by Brenda Novak
“Why can’t his father watch him? I mean, not tomorrow. Sly’s working late tonight. But he should be available some Saturdays.”
She nibbled at her bottom lip while trying to decide how much to say about her ex’s parenting. “You’d think so.”
“Have you ever tried to arrange it with him?”
“No.”
“Because you don’t want to deal with him?”
“Not only that. He’s not very good with Jayden,” she admitted.
A car passed on the highway. Dawson fell silent as he watched it but returned to the conversation the moment it went by without turning in. “Jayden’s Sly’s son, right? He’s not from another relationship.”
“I’ve never been with anyone else.”
“How old is Sly? Your age?”
“No, he’s your age. Two years older than me.”
He leaned one shoulder against the wall, still keeping a vigilant watch on the drive while he spoke. “Why didn’t you go off to college? Give yourself some time before settling down?”
“Part of me wanted to. But Sly didn’t want me to leave, and we were so in love. I didn’t see any reason to put off getting married. He’d already joined the police force, so he had a good job and...and I thought we’d have the perfect life together. We did have a perfect life together—at first,” she added.
“Was the way he treated Jayden part of what came between you?”
She moved so that she could gaze out at the highway herself. “Definitely.”
“The boy’s only five, and he seems like a good kid. What could possibly be the problem?”
She was now close enough to Dawson that she could smell his cologne. That scent stood out because he didn’t normally wear cologne. At least, she’d never noticed it before, and it made sense. Why would he put on cologne to go out and work in the fields?
But tonight, he’d gone to the bar.
Had he been hoping to find a woman?
With his looks, she couldn’t imagine he’d have any trouble, despite his reputation.
“Sadie?”
She blinked at him. “Hmm?”
“What was the problem between Sly and Jayden?”
She’d been staring at him, imagining him at the bar dancing with...who knows who, and it made her feel...what? A trickle of envy? “Sorry, I’m tired,” she said as she dragged her gaze back to what lay beyond the window. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Jayden’s sort of...sensitive. He likes art and dance, but he’s not too big on sports.”
“He’s young yet,” he responded.
She liked that he didn’t put Jayden down for his interests, didn’t seem to think it was the end of the world that a boy might not like what were traditionally considered “boy” things. Being different didn’t make Jayden any less than other little kids, and she got the impression Dawson agreed with that kind of thinking. “Yes, but...I doubt he’ll ever change. Sly keeps blaming me for making Jayden ‘soft.’”
“Making him soft?” Dawson repeated.
“Yeah. He’s always telling me to stop babying him. But I don’t think I’m the reason Jayden doesn’t like what Sly wants him to like. He just came to us that way.”
Although she wasn’t looking back at him, Sadie could feel the weight of Dawson’s stare.
“He’s going to have to accept his son for what he is at some point,” he said. “It’d be smart not to screw the kid up too badly before that happens.”
“I agree. But Sly doesn’t get that. He thinks he can ‘toughen him up.’”
“And how does he do that?”
She scrubbed a hand over her face. “By saying hurtful things that make Jayden feel inadequate. ‘Come on, you don’t want to be a dancer! Dancers are pussies.’ That sort of thing. I hate the constant put-downs. If not for that, I’d probably still be with Sly. I was so beaten down, so convinced I could never unravel the mistake of marrying him—especially given that I had a child to care for and no education—that I wouldn’t have left for only myself. To me, ‘for better or for worse’ meant exactly that. But the need to protect Jayden forced the issue. I hate knowing Sly’s embarrassed of his own son, that he wants him to be anything other than what he is. It’s so...damaging and hurtful—to both of us.”
“If Sly’s that hard on Jayden, how is it that he has partial custody?”
“Sly hasn’t been physically abusive.” At least to Jayden. What he’d done to her—pressing her to have sex with him when she didn’t even want him to touch her—definitely crossed that line. But she was too embarrassed to tell anyone about that. She felt as if most people wouldn’t think it was a big deal, considering she’d slept with him for so many years before.
“Did you tell the judge about the put-downs?”
“I tried to, but he cut me off. The nuances I’ve shared with you...they weren’t enough to get him to take action against Sly. This judge thinks of Sly as a fine officer of the law.”
“Wow.” Dawson rubbed his jaw. “As if I didn’t hate your ex before we had this conversation.”
“He’s emotionally toxic,” she said. “There isn’t a better way to describe him.”
Dawson didn’t get the chance to respond. A pair of headlights swung into the yard, drawing his attention back to the window.
“He’s here,” he said.
14
Sly wasn’t alone. Dawson watched as the police chief got out of the patrol car, too. Dawson hadn’t had a lot of direct contact with Chief Thomas, but he was leery of the entire Silver Springs police force. When his parents were murdered, they’d focused on him right away, wouldn’t believe a single thing he said. He’d never been treated worse, especially at such a terrible time.
