“There’s been no one since you. I just thought you should know.” He met her gaze, noted the surprised look in her eyes. “No one could replace you. There was nothing missing in our relationship. You gave of yourself so freely, so completely. I felt like I could give nothing in return. I was worn out, empty. When I left, it was because of me. Something in me was broken, missing. My life was on a downward spiral and I was afraid of dragging you down with me.”
Her lip quivered, tears shimmered in her eyes. “I felt like I wasn’t enough for you.”
“I never meant for you to feel that way.” The pain etched across her features cut into him, too. In trying to protect her, he’d hurt her worse than he’d imagined.
For a few hours he’d allowed himself to toy with the idea Mason had put in his head. He’d thought about creating a new life with Claire and their daughter. Seeing how deeply her hurt still ran, he decided he had best put that fanciful thinking aside. Claire wasn’t with him right now by choice but simply out of necessity.
She hesitated before saying, “What happens the next time a mission goes wrong? What happens when you lose someone? Are you going to shut Mia out?”
“It’s happened. I’ve learned to cope. I’ve realized I can’t save everyone. Only He has control over that.” He dropped onto the chair again, feeling exhausted by the conversation. “For so long I fought that. I felt as if I just needed to try harder. Put more hours in. I thought it was about me. But it’s not. It’s about Him. I finally handed all of my fears, my insecurities, over to Him. I still strive to do my best, but I’ve accepted that there’s a whole lot that’s out of my control.”
She sighed as she hoisted herself from the chair. “I hope so, Alex. For your sake and Mia’s, I truly hope so.”
She left the room without another word and Alex was left alone with his regrets.
TEN
As Claire sat alone in the kitchen, she felt smothered by the dismal atmosphere of the house. Clouds had been dumping rain all day. It pattered against the windows incessantly.
It did nothing to boost her mood. She’d slept intermittently the night before. In part because she worried Alex would run back to her old neighborhood without her and in part because their conversation needled at her.
Had he changed as much as he said he had? Had he really and truly accepted Christ into his life? It seemed to her that he had. His demeanor was calmer and he seemed more at peace. And so very anxious to spend time with his daughter.
His apology meant the world to her. It was an apology she’d never thought she’d receive. She’d known how badly Alex had struggled trying to come to terms with what he’d seen while deployed. It didn’t surprise her that only God had been able to settle Alex’s heart and give him some peace.
Last night the heart-to-heart they’d had reminded her of how close they used to be. To know that he hadn’t been interested in another woman since her caused a swirl of mixed emotions. Did it mean that a piece—even if it was a small piece—of his heart still belonged to her? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure what to do with that information, other than to mentally file it away to think about later. Until she was cleared of murder charges, it would be silly and reckless to think about the possibility of reuniting with Alex.
She wanted him to be a part of Mia’s life, but she hated the idea of having to share her, of allowing Alex to take Mia on occasion. There would be so many details to work out. So many ways for things to get complicated.
Not that they could get much more complicated than they already were.
She sat at the kitchen table with her third cup of coffee and Mason’s laptop. Reading about the ongoing search effort to track her and Alex down made her stomach queasy. Alex had sequestered himself away in the spare bedroom. At first, she’d assumed he was avoiding her. Eventually she realized he was working. The mellow timbre of his voice floated through the door and down the hallway. When he’d come into the kitchen for his own refill of coffee, he told her that a few of the new team members he’d been mentoring needed advice. He was able to continue his mentorship from afar.
She was happy at least one of them was being productive. She flipped the laptop closed. It was unbearable, reading the ridiculously untrue and unkind things that were being said about her. The media painted Jared out to be a devoted husband and Claire as the unstable wife.
“Are you done with the laptop?”
She glanced up to find Alex leaning against the kitchen’s door frame. His arms were crossed over his chest. His sculpted biceps were prominently displayed courtesy of his short-sleeved T-shirt. He looked invincible, but she knew that wasn’t true. Life was fragile and so very precious. The scar he now bore was irrefutable proof of that.
She realized he was looking at her with raised eyebrows and remembered he’d asked her a question.
“Yes, sorry. I’m done.”
“I just got off the phone with Mason,” Alex said.
“Did he find something useful?” She was almost afraid to hope.
“He thinks he might have. He sent a file to the email I use for HOPE. It’s more secure than your average account. If you’re not using the laptop, I’d like to take a look.”
“Please.” Claire slid the computer across the table to the empty seat. “I think I could use more coffee. Would you be interested if I make another pot?”
“Definitely.” Alex didn’t look up as he spoke. His fingers were already flying over the keyboard, logging into his account.
Claire moved to the counter. She didn’t necessarily need more coffee, she simply couldn’t bear to sit still. While she busied herself rinsing out the carafe, Alex studied the screen.
Once the new pot was brewing, she settled back into her seat.
A grim smile settled onto Alex’s face. “He has a past all right.”
Claire waited, her eyes on Alex as he finished reading.
“Do you want to read it yourself?” he asked.
