Authors: Barbara Freethy
"What was her story?"
He frowned. "You really want to hear all this?"
"I'm curious."
"Are you never not curious?" he countered.
"Rarely," she admitted. "Did Stephanie date Kurt Halstead?"
"No, she worked with him at his grandfather's investment company. They were friends, and he asked her out a few times, but Stephanie had started dating Spencer so she said no. She'd find flowers on her desk at work. She'd get text messages from Kurt asking her to meet up for drinks or lunch, some of those implying that he could help her get ahead at her job if she came to talk to him. She felt like Kurt was always watching her. On the weekends, he'd show up wherever she was. On a couple of occasions, she thought he followed her home. She didn't want to say anything to anyone, because she was afraid she'd lose her job."
"That sounds a little ambiguous."
"It got worse. More phone calls, some hang-ups, footsteps showing up in the mud outside of their first floor window. Spencer called me about it, and I told him to go to the police. But he said Stephanie didn't want him to do that. She was very focused on her career. She didn't think they had enough proof. But then proof arrived. Stephanie received an envelope at work with three photos inside. They were all of her—one as she unlocked her apartment door, another at the gym where she worked out and a third taken outside a restaurant where she was having drinks with girlfriends. There were words written on each photograph, all adjectives:
beautiful, gorgeous, hot
. That's when she realized that someone was watching her every move."
"What happened next?" Emma asked, caught up in the story.
"Stephanie showed Spencer the photos. He was livid. He wanted to go after Kurt, but Stephanie said she would take the pictures to the police. She left the apartment, but she didn't go to the police that night; she went to her boss's apartment. She wanted to get his advice on what to do."
"Didn't he tell her to go to the police?"
"No. He told her she'd better make sure it was Kurt before she accused him of anything, or her career could be ruined."
Emma frowned. "That's terrible advice."
"Unfortunately, while Stephanie was at her boss's house, Kurt showed up outside her apartment building. He was leaving a floral arrangement by her front door. He didn't realize Spencer was there. I think he thought they were out together. Spencer saw him and came outside. He confronted him on the steps. They started to argue. Spencer pushed Kurt. Kurt pushed back, and the fight was on. It ended two punches later when Kurt hit his head on the pavement. Neighbors called the police, and Spencer was arrested. Kurt died later that night without ever regaining consciousness." Max blew out a breath as he finished the story.
Emma considered his words for a long moment. "It doesn't really sound like Spencer did anything that wrong."
"That's because I'm telling you his side of the story. The prosecutor twisted everything. He produced witnesses who said that Kurt was afraid of Spencer, that Kurt and Stephanie were just friends but Spencer was insanely jealous. It went on and on. And the one person who could have really made a difference was Stephanie, but she fell apart."
Emma shook her head, unable to understand the other woman's actions. "Why?"
"I think it was all based on her fear of losing her job."
"Why would she want to continue working for the grandfather of the guy who'd been stalking her?"
"Spencer told me that Stephanie grew up in foster care. She was dirt poor, homeless at one point. She was obsessed with money and security. She finally had it, and she didn't want to lose it."
"But she was willing to send her boyfriend to jail?"
He shrugged. "I don't think she thought it would go down that way. None of us did."
"She didn't continue to work at the company after Spencer went to jail, did she?"
"Yes, she did," he said.
Emma stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, come on. Seriously?"
"The Halsteads didn't blame her. After all, her testimony got Spencer convicted."
"And this is the woman your brother harbors no ill will towards?"
"I don't know what he's thinking."
"Is Stephanie still in San Francisco?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She she saw the worry in his eyes. "Your brother wouldn't try to see her again?"
"I hope not. She's married and has a child. I told Spencer that. But he didn’t promise me he wouldn’t look her up. And she's obviously still on his mind."
"He's probably still asking himself why she did that to him. Did they stay together after Spencer went to prison?"
