Читать книгу Husband by Choice - Tara Quinn Taylor - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

MAX PUT HIS son to bed right on time. Routine was important. Keeping Caleb’s boundaries the same would give him a sense of security.

Max needed the toddler asleep so he’d quit asking for his mother.

The boy complied with relative ease. Almost convincing Max that he was overreacting— panicking too soon.

She’d left the keys in the car. Not under the seat, which she’d stipulated would be her sign if she was running from Steve, but in the cup holder. That had to mean something.

He wandered through the rooms of their home. Hearing her laughter at the bottom of the stairs. In the living room it was her assertion that one maroon wall would give the place more life—she’d been right.

Because he’d insisted that Meri would have talked to him if she’d truly wanted out of their marriage, or maybe because she’d felt sorry for him, Chantel had agreed to use her off-duty time to continue looking for Meri, following up on all leads, making calls, attempting to locate Steve Smith who’d left detective work and had fallen off the grid....

The kitchen reverberated with the echo of excitement in his wife’s voice as she rattled off the money she’d saved with her shoppers card and coupons—money that they both provided in excess of their needs.

Eventually he wound up in their bedroom. And turned right around and headed back out again. Caleb was still sleeping in a crib. He wouldn’t be up wandering in the night, looking for his parents to be in their bed. No risk of him finding it empty and being frightened.

The guest bedroom wasn’t finished yet. A bedframe, mattress and bedding. An empty nightstand that Meri had seen at a sale and had to have because it reminded her of her childhood, back before the car accident that had taken her family from her—both parents and her younger brother.

Without turning on the lamp, he sank down onto the edge of the bed. And because it was the most sensible thing to do, he slowly lowered his head to the pillow.

He hadn’t brushed his teeth. Was still wearing scrubs minus the lab coat and purple tennis shoes. But sleep was wise.

Hands behind his head, he closed his eyes. Opened them again. And found himself staring at the ceiling, looking for a pattern in the circle of plaster he could see illuminated from the small night-light in the hall.

Ah, Meri, you didn’t have to do this.

The thought was followed by another that had him sitting straight up in bed. Maybe she’d thought she did have to do it.

Meri was always paranoid, but she knew that and took her overreactions into account before acting on anything.

She’d meant what she said in her note. Clearly he’d believed her, the way he’d been slogging around all evening feeling sorry for himself.

And Caleb.

Feeling lonely as hell and wondering how he was going to live through the loss of another wife.

What a jerk he’d been, thinking about himself, his own heartache, instead of putting Meri’s first.

She’d meant the note, but she wouldn’t have left just because she was feeling paranoid. She’d at least have talked to him first. Looked for other options. She loved them too much to just walk away out of fear that her paranoia would hurt their son in the future. They still had three years before Caleb started school. And there were other options to help her deal with her fears.

Anything could happen between now and then. Which was why she took one step at a time.

A motto she lived by. Had taught him to live by.

And all of that meant there was something else going on.

Swinging his feet to the floor, Max sat on the side of the bed in the dark. Why would she just up and leave? Their mail hadn’t arrived until four—long after she’d left the house. It had still been in the box when he got home.

No unusual calls showed up on her cell phone records—he’d checked their usage online himself.

She hadn’t logged into her email account—all of the messages had still been on the server, unread.

And that left physical confrontation.

There’d been no sign of a struggle.

So she’d gone willingly. To avoid physical harm? To herself or to him and Caleb?

Meri would give her life to protect Max or their son. But they hadn’t been threatened.

Would an abductor have waited for her to write a goodbye letter and leave her keys in the cup holder?

He would if her abductor was a determined ex-husband who would want to make certain that Max knew that she was leaving him of her own accord. Steve could have made her write the note.

But why put the keys in the cup holder instead of under the seat? If Steve didn’t know she’d hidden them, or even if he did, what could it have mattered to him whether they were in a cup holder or under a seat?

No one but he and Meri knew about the hiding place.