“Just tell me,” she requested. Her hands were shaking. Mason had found something on Xavier. But was it enough? Would it be enough to cast doubt on the man?
“Are you aware of how Xavier amassed his wealth?”
Claire tilted her head to the side, wondering what he was getting at. “He comes from a wealthy family. At least, that’s what Jared said.”
“In his youth his name was Todd Cushman. He was often in trouble as a juvenile. He grew up on the streets of Chicago, was involved with a gang. He did some time in juvie for theft. The worst of it was a gang-related fight. He nearly beat a rival gang member to death. Fortunately for him, the kid survived.”
Claire released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding hostage. “Aren’t juvenile records sealed?”
Alex gave her a pointed look. “I told you, Mason is good at what he does.”
The coffeepot stopped sputtering and she rose to retrieve filled mugs.
“It doesn’t paint a very nice picture of his past,” Claire said as she poured. “How in the world did he go from being a gang member to what he is now?”
“When Xavier was seventeen, his uncle George came into the picture. George was Xavier’s maternal uncle. He was originally from Chicago. Xavier beat the odds, got out and became a self-made millionaire. According to Mason, George was quite the philanthropist.”
“The perfect person to take in a troubled youth,” Claire said.
“It appears so. Xavier had gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble selling narcotics.” Alex’s eyebrows scrunched. “According to Mason’s notes, it appears Xavier never used. He was arrested for various crimes, but his drug tests always came back clean.”
“He was just a dealer, staying clean and clearheaded while he made money off the vices of others.” Claire shook her head as she placed the two mugs of coffee on the table.
Alex continued, “George cut a deal with the jud
ge. He agreed to take full responsibility for Xavier if he was released to his custody after another short stint in juvie for the knifing incident. The judge allowed it—after George agreed to get him counseling. George moved Xavier to Portland. On the surface it appears that Xavier turned his life around.”
“On the surface?” She supposed she should be happy that Xavier had turned his life around, but that didn’t help her case much. Xavier was older than Jared had been. He was nearing forty. Had he really spent the last two decades being the upstanding citizen he appeared to be? Well, other than working the black market and murdering her husband?
“Shortly after Todd came to live with George, he changed his name to Xavier and took George’s last name.”
“That makes sense,” Claire said quietly. “He probably wanted a clean start.”
“He got it, all right. A clean start, a brand-new life. Seven years after moving in with his uncle George, George died in a freak boating accident. Xavier was his sole heir. He inherited his uncle’s business holdings along with his millions.”
Claire’s eyebrows shot up. “What sort of freak boating accident?”
“He was bass fishing up at Silver Lake in Washington. Apparently he was alone and fell out of the boat. He drowned. There were no witnesses. The boat was anchored and discovered by fishermen in the morning. Divers found his body the next day.”
“Drowned.” A feeling of nausea cascaded through Claire. “Like Jared.”
“Entirely different situation,” Alex said quietly, “with the same result.”
“Why was it suspicious?”
“George was an expert fisherman. Some guys golf, some guys play tennis, but fishing was his sport of choice. He’d won several fishing tournaments. The lake was calm the day he drowned,” Alex explained. “The authorities didn’t find any evidence of foul play. They assumed he must’ve tripped over something and gone over the edge.”
Claire slumped forward, her elbows resting on the table. “Is there any mention of Xavier?”
“Yes. They looked into him, primarily because he was the sole heir. He had an alibi for that timeframe. He and his wife, Veronica, had checked in at a posh, private resort on the coast, just north of Seaside. They were recently married and enjoying a romantic weekend away. She claimed the two of them were together the entire time. Front-desk staff was able to corroborate that he signed the paperwork at check-in. Later in the evening there’s security camera footage of him in the lobby. He’d stopped at the desk to ask for a late checkout. A few hours after that, he ordered room service. The waiter testified that Xavier answered the door, gave him a hefty tip.”
“Silver Lake isn’t that far away from Seaside,” she said. She mentally calculated an hour or so each way.
“It isn’t,” he agreed. “Yet his presence at the resort was irrefutable. By that point, George had put Xavier through college and had been mentoring him to take over. He ran George’s company for a few years and then sold it, looking for a new endeavor. It looks like that’s when he partnered with Jared and bought the hotel chain.”
Claire pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe it really was an accident. Unlike Jared, it’s not as if someone could’ve crept up on him and pushed him in. Not if he was in a boat.”
“It’s possible that George’s death was an accident and Xavier—” Alex paused, as if trying to choose his words carefully “—used his death as inspiration.”
“Maybe.” Claire wasn’t necessarily convinced. “It seems like a terribly convenient coincidence that George drowned once Xavier was poised to take over the company.”
“It does,” Alex agreed. “However, toxicology reports were run. There was no alcohol in his system, which could’ve contributed to falling in. Nor was there any sign of him being drugged. You said yourself, it’s not as though Xavier could’ve sent a hit man after him. George would’ve seen him coming.”
