by Kate Morris
“Victor doesn’t exactly take advice from me, Jack. And you should know that.”
“Oh, I know him all right.”
“What about the muddy footprints down by the boathouse?” Lorena quickly asked before they started arguing.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure what you mean.”
“C’mon, Liz,” he snarled. “Give us something here.”
Lorena jumped in again, feeling like a referee, “If there’s something you need to tell us about either of these men, these art dealers or your husband, then just spit it out.”
“Just contact them,” she encouraged. “It’ll just be easier that way. I don’t want to be involved in this.”
She rose quickly from her chair, and Jack grabbed her wrist and stood, as well.
“Liz, wait,” he implored. “We could use the help. This…”
His wife jerked her arm away, causing her sleeve to push back slightly.
“What the…fuck?” he said, at first softly then ending loudly on the profanity. He finished loudly enough that it drew the attention of people at another table, a rather raucous and boisterous one at that. Lorena looked at what had drawn his attention. There was bruising on Elizabeth’s wrist. He pulled her gently toward him and grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“And this?” he asked and smudged the heavy makeup on her chin, revealing a matching bruise that was nearly completely faded. “I wondered why you were wearing so much goop. Is that asshole hitting you?”
Lorena was very familiar with this appearance on Elizabeth, her shameful expression, the bruising. She saw it often growing up.
“Jack, calm down,” she said. “I…I’ve just been doing this workout. You know, Pilates and yoga…”
His voice rose an octave, “Really? Really, Liz?” Then he pointed at Lorena. “She does yoga. She doesn’t have a lot of bruises. Plus, she boxes and does kickboxing. I’ve never seen this shit on her.”
Lorena looked down at her discarded dinner, acid coming up into her throat.
“Where is he, Liz? Where the fuck is Victor right now?”
“Stop it, please,” she said. “Just…Jack, stop,” she said and collected her purse and coat. “I’ve gotta go.”
She looked at Lorena apologetically and fled the restaurant. Jack sat down again but refused to talk. The waitress came with their bill, and Lorena laid down the credit card Craig gave her to use for their expenses while they were in Portland. She glanced up at Jack as she signed the receipt. He was fuming, angry, ready to explode.
“Let’s go,” she said, standing and taking her jacket with her. “Come on, Jack. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
He nodded, collected himself and followed her from the restaurant.
“I’ll drive,” she said. He tossed her the keys without question.
He whispered under his breath when they got in the car, “Fucking asshole.”
“Yeah, sounds like she really married up.”
Lorena cranked up the heat, but Jack removed his jacket. He was literally hot under the collar.
“I knew Victor was an asshole,” he said, acknowledging the ex’s new husband. “But I didn’t think he was abusive.”
“There’s credibility to it, too,” she said. “Skylar said she thought Hailee’s dad might be abusing her. Now, we’ve got our answer.”
“If that bastard was hitting Hailee, no wonder she got the hell outta’ there when she could. Damn it!”
She gave him some time to stew on the issue with his ex-wife and didn’t try to talk him down. He was upset. Perhaps he still had feelings for Elizabeth, or maybe he was just upset because he didn’t like women being abused. Either way, he needed some space for a few minutes. Jack directed her as she drove to his houseboat, and she parked above the docks in the assigned place. They got out and took their gear with them.
“This way,” he said, leading.
A light drizzle hung in the air as if it was being misted from a spray bottle hitting an oscillating fan. It was annoying. Lorena was tired of being wet and cold. She followed him down the cement stairs to the docks below.
“Careful,” Jack warned. “It can get pretty dark out here.”
“Yeah, this is a little eerie,” she admitted as he waited for her and walked next to Lorena.
“I’m the last one on the left. We gotta walk around the end there.”
He indicated in front of them, but it was very dark. Most of the boats and floating houses were pitch dark, and the low-voltage dock lights on the posts were positioned on about every third pole.
“It gets busier in the summer,” he informed her as he led her along.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Can’t imagine anyone wanting to live out here in the winter.”
“There’s heat in the house. Don’t worry. It’s not a boat, not really, not like these. See?” he said, pointing around at yachts and houseboats. “There it is.”
She could just make out the floating house he indicated. They turned left on the dock and ended up at the end near trees, land and what looked like a black sea of glass. There was a dock light, dim and yellowy that lit the way like a beacon. Whoever from the bureau had moved their belongings over here, had left a porch light on, as well. The floating house was long and had what appeared to be a dark gray stain on the boards with white trim around windows and doors. There was a deck with a black metal railing and thin, horizontal wires in place of wood as the balusters to keep the view unobstructed. A sundeck on top of the main structure was surrounded by a matching railing. It was charming but definitely masculine.
“Come this way, Lorena,” he said because she’d paused too long to look at the house.
“Is this thing safe?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, it’s floating. On water. That leads to the ocean.”
Jack laughed and helped her aboard. “Come on, Detective. You’re not gonna float away in the middle of the night.”
She chuckled nervously, “Uh, sure.”
