“So am I. Let me know when you’re available.”
“You got it. Take care of yourself, Jon.”
Stanton placed the phone down on the seat. The drive was pleasant as he passed the commercial district and entered a stretch of jungle in between that and the residential neighborhoods. He rolled down his window and enjoyed the night air, and thought of Heidi.
If what she was saying was true, he couldn’t imagine the pain, or the strength, she must have. A stalker was one of the most traumatic experiences a woman could go through, and Heidi had had one her entire life. Stanton had an urge to throw his arms around her. To shield her from all the things in life she’d been through. But he knew he couldn’t. He tried to do it with his boys, too. But the world had a way of seeping in no matter how much you tried to protect the people you love.
As he’d figured, Baby Dolls was open. The lights were on and he saw a couple of beautiful women in tight dresses leaving. He parked the jeep and went inside. Autumn, the owner he’d spoken to before, was at a desk on the computer.
“Detective! What a surprise. Your appointment isn’t until Tuesday.”
He sat across from her. “I was hoping I could see her now.”
“She isn’t here. It’s Friday night. Our busiest.”
“I would really like to see her. Any idea where she would be?”
She leaned back in her chair. “I can’t divulge that, Detective. A person interrupting a date would be just rude. A policeman interrupting a date is the kind of thing people in my business go bankrupt over.”
“She’s killed two people in the last month. Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care. I care about all our clients. We thrive on repeat business and word of mouth. But there’s nothing I can do about that now. So I just have to take care of my business however I can.”
Stanton noticed a figurine on her desk. It was of Bat Girl. “She’s going to kill again. I’m trying to save your business and your clients… Have you spoken to her about me?”
“No. If she did kill those men, I want you to arrest her. I can’t have that here. You do your investigation. I won’t interfere. But I hope you show me the same respect and understand why I can’t reveal where she is.”
Stanton nodded. “Tuesday then.” He rose to leave.
“Detective, you sure you don’t want to sample my product? You seem uptight and tense. Sexual healing, and all.”
“The healing happens from the connection to the other person, not the sex. Thanks anyway.”
Stanton left. On the way out to the jeep, a girl was entering the building. She was young, in jeans and a T-shirt. She knocked, and Autumn opened the door and welcomed her in. Stanton drove away without looking back.
30
On Saturday morning, the boys woke up early and jumped on Stanton, waking him up, too. They insisted they go to Waikiki Beach. Johnny pushed the hardest and Stanton knew Mathew had put him up to it. Saturdays on Waikiki had the largest groups of young women gathered. Mathew would go with his friends, and Johnny would try and tag along. Once he realized they were chasing girls rather than actually surfing, he would come back to his father and they would spend the day together.
Stanton had a shower, a ritual he needed in the morning, despite the fact that he would have to take one after the beach anyhow, and then dressed in surfing shorts and a T-shirt. He made breakfast for the boys and ate with them. They talked about school and things that were going on in their lives.
As they drove down to the beach, Mathew wore sunglasses and sat in the passenger seat. Trying his hardest to appear older than he was. He forced Stanton to blare a song on Pandora by someone called Lil Wayne. Stanton listened to it until he used profanity and then turned it to the One Direction station. Mathew pretended to vomit into the center console.
Waikiki Beach was packed though it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. Stanton found parking nearby and they retrieved the three surfboards out of the back. They all went to the bathrooms and changed into their wetsuits, but before Stanton could even suggest they try and grab a set, Mathew said he was leaving with his friends.
“Stay close,” Stanton said.
“I will.”
“And no frontside airs. It’s windy today.”
“Alright,” Mathew groaned.
“I’m serious, Matty.”
“I said alright.”
Stanton watched him go with his friends. Their surfboards were essentially just decoration. They hadn’t discovered the beauty of the ocean yet. Of connecting with something greater than yourself. For them, it was an exercise in getting girls.
“I’ll come with you, Daddy.”
Stanton tousled his youngest son’s hair. “I know, buddy. Well, let’s grab a set before it gets too windy.”
As the days with his sons usually did, it ended too early. Though they’d spent four hours at the beach, it went by in the blink of an eye, and Stanton wanted to stay longer. But Mathew had baseball and Johnny was exhausted. They climbed back into the jeep and grabbed some burgers before heading home.
Stanton got in a nap, too. He had a hammock set up in the backyard and he slept there now with a lemonade on the grass underneath him. At times like this, he couldn’t imagine why he had ever wanted to live anywhere else.
His phone rang and woke him up. It was his ex-wife.
“Hi, Mel.”
“How are my boys?”
“Good. Matty’s at baseball and Johnny’s inside, asleep.”
“Are they doing okay, Jon? Do they miss me?”
“Of course they miss you.” He crossed one foot over the other. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“I know when you’re doing fine and when you’re not.”
She paused. “We’re divorcing.”