"No. Spencer says he broke it off. He couldn't handle the look on her face when she came to visit." He took a breath. "I'm not entirely sure it was all him though. He might be saving face. It's quite possible she dumped him. I just want him to stay away from her now. He doesn't need more trouble. And she is trouble." He ran a hand through his hair. "But will Spencer listen to me? I highly doubt it."
Emma understood his frustration. She'd felt powerless when it came to her siblings, especially her brothers. "It's going to be his choice," she said.
"I know."
"Were you and Spencer close when you were young?"
He shook his head. "Not really. There was a gap of four years between us. After my father took off, Spencer wasn't my brother anymore; he was a pseudo father figure. He told me what to do, and expected me to do it. Occasionally, we broke out of those roles, usually when we were surfing. That's when I thought Spencer was incredibly cool."
She smiled. "Is he like you—patient enough to wait for the right wave?"
"No. Spencer would have ten rides in before I had one. We approached life very differently."
"Maybe you should go surfing with him again, bring back some good memories."
"It's November," he protested. "It's cold."
She smiled. "With family, there's always a price. You can wear a wet suit."
"I'll think about it. I'd probably make more of a difference in his life if I helped him get a job. It won't be easy. He killed someone. Very few people want to work with a murderer."
"It was a fight that got out of control. I don't think I'd call your brother a murderer."
"Because I told you his story, but if you were looking at a resume…"
"I get it. But surely someone will give him a break." As she thought about whether or not she had any connections, her gaze came to rest on Mary, who was sitting on a high stool behind the cash register, absent-mindedly stroking her pregnant belly. "Why not here?" she said. "They're looking for a part-time clerk to cover while Mary is on maternity leave. It would be three months, probably minimum wage, but it would get your brother on the road to something."
Max frowned. "You don't need to get involved in helping my brother find a job."
"Why not?"
"Because we're already a little too involved." His gaze met hers. "I think we both know that."
"I'm just making a suggestion that could help your brother. It's not a big deal."
"Do you think Gus would hire an ex-con?"
She nodded. "Gus
is
an ex-con. He ran with gangs when he was young, and he got into trouble stealing cars. But he got his life together. I think he'd be the perfect person to consider giving your brother a second chance. I can ask him if you want."
"You do like to be in the middle of things, don't you?"
"I was born in the middle. Well, actually, that's not true. I started out as the baby, but after my mother married and had more children, I ended up in the fourth position out of eight. So I'm pretty comfortable being in the middle and getting into everyone's business. But in this case, it's a matter of practicality. I know Gus. You don't. My recommendation will go farther."
"You don't know Spencer."
"Then maybe I should meet him."
She could see in his gaze that that's the last thing he wanted to have happen.
"Let's put the idea on hold. Gus has a line, and I want to head over to St. Andrew's to speak to Ruth Harbough."
"She's working today?"
"She said Sister Margaret would want life to go on and responsibilities to be met."
"I can't remember a day in school when Mrs. Harbough wasn't at the front desk when I arrived. I'll go with you."
"All right," he said slowly.
"Trying to think of a reason to say no?" she challenged.
He tipped his head and a smile spread across his face. That smile made her catch her breath and doubt the wisdom of her latest decision, but Max was already getting to his feet. And she did want to talk to Mrs. Harbough.
As they walked out of the deli, Emma was stunned to see her ex-boyfriend approaching. This was no chance meeting. There was purpose in Jon's walk and in his gaze. He'd obviously come looking for her. She really needed to let her assistant know that giving out her lunch whereabouts was a bad idea. Not that Jon couldn't have figured it out on his own; she'd been eating at the Second Street Deli three times a week for the last year.
"Who's that?" Max asked, giving her a quizzical look.
"Jon," she ground out.
"That's your ex? The one who has been texting you non-stop?"
"Yes."
She hadn't seen Jon in several weeks, and she waited for some kind of feeling to hit her—sadness, anger, or relief. But oddly she felt nothing. She felt neutral. His expensive suit, his golden blond hair and hazel-colored eyes didn't ignite any lingering sparks. She felt like she was looking at a stranger, not someone she'd shared an apartment with. The heavy feeling left her chest. She was over him.
