Authors: Janice Kay Johnson
He'd figured her for a victim of post-traumatic stress disorder.
All along she'd known that she wasn't the least bit delusional.
He got it now.
Just as he got that he was too late.
Meri had left him because she chose to do so. Because she was afraid of what impact her past would have on Caleb. Exactly as she'd said in the note she'd left in her van.
And she wanted him to move on.
Taking their anniversary money was a message he couldn't misinterpret. Nor could he convince himself that that missing money was anything other than what it was. There couldn't possibly be a way anyone else would have known that money was there or forced her to take it.
If she'd needed money she could have accessed her bank account. Or their joint one. Or taken the emergency cash from the house. They'd had a thousand bucks stashed for “just in case.” It was still there. He'd already checked.
No, she'd taken their anniversary money.
Because she didn't plan to have a distant anniversary with him.
She'd let him know she'd been there, not by anything as personal as a note, but by cleaningâa chore he could have hired someone to do.
And then she'd taken their special money and left him the empty tin. The message couldn't be any clearer.
Funny how, in that worst moment of his life, he didn't feel like crying at all.
He just felt dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
T
HE
L
EMONADE
S
TAND
was abuzz with anticipation for Saturday's pool party. Some of the craftier residents were making decorations, some for the kids' gathering and others for the pool's christening, which was what they'd decided should be the theme for the party. A pool christening.
Jenna had suggested the theme and also put forth the idea that they use the party as a surprise baby shower for Maddie Bishop. They really wanted to surprise the developmentally delayed woman who cared so much about everyone and spread her perennial joy so freely amongst them.
Maddie's joy was as valuable to the residents as Sara's counseling and Lynn's medical skills.
Jenna attended Wednesday night's crafting and planning meeting, taking place at a building on the outskirts of the property, and threw herself into the preparations as much as the next woman.
Because she didn't want to think about anything else.
She'd said goodbye that afternoon.
To the only man she was ever going to love. The only child she was ever going to have.
To the only life she'd ever wanted.
And she
knew,
instinctively, emotionally and logically that she'd done the right thing.
* * *
M
AX
ATE
DINNER
.
Then he bathed his son, playing boat and fish with himâa game Meri had conjured up with a plastic bathtub toy, soap and Caleb's fingers and toes. The boat carries the soap that then jumps out of the boat to fish for things to wash. He put Caleb to bed and rubbed his back until Caleb's breathing grew heavy, indicating that he was asleep.
He took a shower. Changed from his scrubs into sweats and a T-shirt and went back out to do dishes that had already been done.
Chantel had her laptop open on the table.
“What are you working on?” he asked, a glass of freshly poured tea in his hand. He should have offered her some.
“More record searches,” she told him. “There's got to be some way to figure out who's living in that house. Electric was turned on in the name of the company, with the residence as the billing address. But that doesn't mean he has to be there to get the bill. He probably has it sent electronically.”
“Or he could have it turned off for the time he isn't there.”
“True. For that matter, maybe he has a generator.”
“Maybe it's not his house.”
“Wayne has a buddy who is helping him check out other possibilities, one by one,” she said. “Since you, as a private citizen, made a complaint he thinks has merit, against someone who's being investigated for murder in another state, he's made the investigation into Steve at least pseudo-official. He's keeping it quiet.”
Max nodded. Whether his marriage was over or not, he wanted the man who'd made his wife's life hell taken off the streets.
Meri wanted to be free and he wanted that for her.
“Diane called while you were in the shower,” she said, looking over at him. He hadn't told her what he'd found in his desk drawer.
“She found a bartender who knew Smith and the dead woman. Said that the woman had told him she wanted to break things off with Smith because he was scaring her, but that she was afraid to tell him, afraid of what he'd do, so she was making plans to move out of state.”
“And the bartender didn't come forward when she was killed?”
“He didn't know she'd been killed. It was a car accident. Not big news in Las Vegas. He just assumed he never saw her again because she'd moved as she'd said she was going to do.”
“Is it enough to get her body up?” If they could prove definitively that the woman's body had been beaten to the point of trauma before she'd gotten in her car...