Why did you kill them? What kind of a man takes a hatchet to his own parents? They didn’t have to take in your worthless ass, you know. They did it out of the kindness of their hearts, and this is how you repay them? The detective who’d been given the case had kept him shut up in a cold, uncomfortable interrogation room, drilling him with those questions, as well as many others, for twelve hours—until he’d grown so weary of trying to fend off each new attempt to trick him into incriminating himself that he’d asked for an attorney. He’d made that choice not long before dinnertime the day after his parents were killed. He’d been at the station the whole day, had had no sleep, but it didn’t matter that he’d tried to work with them for so long. In their eyes, asking for representation only confirmed his guilt. And all of this had been going on while the real culprit got away.
“Thank goodness,” Sadie murmured.
“Thank goodness?” he repeated as the two men came toward the house. What did she have to thank goodness about right now?
“Chief Thomas is with him,” she explained.
Apparently, she was even more afraid of Sly, and what he might do, than Dawson had realized. But he couldn’t blame her. They both believed her ex was the one who set the blaze that’d very likely destroyed everything she owned. What regular arsonist would make so much noise, wait for confirmation that she was up—so she could get herself and Jayden out of the house—and then run away?
How he could do such a thing was another issue entirely. What if she hadn’t smelled the smoke? What if she’d gone back to bed or tried to get their things out first? Or the fire caused an explosion he hadn’t anticipated? How could Sly take the risk of killing the woman he supposedly loved and his own child?
He could do it because he’d rather her die, rather Sadie and Jayden both die, than let her follow through with the divorce, which revealed just how proud, arrogant and determined he was. His police uniform meant nothing. He was not one of the “good” guys. But after what Dawson had been through, it was tough for him to look at any law enforcement in a positive light. He’d seen the system up close, had learned that justic
e didn’t always prevail and even trained officers stretched the law to accomplish what they hoped to accomplish. They could be as small-minded and prejudiced as the general public, maybe more so.
The knock that sounded came off brisk and purposeful. Sadie moved to answer the door; she knew it was for her. But Dawson caught her arm and held her in place for a second to indicate that he would handle this. This was his home. He needed to establish the fact that nothing would happen here of which he didn’t approve. He had rights as a property owner. Remaining in charge, letting Sly and his fellow officers know that he would not tolerate another abuse of power, could be the only way to maintain some vestige of control over what was happening.
He took his time turning on the lights so they’d think they were dragging him out of bed—and that he hadn’t anticipated this all along.
When he swung open the door, he didn’t greet them or invite them in. He saw no point in the usual courtesies. He was beyond that sort of thing with Sly and the Silver Springs Police Department. They would never be friends.
“We’re looking for Sadie Harris,” Chief Thomas announced as a chill wind whipped at his hair and clothes and flooded into the house. “Don’t suppose you know where she is.”
Sly glared at him, so Dawson glared right back. He wanted to be sure Sly knew he wasn’t going to forget what’d happened in the street in front of Sadie’s house.
“I do.” Dawson spoke to the police chief but only after he felt he’d made it clear to Sly that he would not be intimidated. “She and Jayden are here.”
Sly opened his mouth to speak, but Chief Thomas lifted a hand to indicate he not get involved at this point. “Will you please let her know we’re here? We’d like to speak to her.”
“No problem.” Leaving them standing on the stoop in the cold, Dawson shut the door. “You ready for this?” he whispered.
“Do I have any choice?” she replied.
“I can send them away, tell them to come back tomorrow.”
“No, as frightened as I am of the truth, I’d like to hear about the fire—if it’s out, if anything was saved. And if I have to talk to Sly, I might as well get it over with while Chief Thomas is around to keep him in line.”
“Just be aware that Chief Thomas isn’t necessarily your friend,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“His first inclination will be to protect his officer. Any bad behavior on Sly’s part will reflect on him and the department as a whole. So take some time to recall what happened and tell it exactly as it occurred. Keep it simple and don’t deviate from your story no matter what they ask or this could go down as unsolved. I don’t want them to be able to establish any doubt or trip you up.”
Her stomach churned with anxiety as she rubbed her hands on the sweatpants he’d loaned her. “How can they do that when I’m telling the truth?”
He frowned. “All too easily. I was telling the truth, too.”
With a quick nod, she signaled that she understood, and he opened the door, stepping to one side so that she could be seen in the opening, as well.
“Sadie, I’m so glad you’re safe,” Chief Thomas said.
“Thank you.” She hugged herself as she glanced at her ex-husband. The expression on his face seemed to make her even more nervous.
“I hope you’re here with good news,” she told them. “Have they... Have they put out the flames?”
“They have.”
“And?”
“I’m afraid there’s significant damage to the living room and bedroom. What the fire didn’t destroy, the water from the fire hoses might have damaged, so I’m not sure what you’ll be able to salvage from those rooms. But the kitchen, bathroom and laundry areas are all intact.”
“When will I be able to go back?”
“Not for a few days. It’s a toxic mess right now, but if you’ll give me a list, I can have someone grab whatever necessities you need, if they’re still serviceable. Once we’ve finished looking things over, someone will let you know and then you can return and sift through what’s left.”
