruited children?”

“No.”

“You worked for them.”

“Yes.”

“Doing what?”

“Transport. Logistics. Money.”

Jessie backed away from him. Suddenly every memory of Gabriel looked different. Every job, every favour, every warning…

“Did you recruit me?”

“No.”

“Did you know Daniel?”

“Yes.”

Jessie stared at him. “How?”

“He recruited me.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected.

“What?”

“To help him.”

Jessie said nothing.

Gabriel continued. “I’d been working for the organization for three years. Daniel figured out I wanted out. He approached me.”

“You helped him collect evidence.”

“Yes.”

“And the night of the fire?”

“We were supposed to leave.”

“We?”

“You. Daniel. Me.”

Jessie’s heart began beating harder. “What happened?”

“Someone betrayed us.”

“Who?”

“We never found out.”

“Bullshit.”

“We didn’t.”

“Then what happened?”

Gabriel looked at her. “They took you.”

A memory struck.

Cold tile. Bare feet.

Jessie gripped the counter.

“Took me where?”

“St. Catherine’s.”

Another fragment surfaced. A chair. Blood on her sleeve. A woman asking questions. Jessie refusing to answer.

Her breathing changed.

“Daniel came for me.”

“Yes.”

Jessie closed her eyes.

Rain. The green door. Daniel shouting. Fire.

“Who started the fire?”

“Daniel.”

Jessie’s eyes opened. “Why?”

“To create a way out.”

“And we escaped?”

“You did.”

“Daniel didn’t.”

Gabriel looked at the floor. “Not exactly.”

Jessie’s voice became quiet. “What does that mean?”

“He was injured.”

Jessie knew before Gabriel said anything else. Something inside her remembered.

“No.”

“You found him.”

“No.”

“He couldn’t move.”

“Stop.”

“Jessie—”

“I said stop.”

Gabriel did. Jessie turned away, but the memory was coming whether she wanted it or not.

Smoke. Heat. Daniel on the floor. Blood. His hand gripping hers.

Go.

Jessie shaking her head.

Go, Jessie.

“I left him.”

Her voice sounded small.

Gabriel stood. “No.”

Jessie turned around. “You said I killed him.”

“You didn’t leave him.”

The memory changed.

Daniel coughing. Flames moving closer.

A gun.

Jessie stared at Gabriel. “There was someone else.”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know.”

“He was going to take Daniel.”

“Yes.”

“Alive.”

“Yes.”

Jessie remembered Daniel’s face. Not clearly, but enough. He’d been afraid, though not of dying.

He was afraid of being taken.

Jessie’s eyes filled. “No.”

Gabriel’s voice softened. “Daniel knew what they’d do to him. He knew he’d eventually talk.”

Jessie shook her head. “No.”

“He asked you.”

“No.”

Gabriel didn’t need to say anything more because the memory arrived whole.

Daniel was lying against the wall with smoke everywhere and blood soaking through his shirt. A gun was in Jessie’s hand. Daniel was looking at her, not frightened or angry, just unbearably calm.

Jessie was crying.

I can’t.

Daniel reached for her hand.

You can.

No.

Jessie, listen to me.

Footsteps were approaching. Daniel squeezed her fingers.

Don’t let them take me.

Jessie made a sound that didn’t feel human and doubled over.

Gabriel moved toward her.

“Don’t touch me.”

He stopped.

Jessie pressed both hands against the counter.

She remembered the gun. She remembered Daniel. She remembered telling him she loved him and hearing him say it back.

Then—

Nothing.

Jessie refused to go further.

Not yet.

Her body already knew what her mind was trying not to see.

“I shot him.”

Gabriel’s eyes were wet. “Yes.”

Jessie closed her eyes. “And the fire?”

“Destroyed most of the building.”

“They found his body.”

“Yes.”

“So he did die there.”

“Yes.”

Jessie looked at him. “You said he didn’t die in the fire.”

“He didn’t. The gunshot killed him before the fire reached that part of the building.”

Jessie sank into the chair.

For twenty-four years, she’d believed she had never killed anyone. She had fought people, hurt people and threatened people, but killing had been a line. A line she’d thought she’d never crossed.

Except she had crossed it before she’d even become the woman who made the rule: Nobody gets hurt.

Suddenly, Jessie understood why that rule had always mattered so much.

She hadn’t invented it.

She had built it over Daniel’s grave.

“What happened afterward?”

“You broke.”

Jessie looked at Gabriel. “How?”

“You barely spoke for weeks. You stopped eating. You wouldn’t sleep unless someone was in the room. When you did sleep, you woke screaming.”

