A vision of Max came to her mind. His eyes filled with that hint of moisture they took on whenever he was emotionally aroused. He’d be devastated by her death.
She couldn’t kid herself into thinking otherwise.
And looking through the bottom cupboards of that kitchen, reconnecting with things she’d forgotten, things she’d loved, things she’d have gotten rid of given the chance, an old colander, a loaf pan that had made perfect bread, she had to be honest about something else.
This might be it. She might be reaching the end of her life. And she couldn’t go lying to herself.
She’d left Max because when she’d received Steve’s note, she’d known Max would go to his cop friends and put them all in danger. But she’d also secretly feared that he’d leave her. He’d been so adamant that he couldn’t go through losing a second wife.
She’d had her issues. He’d had his.
A very weak part of her had feared that when he found out that Steve wasn’t a thing of her past, but a very real threat in their present, he’d have lost it. Freaked out about losing her. About the dangers.
And he’d have left her.
So she’d left him first. To protect him from having to face the threat of Steve in his life. And to protect Caleb.
But in a sense, it was to protect her, too. She’d known, as soon as she knew Steve was back, that she was going to lose Max one way or the other.
And somehow she’d known she’d never survive him leaving her. She had to be the one who left.
She hadn’t expected it to be that day two and a half weeks ago after taking Caleb to day care. But she’d known she was living on borrowed time.
Subconsciously, she’d been ready.
She heard Steve behind her, going into the bathroom. Heard him relieving himself. With the door open.
He’d been a big one on spouses not closing doors between them. Ever. He’d said intimacy was important and shouldn’t be given to anyone but a spouse. And at the same time, no intimacy should ever be withheld from a spouse....
Meredith hadn’t agreed. Until the time he’d broken down the door that she’d locked behind herself.
She’d learned to hold her bodily functions until he was away from the house after that. Or use the spare bathroom when Steve was in the shower. Or out mowing the lawn. Or on the phone. Or asleep in his chair.
A woman living with a madman learned to be resourceful.
And the memory of that particular resourcefulness was the catalyst she needed.
When Steve came back into the room, she took his hand, led him to the table and sat down.
“Steve, we have to talk.”
* * *
“THE CAR COMPANY pulled up all the files for the days that the agent who recognized Steve had worked the week he was in,” Chantel told Max when she called after the story of Meredith’s disappearance ran on the evening news. “In California, license plates stay with the cars, so we should be able to get a list of plates,” she said. “Police are contacting all the people who bought those green vehicles. We should at least find out what name he’s using through the process of elimination,” she continued without letting him get a word in edgewise.
“You’re getting worried,” Max finally said, interrupting her.
“We need to stay positive, Max.”
Sitting alone on his couch, seeing his wife’s still image on the television screen, Max was beyond being even remotely capable of keeping the panic at bay. He was now one big mass of panic. Of grief and fear and anger and frustration. Of determination and hope. “Just find her,” he said into the phone.
And tried to believe when Chantel’s soft “I will,” came back at him.
* * *
“YOU ARE NOT trying to disobey me, are you, Meredith?”
The words were new to Steve’s repertoire. Meredith swallowed. Maybe the intimacy of sitting at the kitchen table hadn’t been a good idea.
“Of course not,” she said. “You know I know better than that.” Hearing the words, feeling them coming up from inside her, she recognized her return to playing it safe with him at the first sign that he was going to get aggressive with her. Attempting to placate him to avoid the pain.
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t do that ever again.
He nodded, clearly appeased. “So what’s all this nonsense about things being different from now on?”
She’d been telling him that she realized how much they needed each other. How being with Max, who hadn’t known her when she was a vulnerable teenager, who didn’t really know about her years in foster care, who’d grown up with two loving parents who were still alive, had been so different from being with Steve.
She hadn’t mentioned how much better life had been with Max. The truth would defeat her purpose entirely.
The idea was to get him to a place where he was actually feeling their connection. Where he could feel how much he needed her.
She had to get him where he was vulnerable. Where his weaknesses hid.
She needed them in the open.
“I’ve grown up, Steve. And you’re right. A part of me will always belong to you. Nothing is going to break that connection.”
Her strength was born from the horrible things he’d done to her.
“I’m hoping that this time around we’re going to be able to meet each other on more honest ground,” she continued, surprised at how clear and confident she sounded. She was actually pulling this off.
“I’m hoping we’ll be able to acknowledge what we need from each other. To trust each other as the only possessors of our deepest secrets.”
“Did you tell your doctor that you were an outcast? Does he know how socially inept you were as a kid?” His need to point out her own fallibilities to take the spotlight off his, told her she’d hit home.
So far so good.
She’d learned about mental manipulation from the master.
The afternoon was still young enough. But the sun had gone behind some clouds, leaving the kitchen in an eerie gray light that she knew would fade to darkness as the day wore on.
