Ramsey Rules Page 24

  Sullivan frowned. “Explain to me how that was a good thing.”

  “It woke me up. It was what I needed to get out. When I came around, I was lying in bed. Jay was sitting at my bedside, remorseful, apologetic. He said all the right things. Spoke from the script that I imagine all wife beaters use as their act of contrition. It was such bullshit that I might have laughed if my ribs could have stood it. He promised to never raise a hand against me again, but did I understand the role I played in provoking it? Not that it excused his behavior, he added quickly, but it did explain it. It went on and on that way. He took responsibility and then pointed out how I was culpable. I finally closed my eyes and pretended to fall asleep, but what I was doing was plotting my exit.”

  “Did he ever apologize, or pretend he was sorry for the financial abuse?”

  “Not a word about that. See, he understood the violence was beyond the pale—not that I believed it wouldn’t happen again—but he was incapable of comprehending that his control was abusive. That came up at our divorce, and it genuinely blindsided him. I saw his shock. He was convinced, and probably still is, that his actions were protective, even caring.”

  Sullivan stared at this glass. “Unbelievable.”

  Ramsey smiled, but it was sad. “Hey,” she said softly. “Look at me.” When he did, she continued. “I want you to understand who I was back then. Jay could have easily turned my thinking around, so it wasn’t unbelievable, not the way he explained it. This was the man I loved. It was harder not to believe him, harder not to second guess myself. If he hadn’t clobbered me, hadn’t crossed a line I didn’t even realize I’d drawn for myself, I might still be married to him.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “I am.”

  Sullivan knuckled his chin and regarded her thoughtfully. “What are your feelings for him now? I get that he’s your ex, but that doesn’t describe how you feel about him. Like you said, you loved him.”

  “I don’t hate him, if that’s what you’re looking for. Who wants to carry that kind of animus around?”

  Sullivan snorted. “Ramsey, you took your Walther out of your glovebox before you spoke to him.”

  “Well, yeah, I did that. Self-preservation. I didn’t know his state of mind and I wasn’t going to let him hit me again.

  “Did you buy the gun because of him?”

  “I bought the gun for protection. I learned to shoot because of Jay.”

  Sullivan gave her a sardonic look. “All right, but you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Look, Sullivan, my marriage to Jay taught me a lot about myself, and while I’m sure that wasn’t his intention, I don’t regret the experience because of it. I came to realize that I lacked any sort of self-confidence when I met Jay, though it was something I kept hidden from myself. I was vulnerable when I thought the exact opposite was true. He recognized what I couldn’t, saw an advantage, and seized it. It’s not as if he gave me a roofie. I remember everything, went along with it. It’s hard to resent him for what he did when I let him do it. I had my sights set on finishing my degree, and when he took over my life it seemed like a gift. So many responsibilities were removed from my shoulders. I felt as if I could breathe when in truth, Jay was smothering me.

  “I’m telling you this so you’ll know that what I feel for Jay is complicated by what I think about myself. Jay told me at breakfast that I behave as though I’m afraid of him, but that what really scares me is myself. His conclusion is not entirely wrong. His premise is. He believes there’s still something between us. Some kind of attraction, I guess. He points to the fact that I wouldn’t let him inside my home and insisted on a public meeting place. I am scared of myself, scared of what I’ll do to keep him from turning my life on its head. I don’t want to run. I realized that last night. I have to make a stand, and that is a frightening reality. I don’t love Jay. I don’t admire or respect him or feel any affection for him. Until you came into my life, entire weeks passed when I gave him no thought at all, but spending time with you brought him to the forefront almost every day because I wasn’t ready to talk about him. The more I tried to push him out of the way, the more he was there. That’s been the hardest thing about being with you.”

  Sullivan thought he understood, or at least understood more than he had. “My relationship with Diane was a lot more straightforward.” His expression was wry. “I guess there’s an advantage to infidelity over insidiousness.”

  Ramsey gave a choked laugh. “Insidious. That describes Jay.” She picked up her drink and sipped. “Mm. I like this one better.”

  “I made it a little sweeter. An extra dash of Drambuie.”

  “Ah. Remember that.” After a second sip, she set the glass down. “So…you haven’t asked. Are you going to?”

  “Asked what?”

  She shot him a jaundiced look. “You know.”

  “Oh, you’re talking about the Powerball.”

  “Uh-huh. Don’t you want to know?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. “I’m not sure. Do you want to tell me?”

  She also was quiet for a few beats. “I’m not sure.”

  “Then maybe we should just leave it. Money like I imagine you won might weird me out. I wouldn’t like that.”

  Ramsey nodded gravely. “Weird you out? I wouldn’t like that either.”

  The shadow of a smile crossed his mouth before he became serious again. “Do you know what you’re going to do about Jay? About the money, I mean?”

  “I don’t want to give him anything.”

  “I’m sure you don’t want to, but will you?”

  Ramsey bent her head and closed her eyes. She massaged the worry lines laddering her forehead with a thumb and two fingers. “I don’t know. Can’t make up my mind on what is the wiser course.” She straightened, stared at Sullivan. “Do you have an opinion?”