Dawson could only imagine how hard it had to be for her to hear those words. He’d never forget the night he was released from jail and came home to find the damage that’d confronted him. As if returning to the place where his parents had been murdered wasn’t difficult enough, he’d been greeted by that graffiti: Murderer. The sight of it had felt like a kick in the gut. And then he’d had to walk through the house, through all the trash people had thrown in it, to find the damage to his folks’ pictures and furniture and such.
“How’s Maude’s house?” Sadie asked.
“It’s fine,” Thomas replied. “The fire didn’t reach that far.”
“I’m so glad. And no one was hurt?”
“Not physically, no. Maude will have to file a claim with her homeowner’s insurance, and it’ll take some time to rebuild the place. That can’t be good news to either of you. But things could’ve been worse. I’m proud of our firefighters for putting that fire out as fast as they did. They did a great job.”
What a shame that they’d had to risk their lives in the first place.
“I’m grateful they arrived so quickly,” Sadie said. “Maybe it means I’ll still have some of my belongings.”
The wind howled outside, tossing tree branches against the windows with an eerie scraping sound.
Thomas adjusted his belt. “I hope that’s the case.”
Sadie blew out a sigh. “Thanks. I appreciate the news.”
“No problem,” he said. “And now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to hear a bit more about how the fire got started. I know it’s late, and you’ve got to be tired and upset, but I’d rather we have this talk sooner rather than later—while all the details are fresh in your mind.”
“I understand,” she said.
“It’s too windy out here, though,” Thomas told her. “Why don’t you come sit in the car with us?”
Dawson expected her to agree, but she made no move to leave the house. “Since I called Dawson when it happened, and told him all about it, he might have something to contribute,” she replied. “Let’s talk in here.” She looked to Dawson. “Is that okay?”
Dawson thought it was the smartest move she could make. Then they couldn’t isolate and pressure her the way they’d isolated and pressured him a year ago. She wasn’t suspected of a crime like he’d been, but if Sly started the fire, he’d have a vested interest in getting her to say some things and not others, or trying to discredit her story in various places.
Silently applauding her, Dawson moved out of the way so they could come in out of the cold. “Of course.”
Sly wasn’t pleased by his ex-wife’s response. He lagged behind on the stoop for so long Dawson almost wondered if he’d refuse to come in. But he didn’t want to be left out, or he wouldn’t be here. He seemed to realize that if he didn’t go with the flow, the conversation would proceed without him. Chief Thomas seemed somewhat indifferent to his displeasure—or at least undeterred by it. He’d already stepped inside, so Sly followed suit just before Dawson closed the door.
“Have a seat.” Sadie took charge. Dawson refused to offer them anything, but the fact that she seemed so comfortable in his house—or maybe it was that she was wearing his clothes—further agitated her soon-to-be ex. As Sly brushed past, he hit Dawson’s shoulder with his own, hard enough to knock Dawson back a step, so Dawson immediately shoved him against the wall. The exchange would’ve erupted in a fight, except the police chief whipped around and grabbed Sly, yanking him out of reach and standing between them.
“We’ll have none of that!” he snapped.
“This is ridiculous,” Sly grumbled. “Why are we doing this here? Let’s grab Sadie and figure out what happened at my place, without this bastard.”
“That’s up to Sadie.” Chief Thomas looked to her. “Given Dawson’s history with this town, and how my officers feel about him, maybe we’d be better off—”
“No,” she broke in. “I’m not leaving here. Jayden’s asleep, and after what we’ve both been through, I don’t see any reason to wake him.”
Chief Thomas smoothed down his hair, which was still ruffled from the wind outside. “That’s understandable.” He arched an eyebrow at Sly as he gestured toward the couch. “Sit down.”
Although Sly obeyed, he did so grudgingly. And he kept glowering at Sadie as if she’d betrayed him personally. Dawson considered that hugely ironic, given what they believed he’d done.
“What happened tonight?” Thomas asked, withdrawing a small notebook from his shirt pocket. “I’ll take a few notes, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay,” she said. “There’s just not a lot to tell. Someone set fire to my house. It’s that simple.”
“Do you have any idea who?”
When she hesitated, Dawson thought she might accuse Sly, as she’d done earlier, but she didn’t. “No.”
“You didn’t see anything that might help identify the perpetrator?” Thomas asked. “Hear anything?”
The dark circles under Sadie’s eyes seemed more pronounced than before. Besides the shock of having so recently escaped a burning house, it was nearly four in the morning and she hadn’t gotten any sleep. “I heard some rustling outside. I tried to convince myself it was nothing. Houses have...settling noises and such.”
“How do you know it wasn’t a settling noise?”
“Because it turned out to be more than a little rustling.”
Dawson couldn’t help studying Sly while Sadie spoke. Her ex wasn’t expressing any concern. Was he too angry to feel concern? Or did he already know what happened—as they suspected?
“What was the sound like?”
“Someone banging on the side of the house. My bedroom window looks out on the back, not the side, but when I got up, I spotted a man standing in the yard looking at me.”
“How close was he?”
