Before We Were Strangers

by Brenda Novak

  “Sloane can take care of that for him. She has lots of money. And everything that’s happening is her fault.”

  He held the document out and pulled a pen from the cup that held several at her register. “Come on.”

  “This isn’t right,” she said. “I can’t do it.”

  He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I promise you’ll be sorry if you don’t.”

  She scowled at him. “I don’t care. I want you to get out of my store. I have to pick up my son.”

  He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but you’re forcing my hand,” he said and pulled out several photographs from inside his jacket, which he spread on the counter for her to see.

  Paige gasped. He had photographs of her at his house, when they were in the bedroom, only they were taken from a vantage point that made it seem as though the camera was outside the bedroom, as though someone was spying on them while they had sex and was snapping those shots.

  “How’d you get these?” she cried.

  “Obviously, I had a camera set up, although I’ve since removed it. That’s the downside to this, why I would rather not have had to go this far. I’m going to miss that camera.”

  She scarcely heard him. Her ears were ringing too loudly. If these photos were to get out, Trevor’s teachers would see them, his friends’ parents, his baseball coaches. And the religious sector of Millcreek would never shop at Little Bae Bae again. It would ruin her business, her self-respect, her whole life.

  Staggering back, she bumped into the wall. “You’re in these shots, too,” she managed to choke out. “Surely, you can’t want anyone to see them. What about your reelection?”

  He took his time glancing through them, a wistful expression on his face. It was all she could do not to snatch them away and destroy them, but she knew he could easily print more. He wouldn’t have made it that easy for her. “I doubt it’ll hurt my reelection,” he said. “Because I’m in the pictures, too, no one will suspect I took them in the first place, or leaked them. And since I got to choose which pictures to use, I’ve made sure none of them show me in an unflattering light. You look like you’re enjoying that dildo, though.”

  He’d chosen the most humiliating photos he could for her. “Oh my God. You set me up!”

  “Come on, don’t take it too hard. A lot of the guys in town will be turned on by this. That’s something, isn’t it?”

  Hot tears gathered in her eyes. No one would ever forget it.

  He pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief—the pretentious bastard, as if anyone carried one of those these days—but she refused to take it. “Suit yourself,” he said and shoved it back in his pocket before handing her the pen and sliding that complaint in front of her again.

  She couldn’t even read it for her tears, but after she wiped her eyes and the words came into focus, she realized that she’d be accusing Micah of something far worse than using his cruiser as his personal vehicle. “It says here he held his service revolver to my head!”

  “You know how some couples fight,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Micah will hate me,” she murmured as she stared down at it.

  “Oh brother,” he said. “Don’t let that upset you. I’m pretty sure he already does.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Sloane hadn’t been able to get hold of Paige. She’d tried half a dozen times—both calling and texting—and received no response. Once she returned from Dallas, she even went by Paige’s house.

  It was dark inside and no one came to the door. She went to the boutique after, but it was closed and empty; Paige wasn’t working late. Although Sloane considered driving by Paige’s parents’ house, she didn’t feel comfortable going over there, in case Trevor had told his mother about finding her in Micah’s kitchen on Sunday.

  Since Paige wasn’t responding after being so eager to find out if Sloane was okay, Sloane could only assume she was angry, and there was nothing she could to do change what’d happened earlier.

  If she was being honest, she wouldn’t change it even if she had the choice. Being with Micah had been beyond anything she’d ever experienced, especially after missing him for so long. Maybe he was different in some ways she had yet to discover, and she’d been crazy to sleep with him so soon after coming back into his life. She told herself she couldn’t really know him after a decade of having no contact. But he felt like home, as if she knew him better than anyone else on earth, and that made it all too easy to fall back into his arms, especially because he’d made it clear that he’d never wanted to lose her.

  She tried dialing Micah to tell him that she was fairly certain Paige was onto them, but she couldn’t reach him, either, which was odd. He was the one who’d told her to stay in touch—and now he wouldn’t pick up? She grew uneasy when he didn’t return her call for more than an hour, but, assuming he was busy with work and would get back to her as soon as he could, she used the time to move from the motel to his house. She didn’t bother trying to keep her room at The Wagon Wheel, didn’t leave her car in their lot as a decoy. Since she planned to tell Paige that she was staying with Micah, there was no need to pretend.

  As soon as she put her suitcase in Micah’s bedroom—she didn’t know how long she’d be staying so she didn’t unpack—she pulled on some sweats and walked out to the kitchen, where she set up her computer and went online to see if she could find out anything about scuba diving in Lake Granbury.

  It wasn’t a popular destination for divers, so there wasn’t much information, but she found a website where one guy had posted about it. According to him, it was thirty-six to forty feet deep with a clay-muck bottom and visibility under five feet. That wasn’t ideal. And with a lot of submerged trees and trotlines, which were used to catch catfish and had as many as fifty hooks along several feet of fishing line, it could be difficult to navigate, maybe even dangerous if she were to get caught up in it. She wasn’t going to mention that to Micah, however. She was too determined to make the dive.

