by Tracy Wolff
Except then one of the three partners vanished and it came out that he’d embezzled a great deal of money. Tim’s reaction? Not grief at the betrayal committed by a friend. Oh, no. The day after the news of Steven’s disappearance hit the San Francisco Chronicle, Tim had bounded into the house in a great mood, swung her in a circle and ebulliently told her they wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again.
She had looked at him and thought, I don’t understand or know who you are, this man who is relieved, even joyous, because his partner and friend has fled with millions of dollars. As if that solved all his problems.
She could no longer love a stranger whose ethics she doubted.
But she didn’t know anything. And she couldn’t understand what had precipitated the lead investigator to grill her.
“Funny timing to leave your husband,” he shot back.
She had to say something. “Tim had been under stress for months while he and Josh and Steven tried to understand what was wrong. That…exacerbated our issues.” Wonderful. She sounded like a marriage counselor or a self-help book.
Estevez tipped the chair back, letting her know not so subtly that he had settled in and would stay as long as he felt inclined. “When did he explain the problems at work?”
“The day after Steven disappeared.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “You expect me to believe that? You were living with the guy!”
She had been, and it still hurt, remembering how unimportant she’d been to the man who was supposed to love her. Rebecca would be ashamed of herself for staying as long as she had with him, given the way he treated her, but she had been raised to believe marriage was forever. Despite the months of estrangement, if she had been sure he really loved her, she could have forgiven a lot.
Now, she raised her eyebrows. “Believe me or not, it’s the truth.”
“You’re a cool one, aren’t you?” He did not sound admiring.
Detective Estevez was of average height, but he was built like a bull, his neck thick, his shoulders powerful. He kept asking questions to which she had no answers. His temper heated. He slammed the legs of the chair back on the floor and planted his forearms on the table so he could lean forward until his sneering face filled her field of vision. He shouted. He wondered aloud what would happen to her kid when she went to prison.
But she couldn’t tell him what she didn’t know. She didn’t have the money; she had never felt close to either of Tim’s partners, even though one or the other had dined at the house every few weeks until those last months, when she scarcely saw them.
“You’re wasting your time,” she said.
He snapped, “I’ll decide that.”
When he ran out of questions, he glared at her for what had to be a full minute. Rebecca laced her trembling fingers on her lap and stared back at him with the pretense of composure.
At last he shoved himself to his feet, eyes narrowed. After flinging a business card on the table, he said, “I’ll be watching you.”
She didn’t respond—didn’t move—until she heard the apartment door close behind him.
And then she hugged herself and tried to understand why Detective Estevez had wasted time on her when Steven Stowe was the embezzler.
* * *
FOUR MONTHS LATER, Rebecca let herself into this house for what she prayed would be the last time. Their house—Tim’s house now. No, she’d be here to drop off Matthew for visits or pick him up, but that would be different.
And visits were all that Matthew’s stays with his father would be. With resolve, she buried the whiff of fear that she would lose their custody battle.
Once she closed and locked the front door behind her, the silence was so complete that her footsteps on the marble floor of the foyer seemed to echo. Something about that silence gave her goose bumps, even though she had expected the house to be empty. Housekeeping staff had always been part-time.
As Rebecca walked from room to room, she marveled that she’d ever called this place home. Tim had been so excited about building it for them that she’d had to be careful about what she said. He’d ignored her gentle suggestions. An architectural magazine had run a feature on it because the design and function were cutting-edge. Naturally, the finest materials were used. It had just never come to feel homey to her. How could it, with six bedrooms, five bathrooms? To her, it felt like living in a hotel.
Would Tim have listened if she’d spoken out more strongly from the beginning? Rebecca smiled sadly. She could only imagine his expression if she’d said, “For God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble.” She had strayed so far from her roots that she couldn’t remember the whole quote, but knew there was something about clothing yourself in humility, too.
Pride, Tim understood. Humility wouldn’t be a virtue in his eyes.
There was so much she hadn’t let herself see when she’d foolishly fallen in love.
In the most recent meeting held at a law firm with both their attorneys present, Tim had told her to take anything from the house she wanted. Typical, she’d thought, feeling a mix of amusement and annoyance. He couldn’t look stingy in front of the attorneys. Once he had understood really, truly, that reconciliation wasn’t an option—something which had taken months—he’d been generous with financial settlements, as well as the small things.
His generosity had ended when it came to their son. Tim’s father, Robert Gregory, was a cold man who too often expressed astonishment that his son had made anything of himself. Whatever had happened between Tim and her, she still detested her father-in-law for what his disdain had done to his own child. Unfortunately, Robert thought Tim had done one thing right—he’d sired a handsome, smart son to carry on the family name. Divorce wasn’t a word Robert wanted to hear. He couldn’t have a dynasty if he didn’t have a firm grip on his grandson.
Rebecca had a very bad feeling that Tim’s demand for joint custody was only the beginning. Her attorney supported her decision to fight for primary custody. No reasonable person could think a five-year-old boy should live half the time with a parent who routinely worked seventy-to eighty-hour weeks and rarely took a weekend off.