Meredith gave herself over to it. Letting what would come, come.
“No, I didn’t tell him any of our secrets,” she said, looking Steve straight in the eye without blinking. By sheer force of will. He knew that she blinked when she lied if she had to look at the person she was lying to.
She hadn’t told Max about the bedwetting. But it wouldn’t have been a big deal to Max. A boy with urination issues was all in a day’s work to him.
“I need things from you, Steve,” she said. “And you need me. Because I know your secrets. And I love you. All of you. I’ve never thought any less of you because of those secrets. To the contrary, I love you more because of the way you rose above them.”
She took a deep breath. Thought of Max and Caleb. And teared up. Just as she’d planned. “My heart breaks when I think of the boy you were and then I think of the man who grew out of that and I couldn’t love you more,” she said. “You shouldn’t have had to struggle so hard to earn the respect you deserved.”
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and took one of her hands in his, rubbing it gently. Adoringly.
“You’ve got a good heart, Steve.”
A long time ago, she’d believed that about him.
“You’re a caring, giving man who wants to right wrongs.” He had been that man once, and in some ways, still was.
Head bowed, he nodded.
“It takes a very special man, a very strong man, to be sensitive,” she said softly, instilling any hint of love she’d ever felt for him into her voice. “Your father didn’t understand that. But I do.”
He glanced up at her. “This is why you’re mine, Meredith. You understand.”
“I do. I always have.”
Raising a hand to gently caress her face he said, “I love you so much, sweetie. And I am so, so sorry for all of the times I’ve hurt you. It’s going to be different this time.” His voice broke. A first.
And she knew it was now or never.
* * *
THE PHONES HAD started ringing as soon as the first image of Steve Smith had appeared on the news. And continued to come in when Meredith’s image followed. She’d been sighted on the beach. He’d purchased a six-pack of beer the night before.
She’d been spotted on Canal Street. In another state.
He’d had fast food for breakfast.
She’d been seen at a bus station with three kids.
He’d sky dived that afternoon.
All in all, over a thousand calls came in during the first hour.
“We’ve got operators and police following up on every single one of the tips, Max.” Chantel sounded breathless as she relayed the latest news. The sky had turned cloudy, hiding the sun. The house was growing dark, in spite of the fact that it was only midday.
As he took Chantel’s call, Max turned on some lights. He’d been pacing in the near darkness without realizing it. Now he paced in soft light.
It didn’t make much difference.
“Is it true that the longer she’s gone the less chance we have of finding her alive?”
“Don’t go there.”
“The statistics about the first three hours being critical—”
“Those are for kidnapping victims, Max. This is different. Meredith left of her own accord. The cameras at The Lemonade Stand confirmed that.”
He kept seeing a pool of blood on the street.
And knew that Meredith deserved better. He’d promised to be the calm in her cacophony.
“She’s out there, Chantel. And she’s alive. Bring her home.”
Those were the words that rang true.
And he was going to keep believing them if it killed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“THERE...DOES THAT feel good?” Meredith sat on the floor at Steve’s head, gently massaging his temples. She had no professional training as a masseuse, but he’d taught her, a long time ago, to know what he liked, what made him feel good and cared for.
She’d led him into the master bedroom by the hand. Had him lie down on the floor. He’d been as pliable as a child.
“You’ve always had trouble relaxing,” she reminded him softly. “And I’ve always been able to help.” Her voice was almost melodic, as she used every ounce of strength she had to touch the man with tenderness, to find love to transfer from her fingers to his heart.
“Mmmm.” His eyelids relaxed and the muscles in his face softened. When his fingers lay flat on the carpeted floor of the bedroom, she said, “You go to other women, but you need me, Steve.”
“That’s right.” The words were almost drugged-sounding. Drugged with drowsiness. Contentment.
For a quiet moment, Meredith worked her magic on him, as he’d taught her so long ago. And believed that she was with the real Steve Smith. The kind, sensitive boy who’d grown into a man who wanted to help people. Not the tortured child who grew into a man who had to hurt people to feel his own strength.
“That’s why you always come back to me.” She was merely repeating his words back to him. The ones he’d uttered in the weak moments. The ones that came in moments of contrition. When he’d been afraid he’d lost her love.
“Yesss.”
Reaching down, she found the spots where his shoulders met his neck and gently pulled upward, to just behind his ears, and then ran her fingers through his hair to the top of his scalp.
“I’m sorry I ran away from you.”
“It’s okay, love, I wasn’t the easiest guy to live with,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “But I’m going to be better this time.”
He believed those words. She understood that now. And knew that his own conviction was, in part, what had convinced her to believe. All those times. Which one of them had quit believing first?
Or forgotten the truth?
