Vicious by Debra Webb Page B

She did what she had to do to earn a living, but she wanted more. She moved to Birmingham to escape her family. They have very strong religious beliefs that, shall we say, hampered Lisa’s lifestyle. She wanted to be who she was. After moving here, she started to open up, like a tiny bird just hatching. I watched her grow in my class this past spring, spread her wings. This,” he indicated the painting, “was the real Lisa.”
    But did that decision cost Lisa her life? “Did she mention any family problems at all? Had anyone come to Birmingham to try and persuade her to come home?” Or repent? The idea made Jess think of Wanda Newsom, her aunt and only living relative besides her sister and her sister’s family. The aunt who’d let Jess and her sister down as children when their parents were killed but who had suddenly found religion and wanted to make it all right.
    Jess banished the painful memories.
    Ellis shook her head. “Lisa had been estranged from her family for over two years. They never called or visited.”
    “Any trouble with work?” Jess prompted.
    “There are those, even in a city as progressive as Birmingham, who didn’t agree with Lisa’s business choices. This is still the Bible Belt. There was the occasional protest outside her shop. I read about the incidents in the paper but she never mentioned them to me.”
    “Are you aware that several of your students maintain a closed Facebook page where they feature some pretty graphic art?”
    Ellis frowned. “I am not. The inspiration, however, could be a result of my classes. I encourage them to share their art and their feelings with those they trust. Life is about exploring one’s world, inside and out. Sometimes it’s difficult to share the discoveries with those who might not understand.”
    How nice . Jess scrounged around in her bag for a business card. One of these days she had to get better organized. She handed the card to Ellis. “I really appreciate your time, Rick. If you think of anything else that might help us find the person responsible for this tragedy, I hope you’ll give me a call. We’d like to give the folks who cared about these women closure.”
    He read over the card before tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Of course. Anything I recall, you’ll be the first to know.”
    Jess started to turn away but hesitated. “You’re not from Birmingham, are you?”
    He chuckled as if he recognized she’d been trying to figure out the answer to that question from the moment he said hello. “I came to Birmingham ten years ago after spending two decades in Europe, primarily in Paris, surviving as an artist.”
    “But you hail from Massachusetts originally?”
    “Indeed.” He grinned. “There are some things we can never escape.”
    Jess knew a little something about that. She’d spent twenty years trying to rid herself of her southern accent only to have it reemerge in full form barely a week after returning to Birmingham.
    Some things were just destined to be.
    Ellis escorted them to the door and insisted they should come again under more pleasant circumstances, and then he wished them a bonne journée . Outside, Jess considered her impressions of the man. “I didn’t get anything from him, you?”
    Lori vigilantly scrutinized the street. “Only that he was quite taken with you.”
    Jess moved toward the Mustang. “I think he just wanted to see my badge.”
    Lori grinned at Jess across the roof of the car. “Face it, you’re a celebrity, Chief.”
    Jess rolled her eyes. “Lucky me.”
    When they’d settled inside, Lori hesitated before starting the engine. “You’re okay, right?”
    Her team—no, her friends—recognized she was not herself. How could she be? Her hormones were focused on gestation. Her emotions were scattered all over the map. She was a mess.
    “I’m okay.” Jess faked a smile.
    “You know you can talk to me,” Lori ventured, “if you need to.”
    Jess nodded. “I absolutely do.”
    But I