In Seconds

22

While Myles went upstairs to change out of his uniform, Vivian walked around the main floor. Except for the section of living room visible from the front door, she’d never seen the inside of his house before. The coziness of it, the family portraits, the ceramics and drawings Marley had created, reminded her of what so many women wanted—a home and family, a steady relationship, a place to call their own, safety and security. Even the expansive, unused deck out back appealed to Vivian because it symbolized a man’s love for his wife— Myles’s commitment to Amber Rose as he cared for her in those last months.

Vivian wanted the same kind of love and commitment. And from the same man. Sure, she’d stayed in Pineview because of Claire, the gals at the Thursday-night book group, Myles’s daughter, who was so willing to babysit, Nana Vera and all the others. She’d also stayed because she loved her home, and her children were happy here. But all these things wouldn’t have been enough, wouldn’t have motivated her to take the risks she was taking now. It was Sheriff King she hadn’t been able to leave. She was afraid she’d never meet another man like him, one who so closely fit her ideal of what a husband and father should be. If not for him, she probably would’ve gone to New York and considered herself lucky to have escaped The Crew yet again, lucky to be reunited with her brother.

But living near Virgil didn’t hold the same attraction if it meant living without Myles. She’d fantasized about the sheriff far too many times to walk away from the hope that’d taken root inside her, especially after making love with him at the cabin. Maybe she’d chased that desire into a corner, but it was still there. Despite all her denials, she’d allowed herself to believe, at least on some level, that they had a chance of becoming a couple. She was fighting for that chance, fighting to establish the family she’d always wanted. That went beyond a house. After finding him on her doorstep when she returned, she understood that he was what she’d been looking for all along.

Only now he’d taken a giant step away from her. Had she been crazy to send her children to New York, to take a gamble on trying to have it all?

“You hungry?”

Startled by the sound of his voice, she turned away from a portrait of Amber Rose to find him standing at the foot of the stairs. She hadn’t heard him come down because she’d been studying the photograph of his wife with such intensity. He had pictures of her all over. Not that the house was a shrine, exactly. Far from it. She figured these pictures were the same ones that’d been up when Amber Rose was alive but they still made Vivian a little uncomfortable. She’d been so worried about her own problems, her own reasons for being unable to sustain a relationship, she hadn’t really considered whether or not she could compete with someone like Amber Rose. In death, Myles’s wife only became more perfect. While Vivian had to live with whatever life threw her.

“No, I’m fine.” She was too exhausted to eat. And she was afraid, that if she ate the wrong thing, her ulcer would act up again. Her stomach had been burning all day.

As his gaze moved over her, she realized she wasn’t looking her best. Knowing how much she was going to miss her children, she’d cried the whole way back from Kalispell and hadn’t bothered to repair her makeup. And she was wearing loose-fitting jeans with holes down the legs, sandals and a simple T-shirt, nothing that would impress him.

He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, too, but after a shower, he looked fresh. Smelled good, too. The scent of his shampoo brought back the night she’d pressed her face into his neck and breathed in the same scent she was enjoying now.

“Did you ever have dinner?”

They’d been staring at each other. Slightly embarrassed by the appreciation that must’ve shown on her face, she blinked. “No, I had a late lunch with Claire.”

“It’s midnight. Even a late lunch would’ve been hours ago.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

He started to move past her but hesitated. She could sense him behind her, large and solid, and wished he’d place his hands on her shoulders, her arms, anywhere. With so much at stake, she needed him to reassure her that she’d put her hope in the right thing. But he didn’t. After a pause, in which it felt as if he wanted to say something but didn’t, he skirted past her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

“I make a mean omelet. Will you eat one if I cook it?”

Her stomach burned enough already. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”

“What’s wrong?”

She adjusted her position to try to ease the discomfort. “Nothing.”

“You keep rubbing that spot. Does it hurt?”

“A little,” she said with a shrug. “I have an ulcer that gives me trouble every once in a while. Nothing big.”

“An ulcer.”

“It comes and goes. The wine I drank the other night might’ve caused it to flare up again. I don’t do well with alcohol. And stress makes it worse.”

“What can I feed you that’ll help?”

He seemed genuinely concerned, but after what he’d been through with his wife, she couldn’t imagine he wanted to deal with any kind of illness, even if it wasn’t cancer. “An omelet will be fine.” She smiled as she said it.