“Diane thinks so. She's putting in a request for a warrant first thing in the morning.”
Good. Sitting at the table, Max noticed the open bottle of beer on Chantel's other side. Reaching for it, he took a sip.
“Diane said something else, Max.” Her expression, while serious, held none of the pity he'd grown used to seeing there. Her blond hair framed pretty featuresâand a frown. “She paid a visit to one of Smith's old sources, some old guy, Victor something or other, who'd been a big-time drug dealer in his day and now lives comfortably in an active retirement community, playing golf and getting tanned. She knew that Smith and the guy had had a falling-out and wanted to know why. The guy had heard some rumors about Smith and one of Victor's girlfriends. Turned out they were false, but while he'd been watching Smith he overheard a pretty brutal fight between Smith and Meredith. He was outside their apartment and waited for Smith to leave before knocking on the door. He wouldn't tell her who he was, but he got her medical help after promising her that where he was taking her, they wouldn't call the cops. And he told her that if she ever needed anything to give him a call. He gave her a private number.”
Max borrowed a second sip of beer and welcomed the burn as the liquid went down. He noticed his fingers tapping on the table and stopped them. Then started up again.
Meredith's life had been a living nightmare. And he'd blithely made assurances to her that she was fine and safe and just paranoid, promising her a happily-ever-after that he'd had no way of providing.
He'd been so self-righteous. So sure he knew better than she.
He hadn't had a clue.
And maybe she hadn't tried hard enough to explain her past to him. Except what more could she have said? She'd told him Smith was a decorated cop. That he'd stalked her from state to state....
“She used the number, Max. About a year later. She had bruises all over her arms, and that's just what he could see, but he said she moved like an eighty-year-old woman so he was pretty sure there were cracked or broken bones involved. He offered to get her medical help. She refused, said she didn't have time. She wanted a new identity. He gave her one. Said he heard from her a few more times after that. He couldn't remember if it was three or four, but that each time he'd send her new papers, no questions asked.”
A burst of blood filled his mouth. He was gritting his teeth so hard he could barely part them to get words out when he asked, “Will he testify?”
“I don't think so. Even if he did, his testimony would never hold up in court. He's living on drug money. And clearly still has illegal connections. He also loses credibility because he'd accused Smith of philandering with his girl. Too much possibility of tit for tat, and not enough trustworthiness.”
“So we still have nothing.”
“We may not have enough yet for a conviction, but we have plenty enough to know that Steve Smith is a very bad man and that's enough to get badges working for you in two states, Max. We're going to find this guy. I promise you. And then your Meri will be free to come back to you.”
He shook his head.
“What?”
“Funny, I've managed to finally convince you that Steve was behind her going, that she'd never just have left of her own accord, that she didn't want out of our marriage, that her paranoia was mostly a product of her imagination and that, first and foremost, she trusted me and would come to me before she'd ever do anything, most particularly before she'd leave me....”
She'd promised. She knew his aversion to opening up to the once-in-a-lifetime kind of love a second time. Even after he'd been lucky enough to find such a love twice in one lifetime. She'd known he'd rather die than go through losing a second wife.
“You live your love, Max. I don't think I've ever met a man as true to your marriage and commitments, as true to your heart, as you are. You give yourself to a woman and you are all hers.”
Again he shook his head. “I'd convinced myself we'd had some divine connection,” he said slowly, helping himself to the rest of her bottle of beer and barely noticing when she got up to get two more. The last two.
“But I'm beginning to think that it was only thatâme convincing myselfâand not some larger-than-life love holding us together. I needed to believe it was there so that I could believe it would hold us together no matter what, even after death. That way I'd never lose her. After Jill...I couldn't love another woman if I was going to lose her.
“My conviction was fear-based,” he said now, his bare foot accidentally brushing up against Chantel's laced hiking boot under the table. Even in the summer Chantel wore jeans and hiking boots.
He'd never asked why.
“You're saying you didn't love Meredith?” she asked.
“Hell, no! Of course I loved her. Love her,” he corrected himself.
“So you're doubting that she loved you.”
