by Brenda Novak
He knew he shouldn’t accept the invitation. Maybe she thought she was only looking for someone to talk to, but she hadn’t let go of him, and he could feel desire curling through his veins.
He opened his mouth to tell her they’d have to talk later. But then she added, “Just for a few minutes?” and he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.
“Sure,” he replied. “I have a bottle of wine. I could grab it if you’d like a glass.”
She nodded. “That’d be nice.”
Again, he told himself he should bail out. But he didn’t. “I’ll be over in a minute.”
9
Savanna could feel her heart beating all the way out to her fingertips. Why was she nervous? So she’d invited her neighbor over to talk for a few minutes. That wasn’t a big deal!
Except...it really was a big deal. Because she wanted to do a lot more than talk. And after the past two months, she felt she owed herself whatever this night might bring. She’d done everything she could to be a good wife, and yet she’d ended up in the worst possible situation. Why not forget all that restraint and do exactly what she wanted for a change? Especially because she couldn’t see how one night with Gavin could hurt. He made her feel like the person she used to be years ago, before her world lost most of its color. For the first time since before her children were born, she felt free, and that made her hungry for the fulfillment she’d been missing as an individual.
But she barely knew him. And he was her neighbor, which meant she’d definitely have to face him after tonight. She couldn’t let recklessness overcome her better judgment, could she?
Although the woman she’d been since she’d married Gordon said no, the sudden resurgence of physical desire was proving to be a powerful force. And Gavin seemed so mellow. He was friends with most of his ex-girlfriends, so if anyone could take a one-night stand in stride, it would be him.
She looked in at her kids to be sure they were settled. Only this time she shut each door as she went out. She didn’t want to consider why she felt compelled to do that...
Gavin knocked softly before letting himself in. “Are you sure you’re not too tired for a little conversation?” he asked.
She wasn’t tired anymore at all; she was completely wired. But she understood that wasn’t really the question. He was giving her a chance to back out before anything could happen. She’d seen the way he looked at her, knew he was interested, too. “I’m fine if you are.”
He didn’t answer. He popped the cork on the wine he’d brought over, and she pulled out two stemmed glasses that she’d unpacked and washed when she organized the kitchen. “My new fridge looks nice filling that gaping hole. Thank you for helping to get it there.”
He clicked his glass against hers. “You’ve made nice progress in here.”
“Only the kitchen. But I’ll get to the rest. I didn’t bring that much stuff with me, so it shouldn’t be too hard.” Anything that hadn’t fit in the truck, she’d left behind for Gordon to deal with—or Gordon’s mother, since he probably wouldn’t get out of prison for some time. “I’ll buy a microwave tomorrow and use my slow cooker for dinners until I can find an affordable stove.”
Gavin put his glass to one side so he could pull himself up onto the counter. She loved that he made his visit as comfortable as possible. He didn’t crowd her or come on too strong even though he had to know what she was contemplating.
“You’ll want some new carpet for the living room soon,” he said. “Would you like me to look for a nice remnant? I could probably lay it for you, which would save you some money.”
She lifted herself up onto the opposite counter. Since they were about five feet apart and facing each other, she had a great vantage point, given how much she liked looking at him. “Are you this nice to everyone?” she asked.
A crooked smile claimed his lips. “Well, I don’t offer to lay carpet for everyone,” he admitted.
When Savanna had to remind herself to breathe, she knew she was getting too caught up in Gavin. He hadn’t even brushed against her when he came in, hadn’t made contact at all, but the memory of his warm neck beneath her hands while they stood in the driveway made her long to feel his skin again. “I think I might be in trouble when it comes to you,” she said softly.
The way he studied her let her know he understood exactly what she meant. “You don’t have to worry. We’re only having a drink. This doesn’t have to go anywhere.”
She swallowed against a dry throat. “What if I want it to?”
Obviously taken aback by the candidness of her response, he said, “Then I might be in trouble, too, because there’s no way I’m going to say no. But we don’t have to decide anything right now. Let’s just...talk.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to talk to me.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because after what I’ve been through, and how recent it was, it’s all I can talk about.” She lifted her glass. “And who wants to hear about that?”
“I do,” he said simply.
Feeling a bit jittery inside, which couldn’t have anything to do with the wine after only a couple of sips, she pulled her gaze away from him. Maybe she should talk about Gordon. Maybe focusing on the recent destruction of her former life would quell the arousal she was feeling. “There are moments when I still can’t believe it was my husband who assaulted those women.”
Gavin sipped his wine. “It said in the paper that his victims were strangers. But Nephi’s such a small town. You didn’t know any of them?”
“Not personally.” The change in subject seemed to be helping—as long as she didn’t look at him for too long. “But I ran into Meredith Caine, the woman who was attacked while carrying her laundry to the basement of her apartment complex, only a week before I moved. And that was...hard.”
“She recognized you?”
