Beth dispelled the illusion by moving to a side wall, activating another sliding panel. This one had a deeper recess and opened to a bank of hi-tech looking video screens above a counter. Granite, of course. Even their secret lairs had style. Jimmy strode in, shutting and latching the door behind him. My ears popped. He moved to the equipment and manipulated a toggle switch causing the screens to flip back and forth on various scenes from the house and grounds. Made me dizzy.
“Another false alarm?” Beth asked.
“Not exactly.” Jimmy’s calm voice belied the tension in his face as he began punching different buttons, narrowing the focus on one screen and selecting various angles from another. A phone rang, which Beth answered, speaking quietly but firmly. On the screen over Jimmy’s shoulder, a grey, murky scene evolved. A figure crept furtively along the exterior of the house, then mashed up against the wall next to a window.
“Police are coming,” Beth told Jimmy as she hung up the phone. “Is that the library?”
The intruder raised a long, skinny object up—a crowbar?—and appeared to wedge it against the window frame. Jimmy reached over and flipped a toggle switch. A flood of lights illuminated the figure—enough to make out dark pants and sweatshirt.
Jimmy flipped another switch and his voice boomed out across the speaker system, sounding vaguely robotic.
“Hey, asshole. The police are on the way. Want to stick around and see if they bring donuts?”
The figure took off like a shot, video monitors mechanically recording his progress.
“Why did you warn him off?” My voice shook. Belatedly, my heart began to pound.
Jimmy leaned back in the swivel chair, sweat beading across his forehead. “Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he said, shaking his head. “But he was too damn close to the window. I don’t understand how he got so far into the property without setting off any of the perimeter alarms. Anyway, a bad guy outside the house is far different from one inside the house.”
“Point taken,” I said.
“I guess the new system just paid for itself, huh?” Beth said.
“Yes, but we need to work out the perimeter problem.” Jimmy reached up and pulled Beth to his lap. She nuzzled her face into his neck. I turned away, staring blankly at the monitors.
“Police are here,” I told them.
Leaving Beth’s, I started wondering if I could find my way back to Eli’s house. Just wondering, mind you. Nothing to do with the yearning triggered when I’d witnessed the solace Beth and Jimmy were free to offer one another. Nope.
I let myself sink into that I-know-I-shouldn’t-do-this-but-I’m-going-to-anyway fugue state that had ruled me in the latter stages of my drinking. A dangerous but heady mix of impulsivity and self-delusion—this time, it lasted long enough that I found myself parked at the end of Eli’s half-mile driveway experiencing a boatload of unwanted self-discovery. And the lusties.
I don’t care who you are—self-discovery sucks.
Unfortunately, realizing why I was there didn’t diminish my desire to stay there. On the other hand—as long as I was dabbling in self-awareness I might as well go whole hog—I needed to face if I went to Eli tonight there would be no holding back.
Was I ready for that?
The drive back to Chippewa Falls was long and dark.
The next day I felt virtuous with a side-order of crabby. I’m finding out virtue does that. I had several clients scheduled, but with the holiday weekend approaching, the majority canceled with little to no notice. I tried to fill in the down time with writing reports, but ended up reading my battered copy of “Pride and Prejudice” that I kept in the bottom file drawer. It shared space with my emergency Snickers bars and a hideously ugly macrame plant holder given me by a depressed, but crafty client.
While I lolled around, I decided against telling Eli about my middle-of-the-night road trip. What would be the point? I’d just end up looking like a psycho-stalker. The breakin at Beth’s gave us plenty to talk about, anyway. That evening, as Eli drove us across town to the church, we half-heartedly debated whether the burglar was connected to the murder or not.
We both knew it was.
Still brooding over my run-in with Kris, I had to struggle to pay attention. Eli, for his part, seemed distracted by my short, denim skirt. He drove with his right arm on the console, propped on the gear shift. Just inches away from my thigh.
When we pulled into the church parking lot, he didn’t get out right away. After a few moments of silence, I said, “Um… Everything okay?”
