Page 33 of Evidence of Deceit

“We were married for a few months, and I was thrilled he wanted me to himself. He convinced me that he needed a partner who was available all the time to preside over dinner parties and make friends with the other wives. I wanted him to succeed, so I quit my job and stayed home. I was volunteering at different organizations, but even that took me away from the house too much. Then—” Her voice caught.

“I realized, after a while, Keith didn’t want to visit my family or have me visit without him. He made such a fuss that I stopped seeing or calling them so often. Then he complained about my friends, only wanted me to be friends with his friends’ wives. Soon I had to report where I wasgoing and use his charge card for things. If I messed up in any way…” She turned her face. It was bad enough confessing to Joe that she had been manipulated into becoming one of those women, but to admit she allowed Keith to strike her was another story. “Anyhow, I wasn’t working, so I didn’t have any money or access to any. Keith controlled everything, every waking minute of my time.”

“Claire.” Joe reached for her hand. “I’m sorry I asked. You have to remember you are not at fault here. Everything that has happened is on Keith. That’s what abusers do. They push down your self-confidence so you depend on them and then alienate you from friends and family. It’s a horrible circle of abuse.”

She wiped a tear. “I know.” She nodded. “I know. It still doesn’t make me feel any better about myself.”

Okay. Pity party over. Claire stood up. “Let’s clean up these dishes. I don’t know about you, but all this excitement has made me tired.”

Joe wantedto punch the wall. Punch Keith. Punch something. The pain in Claire’s eyes said it all. How a man, or anyone, ever lifted a hand to strike a woman or child was beyond his imagination.

Why didn’t he stick around while Claire went to college? If he had, none of this would have happened. He would have protected her. But he knew even back then that he would have held her back. She was off to greater things—things he could never afford. But they had been so in love. He’d desperately wanted to marry her after high school, but that was a dream or his nightmare all these years. In retrospect, he could have found work, made their marriage work somehow.Contrary to Claire’s belief, he knew he would never get into college. He had no money; his grades weren’t good enough.

If he had stayed, he knew Claire would never have gone on and explored the world, or she would have quit college to work to help pay the bills. He sensed that her parents didn’t think he was good enough for her, although they never came out and said it to his face.

So, he did what he thought was best for her. He knew he’d broken her heart. Lord knew, his had been torn to pieces. But he’d heard that she had gone to college to pursue an art degree, that she was happy, got married. He’d been happy for her. It had been devastating for him. And here they were ten years later. Life could be deceiving.

The Navy had provided the discipline and skills he needed to step up in the world. They honed his natural talents, and when he finally left he was making decent money and liked himself. His reputation as a wild kid was forgotten. He made a respectable life for himself. His job at KnightGuard Security provided him stability, respectability, and a great income. He owned a house, albeit a small one, and had money in the bank.

He wondered if Claire had ever forgiven him for leaving her or ever thought about being with him again. He knew enough about her to know that she would never cheat on Keith while they were married. But maybe after she got divorced? Bah.What would she want with an ordinary guy like him after living in a penthouse on Fifth Avenue, eating at fancy restaurants, and wearing designer clothes?

Chapter Nineteen

Several days passed by quickly, and Joe and Claire settled into a comfortable routine. If he cooked, she did the dishes and vice versa. The rain kept them inside for a day or two, but finally, the sun popped out and was drying everything off. It was warmer than it had been, and everything was fresh and green. She opened the sliders and a couple of windows, took a deep cleansing breath.

Joe had left for a meeting at the office but said he would be back in a couple of hours. Claire told him she would make dinner if he brought back some chicken.

She wandered around the house. Joe wasn’t big on color, so all the walls were off-white. It worked—for him. She would have liked more color, but it wasn’t her house.

She looked into his bedroom. A king-size bed with a blue spread was made tight as a drum. The perverse thought Keith would have approved flitted through her mind. A wooden dresser stood in the corner, and a chair with an ottoman completed the room. He had his own master bath. She looked for personal items but didn’t find any. Just a couple of photographs on the dresser, one of which must have been hisSEAL team. Mark was standing next to him. And another picture showed two younger boys standing shoulder to shoulder with Joe and Mr. and Mrs. Grissom.

Behind the picture was a small painting. She knew that painting. She picked it up and stared at it. She had painted it for Joe before they graduated. A couple—them—staring at the stars over the ocean. They used to wish upon the stars. It had been their favorite spot. She signed it “love Claire.”

Claire couldn’t believe he kept it after all these years. She swiped at a tear leaking from her eye. Memories of the two of them at the beach holding each other fluttered through her mind. She lovingly placed it back. She missed those days. Carefree and in love. Until he left, and they weren’t.

Claire tackled the living room next. It also had just the basics. A big, comfortable black leather sofa and matching chair, the requisite ginormous single male’s TV, a coffee table, and a generic painting of palm trees. But she had a ball poking into his bookshelves, opening cabinets. Everything she hinted to him she was going to do before he left, she did. He laughed, said, “Have at it.” He didn’t have many books—a few military books, a couple of novels, including one steamy romance. Romance? She had a giggle over that. She would have to ask him about it when he got home, never figuring on him being a romance reader. It was one of the cheesier ones too.Whatever.

All in all, the house reflected Joe’s personality. His love of home, the starkness of his upbringing, the joy of friendship. He was an uncomplicated man.

Shouts of joy floated in through the open window. She peeked outside and saw two little boys hitting a ball. For a moment, she felt jealous that she had no children to watch play games. Keith never wanted children. Claimed they would cramp his style, ruin her figure. Maybe in the future…

She saw the ball roll out into the street. One of the boysstarted running after it, not looking at the road. Not noticing any adults around, she yelled out the window, “Stop. I’ll get it,” and she raced out the door.

The little boy looked at her and stopped. Claire looked for cars, saw one still far enough away, picked the ball up and handed it to the little kid and asked him his name.

“Mikey. I’m Mikey, and that’s Paul,” he said, motioning to the other boy. “Where’s Mr. Joe?”

Claire explained he had to work. Mikey nodded and looked at her with wide, blue, hopeful eyes and asked if she wanted to play ball with them.

“Sure.” Claire tried to remember the last time she played ball. Long time. “Are your parents around?”

“Nah, Paul’s sister is watching us, but she’s busy with her boyfriend.”

They played for half an hour or so. Claire looked at her watch and realized Joe would be home soon, and she needed to start dinner. She was going to head in when a black car came racing around the corner and screeched to a stop.

She and the boys stared at the car. The window rolled down, and a man leaned over and said, “Get in the car, Claire.”

Claire’s heart stopped. No way. And who the hell was this guy? She stepped back and started to turn when he said, low enough for her to hear: “If you don’t get in the car, I will shoot your little friends.”

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