Which was why they’d had the predetermined keys-under-the-seat agreement. An overkill safety measure agreement, in his opinion, but one Meri had insisted on having so that they’d have a way to signal each other if the other was being taken against their will.

Leave the keys under the driver’s seat if you needed help.

She’d left her keys in the cup holder. She hadn’t taken them with her, or disposed of them, so he could imagine that she’d been unable to leave them. They’d been in the cup holder. Where she’d deliberately left them. Not under the seat.

Her message to him was clear.

She didn’t need his help.

The Meri he knew would never have left such a message.

It had to be Steve. He’d found her and she’d reverted back to the terrified woman who did as he demanded so he didn’t beat her senseless. The woman who believed that the former detective, with all of his underground contacts, was more powerful than the laws that were there to protect her. Who believed, deep down, that she’d never be free of him.

She hadn’t wanted to talk about Steve. Seeing how much it upset her—and honestly believing, after years of no sign of the ex-cop, that he posed them no danger—he hadn’t pushed her for more information.

Lying there in the dark, Max feared that in not doing so, he might have made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

* * *

DAY TWO.

Sometimes the part of me that takes on different names scares me. She’s so capable, but like an automaton. She goes through the day, doing what is expected of her, even watching for and trying to help others when opportunity or necessity presents itself.

She adapts to the situation in spite of her own needs.

And she doesn’t cry. Ever. It’s as if she can’t and that worries me. She is me and if I’m reaching the point where I can turn off so completely, I fear that my heart is really and truly dying.

Pen suspended over the page, Jenna read what she’d written. And shook her head. Sitting at the antique desk in her room just after dinner that Thursday night, she bent over her diary once again.

I just need to trust, like Max tells me so often. Jenna is impressive. She’s the part of me that holds all of my strength. And dispenses it as I need it. Today, she agreed to a group counseling session that I’ll be attending once a day for at least the next week, when all I really wanted to do, when the invitation had been offered, was shake my head and run.

I don’t need any more counseling. But I do need this time here, to mentally prepare myself to get into the psyche of a man with no moral boundaries, and to figure out when and how to meet him to somehow end his reign of terror. And if I must do counseling to keep up appearances, to maintain my cover of an abused woman seeking help, to satisfy those around me that I am getting the help I need, then so be it. After a full day here I am completely committed to my course of action and know from within the deepest chambers of my heart that I am doing what I have to do. Steve’s torment has to stop. And if I can’t find a way to make that happen—legally and for good—then I am willing to die trying.

Because if I don’t, if I live, and don’t live with Steve, Max and Caleb are at risk. Steve knows how much I love them. He knows I’d do anything for them. And he wouldn’t hesitate to use that knowledge as power against me.

Only if Steve is gone, or I am, will Max and Caleb be safe. Unless I go back to Steve. The third possibility isn’t even an option.

I choose death over life with Steve. Better to watch my boys from above (after all, what better place to watch over and protect them?) than to bring Steve’s rage into their physical space. Because I know my Max. He thinks he has all the protection we need in that small police force of his. If I’m with Steve, Max would come charging in to rescue me. And get himself killed...

Jenna’s hand came to a halt as a tear splashed onto the page. Meredith was hurting. Understandably so. And Jenna had to keep a firm hand on those emotions right now. She would be steady on her course. Reach her goal. For Max. And Caleb.

If there was an opportunity to deal with her heart and soul later, then she could cry buckets.

With her emotions once again firmly in check, Jenna glanced at her watch. She’d told Lila that she’d meet with her later that evening. Over a cup of hot tea with milk in the woman’s private on-site suite.

She’d never had hot tea with milk. And she had a sense that Lila didn’t generally invite residents into her private quarters after hours, either.

The upcoming event would consume part of the long evening ahead. But she wasn’t due in the older woman’s suite for another half an hour.

Caleb will have finished his supper by now. I picture him in his booster seat at the table with tomato soup smeared over his chin and the corners of his lips.

