Chapter Nineteen #3
The mother came with her own bundle. Theresa Harvey Dubecki Lester sprang from Harvey Developers.
Dustin Dubecki was born rich, privileged, advantaged, Gideon thought, and twisted. Nature or nurture, a combination of both, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. Keeping him away from Arden was all that mattered.
He checked the time again, took a chance Detective Brill had the eight-to-four shift, and called.
“Detective Brill.”
“Detective, this is Gideon Riley. I’m chief of police in Riverbend, Oregon.”
“Riverbend, Oregon. Would this be in regards to Arden Bowie?”
“That’s right. I’m aware of the details of the assault, so far as she can tell me, and aware Dubecki was released yesterday. I’m also aware she trusts you and your partner. She also trusts me. You’ll want to check my bona fides, and once you’re satisfied, I’d like to see the case file.”
“I can look into that.”
“I’d appreciate it. How about an opinion?”
“On what?”
“On the odds Dubecki’s mentally healthy, rehabilitated, has his violent and obsessive tendencies under control, and will live out a productive, law-abiding life?”
Her answer came without a beat of hesitation. “I’d give that zero to none.”
“Funny. Me, too. I’m going to give you the number at the station. You’ve got my cell number. I’ll be in house in a couple hours.”
“All right, Chief. I’ll get back to you.”
Since he was up, awake, he went downstairs and used her gym space for half an hour. He figured she’d come down before much longer, so opted for breakfast first, then he’d shower and dress, head into work. No, he’d have time to stop by Pop’s first.
Gideon made a decent omelet if you didn’t want it pretty.
After studying the contents of her fridge—the woman had a thing for yogurt he’d never understand—he decided cheese and some of her deli ham would do the job.
He had the first one done when he heard her coming seconds after the dog got up to greet her with a good morning song.
“Breakfast? You woke up early and hungry.”
“Omelets, more or less. You can actually have something solid for breakfast. This one’s done. Eat.” He pushed the plate at her.
“Thanks. Just let me feed Zorro and get some coffee.”
“I fed him, and it’s not coffee.”
She made it anyway, then sat as he finished up the second omelet. “You were right about the rain. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about rainy winters, little to no snow. But so far, I don’t mind it.”
“Easy to say when your work commute is up a set of inside stairs.”
She smiled, took a bite. “It is, isn’t it? This is good, Chief. Nice to wake up to.”
She sat there at the pristine counter with its bowl of fruit, her hair spilling down her back, over her shoulders like a glow of sunlight on a rainy day.
He thought she was nice to wake up to.
He sat, brushed a hand over that glow. “I talked with Detective Brill.”
Her fork paused in midair.
“She’ll check me out, and when she’s satisfied, she’ll send me the case file.”
“All right.”
Because she didn’t sound sure of that, he gave her more.
“Arden, I want you to know I’m looking out for you. It’s not insulting or patronizing, it’s my job. I’m good at my job.”
“I’m not insulted.”
“Good, because it’s not just my job. It’s you.”
When she looked at him, he saw the trust. “Do you think he’ll come here?”
“Just because the odds are slim doesn’t mean we don’t prepare. You want to feel safe. I want you to feel safe. So I’m telling you I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. I want to post his picture at the station, brief my officers.”
She put down her fork. He watched, waited as she thought that through.
“In my head, I know, no question, no wiggle room, that I didn’t do anything to cause what happened, what he did. I’m not to blame for any of it. It infuriates me that sometimes I feel ashamed and embarrassed. It’s like knee-jerk.”
She picked up her fork again. “Might be time for a little shot of Dr. Wren—my therapist.”
“Never a bad idea.”
“What you did—talking to Detective Brill—what you want to do, it’s your job, and it’s for me. No, not insulting or patronizing. I’m glad you did it, glad you’re doing it.”
“Good. I want to tell Pop. I don’t keep things from him, but I will if that’s what you need.”
She let out a sigh, then stiffened her spine.
He swore he could see her do it.
“I don’t mind. It’s more having to say it all again that’s hard. I know he’s your family, but he feels like mine, too.”
“Also good. Listen, I can come back tonight.”
“You’re hauling out the Christmas decorations with Joe tonight. Which reminds me I have to unpack mine.”
“I can help him with that my next day off. Or you could come over, give us a hand with it.”
She could go over, and she’d enjoy it. But.
“I need to prove to myself I’m okay here, alone. That I can spend the night alone in my own house.”
“All right, but if you’re not.”
“I know how to find you.”
Later, alone, she stood at her office window looking out at the rain. She was okay, better in fact. She knew what to do, what she had to do. Take back whatever power she’d given Dustin Dubecki over her the day before. Reclaim it.
So she would.
And like Gideon, she had work to do.