  After she knew what to expect, and couldn’t find any more information, anyway, she closed her computer and glanced at the clock. Why hadn’t Micah called?

  She was about to get her phone so that she could try to reach him again when she heard keys at the door and stood in anticipation. He’d said his shift didn’t end until midnight, so what was he doing home?

  “Micah?” she yelled, to be sure the person she heard was him.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” he called back before the lock clicked and he swung open the door.

  She hurried toward him. Now that she’d given in to the desire she’d felt for so long, she was eager to touch him again, to hold him.

  But she could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong, so she stopped before she reached him. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been suspended from the force,” he said as he stalked into the kitchen and threw his keys on the counter.

  He was livid. She’d never seen him like this.

  A cold fear swept through her. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m talking about my job.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. “I’m suspended pending an investigation.”

  She came to stand at the opening of the kitchen, watching as he pulled the tab and took a long drink. “For what?”

  He wiped his mouth. “Paige is accusing me of holding my gun to her head while we were having an argument.”

  “Are you kidding? You would never do anything like that!”

  “Well, I wish they’d take your word for it, because you’re right. Nothing like that ever happened. Paige and I certainly argued. It seemed like we were fighting almost every day there at the end, which is why I finally left. She was so possessive, absolutely obsessed with the idea that I was going to cheat on her. But my service weapon never came into it.”

  “So why would she say i
t did?”

  He tipped his beer at her. “Why do you think?”

  “But I didn’t tell her about us, Micah,” Sloane said, and now she was glad. “I was going to. But I haven’t been able to reach her, and I’ve tried several times. She hasn’t responded. For that matter, I couldn’t reach you, either.”

  “I couldn’t answer. I was too busy fighting for my job. Chief Adler called me back to the station to inform me of Paige’s accusations and to tell me he will be personally investigating my ‘behavior.’”

  “Chief Adler should be investigating my father’s behavior, not yours!”

  “This is the result of Paige’s jealousy. I can’t escape it, even after the divorce.”

  “But why would she go after your job? She depends on you to pay child support.”

  A muscle moved in his cheek. “It’s your father. He’s behind this somehow, too.”

  “You think they’re in on it together?”

  “That’s all I can figure. Colt, a friend of mine on the force, told me your father was trying to get me fired. He overheard him on the phone with our chief. Ed must’ve realized it would make Paige mad if we were to get back together, so he convinced her to exact a little revenge by signing that complaint.”

  Sloane raked her fingers through her hair. “I feel so terrible. I knew better than to let you get involved, but I did it anyway.”

  He set his beer on the counter. “Don’t talk like that. Come here.” Stepping forward, he pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. “We’ll fight them,” he said. “We’ll fight them both.”

  “But what can we do? What if Chief Adler believes her—or pretends to in order to give my father what he wants?”

  “I’m hoping they’ll question Trevor, and that they’ll believe what he says.”

  Trevor was nine, only four years older than she was when her mother went missing. No one had thought to ask her if she’d heard or seen anything unusual—or what she thought happened that night. They assumed she’d have no input, or that the input she did have couldn’t be trusted because she was only a child.

  She feared they’d ignore what Trevor had to say, too, or claim that Micah must’ve done it when Trevor wasn’t around. If that happened, it would come down to Paige’s word against Micah’s, and with Sloane’s father—the mayor, no less—putting pressure on Chief Adler to kick Micah off the force...

  Sloane knew which direction this would go.

  Slipping out of Micah’s arms, she marched across the living room toward the bedroom so she could get dressed.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, following her.

  “To my father’s. I won’t let this happen.”

  “Arguing with him won’t help. So why put yourself in a position to be hurt?” He tried to catch her shoulder, but she dodged his grasp.

  “Because I have to do something! I won’t let him hurt me through you.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out a way to hold him accountable.”

  She didn’t bother to turn back. “How? I’ve always felt so powerless with him—since I was just a girl,” she said as they reached the bedroom. “All I ever wanted was to feel he was a good man, to be able to admire him and believe in him.” She peeled off her sweats and began rifling through her suitcase. “But some people are simply not good people. You’d like to see the best in them, but it’s not there. That’s a tough realization when talking about your only parent, but it’s high time I accepted that as fact. I’ve been treading softly, hoping I’m wrong, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, and he’s used even that to his advantage.”

  She snatched up a bra and started to put it on, but Micah closed the distance between them, took it from her grasp and tossed it aside. “I don’t want you anywhere near him,” he said.

  “I have to let him know how I feel. I have to tell him that I will never forgive him for going after you, and I won’t rest until I find my mother. If he’s responsible for her death, I’m going to make sure he rots in prison for the rest of his life!”