“She did. By then, everyone in town knew who I was. She said I had to have known what Gordon was doing.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Of course not.” She leaned over to set an abandoned plate one of the kids had left on the counter in the sink. “Do you think I should’ve checked up on him? Is that what most wives do?”
“Your other friends would probably be better equipped to answer that question. What do they say? Do they check up on their husbands?”
“I haven’t had anyone to ask.”
“You don’t have any married friends?”
“I don’t have a lot of friends, period. I was so focused on other things that I drifted away from the kids I was closest to in high school. I spent most of my time with Gordon that first year of college, didn’t meet many other people. Then we dropped out. And once we were married, we moved to a town where we didn’t know anyone. I thought we were fitting in and making friends, but after he was arrested, I realized that the people I’d met in Nephi were nothing more than polite acquaintances.” She savored a sip of her wine. “Maybe if we’d attended the Mormon church, like his grandmother used to and like most everyone else in town, the members would’ve rallied around me. As things stood, I felt completely isolated.”
“You told me you worked. You didn’t meet any friends through that? Or the kids’ school?”
“I worked for a single agent in an old house that had been converted into a commercial property on the main drag. He was much older, also married, with grandkids, and it was only the two of us there each day—well, when he was in. At the end, I was pretty much running the office myself. He’d spend only a few afternoons a week at his desk. Even when he came to the office, we didn’t talk about anything besides work and the weather.”
“And the kids’ school?”
“I met various staff and some of the parents when I volunteered in the classroom, and as the mom of a boy who played in a soccer league. But those
are the people who turned out to be far less committed to me than I expected.” She stared into her glass, remembering how quickly they’d begun to eye her with suspicion and doubt. “You have to understand, it’s different when you’re married. My family was my whole life. Working and taking care of Branson and Alia, especially since Gordon was gone so much, didn’t leave me a lot of time for hanging out with friends. Besides, Gordon had me convinced that he was working so hard. I felt guilty if I ever went anywhere without him, especially because getting a babysitter cost money.”
Gavin poured himself a splash more. “Would he have minded if you’d spent the money, gone out and had a good time now and then?”
“Without him? Oh, definitely. That would cause a fight, so I did what he expected of me.” She set her empty glass to one side. “That was why, after he was first accused, I stood by him, tried to defend him. It’s not like I turned on him immediately. That didn’t happen until the police told me about the items they discovered in our shed, and even then it took time for it all to sink in and destroy my loyalty.”
“You’re talking about the rape kit.”
The last thing she wanted was for one of the kids to wake up and hear this conversation, so she spoke quietly. “Yes. They found a mask, a knife, zip ties and a flashlight in an old duffel bag in our shed, shoved down behind where we kept the Christmas tree.”
Gavin slid off the counter to pour her some more wine. “What I don’t understand is why Gordon would keep that on the property,” he said as he returned to his place. “Wasn’t he afraid you might stumble across it?”
She started on her second glass. “No. I never went out to the shed. It was full of camping gear, which we hardly ever used, holiday stuff—and spiders. I hate spiders.” She eyed, with more than a little trepidation, all the cobwebs she had yet to clear away here in her new house. “If I needed anything, I asked Gordon to get it. And he kept a lock on the shed. Said he didn’t want any of the neighborhood kids getting into our storage and making a mess.”
“He probably took that duffel bag with him when he was gone, anyway.”
“Some of the time, I’m sure.”
“I can only imagine how you must’ve felt when the police found that.”
She closed her eyes as she recalled Detective Sullivan marching into the kitchen, brandishing the duffel bag he’d retrieved and opening it so that she could have a look. That was the moment she’d had to accept that she’d never really known her own husband. “It was horrible,” she admitted.
Gavin didn’t speak again until she looked up at him. “What did Gordon have to say when they found that?”
“He told me the detective had to have planted the evidence in order to get a conviction.”
“Is that when they took him into custody?”
“No. They waited a few days, until they had proof that he’d had contact with one of the victims.”
She’d never forget lying beside Gordon during those long nights, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t sleeping next to a rapist. He’d been so angry with Sullivan, so full of accusations of police misconduct. She’d wanted to believe he was telling her the truth, that it was Sullivan who was being dishonest. But it was in the wee hours of those sleepless nights that she’d begun to think about all the little things she’d discounted through the years—how difficult it was for Gordon to climax during regular sex, how standoffish and moody he could get, that he hadn’t been home on any of the three nights those women were attacked.
“Did he say why he went to that Mormon church in Provo if he wasn’t a member?” Gavin asked.
“He insisted he did it because he was missing his grandmother, and she was so devout. He felt closer to her there.”
“Is that something he’d be likely to do?”
“Sounded a little off to me. But, like I said, he was troubled and struggled with his past. His grandmother helped care for him when he was young, so...maybe.”
He turned his glass around with two fingers. “That’s why his presence at the church didn’t mean much to you.”