Stanton was silent a moment. He had met her new husband, a pro-ball player Melissa had met at her job as a personal trainer, exactly once. The other man had tried to intimidate him by squeezing his hand too hard in a handshake. “I’m so sorry.”
“We’ve just grown apart. It’s no one’s fault. Don’t tell the boys yet, though.”
“I won’t.”
An awkward silence lasted a few seconds before Melissa said, “The reason they moved with you is that they didn’t like the situation here. Now that situation is changing…”
“No, Mel. They love it here. The sunshine and the jungles and the ocean… it’s good for them. You can’t rip them away from this. We’ve put them through enough.”
“I want them with me.”
“In Florida?”
“No. I’m moving back to Boston to be closer to my parents. It’s always been home to me.”
“But not to them. They won’t want to go. Mathew’s almost eighteen. He won’t leave. And Johnny needs to stay with him.” Stanton hesitated. “Why don’t you move out here?”
Another silence.
“Jon…”
“I’m not saying let’s get back together. I’m just saying move out here. Be closer to them. They need their mother. But they need this island, too.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Stanton reached down for the lemonade but couldn’t get it. Rather than getting out of the hammock, he swung it enough that he could grab the lip of the glass and lift it up to him.
“I’ll keep an eye out for places,” he said.
“Thanks. Have the boys call me when they get up.”
Stanton closed his eyes and tried to sleep again, but it wouldn’t come. The thought of his ex-wife living nearby was comforting, in a way. Having someone to help him with the boys, to truly help him, wasn’t unwelcome. He was doing the best he could but he knew there were certain things only a mother could give to her son. He didn’t want his boys missing out on that.
He checked his watch and saw he had already slept for two and a half hours. He decided to get up. Suzanne would no doubt be ready for their date early.
31
Nate Thomas sat at the table
in the fanciest restaurant he’d ever been to. He didn’t have a lot of money and dinner was usually a quick stop at McDonald’s or Chick-fil-A. It was just so much easier than trying to cook. But it had strained his finances recently and he had made up his mind to eat at home more. One day, he wanted a wife and he would be expected to save and provide for her.
The waiter came by and offered him a water, something called Vos, and he said he would like two bottles. The waiter looked him up and down and leaned in close.
“Sir, it’s twenty dollars a bottle.”
“Oh,” he said, blushing slightly. “Do you have just tap water?”
The waiter nodded as though annoyed and walked away.
Nate took a deep breath to try and calm himself. But the excitement wouldn’t leave him alone. He was jittery and his stomach was in knots. He nibbled on some warm bread with butter, but even that little bit of food made him feel nauseated and he stopped.
Then, he saw her.
She was slender and muscular. Wearing a dress that exposed her back. She smiled and it made his heart drop. He looked away and then realized how stupid that was, and looked back. He deserved this. He’d saved all year for this night.
“Hello, Nathan,” she said, sitting down across from him.
He couldn’t help but smile. “Hi.”
“Thank you for being here on time. Have you ordered yet?”
“Oh, um, no. I thought we would order… I mean, I didn’t know what you wanted.”
“It’s okay. No need to be nervous. I’m here for you.” She reached out and gently touched his hand. “I’m going to take care of you tonight. Let me order for us.”
The waiter returned with tap water. “Anything to drink for you, ma’am?”
“A glass of the Larkmead Cabernet. Two of them, please.”
The waiter cleared his throat, looking at Nate. “That wine is fifty dollars a glass.”
“You’re right,” the woman said. She pulled out a thick wad of cash and laid three hundred on the table. “Better bring the bottle.”
Nate smiled as the waiter grimaced and walked away. “You look really pretty.”
“Thank you. I feel very pretty.” She leaned close to him again, gently caressing his hands with her fingertips. “Tell me everything about you.”
“Not much to tell. I’m not a very good talker.”
“We don’t need to talk. We can just touch.”
He felt something underneath the table and realized one of her hands had gone under. It slipped up his leg and to his crotch. He thought his face might be burning red by now.
“Let’s forget dinner,” she said. “I’d like to devote more time to other activities.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“Good. Let’s have a few drinks first, though.”
32
Suzanne came over to Stanton’s house an hour before their agreed-upon time. She actually looked quite stunning in a red dress with her hair pulled up, a strand coming down over her cheek. She smiled at the door. Her sister was with her, a younger version of her with a stack of books under her arm.
“You ready?”
“Yeah,” Stanton said.
“This is Ann. She’s at USC right now. You taught there, didn’t you?”
“No, I taught briefly at UCLA and a couple of junior colleges. Nice to meet you, Ann.”
“You, too. Suzanne’s told me a lot about you.”
Stanton let them into the home. Mathew was playing video games and he glanced back and then did a double take. He was immediately dumbstruck by Ann. Johnny barely noticed her.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Matt.”
“Ann.”
Stanton grinned and looked to Suzanne, who was smiling. “They’re cute. Let’s sneak out while we have the chance.”
“I’ll be back, guys,” Stanton said on his way out the door.
They climbed into the jeep and Stanton said, “Okay, where to?”
