Right Where We Belong. Brenda Novak

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СКАЧАТЬ a rifle or some other kind of gun at several of the lighting fixtures, which had also put holes in the walls, and the stove and dishwasher had been stolen. Replacing those items on top of renovating the house would eat up even more of her budget. As far as appliances went, she’d brought only her washer and dryer from Nephi, since her refrigerator had needed to be replaced, anyway. Thank goodness Gavin had had a dolly with which to unload them. The entire drive, she’d been stressed about how she was going to get the heavier items into the house. She’d only been able to get them on the truck in the first place because she’d recruited help from her neighbor in Nephi. “I have my work cut out for me. No way to sugarcoat that. And you should see the mess that’s been left behind. There’re cigarette butts and beer cans everywhere, not to mention evidence of animals.”

      “That won’t take too long to clean up. Do you have heat?”

      “No.”

      “You didn’t call ahead and get the utilities turned on?”

      “I did. There’s something wrong with the heater. Fortunately, it’s warm enough this time of year—in this area—that we’ll be okay during the day, and when it chills off at night—” like it was now “—I can pile blankets on the kids.”

      “You need to get that fixed.”

      “I’ll have someone take a look at it.” She hoped it was only a blown fuse. Replacing the whole unit would be expensive.

      “Is the town big enough to have the goods and services you’ll need?”

      “They’ll have some things. For others, I’ll have to go to Santa Barbara or LA. Anyway, getting the heater checked is way down my list. First, I have to buy a refrigerator and a stove, so I can cook.”

      “You don’t have a stove?”

      “Someone stole it.”

      “What about a microwave?”

      “There was one, but that’s gone, too.”

      “Damn it, Savanna. You should’ve waited until I could come with you.”

      “I had to leave right away,” she said. “I was getting so defensive in Nephi I couldn’t function.”

      He sighed into the phone. “I know, but now you’re even farther from me than you were before—”

      “No, it’s almost the exact same distance. I checked.” She’d been nervous about putting more miles between them.

      “Still, it sounds like you’re in a big mess, and I’ve got finals and can’t do anything to help.”

      “We’ll be okay.” At least she wouldn’t have to worry about running into one of her husband’s victims, or having her ex-mother-in-law show up to start another argument. Here she was on her own, but she was no different than anyone else, would have a chance to heal in an emotionally safe environment.

      Reese lowered his voice. “I know Branson, especially, is struggling with everything that’s happened. Do you think he’ll be able to adjust?”

      She thought of the bed-wetting they’d been dealing with since Gordon was arrested. “I do.”

      “Maybe you should get him some therapy.”

      “I should get us all therapy, but there’s no money for that.”

      “Have you heard from Gordon?”

      Like his mother, her ex had tried calling her many times, as many times as he could use the phone in jail. But after the first few days, when her faith had completely given way and she’d broken down and screamed her rage and anger at him as he begged her to ignore the proof she’d been shown—which she couldn’t—she’d stopped accepting his calls, too. That was when he’d started writing her long, rambling letters pledging his love and pleading his innocence. The last one had insisted that he’d found God, that he was attending daily Bible study and was praying that she’d be able to see that the police had the wrong man.

      She hadn’t bothered to write back. She felt too conflicted when she communicated with him, hadn’t even told him—or his mother—that she was taking the kids and moving to California. She’d simply packed up and left as soon as possible. She planned to get a new phone number, too—to cut every tie that still attached her to Gordon. But all of that took time and attention to detail, and right now she was buried in far more basic tasks. “Not in the last couple of days,” she said.

      “What about Dorothy?”

      “Of course. She texted me again yesterday.”

      “What’d she want this time?”

      “More of the same. She’s desperate to get me to pay for his attorneys.”

      “How can she still believe he’s innocent?”

      “I’m not sure she cares if he’s innocent. His victims don’t matter to her. She wants to save her baby.”

      “After all the shit she put him through in the past, it’s shocking she’s so defensive now.”

      Savanna saw a spider crawling across the floor and jumped up. She hated spiders. “Ironic, isn’t it? And yet she claims I’m ruining his life. She got to him long before I did.”

      “What about his father? Do you think he’ll step in and try to help?”

      With a shudder of revulsion, she swept the spider into her dustpan and hurried to take it outside. “No. Gordon’s never gotten along with Ken. Once he left Dorothy, he never looked back.” What happened to Gordon when he was a child wasn’t fair. Both of his parents had let him down—and now he’d passed on the favor. “I feel bad for him when I think of his past, but that doesn’t change the present. I have to do what I can to save my sanity so that I can support our kids.”

      “Branson and Alia are great. They’re going to make it through this and so will you.”

      That spider had unsettled her, made her more cognizant of the dirt and all she had to accomplish to make this place into a home. “I hope that’s true, given we don’t have any choice.”

      “Will you return to Utah for the trial?”

      “No. I don’t want to go back for anything.”

      “I thought there was some question about whether you’d testify.”

      “Detective Sullivan once asked me if I’d be willing to take the stand and talk about how secretive Gordon was—and how much he was gone. Sullivan wanted me to confirm that Gordon wasn’t at home when the attacks took place, but they have my sworn statement, which lays it all out, and the forensic evidence is far more damning than anything I’d have to say. I suppose they could contact me if they feel the trial isn’t going well and ask me to come, but right now it doesn’t appear they need me.”

      “Will you be able to do it if they ask?”

      “I don’t know, to be honest. I’d rather not be involved.”

      “I don’t blame you.”

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