“To be honest, even the items in the shed didn’t completely destroy my faith. The police had been so antagonistic with us. Apparently, they thought that was the best way to go about the investigation—by threatening and intimidating us. Because of how the detective had behaved, I could believe he might try to falsify evidence.” She picked a piece of lint off her jeans. “He didn’t do himself any favors by treating me the way he did. I probably would’ve come around sooner without that.”
“But then they found forensic evidence on the knife or something?”
“They’re still testing it. Real labs aren’t like the ones in the movies. That type of thing takes a long time, since there’s usually a backlog. They did rush the DNA test on the blood in the van because they needed to arrest him before he could hurt anyone else, but we have to wait for the rest.”
“Do you get the impression Gordon is nervous about what they might find?”
“No. He insists they won’t find anything, but I’m hoping they will. Otherwise, he’ll keep denying it. And I want him to stop lying, you know? I really just want him to tell the truth—at last—so I don’t have to go on second-guessing every move I make.”
“What does he say when you ask him for the truth?”
“He swears up and down he’s innocent. I told you he said the police must’ve planted the knife and those other things? Well, that was only at first. Now he’s saying that he pulled those items together for a Halloween costume—even though I’ve never seen him dress up once in all the years I’ve known him. If he was home, he usually watched the slasher kind of horror movies I hate while I took the kids trick-or-treating.”
“He wouldn’t go with you?” Gavin sounded surprised.
“Wasn’t interested. But his love of all things ‘dark’ makes his costume excuse somewhat plausible.” She shook her head. “Or maybe not.” The more she drank, the less certain she became. Everything seemed to be running together in her mind. “He said he thought it would be a cool costume, but once he assembled it, he decided it’d be too creepy.”
“Some people dress up as Freddy Krueger...”
“True, but being a character from a movie is one thing. Pretending you’re an actual murderer is a little different. Don’t you think? I admit I wouldn’t have liked it.”
“So why didn’t he put it away? Why keep it all in a handy duffel?”
She could hear Gavin’s skepticism. It was one thing to draw a conclusion as an unbiased person and quite another to have to condemn the father of your children. “He claims he didn’t take the time. That he wasn’t concerned about it, since he saw it as harmless fun.”
Gavin gripped the edge of the countertop with both hands. “I can see where you could get confused, but an article I read indicated that investigators found the blood of one of the victims in Gordon’s van.”
“They did.” She’d thrown up when the detective told her about the blood. She still felt squeamish when she thought about how many times she and the kids had ridden in the vehicle her husband had supposedly used for his crimes. “It was Theresa Spinnaker’s.”
“There’s no getting around DNA evidence,” Gavin said, making that point again.
For the past several weeks, Savanna had been almost as certain as he was. But after talking to Gordon this morning...
Was there any chance he could be telling the truth? She hated the way he made her doubt what seemed clear to everyone else. Just when she thought she had it all straight, he’d get hold of her and infuse a little doubt. That was one of the hardest things about what she was going through. One minute, she was certain he was guilty and felt he deserved to lose his family and spend the rest of his life in prison. The next, she was asking herself, “What if?” Could Gordon be that good at concealing his true character? H
e wasn’t an easy man to live with, but was he really a sadist?
“It was only a few spots,” she explained. “And Gordon told me this morning that he once gave Theresa a ride to work—picked her up on the side of the road because he felt bad that she was walking in the middle of a snowstorm.”
“Doesn’t that prove he knew her?” Gavin asked. “Maybe that’s what drew his attention to her in the first place.”
“Could be. But it also establishes a legitimate reason for her DNA to be inside the van.”
“We’re talking blood, not just DNA.”
“She could’ve had a small cut or something.”
“She can refute that she was ever there, can’t she?”
Savanna drained her glass. “She could. Then it would be his word against hers. But Gordon told me that she admits getting in with him. Supposedly, once his lawyer brought that encounter to her attention, she remembered it.”
The chime of Savanna’s phone interrupted. She knew who’d be calling, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from lifting her cell to check.
Sure enough, it was Dorothy. Dorothy had been leaving threatening messages all day. In one, she’d said she’d follow Savanna to the ends of the earth, if necessary, to get the money Gordon needed.
With a grimace, Savanna silenced her ringtone and slid her phone away. Gordon knew her parents had left her a house in Silver Springs, and Silver Springs wasn’t that big a place. But surely Dorothy wouldn’t come to California...
Gavin tipped his glass in the direction of her phone. “The jail allows Gordon to make calls this late?”
“It’s not Gordon,” she explained. “It’s his mother. She calls me all the time.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Whenever.”
“What does she want? I can’t imagine she’s hoping to talk to the kids if it’s well after their bedtime.”
“She doesn’t have much of a relationship with the kids. She didn’t have much of a relationship with Gordon, either, until she got older and sobered up. Anyway, to answer your question, she wants me to continue paying for Gordon’s defense. But I can’t help him. I have two kids to worry about. If I invest the last of the money I inherited from my folks in lawyers, how will I take care of them?”