She followed him onto the deck and through a French door. Jack turned on the lights, and Lorena was surprised. The ceiling was pitched, covered with light wood, and the floor plan was open. It was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. There was a well-appointed kitchen, masculine and functional, very modern, clean lines, no frills. The living room was filled with equally masculine furniture, leather, comfortable, well-broke in. It was definitely a bachelor’s pad. Jack’s friend was, no doubt, also single.
“Good, our stuff’s all here,” he said and dropped his bag on the kitchen counter.
She noticed that he removed his wet shoes and left them in a boot tray by the entry door, so Lorena did the same. The light hardwood floors were pretty, and he probably wanted to keep them this way. Maintenance was probably tricky being on the water with all the humidity. Plus, the Pacific Northwest’s wet weather didn’t help.
“Steve works from home, so he converted the second bedroom into an office. That means there’s only one bedroom.”
“Oh…”
“I’ll couch it. Not a problem…”
“No, I’ll sleep on the couch. Don’t worry about it.”
He shook his head and said, “No, not happening. You’re my guest. You aren’t sleeping on the couch, Evans. There’s also only one bathroom. Let me show you,” he said, leading the way again.
The bathroom was nice, done in black slate floors and a matching, walk-in shower. It was also very masculine.
“Flip this switch for lights. This one for the towel warmer on the wall there and the heated floors.”
“Awesome. I might just sleep in here. Maybe the only place I can warm up.”
“You’ll get used to it. The weather’s nothing compared to summertime when you can get out and go kayaking and hiking.”
“Big fan of color,” she observed the dark colors of the bathroom. “I’m surprised your house in Cleveland is so different from this.”
“Yeah, this is what I did after my divorce. I remodeled the whole
place when I moved in. Gave me something to do. It was basically a gut job when I bought it. If you knew what the house Elizabeth and I lived in, you’d understand why I went with this design. Guess it could use a woman’s touch.”
“No, it’s nice. I don’t think it needs to be changed. I was just giving you a hard time.”
“Your room’s over here,” he said, and she followed him across the hall.
The master bedroom had windows on an entire wall parallel to the bed and a dresser and closet on the other. The view of the water was probably amazing during the day. The room was drywalled and painted a pale gray and not covered in as much wood like the living room and kitchen.
“Let me know if you need anything while we’re here, okay?” he said.
She nodded and noticed that her bags were already in the room on the bed. Jack’s phone on his hip buzzed, and he excused himself to answer it. Lorena unpacked her bag, hanging only the items that needed hung and stacking others on a chair in the corner. Everything else, she left in her luggage. She didn’t want to make a mess in his friend’s bedroom since he was being so nice by letting them stay there while he was gone.
His voice became louder from the other room, drawing Lorena to him. By the time she got to the living room, he was nearly shouting into the phone.
“Fine!” he blared and hung up on whoever it was he’d been speaking to. Then he caught sight of Lorena and apologized, “Sorry.”
“Your ex again?”
“How could you tell?” he joked with mild humor.
“I need something, Foster,” she said, getting a quick look from him. “So do you.”
He looked a little shocked. Then he recovered. “What are we talkin’ about here, chief?” he teased and approached with a wayward grin.
“Not that. Get your running gear. I need a guide, or I’m gonna end up in the ocean. You need stress relief, or you’re gonna kill your ex’s husband. We’re leavin’ in ten.”
With that, she left him. She heard him laughing from the hallway as she went back to her room. They did both need to vent. She for the same reasons she always did when she was working a case- it cleared her head. He for different reasons- so he didn’t drive over to Victor Neumann’s house and start something he’d later regret from behind bars. She had no doubt that Neumann, although a large man, would simply call the police on Jack and have him brought up on assault charges. She could tell they didn’t like each other, and that was before Jack suspected him of abusing the women in his house. She wondered if he was also abusive with their little boy. Poor kid. Lorena really couldn’t care less if adults wanted to beat on each other for sport, but when they involved children, it made her see red. They didn’t deserve to have idiots as parents. No kids did. She had her own ghosts in that department but kept them buried where they belonged. She just hoped this case didn’t exhume them again.
Chapter Thirteen
Jack
He took Lorena on a path he used to run along the river. It had a lot nicer view during the day, but she was too keyed up to work. If he was being honest with himself, so was he. All he could think about was beating the ever-loving shit right out of Victor.
Lorena kept pace with him, step for step, her earbuds plugged in probably streaming some strange music. She had odd taste. He had learned that much about her. One minute she’d be listening to Pearl Jam and the next some angry chick rock and then on to Beethoven.
“Slowpoke. Getting too old?” she jeered and ran ahead of him, obviously picking up on the fact that they were making a big circle back toward his boat. They were still about a mile away. Cooldowns were not in her vocabulary.
He smiled and stayed back a few yards for a while. Looking at Lorena from behind, he would’ve guessed that she was a college kid if he hadn’t already known her. She was small, not a very tall person at all. She was petite and muscular. She was everything that Elizabeth was not. His ex was tall at five ten, and thin. She never allowed herself to gain even the tiniest of weight. He sometimes worried about her when they were married and even suspected she might be bulimic or anorexic at times. He could always tell when she was losing too much weight because her wedding ring would spin on her finger. Although, the rock she wore now was holding itself in place in spite of her thin stature. She was obsessed with her looks and material things, one of the reasons for their divorce.