  “Let’s not tell him what we’re going to do, Sloane. Let’s show him.”

  “We’ll do that, too. But I no longer have any reason to hold back. God, I’ve been acting like the little girl I used to be who tried so hard to please him, to finally meet his expectations and receive his approval. I’ve been fighting with one hand tied behind my back. And why? He doesn’t love me. He never has.”

  “He may not love you.” He gripped her shoulders to get her to stop moving and look him in the eye. “But I do.”

  She gaped at him. “How can you say that?”

  “How can I not say it? It’s obvious!”

  “But look what I’ve put you through! And now there’s this!”

  “Sloane, if anyone asked me which means the most to me—you or my job—there’d be no question. I’ll get by somehow, because what I really want is standing here in front of me. Nothing has changed for me. I’ve loved you since we were in high school. If I haven’t been able to get over you in ten years, I’m pretty sure I never will.”

  His words frightened her at the same time she felt a flicker of hope. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said. “And I’m afraid that’s what I’ll do. Again. If I can’t hold my father responsible, if he continues on the way he’s been, I’ll begin to feel I have to escape this place, escape him and my brother and the memories of my mother, and I’ll leave, Micah. I don’t see any love as being strong enough to block all that.”

  His hand slid up her bare stomach. “You’re selling love short. Your dad didn’t know how to love. But I’m not your dad, and I’m not eighteen anymore.” He held her chin with his other hand so she couldn’t look away from him. “You can rely on me.”

  “Why would you ever let me rely on you? That’s the question! I’ve only been back a week, and I’m already destroying your life!”

  “No, you’re not. We’ll get through this. We deserve the chance to be together, if that’s what you want, too.”

  “I would like nothing better, but...”

  “But what? There’s nothing standing between us. Not anymore. Paige already knows. She must, or she wouldn’t have lodged that complaint. Don’t give her or your father even more power by allowing them to come between us. That’s one way we can beat him, beat them both, even if we can’t do anything else—by living our lives and finding happiness in spite of the roadblocks they’ve thrown in our path.”

  “Happiness? That’s just it! He’ll make us both miserable if I stay.”

  “It doesn’t have to go that way. Let’s fight for what we have, Sloane, for what we feel,” he said, and she closed her eyes as he lowered his head to kiss her.

  * * *

  Nothing had happened. Why? What was taking so long?

  It was almost ten, well past dark with a stout breeze adding a chill to the air and moving the dried leaves on the ground, when Vickie Winters stood at her mailbox, frowning at the much bigger house down the street while pretending to sift through the letters in her hand. Ed was home. She’d heard him come past her place in his newest Corvette—the cherry red one; she’d seen it after hurrying over to part the drapes. He’d been going way too fast, as usual. He didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble. Laws didn’t apply to him.

  But that was going to change. He’d cast her aside so long ago, had quit taking any notice of her at all, which was fine. She didn’t care about that. It was the damage he’d done before she resented, how he’d wrecked her life without a second thought and now seemed to find her so beneath him he didn’t even deign to acknowledge her if they crossed paths.

  He had zero remorse. He’d willfully done as much damage as he could and walked away without a backward glance.

  She watched a light come on in the second story of his house while remembering the first time he’d ever taken notice of
her. Although they’d briefly met here and there as neighbors before, the day she’d bumped into him on the sidewalk as he was coming out of his garage and she was pushing Sarah in her wheelchair down at that end of the cul de sac had been different. She’d been trying to get her daughter some sun, something she herself had needed to lift her spirits, and he’d stopped to smile and joke with her—so handsome and self-assured.

  Ed being Ed, he probably could’ve charmed any woman. She’d watched it happen over and over with others since. That was her only consolation. She wasn’t the last fool to fall for his act. But she’d been especially vulnerable in those days, which was why she still held it against him. After she’d had Sarah, she’d become almost invisible to her husband—and everyone else, it seemed. She didn’t live near family, and all Dean did was work, often out of state, leaving her to struggle through each day caring for their special needs daughter alone and without respite, gratitude or love.

  Dean had been a selfish bastard. She didn’t miss him. But no one was worse than Ed. Ed fell into a whole other category. She believed he was a true sociopath, and she wasn’t going to let him continue to escape the consequences for his misdeeds.

  She’d told him that once, and he’d laughed in her face. But he’d see that she was no one to be trifled with, that she was more than the weak, powerless woman he’d used down the street.

  Shoving her mail into one pocket of her jacket, she pulled her cell phone from the other. She and Sloane had exchanged contact information, so Vickie had her number. She’d expected to hear from Ed’s daughter by now. What she’d told Sloane should’ve launched a police investigation, but there’d been no word.

  At the risk of seeming overly interested, she looked Sloane up in her contacts and sent the call as she went back into the house. It was late to be bothering people, but Vickie had waited twenty-three years for the right moment to give Ed what was coming to him, and she was running out of patience.