Right Where We Belong

He whistled. “Your husband must’ve sucked in bed.”

Gordon had sucked at being a good husband in other ways—maybe that was why she’d lost interest in the first place. It seemed as though she’d always been trying to ignore some frustration or inadequacy when he hit her up for sex. She’d never turned him down, but maybe acquiescence wasn’t enough. “I wouldn’t know about that. I don’t have anything to compare him against.”

“Then you’re giving up too soon.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she grumbled.

“Even if you’re missing out?”

She checked her kids again. Still happily occupied. “Lesbians have dildos and stuff. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He lifted another load of lumber. “Okay, but if you get tired of pretending, feel free to give me a call. I like it soft and gentle, and I won’t get in the way of your search for a lesbian partner.”

Savanna’s jaw dropped, but when he winked at her and carried the last couple of two-by-twelves to his staging area, she was pretty sure he was just trying to shock her.

(#ue5279d5c-013f-5ba5-a82c-4fabcd02a4b5)4 (#ue5279d5c-013f-5ba5-a82c-4fabcd02a4b5)

Gavin had no idea what Savanna had been through. He thought she might open up, talk about it as the day wore on, but she didn’t. She hadn’t even given him her last name. The only thing he knew was that whatever trauma she’d suffered had left a deep scar. He’d never had a woman tell him she was hoping to change her sexuality so that she’d never have to deal, on an intimate basis, with another man. He was fairly certain she hadn’t been entirely serious, but still. Even the kids didn’t mention their father, and yet Savanna had admitted the missing member of their family had been part of it until quite recently.

What had gone so terribly wrong?

He wondered the whole time he was building the makeshift bridge. Fortunately, since the structure wasn’t intended to be permanent, it didn’t take him long.

He laid the two-by-twelves across the water, created a support on each side so they wouldn’t slip and lashed them together to keep them stable. Then he drove the van over to the house to be sure it was safe, and stayed to help unload the furniture and boxes.

Together with the kids, he and Savanna made several trips before he managed to convince her to let him finish up so that she could go in and start cleaning. He’d recently moved. He knew how difficult it was to get organized—and he’d had only himself to worry about.

Branson and Alia helped if he found something small they could carry. When he put the last box on the worn and ripped carpet of the living room, he stood back to survey the scene. “So, what do you think of the house?”

Savanna had started in the kitchen—was cleaning out the drawers and cupboards. Too bad the place wasn’t in better shape. She had to be overwhelmed by the enormity of the task ahead.

“I’ll make it work,” she said, but her smile seemed forced. They’d discovered earlier that someone had broken in and stolen a few things, so she didn’t even have a stove.

“You can use my kitchen until you get yours up and running,” he told her. “I’m not home during the week, so it’s not as if you’ll be in my way.”

She’d been kneeling on the floor. She stood, wearing rubber gloves and holding a wet rag, and used her forearm to move a piece of hair out of her face. “I appreciate that. I’m sure things will come together here quicker than it seems, though.”

He had to admire her stubborn optimism, but the land was worth more than the house. Part of him wondered if she wouldn’t be smarter to tear it down and start over. “On the bridge...”

“What about it?” She’d already given him cash for the wood.

“What I built will only get you through the next few days, so don’t wait too long before replacing it. I know a guy—James Glenn—who’d be ideal for that sort of thing.” He found a pencil and a business card on the counter, left by the Realtor who’d sold the property, and jotted down James’s number using the contact record in his phone. “He’ll give you a fair price, and he works fast.”

“I’ll give him a call.”

“Great. I’m going to take off.”

She caught him before he could leave. “Why not stay a little longer? I was thinking of ordering pizza. I’m sure you’ve got to be hungry, too. You’ve been helping me for hours.”

“Stay!” Branson cried.

Gavin mussed his hair. “I can’t. But thanks.”

“I feel like I have to do something for you,” Savanna said. “You’ve done so much for me.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “We’ve already discussed this.”

“We’re talking a few slices of pizza...”

“Another time. I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Oh.” She seemed embarrassed to have pushed it. “No problem.”

He couldn’t tell if she was disappointed he couldn’t stay, but he sort of wanted her to be. As he’d told her at the creek, he found her attractive. And it wasn’t just her looks. There was something about her he liked, and he’d felt it from the first moment he’d chased her down before she could run into the creek.

He went back and added his phone number under James Glenn’s on that card. “Call me if you need anything. I can make a run to the dump, when you’re ready. You’ll need some way to dispose of all the trash and other junk that’s accumulated.”

“That’s really nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy,” he said with a grin.

When she met his eyes, she blushed and glanced away.

“When do you have to return the van?” he asked.

“I was hoping to take it back today, but I have to drop it off in LA, where I also need to buy a car, and it’s getting too late for that. So...I’ll pay for another day and take it tomorrow.”

“That’s a good idea. What kind of car do you plan to get?”

Not a van. Anything except a van. “An SUV would be ideal—if I can only find one I can afford.”

“Good luck with that.”

She walked him to the door. “Thanks again. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help.”

“We all need a hand now and then.”

He had to grab a sandwich, take a shower, pack up his gear and make the twenty-minute drive to the bar where he’d be playing, but when he got home, he made the sandwich and went to his computer instead. If what Savanna and her children had been through was traumatic enough to make her believe she’d never want to be with another man, he thought it might be serious enough to be reported in the news, especially because she’d made an odd comment when describing her ideal lesbian partner—something about wanting a woman who abhors violence.

A search for Nephi, Utah, brought up a link with some general information on the town. Essentially an all-white population (ninety-seven percent). Mostly married (over sixty percent). First settled by Mormons. Only 3,600 people, so even smaller than Silver Springs. Not a lot of industry. Everything of any real interest seemed to be located in the Provo/Orem area about an hour north, or even farther in Salt Lake City.

He clicked off that page and typed in “Nephi, UT, crime,” and learned that the overall crime rate was one percent higher than the national average. From what he could tell, that was mostly due to drug busts and burglaries. Nothing too serious. At least, that was what he assumed until he stumbled across an article in the Times-News that reported a couple of rapes.

Two women had been attacked in Nephi—one who was walking to a waitressing job in the early morning, and one who was carrying her laundry down to the basement of her apartment building late at night a week later. Both victims claimed their attacker had worn a mask and wielded a knife, that he’d cursed and screamed the whole time not to look at him. And, like many rapists, he’d threatened to come back and kill them if they went to the police.

The investigation had been exhaustive, but the police kept coming up empty-handed—until DNA testing confirmed that the crimes were linked to a third incident in Springville, near Provo. Then the detectives knew the rapist was working in a much bigger area and cast a wider net.

Gavin searched for other articles on the same crimes and found one that indicated a woman in Provo had reported some guy lurking about her Mormon church one night after choir practice. He left without approaching her, but he spooked her enough that she jotted down his license plate number. That was what had focused the investigation on one particular suspect.