His eyes snared mine. For some reason, my heart started thudding and the lusties from the previous night roared back into my body. His eyes dropped, following my necklace chain to a heart locket that rested between my… Oy.
“You sure you want to go in?” he said. His always-sexy voice dropped even lower into may-be-used-as-a-sex-toy region.
I swallowed. Took a deep breath. Scrambled out of the car.
THIRTY FIVE
Our little moment almost made us late. We walked in just as everyone were claiming their seats. Falling into character, Eli slanted off abruptly, heading for the coffee, and leaving me on my own. Looks passed between group members as they took in the tension between us. Blushing, I made my way to a chair. Like territorial animals, everyone had chosen the same seats as the week before. There was even an empty seat next to Shelly.
When Eli finally claimed his chair next to me, Gibson cleared his throat to get our attention. Leaning forward, arms resting on his thighs and hands clasped in a sincere yet manly pose, he apologized to the group for the abrupt ending last week. “That’s not the way we like to work things out here,” he said. “This group is formed on the principle that open communication is paramount to a successful marriage.”
Eli snorted, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms belligerently.
“Is there something you’d like to share, Eli?” Mary asked gently.
He glanced over at me, apparently undecided. Then, he smiled. “Sure. Why not?”
The smile was worrisome; I had no idea where he was going with this.
He turned back to the group. “I know I screwed up, but how long am I going to have to keep paying? I’ve been doing everything she asks. I’m coming home when I say I will; I’ve said I’m sorry over and over. And none of it makes any difference. She just won’t… She won’t… “
Oh, please, don’t anybody ask—
“Won’t what?” Bee-Bee asked.
Eli swiveled in his chair to face me. “Won’t let me touch her. Won’t let me hold her. Just… ” He reached over, taking my hands in both of his, forcing me to shift my body so we sat facing each other, my legs bracketed between his. The wedding rings twisted between our palms. His gaze trapped and held mine. “You have to know how I feel, Letty. All I think about is you. All day. All night. Every night. I can’t be this close to you and not want you.” He’d dropped his voice back into bedroom-tones again, and unseen by the group, his finger stroked my palm in slow, hypnotic circles. A full body flush washed over me, and I lost the ability to breathe. I tried to discreetly pull my hands away, but he held them firmly.
It had to be a sin to feel this hot and tingly in a church.
I had to say something. Preferably something intelligent. “I just… uh… you… ” I sucked down some oxygen. “I need time.” Oh, thank God, I completed a whole sentence.
His thumb danced over my wrist’s pulse point, registering the wild racing of my heart. My eyes darted to his. Mistake. A smile tugged at his lips, and I knew that he knew my girl-parts were on full alert status and ready for active duty. On the other hand…
Two could play at this game.
Pushing my arms together, so my cleavage molded into my-cups-runneth-over mounds, I leaned forward. His eyes dropped from my face, and I heard his breath catch. Very, very slowly, I crossed my legs, bringing my shin dangerously—but tantalizingly—close to his groin. He regained his breathing, but it sure sounded ragged and unst
eady to me. Music to my ears.
“Eli,” I whispered. He managed to raise his eyes. I smiled into them. Speaking in breathy, Marilyn Monroe-pauses, I said, “It’s not that I don’t want you. I do. It’s that I need to trust you. Completely. You can understand that, can’t you?”
He nodded.
Leaning into him, breasts inches from his lips, I gently kissed his forehead. “Thank you, babe.”
Then I sat up, unmashed, uncrossed, pulled my hands loose, and swiveled to face forward.
The group sat mute.
Eli, very slowly, swung to face the group. He didn’t seem to be straightening up as much as normal. I avoided looking at the men, but Bee-Bee openly grinned and Mary’s face was so red it looked flammable.
“It’s a good thing you two is married,” Ralph finally said.
Gibson cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. I think that, uh, that’s a fine example of… “
“Perhaps it’s time for a break,” Mary said.
“But we’ve only been here fifteen minutes,” Ralph said. “I think they should talk some more.”