I can smell the soup. And see his sweet little face, those precious big brown eyes crinkled almost shut, as he lifts his mouth up to be wiped.

I can’t think about him missing me.

I also can’t picture his father’s identical eyes at the moment.

Maybe in time.

As another tear dripped onto the page, Jenna set down the pen and shut the book.

* * *

MAX HAD JUST deposited his cranky son in his crib Thursday night, turned on the monitor, the night-light, and shut the door when the doorbell rang.

Meri. Heart racing, he descended the stairs two at a time, his black canvas high-tops hardly touching the ground at all, before he realized that if his wife had returned she’d use her key, not ring the bell.

And before the thought slowed his feet, he countered it with the realization that Meri had left her keys in the cup holder of her car. He was supposed to have picked them up at the police station that afternoon but he’d had a late walk-in, a little boy with swollen adenoids and a panicky first-time mother, and the day care had been calling about Caleb’s distress and....

He was pulling open the door before it occurred to him that Meri wouldn’t have left her house key in her car for anyone to find. If someone stole her old van, oh well...but she wouldn’t take a chance on a stranger happening along and getting access to their home.

A woman stood on his front step. Her uniform, the blond hair, caught at his heart and he took a step back before he realized that she wasn’t Jill.

“Chantel,” he said, sounding as surprised as he felt. He wasn’t at his best. Had none of the infamous Bennet bedside manner.

“You look like you were on the losing end of a water fight,” she said, standing on his front porch as though it hadn’t been years since they’d seen each other.

The last time had been....

Jill’s funeral. She’d stood next to him. Squeezed his arm once. And too choked up to speak, had walked off into the sunset.

“Caleb wasn’t happy to take a bath tonight. Kept insisting that Mama do it.”

Her expression didn’t change much, but he was used to reading a female cop’s eyes. The way they’d glisten almost imperceptibly, focus a bit more, when the woman was moved.

“You decided to go with superhero today,” she said, remarking on his black, white and red superhero imprinted scrubs, that were wetter than not at the moment. The shoes matched because Meri liked it when he bothered to find the right color, which he did about half the time.

“You’re a long way from home,” he replied.

“Three hours.” She shrugged. “And I’m here on business.” Holding up her left hand, he recognized Meri’s key ring dangling there.

He snatched the ring. Not wanting anyone to wipe away what was left of Meri on those keys. Resisting the urge to raise them to his lips, he studied them for the couple of seconds it took him to get himself under control. He’d have to go get her van.

He’d gone to work that day because he hadn’t known what else to do. Chantel, people she’d called, were making some follow-up queries, but as far as they were concerned, Meri had left of her own free will.

She’d left a note. There’d been no sign of a struggle.

Didn’t matter that he knew better. Husbands always thought that.

Still, he’d referred most of his patients to another doctor at the clinic that day—a pediatrician in private practice like himself who traded duties with him whenever one or the other of them was sick or going to be gone.

He’d seen a couple of minor cases. And tried to get caught up on his reading. And on a paper he was writing for the pediatric journal, whose editors had sought him out.

“Her house key is missing.”

“It looked like it to the officers here, we just needed your confirmation that a house key had been on there in the first place. I’m guessing she kept it.” Chantel’s tone was soft, filled with a nurturing that he knew she didn’t often express. “It’s further proof that she left of her own accord, Max. An abductor isn’t going to wait for her to take a key off her ring. Just like he wouldn’t wait for her to write a note.”

“Any news on Steve Smith? Surely the man didn’t just disappear into thin air.”

Chantel’s hair bounced around her shoulders as she shook her head. “He’s not coming up in any databases,” she said, leaving Max with the feeling that their attempts to find the man had been cursory—a matter of professional courtesy only.

“Can I come in?”

He was facing another sleepless night. Alone with a panic he’d promised not to feel. He had to get her to understand that Meri was in danger.

“Sure,” he said.

And tried to pretend he didn’t notice when her hand brushed his arm as she passed.