She had to stay calm. To do this. And somehow, from someplace deep within her, she found the ability to continue to touch him without shaking, to move forward with her plan.
She couldn’t look back. Or question what she was doing. She had to be willing to die for this, and she was.
“I won’t ever run from you again, Steve,” she said softly. “I promise you.”
“You always kept your promises,” he said, sounding more and more like a little boy.
She’d succeeded. She’d taken him back to the man he’d been. To the boy he’d been.
“And I’ll keep this one, but I need something from you this time.”
His eyes didn’t open, but she saw the fingers lying on the floor stiffen. “You said this time would be different, and I’ve grown up,” she told him, infusing her tone with as much goodness as she could find.
Which meant pretending she was talking to other people. Whoever flashed in her mind that would work. Olivia. Lila.
She focused on Lila. Anyone closer to her... she couldn’t think of them right now. Couldn’t let anything draw her away from the moment.
But Lila was there, in her mind. Not quite a mother figure, but almost. And Renee.
Steve’s fingers relaxed again.
It wasn’t her fault that her family had died, that Chad had died. She’d had things left to do here on earth. It hadn’t been her time.
Reaching under Steve’s shoulders, she scraped her knuckles on the carpet and pulled upward, from his shoulder blade to his neck and up to his scalp. Widening her range.
She didn’t speak anymore. Relax, she sent the word silently. Relax....
She’d lived because she’d disobeyed her father. She’d left her seat belt unbuckled.
And she’d done it because she’d listened to herself, to her own instincts. Probably to her child’s inner voice. She’d trusted herself. And she’d lived.
Chills spread through her.
And she heard Lila’s voice in her mind, telling her she wasn’t to blame for Steve’s violence. She’d chosen to marry a like soul for all the right reasons. And somewhere along the way, Steve had made some very bad choices. Choices that were prompted by bad things that had happened to him, yes, but still his choices.
Not hers.
I deserve to be happy.
The words were loud in Meredith’s mind. Drowning out every other thought. Every impression, until all she saw was sunlight.
And Lila. An indefatigable spirit that floated in and out of people’s lives without seemingly having one of her own. An angel with secrets she wouldn’t share.
Just like Meredith had had secrets she didn’t share.
“Steve?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“I need you to do something for me.”
“Sure, love, anything.”
“I need you to let me go.”
The muscles beneath her fingers bunched and Meredith slid back and away from the man she’d allowed to steal too many years of her life. Standing, as calm as she’d ever been, she moved as far away from him as she could get, keeping her arms behind her.
She was ready to die if it came to that.
“What on earth are you talking about?” He was sitting up, eyes open, looking confused.
“I need you to let me walk away.”
It was an impossible order. She recognized that even as she issued it. And pressed forward because there was no other course.
“You promised never to leave me again.”
“I promised not to run from you. I need you to let me go, instead.”
“Are you crazy?” The tone in his
voice warned of building anger. Of violence to come. And she stood her ground unafraid.
“You have a problem, Steve. Created by your father, but driven by something inside you. And I can’t live with the constant threat of your violence.” Meredith’s tone faltered as the woman she’d been surfaced. The young, vulnerable woman who’d had her heart, her trust and her body broken.
On her journey to find and return the younger Steve to the room, she’d connected to her younger self, too.
A complication she hadn’t planned on.
He was standing, hands on his hips. “You know I can’t do what you’re asking, Meredith. And I’m not the one with the problem. Anything that happens to you, you bring on yourself.”
Meredith was proud of herself. She didn’t back up. Or back down. “No, Steve, your inability to control your temper or your fists is not my fault.”
“You’ve grown a sassy mouth, Meredith.” He took a step closer. She took a step back. If he got any closer it would be time. “I don’t like it.”
“I’m not backing down on this, Steve.”
He took a step toward her. “Oh, yeah? Well, get this, little girl. You are mine. You married me for better or worse until death do us part. I am not letting you go. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
She’d been prepared for this moment. And when it came, she wasn’t afraid at all.
“I think there is,” she said. She backed up as far as she could go. To give him as much chance as possible to think. “Because I can’t live another minute on this earth with you as you are,” she said. He’d used her deepest insecurities, her fears and needs, to control her. It might work the other way around. “If you let me go, I promise to keep in touch with you, to be a part of your life.” She didn’t know how she’d work that out. But she would. To buy her freedom.
“I’ve got you, Meredith. You’re already part of my life. So why would I let you go?”
“Because if you don’t I’m going to tell the world about your issues. I’m going to tell them how you wet the bed until you were ten. About how your father was embarrassed by you. I’m going to tell the world about your constant need to prove your manhood through affairs, and beating your wife. I’ll go to the news, if I have to, you know. Decorated Vegas detective exposed. I’ll write a book and publish it myself....”
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