Her gut feeling was that Tim agreed, but he couldn’t back down without facing his father’s contempt. And so their current standoff continued.
Temporarily blocking her worries, she focused on her current task. She was here, so she should get this over with.
She walked quickly through the ground floor, surveying the ultramodern furniture, which had never been to her taste. Even though the apartment she had rented was still scantily furnished, she didn’t want anything from here.
She did miss her exceptionally well-equipped kitchen, so she might raid the cupboards. The fine china or crystal goblets and wineglasses had mostly been given as wedding gifts, and she couldn’t imagine using any of them.
Cooking utensils were another matter. She selected a couple of favorite pans and tools and carried them to the box she had left in the foyer. She didn’t bother with Tim’s office, where she had rarely been invited. Thanks to staff, she hadn’t even entered it to clean.
A quick scan of Matthew’s bedroom assured her that she’d left only enough toys and books to allow him to feel at home during his weekends with his father. Everything important had already been packed up and brought to her new apartment.
The master bedroom was last. Rebecca was confident she had taken all her clothes and shoes. She had left behind most of the jewelry Tim had given her. She would never wear it again.
There was only one piece she would like to keep—the necklace that had been Tim’s gift their first Christmas together. The pendant was simple and lovely, an eighteen-karat gold heart studded with sapphires. They were the color of her eyes, he had told her before gently kissing her. It wouldn’t have been cheap, but neither was it extravagant and ostentatious like his later gifts. It would give her one memory to hold on to.
Tim had had a small safe built into his walk-in clos
et, hidden by stacked hemp storage boxes. Mostly, her jewelry had been kept in this safe rather than the larger one in his office. He’d always insisted on getting the jewelry out for her, but she had seen him dial the combination and remembered it. She doubted he would even notice that she had taken one necklace.
She moved a few boxes and dialed, and a moment later the safe door opened silently. She looked for the small blue box she kept the pendant in, but a surprising flash of red caught her eye. This was a ring, but massive and clearly masculine. Tim never wore rings. Stranger yet, a black leather wallet sat next to it.
Puzzled, she reached for the ring, lifting it out into better light.
Harvard University.
Steven Stowe, embezzler, had worn a ring just like this. An irritated Tim had claimed his partner wore it to flaunt his Ivy League education. Tim and the third partner, Josh Griffen, had graduated from a state university. She had thought they were being unfair. Steven didn’t talk about his past much, but she’d heard enough to know he had grown up in lousy circumstances. Making it to Harvard had to have been hugely symbolic to him. The sad part was that his mother had walked out when he was only a kid, and his dad had died of cirrhosis of the liver something like ten years ago. With no siblings, there wasn’t anyone left to be awed at his accomplishment.
Rebecca had wondered before whether his background explained why he’d been so desperate for wealth that he had been willing to betray his partners.
Her forehead crinkled as she set the ring back down.
What was she thinking? Of course this couldn’t be Steven’s! When he’d taken off with the money he’d stolen, he wouldn’t have left his treasured class ring behind. And they knew he wasn’t dead, because he’d been using his debit and credit cards on occasion, staying constantly on the move. Tim had told her the police hadn’t blocked his accounts so that they could trace his movements.
But dread formed anyway, making Rebecca reluctant to pick up the slim billfold. Her hands had become blocks of wood and her chest felt compressed, as if there was something wrong with the air in here. I don’t want to open this.
But the glow of the ruby was impossible to ignore. Just do it, she told herself, and flipped the wallet open.
Steven A. Stowe’s face looked at her from his driver’s license. His current driver’s license. One by one, she pulled the debit card and four credit cards from their slots. None of them had passed their expiration dates, either.
But…he was using his cards. That was how the police knew—
A whimper escaped her before she could stifle it. Steven wasn’t using them at all—Tim was. He traveled enough for business that it had never occurred to her to associate his trips with the times Steven had supposedly cropped up in Southern California. But maybe the investigators had.
Aghast, she thought about the huge risk Tim had been taking when he’d used someone else’s credit card for cash advances and large purchases. Except… She gazed at the driver’s-license photo. Tim and Steven did look a lot alike. People had always thought so. No one glancing at the awful driver’s-license photo would have questioned his identity, especially not when the man presenting it dressed well and had a smile that said he was trustworthy. And, of course, he could present other ID.
Rebecca dropped the billfold onto a shelf as if the leather had singed her fingers.
Her almost ex-husband wouldn’t have the wallet, credit cards and, most of all, that ring if Steven was still alive. So Tim knew he was dead…and had a stake in keeping the police chasing a man they believed to be alive and on the run.
And Tim was happy that Steven was dead. She couldn’t forget that.
Panting, Rebecca ran head-on into a terrible dilemma. Did she ensure Matthew’s father went to prison by giving these to that horrible detective? Tim might not have had anything to do with the death. Knowing Steven was dead wasn’t the same thing. It could have been an accident. And his first instinct would be to protect the company.
She wished as she hadn’t in years that she could talk to her mother. But she knew what Mamm would expect of her. “Pray,” she would have said. “Ask God what the right course is for you to take.”
