The Newcomer (Thunder Point)

by Robyn Carr

  “Everything—revolutionary landmarks all over New England. And there’s the Museum of Fine Arts, the biggest art museum on the east coast. The Freedom Trail. Fenway and Boston Harbor.”

  “Fenway?” she asked with a yawn. “So you are a baseball fan?”

  “You don’t grow up a Downy without being constantly immersed in sports. I’m not as obsessive about spectator sports as everyone else, but I enjoy them. I’ve never been very athletic, but I like to sail. I have a friend who has a small sloop and we’ve taken it out on the ocean when the weather is decent. I like biking, which is probably a good thing since there’s no way I’ll have a car in college. In fact, I wonder if I can get a messenger job—that could be fun, biking through traffic, not that a good old Oregon boy knows much about real traffic. There’s a great observatory at Boston University. They have nights open to the public and seminars. That’s Coit Observatory. Harvard has a great observatory, too—and the Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics. Did you know it was founded in the eighteen hundreds?”

  A soft snore answered him.

  He chuckled and laid back, watching the sky. “Big surprise, I put you to sleep. Don’t feel bad. It happens all the time. And I didn’t even get to New York or D.C. yet. My mother says you should never ask me a question. If you visited me at Harvard, there are about a million things I could show you. We’d take the train to D.C. and spend a whole day on the mall, go to all the museums and monuments, check out the Naval Observatory, spend a day in Georgetown…”

  Undeterred by her sleeping, Frank just kept talking, though softly. He knew he missed a lot of meteors because he had turned his head and was looking at her. She slept with her lips parted just slightly and her rusty brown lashes, so thick, fanned over her high cheekbones and he wondered why she bothered with makeup at all. Her lips were peachy and full, her skin so smooth and ivory. She was so much more beautiful than Selena it just made him laugh inside—Selena was going to be the emotional death of his older brother. But then that was Downy, so egocentric, thinking with his dick. With Downy he was either watching sports, playing sports or angling a way to get laid. It was a miracle he got into State, he could barely maintain a B average and that was taking classes that didn’t require much study.

  Ashley, when she was only a sophomore, had helped Downy with his homework. Sure, she had called Frank a few times to ask him questions for her math assignments, but he was sure she had no idea how smart she was.

  He wanted to touch her, but if she caught him it would send the wrong message. “If you wanted to, you could make it to an Ivy League school,” he whispered. “You could do anything. Be anything.”

  He just looked at her for a while, letting about twenty minutes of silence pass. Then he gave her arm a soft jostle. “Ashley?”

  She opened her eyes. “Did I fall asleep?”

  He smiled and nodded. “Were you dreaming of some geek going on and on about observatories and museums and libraries?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t realize I was so tired.”

  “Why don’t you go to bed,” he said. “I’m headed for the beach. Just for an hour or so.”

  She yawned deeply. “Want me to go with you? So you’re not alone?”

  He smiled at her. “No. I don’t want to have to drag you home. Go to bed.”

  “I think I will,” she said. “Thanks for coming over, Frank.” She rose, stretched, gave him a wave and went inside.

  *

  Ashley went to her bedroom, slipped into the boxers and T-shirt she slept in, put her earbuds back in and crawled into bed. You could do anything. Be anything.

  No one had said that to her before. Well, her mother had, but mothers don’t really count—they have to say that to their kid.

  She hadn’t been asleep the whole time. She had nodded off for a minute, but when she heard Frank talking about the train to D.C. and all the museums and monuments, she just listened to his comforting voice, eyes closed. She had never appreciated him before—he was more than just smart and good-looking, he was kind and gentle and fearless. Somewhere along the line he had developed a strong, beautiful body without being a jock, without seeming to be aware of it. Yes, she was discovering there was a lot more to Frank Downy than met the eye.