“We’re back to square one,” Claire said dejectedly. Thunder rumbled, vibrating the windowpanes.
“Not necessarily. Mason asked if I’d like him to forward this to police headquarters. He’d send it as an encrypted message, just as he did with the first file. I told him I’d check with you and get back to him.”
Claire nodded slowly. “Please, have him do it. If nothing else, perhaps they’ll look into George’s case again. If Xavier did have something to do with George’s death, he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”
Alex picked up his phone and sent off a quick text. “Consider it done.”
* * *
That night the rain continued to fall. The blowing wind and the rumble of thunder weren’t what kept Alex awake. He had too many things on his mind. His conversation with Claire the night before was at the forefront. It had felt good to open up to her, to be honest about the past and to apologize.
He knew it wouldn’t take the hurt away, but he hoped it would help her to understand he’d never meant to hurt her.
Mason had called him after dinner to let him know his contact at the department had come through for him. He confirmed that the local PD had received what they considered an “interesting” file from Claire, along with a second email from an unidentified source that detailed Xavier’s past.
He could confirm that an investigation into Xavier’s business dealings had been launched but, as of yet, he couldn’t confirm whether or not he was a murder suspect.
Alex had never been the sort of person who was good at exhibiting patience. He was anxious to check out Claire’s home. They needed something concrete against Xavier and he was certain that Jared was the key.
After hearing Mia’s voice, he couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t wait to meet her. To hold her. To give her piggyback rides and to take her to the park. He wanted so badly to be a permanent part of her life.
He reached for his phone and his wallet. Using the flashlight app, he studied the picture Claire had given him. The adorable face of his daughter was already emblazoned in his memory. He still couldn’t stop looking at the photo, keenly aware of the feeling of love that swirled through him.
He knew it was in part for the child he hadn’t even met, but as he stared at the photo of mother and daughter, he knew his old feelings had never died. In the picture Mia had her arms wrapped around Claire’s neck. His little girl was giving her laughing mother a kiss on her cheek.
Mother and daughter. They were perfection. They represented hope and love. The solidity of family. They represented all that was good in the world. Looking back, it was almost hard to recall how he had strayed so far from what was important. He never wanted to be that person again.
He tucked the photo back in his wallet.
Sleep had been eluding him for hours and it had nothing to do with the couch being a foot too short. He didn’t think it was likely he’d doze off anytime soon. In spite of the rain, he decided tonight was the night he would check out Claire’s home. Claire would be safe—as safe as she could be, under the circumstances—with Roscoe left behind for protection.
As quietly as he could, he got up and got dressed. He didn’t want her to worry if she awoke and discovered that he’d gone. The notepad Mason’s sister had used sat in a basket on the kitchen counter. He quietly shuffled across the living room, intending to leave a note.
What he hadn’t expected was to see a dim light pressing through the crack under the closed guest room door. He veered toward the bedrooms instead of the kitchen. From the hallway he detected the low murmur of Claire’s voice. Was she on the phone? Would she have dared to call Beth? Someone else? He realized it had been a lot of years since they’d been together. He no longer knew who her friends were. Was there someone else she was close to?
Speaking with anyone could be dangerous. Without intending to, it would be easy to slip up and give away their location. He leaned into the door, trying to make out her words. Roscoe yipped happily from the o
ther side and a moment later the door swung open.
“Alex?” Claire frowned. “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”
“I’m aware,” he said lightly. “I could ask the same of you.”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He tried to peer past her, but she stood in the door frame. “Who were you talking to?”
She shrugged. “No one.”
“If you called Beth, I understand,” Alex said, “but I should have Gretchen make sure it was a secure line.” It would be heartbreaking to make it this far only to be tracked through a tapped phone line. “Though, really, you shouldn’t be contacting anyone. It could complicate matters if they’re questioned by law enforcement. I know it’s hard but—”
She held up her hand to stop his gentle rebuke. “I didn’t call Beth. I couldn’t sleep so I was talking to Roscoe. He’s an excellent listener.”
The dog tilted his head in curiosity at the mention of his name.
Alex arched an eyebrow. “What matter is so pressing you needed to discuss it with the dog?”
“If you want the truth, I keep dreaming about the night I found Jared. I keep reliving finding him, jumping in the pool. In my nightmares I always feel like I’m drowning. I was telling Roscoe all about it,” she said wryly, “because sometimes it helps to air out my feelings.”
“That has to be awful.”
A faraway look settled onto her face, a wrinkle wedged between her brows. “When I manage to get him out of the water, he’s so cold...so unresponsive. But I try,” she said emphatically. “I try so hard to save him.”
Alex’s heart ached for her. He knew what it was like to try to force life back into a body that wouldn’t accept it. He knew the emotional trauma that caused. The sense of failure.
Her gaze dropped to the floor, her expression a mosaic of emotions. “Jared was not a good husband. He probably wasn’t even a good person. But he didn’t deserve to die. His killer can’t go free. It’s not just about clearing my name,” she said quietly. “His killer needs to be brought to justice.”
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