The comforting sizzle of eggs in a frying pan filled the kitchen as she wandered to the windows overlooking his back porch and that elaborate deck. From where she stood, she could see straight into her own kitchen. She wondered if he’d ever noticed that—or been tempted to watch her as she moved about. She certainly glanced over here often enough.

“Will you tell me about your ex-husband now?” He opened a drawer and the utensils rattled as he came up with a spatula.

Leaving the windows, she sank into a seat at the circular booth that served as his kitchen table. She wasn’t that impressed with the decor in his house, thought Amber Rose’s taste had been mundane. But Amber Rose hadn’t been known for her decorating ability. She’d been known as a wonderful wife and mother. So saintly it was probably crazy to hope Myles could ever get over her.

“Why do you want to know about my ex?” she asked.

“Was he abusive? Or was that a front for everything else that was going on?”

As Tom’s face appeared in her mind, Vivian grimaced. “He was definitely abusive.”

“In what way?”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“No. I’ve got it. In what way?” he repeated.

She would rather have chopped vegetables or grated cheese. It would be easier than watching him. “In every way.”

He put two slices of bread in the toaster. “How old were you when you married him?”

“I’d just turned eighteen.”

“Wow, that’s young.”

“Too young.”

Opening the cupboard closest to him, he took out the salt. “Where’d you meet?”

“At the doughnut shop where I worked.”

“He came in?”

“Pretty regularly. I didn’t notice him at first. He was just another customer, someone who was quite a bit older than me. It was his persistence that eventually caught my attention. I worked at the doughnut shop in the mornings and waited tables at a Mexican restaurant in the evenings. Once he learned I had a second job, he began to show up there, too.”

Myles twisted around to look at her. “Sounds like a stalker.”

“He has emotional problems. I wish I’d been smart enough to realize it then. But I had to work night and day just to get by, and that left me with no social life. I was really lonely, angry at my mother and worried about my brother. Tom stepped up to help me through it.”

“And I’m sure he did that for your benefit.”

She recognized the sarcasm in those words but didn’t attempt to justify her actions. Hindsight made her mistakes so clear. What she didn’t add was how desperate she’d felt for a little love, how long it had been since she’d experienced anything like that. “Everything started out okay,” she went on. “It wasn’t until I was pregnant with Jake that he got so possessive.”

Myles didn’t seem to like this story. A muscle jumped in his cheek and his movements grew jerky, at odds with his typical athleticism. Yet he was engrossed enough that he’d all but forgotten his cooking. “Where were your parents?”

She pointed to the pan behind him. “I think the eggs are going to burn.”

He shook on some grated cheddar and flipped the omelet. “So, where were your parents?”

“My dad abandoned us shortly after I was born. My mother went from relationship to relationship. Each new ‘love’ was all that mattered to her. I moved out at sixteen, shortly after my brother went to prison. He was what made home bearable for me.”

“You’re talking about Virgil.”

“Yes. He’s my only sibling.”

“Prison was how he met The Crew.”

“Did Rex tell you that?”

“Yes, but not what Virgil did to land himself in prison. And…didn’t you say you have an uncle in prison, too?”

“I’m getting to that.” She propped her chin on one fist as she recited the rest. “They charged Virgil with killing my stepfather, but he was exonerated fourteen years later, after my uncle’s ex-wife came forward with what she knew about the night in question.”

He put the first omelet on a plate and started another one. “What took her so long?”

“Loyalty. It wasn’t until they broke up and some of that love and loyalty faded that she was willing to reveal what she knew. After all, she’d benefited from it, too—at least, financially. When he fought her for custody of the kids, she got so angry she went after him with everything she had.”

“Bet that was interesting.”

“It was. She said he’d gone out the night Martin died. That when he came home, he had blood on his clothes and was visibly shaken. Then the insurance money arrived, and they could finally pay their bills. That sort of thing.”

“So it was your uncle who killed your stepfather.”

“That’s right.”

“With what?”

“My stepfather’s own gun, if you can believe it. He kept it in the house for protection.” She laughed at the irony that seemed to pervade her whole life. “The police knew that much when they arrested Virgil. The gun was on the floor near his body. Whoever shot Martin fired the weapon, dropped it and ran.”

“Not the smartest killer in the world.”

“Definitely an amateur but he did wear gloves. There were no fingerprints on the gun. And thanks to my mother, he nearly got away with murder.”

Myles took out another plate. “Wouldn’t your mother be the one to get the insurance money? How come the uncle was named beneficiary?”

