had failed and he’d had to drive back to his last location. His van wouldn’t start, and he’d had to stay over to get a new battery. The weather was too terrible to begin the long trek home.
Were those excuses something a wife should have been leery of?
“Maybe you should’ve paid a little more attention to what he was doing,” Meredith snapped.
Savanna began to tremble. “I wish I had. Look, I’d be happy to talk to you—to explain my side so that maybe you could understand. But please, let’s not do this here, in front of my children.”
Meredith didn’t even glance at Branson and Alia. She was too angry, too eager to inflict some of the pain she’d suffered on Savanna. “Your husband didn’t care about my children when he put his hands around my neck and nearly choked the life out of me. Thanks to him, I haven’t been able to have sex with my own husband since!”
“Meredith!” Her sister gasped, obviously more aware of the children and, likely, the attention this confrontation was drawing.
Alia, Savanna’s six-year-old daughter, pulled on Savanna’s sleeve. “Mommy, why did Daddy choke her?” she whispered loudly, her big blue eyes filling with tears.
“Your father...” Savanna’s throat had tightened until she could scarcely breathe, let alone talk. “He made some poor choices, honey. Like we talked about when he went away, remember?”
“Choices?” Meredith jumped on that immediately. “That man is pure evil. But keep lying—to them and yourself.”
At that point, Meredith’s sister managed to pull her away. They left Savanna standing in front of the cooler that held the milk and cheese, feeling as if she’d been slugged in the stomach.
“Show’s over,” she mumbled to those who’d stopped to watch the drama unfold.
“The kids at school say Daddy grabbed three women and ripped off their clothes,” Branson said, his voice small as his gaze followed Meredith and her sister to the checkout register at the opposite end of the aisle. “That’s true, isn’t it.”
He wasn’t asking. He was just now realizing that Gordon wasn’t innocent as they’d all stubbornly hoped. That her son would have to accept such a terrible truth, especially at his tender age, would’ve broken Savanna’s heart—if it hadn’t already been shattered into a million pieces. “They’ve been talking about your father at school?”
For the most part since Gordon’s arrest, Branson had clammed up when it came to discussing his father, pretended as if nothing had changed. Almost every day, Savanna would ask him how things were going at school, and he’d insist everything was fine.
This proved otherwise, which made her feel even worse.
Head bowed, he scuffed one sneaker against the other. “Yeah.”
“Mommy?” Alia’s lower lip quivered as she gazed up, looking for reassurance.
Savanna knelt to pull them both into her arms. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay. You aren’t responsible for what your father did.” She wanted to believe she wasn’t, either, but part of her feared that maybe she had more culpability than she cared to admit. Had she been too gullible, too trusting, as everyone implied?
She must’ve been, or she wouldn’t be in this situation. And standing by Gordon even after the police searched the house had only made public opinion worse. She’d wanted so desperately to trust her husband above others, to protect her family, so that was what she’d done—until the mounting evidence grew to be too much. But that process of utter shock, denial, crushing pain and, finally, numb acceptance wasn’t anything others had witnessed her go through. They merely saw her as being tied to him, as loving and supporting the monster who’d raped three women, and since he was no longer walking around town, she’d become the target of everyone’s resentment.
“Boys aren’t supposed to hurt girls,” a bewildered Branson said.
“You’re absolutely right, honey,” she told him. “You shouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“So...why would Daddy choke that lady?”
Tears burned behind Savanna’s eyes as she hugged them both tighter. “I don’t know.” That was a question she asked herself at least once a day, but she had no answers—for any of the terrible things he’d done. It wasn’t as though she’d ever denied her husband physical intimacy. Other than a few oddities she’d chalked up to personal quirks, she’d thought they had a normal sex life. Since this whole thing had come out, however, she couldn’t help wondering if she could’ve been more alluring or adventurous or exciting to him. Maybe if she’d been satisfying, he wouldn’t have gone searching for something else and none of this would’ve happened...
Straightening, she shoved her cart to the side, left the few incidental groceries they’d gathered and took hold of her children’s hands.
“Where are we going?” Branson asked when she circled around to the far side of the store to avoid Meredith as she led them out.
“Home,” she replied.
“What about the milk?”
“We’ll get it later.” She couldn’t stay in the store another second.
After helping her children get buckled up, she slid behind the wheel of her little Honda, which, fortunately, hadn’t been impounded by the police like the van Gordon had driven to work.
“Are you sad, Mommy?” Alia asked.
“No, honey,” she replied. Sad could never cover it. The nightmare that had started when the police showed up with that search warrant only got worse and worse. She kept telling herself that she’d survive and find solid ground again, be able to stabilize her life, but she’d been far too idealistic. It’d be two more months before the trial even started. Then who knew how long the legal proceedings would take. Gordon and his crimes were all people could talk about—all they would be talking about—for the foreseeable future.
Given the evidence, he’d likely be convicted, but even if he wasn’t, Savanna wouldn’t stay with him. She hoped she’d never have to lay eyes on him again. She no longer felt safe in his presence, no longer felt as if her children would be safe. She’d already filed for divorce, but she knew that wouldn’t remove him from her life for good. He was the father of her children. The repercussions of his actions would ripple through the next decade or two, maybe longer.
Once they got home, she fed Branson and Alia and helped with homework, but her mind wasn’t fully engaged. She went through the motions like an automaton, trying to persevere until they were in bed and she could call her younger brother.
At nine-thirty, she tucked them in, poured herself a glass of wine and carried it into her bedroom, where she shut and locked the door and dialed Reese’s cell.
“Hey, sis. I’m out with a friend,” he said as soon as he answered. “Can you make it quick?”
She blinked against the tears she’d been battling for several hours. Quick? Gordon’s emergence as a suspect, the gathering of evidence, the search of the house, the arrest...it seemed like the longest, most invasive process she’d ever endured—as well as one of the most painful. “I can’t stay here,