  “Always, but it doesn’t count for anything about this. Has to be your decision.”

  “Damn. In that case, let me hear myself talk it out.”

  “Go for it.”

  “All right. I don’t think it matters how much he owes. A few hundred or a few hundred thousand, that doesn’t seem as important as the fact that he owes anything at all. He has a problem he doesn’t own. Hell, he probably ticks enough boxes to have a diagnosis. He made a show of going to Gamblers Anonymous after I filed for divorce, but he said it wasn’t for him, that he didn’t recognize himself as one of the losers. He said he contacted a help line, but I doubt he ever followed up with an appointment to speak to someone. The salient point here is that he’s not motivated to make a change; therefore, the odds, if you’ll forgive the expression, are pretty high that this will happen again.”

  “Seems soundly reasoned,” said Sullivan, taking a drink.

  “Okay. So I’m thinking that if I bail him out now, then I’m in it for the long haul. One payout leads to another…and another. I’d be enabling him. It’s no different than buying booze for an alcoholic.” She regarded him with a droll expression. “Or Caribbean Coast for an opioid addict.”

  “Later,” he said. “We’ll talk about that later. Keep going.”

  She nodded. “It’s frustrating that he’s unwilling to manage some of the debt on his own. I mentioned he could sell his car—he’s driving an Audi, for God’s sake. He didn’t bite. Same response when I suggested that he mortgage his house. He owns it free and clear and I didn’t ask for any part of it in the divorce. I guess a bank loan is out of the question. I got a little snarky with him, told him to sell his suits, put his Italian loafers on eBay. He wasn’t having any of that either.”

  “Have you considered that the car’s a rental or that he’s already mortgaged the house? Maybe he’s maxed out credit cards or reached a loan limit with the bank. You don’t know that he hasn’t sold off some suits or his shoes. He might have done all of that already before he came to you. There’s his pride you have to think about.”

  Ramsey was tipping back her glass when Sullivan
mentioned Jay’s pride. Sputtering, she set the drink down. “Trust me on this, Sullivan. Jay didn’t swallow his pride to come to me. That’s not to say he’s not a prideful man. He is. But his pride is related to acquisition; hence, his car, his suits, his house, his shoes, even his wife. Yeah, me.” She shook her head ruefully. “He came here because he expects me to give him the money. I’m sure he believes he’s entitled to whatever amount he says he needs.”

  “Did he ever run into trouble at work because of the gambling?”

  “I can’t imagine that he would have been promoted to VP if he had. Jay is a private person. He deflects questions about his personal life by expressing interest in others. I’ve seen him do it. He’s pretty masterful at it, and as a result, he’s considered a good listener. Actually, it’s one of the qualities that attracted me to him. It was a long time before I saw his interest for what it is.”

  Sullivan cocked a questioning eyebrow.

  “Data mining,” she said. “Keeps it all up here.” She tapped the side of her head.

  “I suppose that makes him a formidable opponent if you get on his wrong side. Even dangerous.”

  “Exactly. It’s why I gave away everything in the divorce settlement. I didn’t want trouble.” She sighed. “And now I have it anyway. I keep wondering who he owes.”

  “Does that make a difference?”

  “Maybe. What if he owes a bookie leg breaker? Do I want that on my conscience?”

  “Worst case…if he told you he owed the mob, would you believe him?”

  “The mob? Are you serious?”

  “I said worst case.”

  Ramsey frowned deeply, rubbed her face. “Lord, I don’t know.” She looked up. “I suppose I’d have to take him at his word.”

  “What if he’s lying?” asked Sullivan. “About all of it.”

  “You mean what if he isn’t in trouble? What if he’s lying to me as a means to get his hands on my money?”

  “Yeah. Would he do something like that?”

  “In a heartbeat. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me.” She breathed easier for a moment, but it didn’t last. Her chest tightened and she regarded him plaintively, a little desperately. “How will I know?”

  32

  “Let me nose around some,” said Sullivan. “You recall that I’m a cop, right?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t want to use or abuse our friendship that way.”

  “You’re doing neither. I offered. One of the last things the chief said to me before I left today was if there was anything he could do, he wants to know. With your permission, I’d like to tell him about this. He’s at his desk more than I’m at mine, and he has better contacts than I do. He could be a help.”

  She pressed her lips together, considering. “All right,” she said finally, “but no one else. If you can find a way to explain this to Chief Bailey without mentioning the lottery win, I’d appreciate it. Right now, you’re the only one who knows. Well, you and Jay. It would be so easy for it to get out, and it would change things.”

  “Your family doesn’t know?”

  “No. I couldn’t risk them finding out. I help them here and there when I get wind of a need, my brother more than my parents, but no one’s ever asked where I get the money. I think they assume it was part of the divorce settlement. Further proof that Jay is a good guy.”

  Sullivan’s eyes turned the color of smoke as he rolled a memory over in his mind. “You live modestly.”

  “Yes. On purpose as much as out of habit. I don’t have a lot of needs. I mostly manage on my Ridge salary, but I give myself an allowance for incidentals.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m recalling a particular gold necklace that you wore to Linda’s wedding. Mrs. Packard remarked on it. Mentioned some designer’s Masai collection. You waved off her comment, but I’m thinking now she was right on the money. She was, wasn’t she?”