Vivian thought about the autopsy the M.E. had likely performed on her mother today, or would perform in the near future, depending on how many bodies awaited his attention—and in L.A. that could be quite a few. What had the police discovered? Did they realize it was a gang hit? Did they have any hope of tracking down Ink without her help?

She doubted they’d be able to. Now that The Crew had found her despite her efforts to remain hidden, she could call the LAPD and offer what she knew. She planned to do it in the morning. She still wasn’t sure she’d be able to attend the funeral, though.

“Vivian? The insurance?”

“Oh, yes. My mother split the money with him. Uncle Gary claims she put him up to the murder in the first place. She claims—claimed—she was just trying to help him out of a financial mess, since he’d lost his job.”

His hand froze over the pan as if he was wondering whether or not to broach the subject of her mother’s murder; she was glad when he kept their conversation to the story. “What kind of job did your uncle lose?”

“He was a service manager at a Toyota dealership. With the state of the economy, other dealerships weren’t hiring, and he was struggling to find a way to support his family.”

Myles whistled as he slid the second omelet from the pan. “I see. Your mother was behind it all and yet she let your brother go to prison.”

Vivian rubbed her face. “Sick, isn’t it? I couldn’t stay with her after that.”

“But…now she’s gone.”

Vivian didn’t answer.

“Are you okay with that?”

She wasn’t okay with any of it. “I don’t want to talk about how I feel. It’s too complicated.”

“I understand.” He bent to see the gas flame beneath his pan as he lowered the heat. “So where’d you go when you left home so young?”

“I tried living with a friend. But her parents were about to divorce, and I was so worried about making things more difficult for them that I rented a room from a stranger, dropped out of school and went to work.”

He buttered the toast. “Did you ever go back? To school, I mean?”

“Never had the opportunity. I met Tom, got married and had Jake. And Tom hardly let me out of the house. I think he was afraid I’d meet someone my own age, and he’d lose me.”

“How much older was he?”

“Twenty years.”

Probably thinking of his own daughter, already in her teens, he shook his head. “Two decades is a big difference, especially when you’re only eighteen.”

“I’m lucky I got away from him when I did.”

“How long were you together?”

“Six years.”

He pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge. “When did he cut his initials in your arm?”

“After the first time I tried to leave him. He got drunk and showed me what would happen if I ever tried that again.” He’d done a lot more than cut his initials into her arm. He’d also tied her up for eight hours. She’d never forget how badly her hands and feet had hurt once she got her circulation going again.

“Did he drink often?”

“Toward the end, all the time.”

He’d finished the second omelet. After turning off the stove, he carried both plates to the table. “What did Tom do for a living?”

“He was a stockbroker. He was educated, established, successful.”

Myles set the plates on the table. “And he was determined to keep you. How’d you ever get away from him?”

She laughed ruefully. “It was like trying to escape The Crew. After he went to work one day, I packed up the kids and left the state.”

He crossed the kitchen and returned with two forks. “Did your mother help you with finances or anything?”

“No. We weren’t speaking. When she got the insurance money and split it with her brother instead of putting some toward Virgil’s appeal, it upset me so much. I couldn’t believe she’d do that. My brother was the one person I loved, the one person I felt I could trust, and she’d taken him away from me.”

“Did she understand what you were going through with your husband?”

“Not really. I tried to talk to her, but she’d always gloss over it by telling me some men were more possessive than others. She said at least I had one who earned a decent living and wanted to be a good father. Bottom line, she didn’t care, didn’t want me to become her problem. That wouldn’t have gone over very well with Terry, her latest boyfriend, who didn’t want anything to do with me or Virgil.”

He must’ve realized he’d left the milk on the counter because he got up and poured them each a glass. “She sounds very childish and selfish.”

“She was.” As much as Vivian wanted to remember her in a more positive light, she had to be honest enough to admit that.

“So what happened? How’d you get by?” He nodded for her to start eating while they talked, and she did her best to take a few bites.

“There was a woman by the name of Kate Shumley who ran a woman’s shelter in Tucson, Arizona. I’d driven there, hoping to eventually make my way to Colorado, where they’d moved Virgil, but couldn’t go any farther. I had no more money for gas, no money to feed my kids. I’d hoped to get a job, had looked in every major city we passed through, but no one would hire me because I didn’t have a permanent address. So I managed to find this shelter, and Kate took me in. With a state grant, she eventually paid for me to relocate to Colorado, where I’d wanted to go in the first place.”

He added some Tabasco sauce to his omelet. “That was nice of her.”

