Plain Refuge. Janice Kay Johnson
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“DECIDED TO BOLT with your cut of the money, did you?” asked Detective Ray Estevez, his manner as insulting as his words.
Rebecca Gregory stared in disbelief at the man she had allowed into her apartment. Had he just accused her of being complicit in a crime? Thank goodness Matthew wasn’t home! At five, her son was too young to understand the accusation, but he’d have picked up on the tone. Would Detective Estevez have bothered to restrain himself with a child in earshot?
“Or do you and Stowe plan to hook up once the investigation goes cold?” he continued, dark eyes flat and mouth curling in what she took for contempt.
Rebecca stiffened. What a creep. Steven Stowe, her former husband’s business partner, had disappeared after embezzling millions of dollars from their construction firm. Why would this detective imagine for a minute that she had conspired with Steven, or had anything but the most distant relationship with him?
“I have never so much as had lunch with Steven Stowe without Tim present,” she said icily.
“Yeah? Then why’d you leave your husband?”
Managing to meet his stare, she said, “That is between Tim and me.” And, really, her marriage was irrelevant to any investigation, even though the separation had been precipitated by the tension surrounding the embezzlement.
In retrospect, she knew their marriage had already been in trouble when, several months ago, Tim’s behavior changed. She knew now that he’d been hit by mysterious and crippling financial problems in the construction firm he had founded with Steven and another partner, Josh Griffen. Then, all she’d known was that the ridiculous hours he worked stretched even longer. He seldom bothered to spend time with his wife and son and brushed off her concern. Worried, frustrated, occasionally angry, he refused to even acknowledge there was a problem, not to her. What sex life they had left her feeling used. In fact, he’d shut her out so completely it became obvious she held no meaningful role in his life. Increasingly, she saw that he had never really talked to her, not the way her parents had to each other.
Rebecca had taken her wedding vows seriously. She had sworn to stick with him through these troubles. So she’d kept quiet and made excuses to their five-year-old son when he asked why Daddy was mad or never home.
Except then one of the three partners vanished and it came out that he’d embezzled a great deal of money. Tim’s reaction? Not grief at the betrayal committed by a friend. Oh, no. The day after the news of Steven’s disappearance hit the San Francisco Chronicle, Tim had bounded into the house in a great mood, swung her in a circle and ebulliently told her they wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again.
She had looked at him and thought, I don’t understand or know who you are, this man who is relieved, even joyous, because his partner and friend has fled with millions of dollars. As if that solved all his problems.
She could no longer love a stranger whose ethics she doubted.
But she didn’t know anything. And she couldn’t understand what had precipitated the lead investigator to grill her.
“Funny timing to leave your husband,” he shot back.
She had to say something. “Tim had been under stress for months while he and Josh and Steven tried to understand what was wrong. That...exacerbated our issues.” Wonderful. She sounded like a marriage counselor or a self-help book.
Estevez tipped the chair back, letting her know not so subtly that he had settled in and would stay as long as he felt inclined. “When did he explain the problems at work?”
“The day after Steven disappeared.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “You expect me to believe that? You were living with the guy!”
She had been, and it still hurt, remembering how unimportant she’d been to the man who was supposed to love her. Rebecca would be ashamed of herself for staying as long as she had with him, given the way he treated her, but she had been raised to believe marriage was forever. Despite the months of estrangement, if she had been sure he really loved her, she could have forgiven a lot.
Now, she raised her eyebrows. “Believe me or not, it’s the truth.”
“You’re a cool one, aren’t you?” He did not sound admiring.
Detective Estevez was of average height, but he was built like a bull, his neck thick, his shoulders powerful. He kept asking questions to which she had no answers. His temper heated. He slammed the legs of the chair back on the floor and planted his forearms on the table so he could lean forward until his sneering face filled her field of vision. He shouted. He wondered aloud what would happen to her kid when she went to prison.
But she couldn’t tell him what she didn’t know. She didn’t have the money; she had never felt close to either of Tim’s partners, even though one or the other had dined at the house every few weeks until those last months, when she scarcely saw them.
“You’re wasting your time,” she said.
He snapped, “I’ll decide that.”
When he ran out of questions, he glared at her for what had to be a full minute. Rebecca laced her trembling fingers on her lap and stared back at him with the pretense of composure.
At last he shoved himself to his feet, eyes narrowed. After flinging a business card on the table, he said, “I’ll be watching you.”
She didn’t respond—didn’t move—until she heard the apartment door close behind him.
And then she hugged herself and tried to understand why Detective Estevez had wasted time on her when Steven Stowe was the embezzler.
* * *
FOUR MONTHS LATER, Rebecca let herself into this house for what she prayed would be the last time. Their house—Tim’s house now. No, she’d be here to drop off Matthew for visits or pick him up, but that would be different.
And visits were all that Matthew’s stays with his father would be. With resolve, she buried the whiff of fear that she would lose their custody battle.
Once she closed and locked the front door behind her, the silence was so complete that her footsteps on the marble floor of the foyer seemed to echo. Something about that silence gave her goose bumps, even though she had expected the house to be empty. Housekeeping staff had always been part-time.
As Rebecca walked from room to room, she marveled that she’d ever called this place home. Tim had been so excited about building it for them that she’d had to be careful about what she said. He’d ignored her gentle suggestions. An architectural magazine had run a feature on it because the design and function were cutting-edge. Naturally, the finest materials were used. It had just never come to feel homey to her. How could it, with six bedrooms, five bathrooms? To her, it felt like living in a hotel.
Would Tim have listened if she’d spoken out more strongly from the beginning? Rebecca smiled sadly. She could only imagine his expression if she’d said, “For God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble.” She had strayed so far from her roots that she couldn’t remember the whole quote, but knew there was something about clothing yourself in humility, too.
Pride, Tim understood. Humility wouldn’t be a virtue in his eyes.
There was so much she hadn’t let herself see when she’d foolishly fallen in love.
In the most recent meeting held at a law firm with both their attorneys present, Tim had told her to take anything from the house she wanted. Typical, she’d thought, feeling a mix of amusement and annoyance. He couldn’t look stingy in front of the attorneys. Once he had understood really, truly, that reconciliation wasn’t an option—something which had taken months—he’d been generous with financial settlements, as