“Can’t keep up, old man?” Lorena jabbed and sped up.
Jack ended up sprinting ahead and waiting for her near a cluster of businesses. He was sweating and panting. There was no way he was letting her win. She caught up and bent over, placing her hands on her knees for a moment to catch her breath.
“Old, huh? Who’s the old one now?” he teased.
She didn’t straighten but pointed at him, “Still you. Definitely you.”
He laughed. Lorena was strange, but she could still make him laugh with her sarcastic, dry humor.
“Come on. I know a good coffee shop. I’ll amp up your sugar and caffeine. We still have a case to work, partner.”
She nodded and jogged beside him. This time they went at a much slower pace, for which Jack was glad. Lorena worked out like she was trying to win a stand-in part for the next 300 movie remake as one of the Spartans.
He took her to his favorite coffee shop where they both ordered large coffees to go. There were hipster college kids hanging out, the place fairly packed. A few of the young men checked Lorena out, but she was oblivious. She was too busy picking out a Danish.
“Want one?” she asked, readying to pay.
“No, I don’t want to be old and fat,” he joked, to which she nodded.
“Yeah, you’d better watch. It’s all on the downhill slide from here for you,” she razzed.
They paid for their coffees and her junk food and left. They were less than a mile from his house, so they just walked and sipped their coffee.
“This is the first time I’ve been warm since the plane landed,” she said, taking a drink of her sugar-laden hot beverage.
“You’ll just have to run everywhere from now on while we’re here.”
“I guess so,” she remarked. Then she asked, “What the heck made you want to move here?”
“I had a friend in the Army, actually Steve, the one I’m renting the house to, who convinced me to move here.”
“Were you sick of the military?”
“Sick of it? No, not really. I liked it, could’ve stayed in. It was hard, though, being away from my family for long stretches. They didn’t like that too well.”
Lorena chuckled, “I’m sure they didn’t.”
“I felt like I could do more being a cop. I had a degree, so I left when my service was up and got a job out here.”
“Is that what Steve does? I thought you said he worked from home.”
“Oh, no, he’s a computer geek. He was in the Army with me, but he was in support. I was more what you’d call infantry, grunt type, shoot the bad-guys and all that kind of soldier.”
“What was your rank?”
“Are you familiar?”
“Somewhat,” she answered.
“This way,” he said, pointing in the right direction since they needed to turn left. “Sergeant First Class. Basically just a grunt.”
“Not really,” Lorena argued as she ate her sweet roll.
He shrugged.
“And you met Elizabeth here?”
“Yeah, she was working for an art dealer as his secretary. She wanted to run her own gallery someday.”
Lorena looked at him, “Does she come from money? She sure acts as if she does.”
“Elizabeth? No. No way. Her family’s working middle class all the way. I don’t know where she ever got her ambition.”
“She seems very driven.”
“Oh, yes,” Jack agreed with a nod and took another swig as he remembered her. “She was ambitious and willing to do whatever it took to get what she wanted. She’s still that way.”
“Be careful what you wish fo
r.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Jack said, thinking of the bruises on his ex-wife’s arm and chin. He still wanted Victor’s head on a spit for hurting her.
“Do you still have feelings for her?”
He looked down at Lorena and said honestly, “We were married for almost four years. I was crazy about her when we first met, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should’ve seen in her that I’d never be enough. And I wasn’t. Obviously.”
“Did she leave you for Neumann?”
Jack nodded, frowning from the memories. “Yes, she did. She was cheating on me for about the last year we were married. She kept trying to get me to leave the police force and get a different kind of job. I think it embarrassed her.”
“That and you weren’t ever going to make the kind of money she’d need to get where she is today.”
“True. That was a lot of it. She was very materialistic.”
Lorena looked up and asked, “You said your houseboat is nothing like where you lived with her. What was it like where you lived when you were married?”
“Well, she wanted to live in California, San Francisco to be exact. I put my foot down on that one. Most of the time, I gave Elizabeth her way. I wanted to make her happy. But California? Hell, no.”
“So, you lived here?”
“Yeah, right here in Portland.”
“No wonder I hate this city,” she said, then looked surprised that she had said that.
“What do you mean?”
“What? Nothing. Just babbling.”
Jack stared at her another moment until Lorena looked out at the boats docked along the harbor.
“We lived here in a house in an older neighborhood. It was great, too,” he reminisced. “Old woodwork, craftsman style, lots of roots and good bones.”
“Sounds a lot like your house in Cleveland.”
“Somewhat. This was very traditional craftsman style. She hated it. I mean, she absolutely hated that house. She bitched constantly. The pipes were old. The electric went out sometimes. The yard wasn’t big enough. It wasn’t like she was going to do the mowing. You know how many hours we work as detectives. I was also in Vice up here for a while, too.”