Mary said. “And I think it’s time to hear from somebody else. Perhaps Shelly could give us an update. ” She nodded brightly, happy to have landed on a G-rated solution.
“So, where is TJ?” Ralph asked. “He AWOL again? He ever coming back to this thing?”
“He wanted to be here tonight.” The lie brought a flush to Shelly’s cheeks.
“Yeah, sure.” Ralph laughed.
“Ralph, let’s keep it positive,” Gibson intervened. “But that does bring up a matter I wanted to look at. I guess I’m curious about how much help a group such as this can be if only one partner is invested in it.
This time, Shelly’s flush was in anger. “It’s not his fault. He’s under a lot of stress.”
“What kind of stress?” I asked.
Mary looked at me nervously. Maybe she was afraid I was going to break into a pole dance.
“We’ve had a really hard time this year,” Shelly replied. “We have a ten-month-old daughter, Zoe. She’s our youngest, and she’s had medical problems since she was born. Seizures, failure to thrive. We’ve been to so many doctors. They just can’t pin down what’s wrong. And the bills just keep piling up.
“And then, TJ changed. I don’t know what’s going on with him. He used to be so devout. We came to church and attended Home Group, and he never drank. Now he’s out in the bars all the time. Some nights he doesn’t even come home. For a while I thought he was having an affair or, I don’t know, getting back together with his first wife. He’s always felt guilty about his divorce. Once when he came home drunk, he told me he thinks Zoe’s sickness is a… punishment.” Her voice, losing power as she talked, ended in a raspy whisper.
Then, she flared up again. “And now you want to kick us out!”
“I didn’t say that,” Reverend Gibson replied. “But I am concerned about your husband’s repeated absences from group. I was just wondering if I should try to talk to him individually. I only want to help, Shelly. You know I care about you.”
Visibly deflating, Shelly slumped in her chair, covering her eyes as she wept. I automatically started hunting for tissues, but Mary was prepared and passed them over.
“Angel,” Gibson said to his wife, “I think you’re right. It may be early, but let’s take a break. Shelly needs a moment.” He moved to her side and placed his hand on his shoulder. Mary’s eyes narrowed, but she rose with the group and moved to the coffee table.
Eli stayed seated, watching Gibson. Not knowing what he was up to, I left him alone. Instead, I selected Bee-Bee as the most likely gossip, and followed her outside. She offered me a smoke from her pack. Wistfully, I declined. I’d recently quit, but the urge still rose with only slightly decreasing intensity.
“Well, don’t start up again,” Bee-Bee said. “I quit myself for about nine months, and then I found out about Tad’s credit card bills. I told myself I’d just smoke one or two, and I’m right back to a pack a day.”
“It’s hard, but I’m glad I quit.”
“Yeah, I know. I felt better too. It’s crazy how we do things we know are unhealthy for us.”
Perfect lead in to ask about the Gibson-Trinnie affair.
“Are you sure you want to talk about this?” Bee-Bee asked.
For a moment, I didn’t understand what she meant. Then I remembered Eli was supposed to have had an affair with Trinnie, too. Making it up as I went along, I told Bee-Bee it had only been a one-night fling (as if that made a difference), but I appreciated her sensitivity. It was all the reassurance she needed. She hastened to describe a saga straight out of the day-time soap operas, complete with he-said, she-saids, and how the choir director witnessed Caleb run out of his father’s office, sobbing and hysterical. When the director ran in—she claimed she thought the reverend had had a heart attack—she was treated to a view of the sinners breaking the Seventh Commandment on the pastor’s desk.
I broke in. “They were still—”
“I think by that time they were probably scrambling to get dressed, but Cicely is a bit dramatic.
“It nearly split the church,” Bee-Bee continued, “but I have to give Reverend Lyle credit. He’s used the incident to build us up rather than tear down. He confessed and repented in front of the whole congregation. He uses it as an example of how we’re all sinners.”
Sounded good, but the words didn’t match the skepticism on her face. “You don’t buy it?”