“Take H1 going east.”
Stanton began to drive. He would occasionally glance at Suzanne, who had a grin on her face. She reached out at some point and placed her hand over his. He enjoyed her company and he appreciated her with his children, but that catalyst wasn’t there. Two people that knew they could work together felt something that started something else. Stanton knew that. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t between the two of them.
Attraction was something Stanton had researched in graduate school for a seminar. Later, understanding it was paramount in the work he had done in sex crimes.
The conscious factors of attraction were easy to see, he thought. The other person’s appearance, how they acted, how they smell and feel to the touch, the sound of their voice, their station in life… we attributed all of our attraction to these factors, but they were superficial. The unconscious was a mind of its own and cared nothing for these things.
Stanton understood that everyone entered adulthood with wounds left over from childhood. Usually, they were a diminished sense of self-esteem and identity. But for those that suffered trauma, whether physical, emotional, or sexual, the wounds were far deeper.
In a sense, the unconscious was searching for a person that could help heal those wounds. But the very act of trauma damaged the unconscious. Disconnected it in some sense from the conscious mind. The result was that the radar that should have been used to find the perfect mate, found instead the same type of monster that harmed the mind in the first place. A woman that had been sexually abused as a child was prone to finding morally void, predatory men. A man that had an alcoholic, absent mother would without a doubt find the same in a wife, or go the opposite route and become one himself. A type of healing by attempting control over what hurt them. The only way to overcome it was through intense therapy and recognition of the pain, and the mind’s attempt to heal it.
Stanton had trauma, too, and it was difficult to tell how much it influenced his decisions in whom to be attracted to. By every measure, Suzanne should have been a good fit for him. She was gorgeous, wealthy, kind, Christian though not Mormon, and loved his children. But deep in his mind and in his gut, Stanton knew he had not the least amount of attraction to her.
“Jon,” she said, “can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“We’ve been neighbors a while and, I mean, this is the first time we’ve gone out. Just you and me.”
Stanton knew where this was going and he didn’t want to have this conversation just now. “I went through a pretty painful divorce. And not even a year ago, my fiancée and I called off the wedding. I’m not exactly thinking I have the best luck with relationships, Suzanne.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Whether she accepted his answer or not, she didn’t show any reaction.
The restaurant they went to was an upscale place known as the Mecca of Hawaiian regional cuisine. The chef had won several awards, and you saw them hanging on the wall shortly after walking through the doors.
The lighting and décor were warm gold, with paintings of crimson flora on the walls. They were seated in the middle of the restaurant, and the waitress handed them a wine menu and went through the specials. They consisted of lamb tapenade and duckling with gold pineapple chutney. Suzanne ordered a bottle of wine with two glasses.
“I don’t drink,” Stanton said.
“Really? Okay, well, let’s pass on the wine then. I hate drinking alone.”
When the waitress was gone, Suzanne said, “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay.”
“So, I hate to pry, but is it because of an alcohol problem?”
He chuckled. “No. Religious beliefs.”
“Oh. I mean, I knew you were Mormon, but you know.”
“I know.”
A loud party was seated behind them. Five men, all drunk. Stanton glanced to them and then back to Suzanne.
“I want to hear about your work,” she said. “You never talk about it.”
“I don’t think you
want to hear about it.”
They sat in silence a few moments. Stanton wanted desperately to show her a good time. To get across to her that she was beautiful and deserving of attention, but he couldn’t do it. Suzanne had planned an entire evening, but she had to have known that something was wrong. Stanton thought it’d be much better if this ended quickly rather than the two of them forcing it along.
“Suzanne, I’m glad you’re my friend. And I like spending time with you… as a friend. But romantically, I don’t think it would ever work. I’m sorry.”
Her face lost a certain anticipation. She folded her arms across her chest. “I sense that. I don’t know why you think that, but I sense it.”
He rose and laid two hundred dollars on the table. “I’ll see you. I really hope this doesn’t affect our friendship.”
“Just leave, Jon. Don’t make this anymore humiliating than it already is.”
He turned to leave but glanced back once at the door. She was staring out the window, her eyes glistening.
33
When Stanton was back on the interstate, all he felt was guilt. It tugged at his guts, and he could’ve thrown up if he let himself. Suzanne had been nothing but kind to him, and he showed her cruelty. He wondered if he should have just faked the entire date: false smiles, witty stories, and a kiss at the end. But then the pain would come when she would ask when they could see each other again, and he would have to reply that they couldn’t. No matter what route he would have chosen, it ended with Suzanne in pain.
His cell phone was on the passenger seat and he kept placing his hand on it. He understood who he wanted to call, who he wanted to spend this night with.
Before he knew what was happening, he spoke into Google Voice and had his phone call Heidi Rousseau.
On the second ring, he went to hang up but then heard her voice.
“Hello?”
“It’s Jon Stanton, Heidi. Sorry to bother you.”
Black Widow Page 11