Apparently, he wasn't over her.
Chapter Nine
"I finally tracked you down," Jon said, anger in his voice. He shot Max a sharp look. "Who's this?"
"This is Max Harrison," Emma answered. "He's an inspector with the SFPD. We're working on a case together."
With her explanation, Jon immediately dismissed Max, turning back to Emma. "I need to speak to you."
"We have nothing left to say."
Jon looked back at Max. "Do you mind? This is a private conversation."
"You're the one who interrupted a private conversation," Max said. "You heard Emma. She has nothing to say, so move along."
While Emma appreciated the defense, she was also annoyed by it. She could take care of herself.
"We're done, Jon. I'm going on with my life, and you need to do the same," she said.
"How can you turn your back on everything we had? We were going to get married."
"You never actually asked me to marry you," she reminded him.
"It was understood."
"A lot of things were
understood
," she said. "Fidelity for one. You cheated on me, and no matter how many times you say you're sorry, it won't change what happened."
"You're a cold bitch."
At Jon's harsh words, Max said, "That's enough." He took a step forward, but Emma caught his arm.
"I've got this," she told Max. "If that's what you think of me, Jon, then why are you here?"
Jon blew out a breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Can't you see that all we do is hurt each other?"
"It wasn't always this way." His expression went from angry to pleading. "I know I messed up. You were the best thing that ever happened to me."
"No, that's not true," she said, shaking her head. "I wasn't right for you, and you weren't right for me. We didn't work, and you know that. I don't understand why you're suddenly acting like this, but it has to stop. We have to say goodbye and wish each other well."
Jon stared back at her, as if he couldn't believe the finality of her words. "Emma…"
"Goodbye Jon." She turned and walked down the street, hoping Jon wouldn't follow her. When she got to the corner, only Max was by her side. She glanced over her shoulder. Jon was gone.
"Where are you parked?" she asked.
"Right over there."
"Let's take your car."
"You must be shaken up if you're willing to let me drive," he said, as they crossed the street.
"I'm okay. I'm sorry you had to be a part of that."
"What did you see in that guy?"
She gave him a weak smile. "He has some good qualities. I can't remember what they are right now."
"Do you think he's going to accept your goodbye?"
"I can't imagine why he wouldn't. It's not like he's short on dates. He's got plenty of women who would love to be Mrs. Jon Wickmore the third."
"That title is way too pretentious for you." He paused. "If he contacts you again, Emma, let me know."
"Why?"
"He could be dangerous."
"He's not dangerous, Max. He's just obstinate. You don't need to worry about it."
"I've seen this kind of thing go down more than once, and annoying can turn to dangerous."
"Are you referring to your brother's case?"
He looked surprised by the question. "Actually, I wasn't, but now that you mention it, there are some similarities."
"It's completely different, and don't forget I have five brothers. I'm a tough girl and a cold bitch, according to Jon. I can handle myself. Trust me."
Max opened the door of the gray sedan he drove on the job, and she slipped into the front seat. As they headed toward St. Andrew's, she told herself that Max's worry was misplaced. She knew Jon. He was acting like a spoiled child who'd had his favorite toy taken away. He'd get over it. Jon was not dangerous.
Max was overreacting. She could understand it, because in his job he saw the worst in people. In her job, that was also sometimes true. But she still liked to believe that deep down most people were more good than bad.
* * *
"It looks like they're getting the classrooms back in shape," Emma commented as Max parked in front of the kindergarten playground.
"That was fast," Max remarked, his gaze narrowing at the sight of a familiar figure coming out of the classroom with a paint tray and a roller in his hand. "Isn't that your friend from the bar?"
"Tony," she said, surprise in her voice. "I wonder what he's doing here."
"Looks like he's painting. Is that his job?"