Husband by Choice

“You didn’t seem the least bit surprised when I told you that your ex-husband had been spotted in Santa Raquel on more than one occasion.”

The managing director had told her that she’d had a visit from the police. They were doing a follow-up on their earlier visit regarding Meredith, they’d said, due to a restraining order against Meredith’s first husband that was still in effect. The Santa Raquel police were extra protective of The Lemonade Stand residents and had wanted to make sure that Steve Smith had not violated his restraining order.

Jenna had asked how or why they’d known Steve was in town to begin with. Lila had wondered the same. She’d said that a friend of Max’s, a cop from Las Sendas, had done some follow-up research on Max’s behalf.

Chantel was still in the picture. That had been on Thursday afternoon, when Jenna had returned from visiting Yvonne in the hospital. Almost forty-eight hours ago.

Jenna knew because she was counting the hours.

She’d thanked Lila for the information, told her that she didn’t need any protection and walked away.

“I wasn’t surprised to hear Steve had been around,” she told Lila now.

Lila had clearly already assumed as much.

“He’s why you’re here.”

She nodded because it was the expected response.

“You’re sure you don’t need police intervention or protection? They tell me your ex was a police detective.”

“He was, and I’m sure.” The courts had done what they could—granted a restraining order. And that had done nothing at all.

Steve was smart. He knew how to keep himself out of trouble. Or knew who to contact to make certain that whatever evidence there might be against him would disappear. He was a master manipulator.

“What are your plans?”

“To figure out how to say no to him without feeling guilty.” It was a lie but one that would ring true to the director of a domestic violence shelter. “And then to move on with my life.”

“Has he violated the protection order?”

“No.” The answer nearly choked her. It made her sick to her stomach.

But she had to do this on her own. She’d reported Steve in the past. She’d let the shelters help her. She’d even let a thug help her.

And Steve was still here.

“We can’t all follow the same path, Meredith,” Lila said quietly, but firmly. “We teach the same doctrine because it’s the best that we’ve got. But it doesn’t work for everyone. Not every time.”

Standing there, listening to abused and battered women laughing with real joy, Jenna remembered that first night when Lila had come to her room. She’d told her she recognized herself in Jenna. And for a second, she felt hope. Lila knew.

And she was there to help.

All Jenna had to do was confide in her.

But the second passed. And her hope died.

Because Jenna knew that the only way she was ever going to be free from the fear of being alone was to fight her demon. Alone.

* * *

ON SATURDAY, THE body of Melissa Anderson was raised from her grave. The judge had signed an order for an emergency autopsy. If a decorated former LVMPD detective was on the streets, possibly armed and dangerous, the state was obligated to take whatever measures possible to apprehend him.

Chantel had suggested taking Caleb to the beach.

“If Smith is out there, he’ll see you with me and assume that you’ve moved on. That would put you and Caleb out of any possible danger.”

Maybe. Or maybe Smith would think he was like him and having a little fun on the side. Maybe their presence on the beach would be an open invitation.