“No, I'm realizing that love isn't always strong enough to overcome all the challenges life hands us. Meredith left me of her own accord, Chantel. You were right. She came here today for a reason. She left me...something. And now I know.”
“What do you know?”
“That our love wasn't strong enough to overcome her fears. Or, I guess, mine either. I let mine bury my head in the sand rather than helping her deal with hers.”
“So you don't think Steve is behind her leaving? Because I have to tell you, that's one bad dude, and I don't think any of us are going to stop hunting him at this point, whether Meredith wants to be with him, or is running from him or even has anything to do with him at all. The man is a danger and has to be taken off the streets.”
“Of course Steve is behind it,” Max said, needing to be completely clear on that one. He didn't want one ounce of energy taken from the hunt and was very clear on that point. He added, “Steve Smith was very clearly the impetus for Meri's deciding that it would be best for Caleb that she leave us. I'm just not certain that he's a current physical threat to her. Our marriage failedâI wasn't up to the task of being married to a woman who'd spent years being hunted like an animal.”
The soft feminine fingers that covered his weren't a comfort. “Hey,” Chantel said. “Don't be so hard on yourself.”
“I didn't push her enough about all of the details of her past,” he said. “I told myself it was because it upset her to talk about it and she'd been through counseling and knew what was best for her. I told myself I was respecting her. But the truth is I didn't push because I didn't want to know. I didn't want to have to worry. Or be afraid of losing her.”
“You had every reason to believe that her past was in the past,” Chantel said, sounding like a cop now. A professional. Not someone saying what she had to say to comfort a friend. “Victims of abuse leave their situations every single day, Max, and many, many of them move on to new relationships. Healthy and happy relationships. With and without formal counseling. And, as you said, it had been quite some time since Smith had shown up. It was entirely possible that he'd moved on. Or that the restraining order had finally convinced him, a lawman, that he'd best leave her alone. They're all valid thoughts, Max. And we still have no proof that Smith is back in the picture. We only know he's a man who has committed atrocious crimes and needs to be off the streets.”
All true. But....
“It takes two to allow a marriage to crumble,” she added. And he nodded.
Meri had made mistakes, too. He got that. Maybe she hadn't tried hard enough to help him understand the magnitude of the horrors she had gone through. Certainly she hadn't trusted him. Or given them the chance to work through this latest crisis together before she'd just taken off.
But ultimately, the failure of his marriage rested with him. He'd refused to see the ugliness that his wife had lived with every single day. He'd wanted to pretend and he'd encouraged her to pretend, too.
“Let me ask you something.” Chantel's soft voice could have been a caress. He hadn't moved his hand from beneath hers and she didn't move it either.
He raised a brow to encourage her to continue if she really wanted to. He wasn't going to ask what she wanted. Wasn't going to encourage her that completely.
“Did you marry Meredith first and foremost because you were in love with her and didn't want to live without her, or because she was safe?”
“Safe how? I don't understand what you're getting at.”
“Safe in that she didn't take risks. Her main priority was to keep your family and your home safe. Because safety, according to you, and from what I've seen here, is everything to Meredith.”
He was head over heels in love with Meri. More even than he'd been with Jill, not that he'd tell that to Jill's best friend.
But was that why he'd asked her to marry him?
He wanted it to be. Wanted to be sure that he'd asked her to be his wife only because he'd loved her and not because he'd also loved her determination to always put safety first.
He just wasn't sure.
And did it matter at this point? He'd lost her.
He just couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe his marriage was over.
But then it had taken him a couple of years to believe that Jill was gone, too, and he'd seen her pool of blood in the street.
“I don't know,” he finally told Chantel, pulling his hand from beneath hers to pick up his beer bottle and take a long swig.
She drank, too, watching him, and as she put her bottle down, her expression changed. Like something had come over her.
“I'm going to say something,” she told him, looking him straight in the eye with a voice that was strong and sure.
He waited.
“After Jill died, I thought about calling you, about coming around, but I thought I needed to give you a chance to grieve for her. To heal and be ready to move on. I waited too long and you found Meredith and I thought I'd lost my chance. So I just want it known, right now, that when the dust settles and you get this figured out...if you end up single again, I want to be the first in line.”