Only, Rebecca’s faith had been worn down by life with a nonbeliever, by the modernity surrounding her. What her mother, raised Amish, really assumed was that prayer would open her heart, where God’s will would be revealed to her.
She wasn’t sure she’d recognize God’s will if it appeared in letters of fire in front of her, not anymore.
What if she pretended she had never opened the safe? Tim would never know.
Billfold still in her hand, Rebecca was already shaking her head. At least if none of the cards were ever used again, the police would start looking harder at the possibility Steven was dead, wouldn’t they? So, in a way, if she took these things she’d be doing the right thing while not betraying a man she’d once loved. Who was a good father, when he found time to spend with his son.
Heart hammering in her chest, Rebecca made her decision. She took the ring out of the safe again and replaced the hemp organizers. Then she rushed downstairs to stow the wallet and ring in her purse, and hurried for the front door.
Which opened just before she reached it.
“Shopping?” her husband said snidely.
* * *
A WEEK LATER, Tim arrived at the apartment to pick up Matthew. Playground and burgers, he’d promised.
The moment Rebecca let him in, she recoiled and took a couple of cautious steps back. He was waxen beneath his tan, his eyes wild and his forehead beaded with sweat.
“Dad!” Matthew yelled, and came galloping down the hall.
Taking a couple strides inside, Tim snarled at him. “I need to talk to your mother. Go to your room and shut the door.”
Vibrating with shock, Matthew stared at his father. Then, with a muffled sob, he whirled and ran.
“Don’t talk to him like that!”
Tim turned his turbulent glare on her. “Why did you have to go snooping?”
She opened her mouth to lie, but couldn’t. “I wanted the sapphire necklace.” Which, in the shock of what she’d found, she had forgotten to take. She no longer wanted it. Why cling to a memory of this man’s tenderness?
“You don’t understand what you stole.”
Rebecca stared at him. “Really? I’m pretty sure I do.” She searched his face. “Tim, tell me you wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Of course it wasn’t me!” He turned away and, with a jerky motion, swung back. “Misleading the cops a little, that’s not so awful. It was the only way to save the company. Don’t you understand?” he begged. When she didn’t respond, his face darkened. “You like your financial settlement, don’t you? What if I couldn’t keep paying child support? You might have to actually work for a living.”
The scathing tone and flushed face pushed her over the edge. “It was your pride that kept me from working during our marriage, and you know it. As it happens, I have a job.” Assisting in an elementary classroom would give her an in with the school district when she applied for a teacher’s position starting in the fall.
He rocked back. “What?”
“You heard me. And here’s something else you need to hear. I haven’t gone to Detective Estevez. I know, whatever happened, you think you’re doing the right thing. And, for better or worse, you’re Matthew’s father. I did hide the wallet and ring somewhere you’ll never find them.”
“You can’t do this to me.”
She crossed her arms. “What exactly am I doing to you?”
“You’re holding them over my head.” He shook his head, baffled. “Why? You’re the one who left me. I loved you.”
The fury she’d been suppressing swelled inside her. “So much so that I felt like a ghost in your house. One of the few times I tried to make you really see me, talk to me, you shoved me into the kitchen cabinet. I had to hide for days after that so nobody would see the bruises. But you weren’t around to notice. You we
re never around.”
“I told you I was sorry!” he yelled back.
“Sorry isn’t good enough!” Rebecca struggled to calm herself. She had forgiven him, hadn’t she? She wasn’t acting like it. “Tim, whatever you believe, my taking Steven’s wallet and ring had nothing to do with our history. I just…couldn’t let you keep fooling the police. It’s wrong. Whatever you did or didn’t have to do with Steven’s death—”
“I told you. I didn’t have anything to do with it. And it was an accident, anyway. We just…” He swallowed. “Him dying would have complicated everything. He took the money, he ran. That’s all anyone has to know.”
Hating what was staring her in the face, Rebecca whispered, “Why?”
“You don’t need to know. You need to quit interfering with something you don’t understand!” Teeth showing, the muscles in his shoulders bunching, he leaned in. “Give me back everything you took.”
Rebecca took a prudent step back. “No.” Groping behind herself, she found the knob and opened the front door. “You need to leave. I’ll make your excuses to Matthew.”
He didn’t move. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“No!”
“It’s the custody issue, isn’t it?” He gave an incredulous laugh. “You’ve got me over a barrel, and you know it. If I back off, you’ll give me what I need.”
The possibility had never crossed her mind. She wasn’t devious enough. But now that he’d laid it out…heaven help her, she was tempted. Her pulse raced. Matthew would stay with her, and he’d be safe from his critical, domineering grandfather.
What she was contemplating was a lousy way to protect her son, but she’d use anything or anyone for him.
“No,” she heard herself say. “I won’t give it back. But you have my promise that I’ll keep quiet. No one else will ever see what I found.”
Her pulse raced as she waited. His eyes narrowed in a way that told her he was thinking, and hard.
Finally he grunted, said a foul word and agreed.