Jessie couldn’t reconcile that girl with herself.

“What did you do?”

“I stayed.”

“Why?”

“Because Daniel asked me to.”

Jessie looked up.

Gabriel swallowed. “Before everything went wrong, he made me promise that if something happened to him, I’d get you out.”

Jessie stared at the man she’d spent twenty years believing was simply a criminal friend.

“You stayed because of him.”

“At first.”

That landed somewhere deeper. “And then?”

Gabriel gave her a tired smile. “Then you became Jessie.”

For a moment, neither spoke.

Eventually Jessie asked, “How did I forget?”

Gabriel looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know all of it.”

“You were there.”

“Not for everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“There was a doctor.”

Jessie’s head snapped up. “What doctor?”

“Someone Daniel trusted.”

“Name.”

“I only knew him as Dr. Vale.”

“What did he do to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Gabriel.”

“I swear.”

Jessie studied him. He was telling the truth, or at least believed he was.

“You asked to forget?”

“Yes.”

“People can’t just choose to erase six months.”

“No.”

“So what happened?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t know. Trauma. Medication. Therapy. Whatever Vale did. Maybe all of it. You didn’t forget everything immediately. It happened gradually.”

“And you helped.”

“You begged me.”

Jessie looked at him.

“You made me promise that if you ever started remembering, I’d tell you Daniel was just someone you knew who died in the fire.”

Jessie laughed bitterly. “Apparently you upgraded that to pretending I’d never known him at all.”

“I thought it was kinder.”

“You were wrong.”

“I know.”

Jessie looked again at the photograph of Emily and Mrs. Alvarez. Something didn’t fit.

“If Daniel died, why is someone doing this now?”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “Nathan found the file.”

“Yes.”

“The file was about me.”

“Yes.”

“Daniel’s records survived.”

“Possibly.”

“Which means whoever took Emily wants something from those records.”

“Probably.”

“No.”

Jessie stood. “They don’t.”

Gabriel frowned. “What?”

“If they wanted Daniel’s records, they’d be asking me where they are.”

“Maybe they think you know.”

“I don’t.”

“They might think you’re lying.”

Jessie shook her head. “The message says come home.”

She stared at the words again.

Not bring the file, not tell us where it is – but come home. Jessie’s expression changed.

“St. Catherine’s isn’t where this started.”

Gabriel looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Daniel was investigating them before I was recruited. They were operating through the program before I ever met him.”

“Yes.”

“So St. Catherine’s was a location. Not the beginning.”

Gabriel slowly stood.

Jessie picked up the old photograph of herself and Daniel. Someone had scratched out Daniel’s face.

Not hers.

Why?

Hatred? Shame? Or because the person sending it didn’t want Jessie recognizing him too soon?

She turned the photograph toward Gabriel. “Who took this?”

He stared at it. The colour drained from his face. Jessie noticed immediately.

“You’ve seen it.”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

“Gabriel.”

“Where did you get that?”

“It was left in my apartment.”

He took one step closer, but Jessie pulled it away.

“Who took it?”

Gabriel looked genuinely frightened now. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie.”

“No. I don’t know who took it.”

“But you know the photograph.”

“Yes.”

“From where?”

Gabriel swallowed. “Daniel had it. It was in his file on you.”

Jessie’s skin prickled. “He kept a file on me?”

“He kept files on everyone involved.”

“Why?”

“Insurance.”

Jessie looked at the image. “Why scratch his own face out?”

“He didn’t.”

Jessie froze.

Gabriel continued. “That photograph wasn’t like that.”

“What?”

“His face wasn’t scratched out when I saw it.”

Jessie stared at him. “So whoever left this altered it.”

“Yes.”

Jessie turned it over again.

STOP LOOKING FOR THE GIRL.

Something about the message bothered her. The wording.

Not Emily, the girl. It was detached and impersonal. Almost as though Emily wasn’t the real subject.

Jessie looked toward Mrs. Alvarez’s apartment and thought about the two innocent people who had become leverage. Then she thought about the accountant whose life had been destroyed, the security guard, the housekeeper and all the other people she’d spent eleven months thinking about.

They were collateral damage and someone knew exactly what would force Jessie back into her old life. It wasn’t money or threats against her. It was guilt.

“They’ve been watching me.”

Gabriel frowned. “Obviously.”

“No. Longer than this.”

Jessie looked at him. “They know why I quit.”

Gabriel went still.

“They know about the accountant. They know what happened to me. They know innocent people are the one thing I won’t walk away from anymore.”