  Fifteen

  It had been three weeks since Cee Jay had visited her kids at the meeting that had ended so unpleasantly. It had been three weeks since Mac had hired a detective to get more information about what her life had been like over the past ten years in the hopes of getting a better grasp on what she might be after now. He’d called the detective a few times and had been reassured they were still in the data-gathering process.

  It had been hard to be patient. He kept waiting for the other shoe to fall.

  Finally a FedEx package was delivered to his Thunder Point office. It was filled with information, call logs from the detective’s office, a few pictures, some of the same public records Mac had accessed—records of marriage and divorce—and a bill. Seventeen hundred and eighty-seven dollars.

  He gulped.

  Then he sifted through the material. And just when he thought he couldn’t be surprised by anything, he was blown away. But there was one important thing missing. He called the detective’s cell phone. “I looked through all your material and sadly, it all makes sense. But where is she?”

  “Is there a casino within two hundred miles?” the detective replied.

  “What makes you think she’s still in the area?”

  “Both women—Cee Jay and Maddy Crofts—came from the area and she’s not turning up anywhere else. She used a credit card in North Bend a week ago.”

  “There’s a casino there,” Mac said.

  “Want a wager?” the P.I. asked, laughter in his voice.

  Mac wasn’t laughing. “I’ll pass. What does she want with me? Or the kids? We don’t have anything.”

  “I can’t answer that, buddy. I can only tell you where she’s been and what she’s done. Good luck.”

  So, was it all about gambling? Mac had considered many possibilities but never that one. How that could possibly involve him was a mystery. But, he’d have to know. He called the casino hotel in North Bend and asked for Cee Jay or Cecilia McCain and was told there was no one there by that name. He asked for Cecelia Raines and again came up empty. On to Madeline Crofts—no, again. But he struck oil with Antoinette LeClair, the fictional attorney.

  “Let me talk to Cee Jay,” he said when she answered the phone.

  “Who’s calling please,” she replied.

  “Coos County Sheriff’s Department,” he said.

  And then he heard her say “Cee Jay, it’s your husband.”

  “What do you want?” she asked impatiently when she came to the phone.

  “I think we should talk, Cee Jay.”

  “And I think I’m all talked out.”

  “We should meet. Or my next call could be to the Los Angeles County District Attorney.”

  “I haven’t broken any laws!” she shot back.

  “Oh, yeah, you have. And even if he doesn’t want to prosecute, at the very least he’ll sign out a warrant and let poor Mr. Raines know he’s not obligated to that alimony. So, would you like me to come to the hotel?”

  Silence answered him. At long last she said, “I’ll be in the hotel restaurant.”

  “I’ll be there in less than an hour. And don’t bring your attorney—no one’s filming Law and Order episodes today.” And he hung up.

  He called one of the deputies who worked for him and asked him to cover the town. Then he texted Lou—he said he had to drive up to North Bend on business and asked her to cover the kids if he was tied up. And then he drove and was glad it took a while; he had to think.

  In police work, he always had a strategy, a method of approaching a situation or suspect. A lot of his strategy was following policy, but some was pure instinct. But he knew so little about gambling and less about his ex-wife. He had three images of her—the young girl he’d
once loved, the pretty young woman who’d left them so coldly and the beautiful and sophisticated woman who turned up a few weeks ago. He wasn’t sure who she really was. And while he could assume her appearance in Thunder Point had something to do with money, probably with a debt, he wasn’t sure of anything else.

  As for gambling, he’d been to a few casinos. He’d even taken his Aunt Lou. Lou liked the nickel slots because she could play for hours, get mesmerized by the rolling cherries and other fruits, and do it on five bucks. He liked blackjack, but he never lasted long. He thought he had an exceptional memory and tried to remember card play to get to twenty-one, but the house beat him every time. But Cee Jay had obviously gone through millions in a few years. She wasn’t doing that at the nickel slots or two-buck blackjack table.

  He drove through the parking lot surrounding the hotel casino, passing down each lane slowly. Twice. Her girlfriend, the fraudulent attorney, must have gone somewhere—there was no sight of the fancy car.

