Chapter 3 - The Woman at the Gate
Mara locked the study door and moved the fireproof box beneath the desk. On the other side of the glass, Jennifer remained at the gate. She was younger than Mara had expected, perhaps thirty-two, with copper hair pinned beneath a black hood. Her face looked pale in the rain, and her posture held none of the confidence of a woman arriving to claim another woman’s husband.
Solomon stood between Jennifer and the house. He said something Mara could not hear. Jennifer answered sharply, then glanced toward the upstairs windows. The gesture made Mara’s skin prickle.
“Who is she?” Gideon asked through the phone.
“Jennifer Voss.” Gideon exhaled.
“Then the danger is closer than I feared.” “You knew about her?” “I knew her name.
I did not know Solomon had brought her into the house.” “Dad, tell me what is happening.” “Not over the phone.” Mara watched Solomon take Jennifer by the elbow and guide her away from the gate. He did not kiss her. He did not look like a lover meeting his secret partner.
He looked like a man trying to prevent a witness from speaking.
“Why did you put the house in your name?” Mara asked.
“Because your mother wanted you protected.” “Protected from what?” Gideon’s voice weakened.
“From men who confuse love with ownership.” The basement door opened again. Mara heard footsteps climb the stairs.
She grabbed the fireproof box and moved behind the wardrobe just as the doorknob turned. Solomon entered without knocking. He had changed out of his wet jacket, but rain darkened his hair.
“Your father called?” “Yes.” “What did he say?” “That you have been lying about the house.” Solomon’s gaze moved to the desk.
“He has been ill.
He confuses old fears with current facts.” “Did you apply for a loan using my name?” His shoulders dropped. For one strange second, Mara saw the man who had held her hand during Theo’s birth, the man who had danced with her in the kitchen when they were twenty-eight and broke.
Then the memory folded beneath the face standing before her.
“It was temporary,” he said.
“That isn’t a denial.” “The agency was in trouble.” “You forged my signature.” “I was going to tell you.” “When? After the bank took my father’s house?” Solomon’s eyes flashed.
“I was trying to save us.” “By lying to me and sleeping with Jennifer?” He flinched at her name.
“You don’t understand the situation.” “Then explain it.” He looked toward the door.
“Not here.” “You brought strangers here. You turned off the cameras.
You kept Theo away from the master bedroom. You can explain it in this room.” Solomon sat on the edge of the chair.
“Jennifer and I have been involved for months.” The confession did not shock Mara. The evidence had already taken the shock away.
What hurt was the clinical way he said it, as if he were presenting a budget discrepancy.
“Was any of our marriage real?” “Yes.” “Which parts?” “All of it.” Mara almost believed him. That was the cruelty of Solomon: even his lies carried pieces of truth.
He rubbed his hands together.
“The agency lost a major account. Then an audit found irregular transfers.
Jennifer handled the account. I signed off on certain expenses because I thought the money was being moved temporarily.” “You stole it.” “I borrowed it.” “From whom?” “The client.” Mara stared at him.
“That is theft.” “I was going to replace everything.” “With a loan against the house.” He did not answer.
“And Charlotte helped you.” “My mother was trying to protect Theo.” “From what?” Solomon stood.
“Jennifer’s boss believes I was responsible for the missing funds. If the police get involved, I could be charged.
I needed time.” “So you let her use our house as a hiding place?” “She had nowhere else to go.” The words were nearly tender. Mara felt something inside her turn cold.
“She was the woman in my robe.” “She was wet.” “She wore my robe.” “It was a mistake.” “Theo saw you kiss her.” Solomon closed his eyes.
“I was saying goodbye.” “In my bedroom?” He opened his eyes again, and there was no shame in them now. Only irritation.
“You keep reducing this to sex.” “You keep giving me reasons not to.” Downstairs, the front door opened. A woman’s voice called, “Mara?” Charlotte.
Solomon moved toward the hallway, but Mara blocked him.
“You are not going to speak to her alone.” Charlotte appeared at the bottom of the stairs wearing a cream coat and carrying a paper bag. Her silver hair was perfectly brushed.
She looked less like a guilty accomplice than a woman arriving with soup for a sick grandchild.
“I brought Theo something to eat,” she said.
“Theo is asleep.” Charlotte glanced at Solomon.
“You told me she wasn’t home.” The admission escaped before she could stop it. Mara descended one step.
“How long have you been helping them?” Charlotte’s expression tightened.
“Helping whom?” “Solomon and Jennifer.” Charlotte set the bag on the entry table.
“Jennifer is frightened.” “She should be.
She participated in an affair and helped forge documents.” “You don’t know what she did.” “I know she asked Solomon to hide Theo while they searched for a blue folder.” Charlotte went completely still. Solomon whispered, “Mara, stop.” “What is in the folder?” Charlotte’s eyes filled with something that looked almost like regret.
“Your father kept a record of what happened to my husband.” Mara’s breath caught. Solomon’s father, Victor Reed, had died eight years earlier in what everyone called a boating accident.
Charlotte had never discussed it.
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“What happened to Victor?” Mara asked. Charlotte looked toward the locked study.
“He was murdered,” she said. Before Mara could respond, every light in the house went out.