  Ramsey fiddled with her glass. “Maybe.”

  “I thought so,” he said confidently. “Is that necklace an example of an incidental?”

  “Um, that would be more like an indulgence, but you saw that Mrs. Packard believed me when I pretended not to know a Marco Bicego from a Marco Bazinga. Why would I when I work at the Ridge? I mean, why would anyone suspect the studs in my ears are diamonds instead of cubic zirconia?”

  Sullivan’s gaze narrowed on her earlobe. “Diamonds?”

  She gave a short laugh. “No, these really are cubic zirconia. I lose too many earrings to pay more than twenty dollars for a pair.”

  He sat back, looked her over carefully before his eyes settled on hers. “Those Bruno Mars tickets. You didn’t win any radio contest, did you?”

  “No. That was an incidental.”

  “Some incidental. What were they? Seven? Eight hundred dollars?” When she said nothing, his eyes widened. “Higher?” This time she nodded, although it was barely perceptible. “A thousand?”

  “Let’s say it was.”

  “Each. A thousand each.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “You’re killing me. Back to that necklace…what would something like that cost? Ballpark?”

  “You’re okay with knowing?”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  “Then the ballpark is twenty-four thousand plus tax.”

  “Jeez.” He blinked. “I mean, Jeez.” He sat up straighter than he had been as another memory came back to him. “That day I gave you a speeding ticket you were driving a Mercedes SL550 roadster. Test driving, you said. Were you? Or is that hundred-thousand-dollar ride sitting under a tarp in your garage?”

  “No, it’s not in my garage, and no, it’s not in storage somewhere. I was test driving it. That was for fun, or it was until you pulled me over. You really pissed me off, you know.”

  He gave a jerky laugh. “Yeah. Same here.”

  “Do you think those days are behind us?”

  Sullivan smiled. He reached for her hand, took it, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Not a chance in hell.”

  Laughter bubbled inside her and she had no choice but to give it sound. “You’re right. I’m certain you’re right.” She stared at this hand. The warmth was comforting and she was glad when he didn’t remove it right away. “What happens now? What do I do?”

  “Nothing for the time being. You let me see what I can find out about Jay’s debts. Me and the chief. Do you know where Jay’s staying? Where he went after he left you last night?”

  Ramsey shook her head. “No idea. Somewhere local, I guess. I don’t think he spent the night in his car. He was pressed and creased this morning.”

  “Okay. I’ll start there. Did you see him follow you when you left the Ridge?”

  “No, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I took a lot of side streets and I parked on Mechling.”

  “And came through the neighbors’ yards. I understand why you did it, but you heard my end of the conversation with Mrs. Tereshko. She has a shotgun. I don’t think she can see all that well even with her glasses, but I wouldn’t count on her missing you.”

  “Understood.”

  Sullivan looked at the clock on the microwave. “It’s almost eight-thirty. Too early for bed, and too late for more conversation on this particular subject. How about I freshen our drinks and we take them in the living room? I can make a fire. You can pick a movie or a TV show or music that you like and we can veg. What do you think?”

  “I like it.”

  He got up, pulled her to her feet, and dropped a quick kiss on her mouth before he turned her in the direction of the living room and gave her a gentle push that way. As soon as she was motoring, he emptied her glass and built a new Rusty Nail, this one more a splash of alcohol over fresh ice than substantial drink. He added a small pour of whisky to his glass and then carried them out.

  Ramsey had removed her ankle boots and claimed one corner of his chocolate brown leather sofa. The chunky ecru throw that had been lying across the back of the couch was now tucked around her.

  “Cozy,” h
e said, handing over her drink.

  “Mm. That’s what I was going for.” She slipped a hand out from under the blanket and took the drink.

  Sullivan put down his drink on the Shaker style end table, chuckling when Ramsey reached over the arm of the sofa to grab a sandstone coaster and slip it under his glass. “You feel better now?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said tartly. “You don’t want glass rings on this beautiful furniture.”

  “Maybe I do. Maybe I think it’ll add character.”

  “Sure. Build the fire, Sullivan.” Ramsey settled in to watch him go about it, not at all surprised that he made quick work of the task. He was methodical and efficient, and in very little time, he was setting aside the poker and replacing the screen in front of the hearth. When he turned away, Ramsey lifted her head from the arm of the sofa where she’d been resting it and moved down to make room for him in the corner. Before he took up the space, she handed him what was left of her drink. “I’ve had enough, thank you.”

  To ease her mind, he set the glass on a coaster and then squeezed into the corner. Her head immediately dipped to his lap, her cheek against his thigh. He settled the throw around her shoulders. “Comfortable?”

  “I am. You?”

  “Better than that.” Sullivan lightly touched her temple with his fingertips and brushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “You didn’t find something you wanted to watch?”

  “I was watching you.”

  “Well, as long as it was something interesting.”

  Smiling sleepily, Ramsey reached for his knee and squeezed it. “Whatever you want to watch is fine, but don’t quiz me about it later. I’m not long for consciousness.”