“A man had called the shelter, looking for me. She guessed it was a P.I., someone Tom had hired, and was afraid he’d figured out where I’d gone.” She found she was enjoying the omelet; it tasted much better than she’d expected.

“How did Colorado work out?”

“Just being close to my brother helped. Especially because I’d been in touch with an organization called Innocent America, based in L.A., which was working to free him. The state had no forensic evidence. A jury had convicted Virgil on circumstantial evidence alone. Still, I didn’t have high hopes that we’d be able to get him out, but they were trying, searching for evidence to prove it was—or could have been—someone else. Then my aunt came forward, and they had what they needed.” She took a drink of her milk. “I thought the worst was over, that Virgil and I would finally get to build new lives.”

“But your brother had joined a prison gang and they weren’t willing to let him go.”

“That makes him sound rebellious or irresponsible,” she said with a grimace. “Or even stupid. But he didn’t have any choice. He wouldn’t have survived prison if he hadn’t joined one gang or another. He was getting into a fight almost every day.”

“There’s always a price to be paid for safety.”

“Yes, and he knew too much. They were afraid of what he might tell the authorities. Not only that, but once you join, you’re in for life. If you try to leave, and they can’t get to you, they go after your family.”

Myles had already finished his omelet and pushed away his plate. “So you had to run and hide again.”

“Only this time I had the government’s protection. Virgil made a deal with them. If they’d put me in WitSec, he’d go undercover to help them bust another gang that was taking over Pelican Bay. He’d just come out of prison, so he was believable in the part. And he had the motivation.”

“When was this?”

“Four years ago.”

“He was trying to save your life.”

“And my children’s.”

“It sounds rather opportunistic of the government.”

She swallowed another bite. “The gang problem was getting so bad they were beginning to panic. They considered it a win-win.”

“But they were gambling with his life!”

“Yes.”

“I take it he came through.”

“It didn’t go as smoothly as we would’ve liked, but he did what he could. A lot of bangers in both groups—the Hell’s Fury and The Crew—were brought up on new charges through his efforts.”

He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “So is anyone from the Hell’s Fury after you?”

“I’m sure they’d love to find us. But it’s The Crew that’s been the most determined and successful. For them, what Virgil did was a personal affront. They’re the ones who knew him so well, who’d basically lived with him as a brother for fourteen years. And when he left, Rex eventually went with him. That didn’t go over too well with The Crew, either. The familiarity they have with both men has given The Crew an advantage.”

“They managed to track you down, even in WitSec?”

“That’s why we left D.C. two years ago.”

He drained his glass. “How do you think they did that?”

“They had to have had someone on the inside or someone with access to insider information.”

He nodded, then motioned for her to continue eating, and she dutifully raised her fork to force down a few more bites.

“So how well do you know the guy who’s coming after you?” he asked. “Ink?”

“Well enough to know he’s the most dangerous, deranged individual I’ve ever met.”

“Are you the one who shot him?”

“No, that was Rex, but Ink blames me because Rex did it to save me.”

“Did Mia see it?”

“Yes.”

He cursed under his breath. “Poor thing.” He leaned closer. “I guess you never really know who your neighbors are, do you?”

The conversation had been so serious it took her a few seconds to realize he was joking. “No. What dark secrets are you hiding?”

His mouth slanted to the left. “I’ll never tell.”

“Tell me about your family, then.”

“What about them?”

“Are your parents alive?”

“Yes.”

“And where are your siblings?”

“I have only one brother. He’s in Arizona, too.”

“How often do you see him?”

“Once or twice a year.”

She remembered Myles and Marley packing up for vacation last summer. They’d gone to Disneyland for a few days but spent at least a week with his family. Marley had told her all about it when she’d come over to babysit Mia and Jake for a couple of hours one afternoon. Marley had also stayed with her maternal relatives at the end of the summer, and Myles had been home alone. Vivian had definitely noticed that. It was probably about the time he’d first begun to return her interest.

“Here, I’ll take that.”

Somehow, she’d managed to eat all her food. And she actually felt better because of it. “Thanks. It tasted great.”

He took her plate to the sink. “Make yourself comfortable while I change the sheets on Marley’s bed, okay?”

After he’d rinsed off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, he headed upstairs.

Vivian tried to wait, but she was so full and so sleepy she couldn’t keep her eyes open another second. She wandered into the living room, where she sat on the couch, and the next thing she knew Myles was carrying her up the stairs.