  When he walked into the hotel, people reacted. They stiffened, stared, watched. Dare he even hope Cee Jay would be intimidated by the uniform? She hadn’t been the last time, when they met at Denny’s. He went to the restaurant and spoke to the hostess. “I’m meeting a woman here, early thirties, dark hair, very blue eyes….”

  The hostess smiled and sent a graceful arm and questioning glance into the sparsely populated dining room.

  “Yes, that’s her. Thank you.”

  Cee Jay seemed to be studying the menu until he neared, then she looked up and dazzled him with a stunning smile. Oh, you think I don’t remember? he thought. It cut through him. That beautiful young girl who once loved him, there she was. She’d been new at school and it hadn’t taken her long to single him out and even though she was much younger, to him she was the epitome of beauty and innocence. He fell in love with her immediately. A year later she was pregnant and he was married. And everything about his life changed.

  She stood and by the lift of her arms, she intended to embrace him. He quickly put out a hand, indicating she should take a seat. She did so with a laugh. “Well, that was awkward.”

  The waitress was there instantly. Something about a police uniform usually produced service right away. He was very uncomfortable sitting with his back to the room but tried to tell himself he wouldn’t be here too long and the casino had security. Still, even though he had no reason to expect trouble of any kind, his hand rested on his thigh, near his gun.

  “Just coffee for me,” he told the waitress.

  “I’ll start with a coffee,” Cee Jay said.

  When the waitress had gone, Mac said, “Nice hotel.”

  “It’s the nicest one in the general area. How did you find me?” she asked.

  He lifted a brow. “I looked.”

  “That doesn’t quite answer the question.”

  “I know. So, what’s your game?”

  “I beg your pardon.” She was indignant. She stiffened.

  “What do you play?” he asked.

  She seemed to be undecided whether to answer. “I just dabble,” she said, visibly tense.

  “Cee Jay, I know everything. So, what do you dabble in?”

  “Penny ante,” she said with a shrug, meeting his eyes dead on. She’d been through this before. She could pass a lie detector and he knew it. It scared him, as a matter of fact.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied, shaking his head. “It appears you’re having some bad luck.”

  “Not much.” She shrugged. “Just lately. It’s just for fun, anyway. I’m actually ahead.”

  He might not know anything about gambling per se but one thing he knew, gamblers always claimed to win. Always. And they rarely did. Big fancy casinos and casino resorts were not built on charity. “Is that right? Good for you. So, what does this have to do with us? Me and the kids?”

  “I thought…” Her voice trailed off. “I told you. I thought maybe we could reconnect.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” he said.

  She just shook her head. “Those years we were together—they were very hard, Mac. Very hard. And I didn’t really have the tools to deal with what I’d taken on—I was a young fool. So I ran. But I kept looking back to those years, difficult though they were, and realized that was one of the few times in my life I felt safe and loved. I started to regret leaving almost immediately.”

  “Yet you didn’t even call to ask how the kids were?”

  She lifted her chin. “I was determined to improve myself in some way before getting in touch. I never brought anything to the table. I wanted to bring something. I thought I could contribute in some way, be valuable. Valuable enough to be welcomed back.”

  He frowned slightly and leaned toward her slightly. “What the hell happened to you, Cee Jay? What happened that made you feel being the mother of our children wasn’t enough?”

  “It was just more work and greater deprivation than I could—”

  But he was shaking his head. “What happened in your childhood to make you think you had to have more? Be more? I want to understand, but I just don’t get it. You said you felt safe and loved. Did the fancy car and jewelry make you feel safer? More loved?”

  She let a huff of laughter escape just as two cups of coffee and cream were delivered to the table. Mac noticed her eyes had welled with tears but he couldn’t trust that they were real.