“You think this was planned before Nathan disappeared?”

“I think Nathan didn’t stumble across anything.”

Jessie picked up Emily’s photograph. “I think somebody gave him that file.”

Gabriel stared at her. “To get it to you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Jessie looked at the address. St. Catherine’s. Come home.

“I don’t know.”

Her phone rang. Unknown number. Jessie and Gabriel looked at each other before she answered.

“Hello?”

Nothing, then breathing.

Jessie waited. A man’s voice spoke. He was older and unnervingly calm.

“You remembered him.”

Jessie’s entire body stiffened. Gabriel moved closer. “Who is this?”

“You remembered Daniel.”

Jessie put the call on speaker so Gabriel heard the voice. That’s when his face changed. It wasn’t recognition. It was terror.

Jessie saw it.

“Gabriel?”

He whispered, “No.”

The man on the phone laughed softly.

Jessie looked at Gabriel. “You know him.”

Gabriel backed away. “No.”

The voice continued. “You were always good at reading people, Jessie.”

Her blood turned cold. That phrase. There was something about it that was familiar.

“Who are you?”

“You really don’t remember?”

“No.”

There was a pause.

“That’s disappointing.”

Jessie felt pressure behind her eyes.

A room.

A desk.

A man sitting across from her.

A soft voice.

Tell me what you’re feeling, Jessie.

Her knees weakened.

Gabriel whispered, “Hang up.”

Jessie ignored him. “Dr. Vale?”

Silence. Then the man answered. “Hello, Jessie.”

Gabriel grabbed the phone and disconnected the call.

Jessie stared at him. “You told me he helped me.”

“I thought he did.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Gabriel looked toward the door. “We need to leave.”

“No.”

“Jessie.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Gabriel’s face had gone pale.

“Dr. Vale disappeared three months after you forgot Daniel.”

“So?”

“I assumed he was dead.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone connected to St. Catherine’s started disappearing.”

Jessie felt cold. “How many?”

“Almost all of them.”

“And you?”

“I ran.”

“Victor?”

“He wasn’t directly involved.”

Jessie stared at the dead phone. Dr. Vale was alive. He knew about Daniel. He knew about her missing memories. He knew how she thought.

Somehow, twenty-four years later, he had returned. Jessie picked up the photograph of Emily and Mrs. Alvarez.

“Call the police again.”

Gabriel looked at her. “What are you going to do?”

Jessie put on her coat. “I’m going to St. Catherine’s.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“That’s exactly what he wants.”

“I know.”

“That makes it a trap.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell would you go?”

Jessie looked at him. “Because I’m finally beginning to understand what this is.”

“What?”

She glanced at the old photograph of herself and Daniel. “This isn’t revenge, and it isn’t about Nathan’s file either.”

“Then what is it?”

Jessie looked toward the address. For twenty-four years, Dr. Vale had been a ghost buried somewhere inside a year she couldn’t remember. Now he had taken two innocent people and summoned her back to the place where she’d lost Daniel, her memories and perhaps the person she’d once been.

Jessie finally understood why.

“He doesn’t want to kill me.”

Gabriel stared at her. “How can you possibly know that?”

“Because he could have. He got inside my home. He got to Mrs. Alvarez. He’s been watching me. If he wanted me dead, I would be dead.”

Gabriel’s expression darkened. “Then what does he want?”

Jessie looked at him.

“He wants his student back.”

Gabriel said nothing.

Jessie picked up the photograph of Emily and Mrs. Alvarez and slipped it carefully into her coat. For twenty-two years, Jessie Wilson had believed she’d built herself: her instincts, her psychological skills, her ability to read people, her control and even her rules.

But maybe some of those things had been planted long before she’d understood what they were.

That possibility frightened her more than Daniel’s death.

Jessie could live with discovering she’d done something terrible. She could accept guilt. She could accept consequences. What she couldn’t accept was the possibility that someone else had reached inside her life and decided who she would become.

She opened the door, and Gabriel followed.

“Jessie.”

She turned. “If Vale trained you, he knows how you think. He’ll anticipate your next moves. He’ll know your habits. He may know you better than anyone.”

Jessie studied Gabriel for a moment before a small smile appeared on her face.

“No.”

Gabriel frowned. “No?”

The smile remained, but it wasn’t the old Jessie’s smile.

That was the difference.

“He knows the nineteen-year-old girl he helped create,” Jessie said as she stepped into the hallway. “He’s never met the woman who spent eleven months learning how not to be her.”

Come back tomorrow for the next part….

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