“Some days, I do. And some days I think he’s just really clever at making lemonade out of lemons. Even now, he can’t seem to stop flirting. I feel bad for Mary . Not only was she utterly humiliated, but instead of moving away and starting fresh, she’s got to deal with it over and over. I’m sure that’s why she broke down last week.”
“Why did Shelly run out, too?”
“Shelly had her own suspicions about Trinnie. I mean, Trinnie and TJ. You heard her mention him having an affair? At the time, Trinnie was a prime candidate. The girl was obviously needy, and she was throwing herself at anything in pants. But like I told her before, it’s not like Trinnie could be everywhere, doin’ everybody. Geez. If she was cheating with the pastor, she wouldn’t have time to cheat… ” She broke off when she remembered she was talking to another of Trinnie’s “victims.” “Anyway, anybody with half a brain can see that TJ’s issue is drugs. Ever since Zoe was born, he’s been running away and numbing himself out. If they’re lucky, it’s just pot. Personally, I think it’s worse.” She gave a knowing look.
“Speaking of which,” I said, “I met Caleb the other day. He seems to be a handful, too.”
“I must be giving you a terrible impression of our church. Believe me, every church has issues. We’re all sinners, after all. No hypocrites here. I think it’s a good thing we’re so honest. At least people know what they’re getting into.”
“Believe me,” I said, “I’m the last person to judge. To be honest, Caleb worries me, especially now that I know about his part in uncovering the affair. It must have been devastating. I can’t be certain, but when we met him the other day, I think he was high.” I didn’t mention seeing him at Red Hots, but it occurred to me that Kris might know him.
“We’re all kinds of worried about Caleb. He’s always run a little on the wild side—preacher’s kid, you know?—but lately…” She shook her head. “You can slice the tension with a knife, at least between Reverend Lyle and Caleb. Mary’s harder to figure out. Still waters, you know? But they have to be worried sick. And I don’t think he’s just playing around or experimenting. It seems a lot more—”
We both jumped when Gibson stuck his head out the door. Bee-Bee dropped her cigarette guiltily and ground it under her shoe. The reverend gave her a wry “caughtcha” smile, and said, “Ladies, we’re starting.”
We followed him inside.
THIRTY SIX
The rest of the session focused on Bee-Bee and Tad’s money issues which, while entert
aining, weren’t pertinent to the investigation.
The plan was to meet up with Beth at Red Hots later on, and then I’d arranged to meet for “drinks” with Fochs. With time to kill after the group ended, Eli and I headed to Olive Garden for a bite to eat. Needless to say, the first few minutes alone in the car were a teensy bit awkward. For me, anyway. Eli seemed amused.
“You’re not funny, mister,” I said.
“What? I thought I did good tonight. We got them talking, didn’t we?”
“Oh, I’m sure everybody will be talking about that little performance.”
He laughed. “An unforgettable performance.” He shot a glance at my boobs.
Thankfully, we arrived at the restaurant soon after. As we settled into our table, Eli said, “Is that what therapy is like? Seems pointless to me”
“I can’t tell if Gibson is well-intentioned but misguided, or if he’s a manipulative ass who’s using the situation to his own advantage. Even if his intentions are good, they shouldn’t be leading a marital group at this time.”
“What do you mean?”
“He can’t be effective until he deals with his own marital crisis. And Mary, too. They don’t have enough emotional distance from his affair with Trinnie to be effective.”
“So, if they’ve had that problem they shouldn’t lead a group?”
“Not exactly. Having gone through it, they can contribute a lot to a group. Someday. Just not this soon, and not without doing some major work resolving their own issues first.”
“Seems like the blind leading the blind.”
“That’s the short version,” I grinned.
Around 8:30, we headed for the Red Hot’s. Beth was already inside, face alight with excitement. “Guess what I found out?” she said.
Beth had spent the day with her nose buried in the library archives unearthing several news stories involving children from the time period between Trinnie’s leaving AA and the November where she’d been talking about feeling guilty.
“Stories, plural?” I asked.
“I’m leaning more toward one incident in particular, but there are a couple possibilities. I’ll go from least to most likely.”
Whittaker 03 The Secrets We Keep Page 18