  “Growing up wasn’t pretty,” she finally said. “I was raised by a single mother who had four kids by four men. She moved us every time the rent was overdue, virtually ignored us and left us on our own to raise ourselves. I lived in dingy little apartments and motel rooms—there wasn’t always food and we picked through scrap piles for clothes. I was molested when I was small, abandoned all the time, hungry most of the time, missed whole months of school and was always terrified. When I was eleven the four of us were split up into four different foster homes and I was moved every year. When I met you all I wanted was a family and a home.”

  He was silent. Was this some story concocted to get his sympathy? How could he spend seven years with a woman and never know any of these details? It could be as simple as young men don’t ask, or a young man working day and night never thought about the details, or as complicated as Cee Jay making up a story that would get her a second chance.

  “And yet you would leave that family and home?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t make sense, I realize that now. But I wanted things. We had a family and a house, but I was still scared all the time. Afraid of being abandoned, of turning into my mother—a young woman with a passel of kids and no money and no husband and no way to take care of them or myself. In hindsight…” She gave a wave of her hand.

  Actually, it did make sense if it was true, Mac thought. Abused children often grew up to abuse their own children, so this history could explain a lot. But that didn’t make it right. “Well, it appears you have what you needed. Money. Security. And don’t worry, you’re pretty and know how to flirt. You’ll find another husband.”

  “Well, except that I’ve had a little setback recently. Nothing serious, but it kind of showed me how much I’d left behind when I left you and the kids and I hoped we could start to know each other again. You know—see if it was as big a mistake for you as it was for me. I knew the odds were not in my favor, but I had to try.”

  He just shook his head. “I told you, I have someone now. It’s serious. Besides, you’ll do all right.”

  “I have some debt to clear,” she said.

  “Cee Jay, I know about the house, the cars, the alimony, which incidentally was acquired fraudulently. You’ve gone through a fortune.”

  “Well, a person with my upbringing doesn’t really know how to manage all that and it didn’t take long before I mismanaged it. And lost it.” She shrugged and looked away. “Bad investments, being taken advantage of by con artists, lots of things I just wasn’t prepared to handle….”

  “No, Cee Jay, you gambled it away. The house was free
and clear and you borrowed against it. Millions. So, cash in a couple of rings and sell the car….”

  She scowled at him. “The car isn’t mine and the rings are fake.”

  He looked at them with lifted brows. He’d never have known the difference. “Good fakes. And where’s the car? It’s not here.”

  “It went away,” she said sourly.

  “And Madeline? Aka Antoinette?”

  “Upstairs,” she said.

  “You must have a very unique relationship,” he muttered. Partners in crime, he thought.

  “We have similar backgrounds,” she said. “We can trust each other.”

  He immediately thought he knew how to learn more about that. He could spend a lot of time investigating. He might look into Cee Jay’s childhood if only to know if she was lying or telling the truth, but he couldn’t care less about her girlfriend. And if what Cee Jay told him was meant to explain her adult behavior, his kids were safe from that kind of legacy. They hadn’t been treated that way.

  “Where did you grow up, Cee Jay? You always said it was Oregon.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t know what I was walking away from, but I was unstable. Damaged. I haven’t had a real happy day since.”

  “Poor Mr. Raines will be heartbroken to hear that.”

  She laughed. “Poor Mr. Raines is a penny-pinching, mean-hearted old man! I wouldn’t have gotten anything in the divorce except for the prenup! I got exactly what was outlined—a house, car and limited alimony. He blows more than that in a weekend.”

  Mac leaned toward her. He lowered his voice. “Cee Jay, you weren’t legally married. You didn’t deserve anything at all, except maybe jail.”

  “I didn’t think you’d ever look for me. I signed those divorce and custody papers because of Raines. I was trapped. I know, I know—I did it to myself. But still… I meant what I said, Mac. I missed the kids. I missed you. Missed us. If you weren’t involved with someone, we might be trying again….”

  “No, that would never happen. I’m no good to you. I’d probably never buy you a fancy ring or new car. The most you’ll ever get from me is a cup of coffee. And there’s no way I can help clear your debt, so you should keep looking.”