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“Yeah. I do.”
“You going to explain?” he asked and slowed down as the light changed red ahead of them.
“Not much to say. We’ve met on a few occasions, at a couple of school events. He’s always very…helpful. And he knows exactly what to say. Like a …soothsayer? Is that the right word? People seem to eat up his every word. Probably what makes him such a good salesman. But when he looks at me?” She shivered dramatically. “Ick. I gather you weren’t particularly impressed with the guy?”
The light changed, and he stepped on the gas. “Not even close. I was going to have Meems dig into him after I get this case wrapped up. But after meeting him, I don’t want to wait. I’ll have Jace start looking now.”
“Far be it for me to try and tell you how to operate, but what do you really hope to find that will convince Claire this guy isn’t any good? If Claire hasn’t seen him for what he is yet, then it’s because she doesn’t want to. And you showing up with a folder on him is only going to piss her off.”
She was right. Claire hated being told what to do by anyone, valuing her independence above all things. But there were some things that were worth the anger and hellfire she’d rain down on him. “You might be right, but if Rick isn’t on the up-and-up and poses any kind of threat to my sister, I have a duty to find out. I owe her that.”
“You owe her that? Why is this on you? Claire’s a grown woman. A quite intelligent woman, from all accounts. Save for where Rick is concerned.”
He didn’t respond at first. Just kept driving, as images of his and Claire’s life passed through his mind. Memories of the two of them huddled in the small crawl space out in the garage behind their dad’s workbench. It was the only place they felt safe, knew he couldn’t reach them. Hearing the yelling, the shattering of glass, the inevitable slap and sobbing as their mother begged him to stop from the house.
Those were the lucky nights. The nights when they knew the signs and had the wherewithal to get into their hiding space. A space that would often protect them until the morning light.
But on the nights when they hadn’t seen the signs? When they were torn from their sleep by an arm yanking them out of bed, a belt to the back because of some slight they never could anticipate, such as when Travis had left his Legos on the floor and his father had stepped on the
m? Those were the nights they hadn’t been so lucky.
“Claire had a rough life. We both did,” Travis started gruffly. “Our dad…he was a real shithead. He liked to hit people. My mom was his first choice in punching bags. But Claire and I couldn’t always escape. You know how alcohol sometimes makes a person mean?” He shook his head. “Not our dad. He was his meanest when he wasn’t drinking. I did what I could, trying to keep his attention off Claire, but she was just as determined to keep it on her. And it wasn’t always physical. He was really good at saying the right words to make you feel like utter shit.”
A warm hand landed on his arm. He glanced at Meredith, who was staring at him, her brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
Hell, was he going to make the queen bee cry? This had to be bad.
“My mother would usually come and lie with us after on those nights, singing, trying to stop the tears, the pain. Always swearing that this was the last time. That she’d pack everything up and take us away if he didn’t leave. And by the morning, he always was really sorry when, in the light of day, the bruises and welts were glaring back at him. And he’d cry and say how sorry he was. How it was the last time. That he could change. He’d be a better person.”
He paused, thinking about how hopeful he and Claire always were that this was the moment when his mother would stand up to the man, that she’d keep to her promise to kick him out or take them somewhere safe. But…she hadn’t.
“And she always believed him. Always wanted to believe the best, that he could change, just like he promised. Be a different man. But I knew better. And a month would pass, maybe two, of peace and quiet and not walking on eggshells. Until a particularly bad day would send him over the edge again. People, like leopards, don’t change their spots just by willing it.
“Then one night, he got into some argument at the bar, and when he left, four guys jumped him. Beat him pretty good. Not enough to kill him, though. No. Mom had to make that decision. To pull him off life support. That just about killed her, too. Don’t know how or why, but she always loved him. Always forgave him. I think when the cancer took her a few years later, she was relieved. She just wanted to be with him. Still.”
“Good to hear that there really is such thing as karma,” Meredith said softly. “For your dad, I mean.”
The two-story white colonial came into view, and he didn’t say anything more, just pulled into the driveway. “My point here wasn’t to make you feel sorry for me. I made my peace with this shit a long time ago. But Claire? Hell, I don’t know how it affected her. We never talk about it. And I can’t help but wonder if our screwed-up childhood has impacted her more than she realizes. Made her blind where men are concerned. She assured me the other night that Rick would never hurt her. Not physically. And maybe that’s her litmus for a man—hell, I don’t know. But I’m going to make sure that there’s nothing that he’s hiding. Nothing that will hurt her.”
They were quiet for a minute, the radio playing something that he couldn’t really hear.
“You’re a good man, Travis,” Meredith said softly. Before he could give any kind of response or reflect on what she’d said, she was scooping up Meems’s files and opening the car door. “I’ll get these inside. See you in a minute.”
When she reached her front door, she shot him a quick glance over her shoulder before unlocking it and heading inside.
Her unexpected empathy, the way her dark eyes swam with emotion and her hand rested on his arm to try and comfort him, was playing havoc with everything he thought he knew about this woman. He stared at the house another moment, wondering how she could continue to completely surprise him. Make him almost believe people could change.
He shook his head, needing to get it together.
He picked up his cell and dialed. “Jace? Yeah. I’m going to need you to do a background check. A full background check.”
…
The sun had dropped two hours ago, but the temperature outside was still holding in the upper eighties as they drove to the address Bryce had texted them. Meredith had given up on the car’s air-conditioning and rolled her window down, letting the air blow against her face, whipping her hair around her head, almost taking her breath away.
Normally she’d be worried about the effect on her smooth blowout but for tonight’s style, she figured it couldn’t hurt. She’d been looking for tousled and messy—the wind could only make it more so.
Her real worry was that they’d take one look at her and turn her away at the door. It wasn’t like she was eighteen anymore. A decade later, not even close.
