Submerged

No, she’d much rather let fate intervene. She’d meet someone when the time was right. And that’s what she’d always promised Kelly.

“Maybe fate has already intervened,” she murmured.

Would Marcus welcome dating a woman with two kids?

Whoa! You’re getting way ahead of yourself. So you like the guy. That doesn’t mean he likes you back. Not in that way. Maybe he’s not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone.

But what if he was?

Chapter Thirty-Three

Edmonton, AB – Saturday, June 15, 2013 – 5:17 PM

Marcus pulled up in front of Rebecca’s house. Spotting the patrol car across the streets, he gave the uniformed officer a nod and made a beeline for him.

“Marcus Taylor?” the officer said, getting out of his car.

“Yes.”

“You got ID?”

Marcus retrieved his wallet from his jacket pocket and flashed his driver’s license.

The officer gave a nod. “You’re the guy who rescued them. Saw your picture plastered all over the news. Congrats, dude.” The man smiled. “Way to go.”

“Thanks.” Marcus glanced at the house. “Anyone show up here?”

“No. Been dead quiet all day.”

“Did Detective Zur say if there was any word on who did it?”

“You know Zur?”

“We go back a ways.”

“You an ex-cop?”

“Former paramedic. We worked a few cases together.”

The officer smiled. “Zur’s one of the best. Last thing I heard they were checking out a videotape lead. Saw some guy on it in a truck like the one the victim saw.”

“Rebecca.”

“Pardon me?”

“The victim’s name. Rebecca Kingston.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I’m here to pick up some things for Rebecca and the kids. I should be in and out within fifteen minutes.” Marcus took a step away, but then paused. “When’s the next shift change?”

“Midnight.”

“Be sure to check around back every now and then.”

“Will do, Mr. Taylor.”

Inside the house, Marcus stood in the foyer and got his bearings. Kitchen to the right. Living room and formal dining room to the left. Open concept. No upper floor, so he guessed the bedrooms were at the far end of the house.

He headed down the hallway, doing his best to ignore the family photos on the wall. Ones of a happy couple and their children.

He paused midway and stared at the man in the photo. Wesley Kingston. Not a bad-looking fellow, midforties, maybe, with thinning hair.

“Did you do this?” Marcus muttered.

Of course, the photo didn’t answer.

The first room he checked appeared to be a spare room. Nothing much personal in it and didn’t look as though it had gotten much use. He wondered if Wesley had slept there after Rebecca had discovered his infidelity, or if he’d been kicked out on his ass immediately as he deserved.

It wasn’t really Marcus’s business, but still…

The next room he entered was Ella’s—all pink and princesses. He found a pair of clean jeans and a flowered shirt, socks and underwear. Then he proceeded to the room across the hall. Colton’s. A typical boy’s room, the décor was all in grays and blues, with action figures on shelves on the walls. Sports gear and dirty clothing were strewn across the floor.

He gathered a change of clean clothing for the boy.

The third room he entered was the master suite. Tastefully decorated, it had an air of freshness, with its large windows and massive en suite bathroom. The walk-in closet was a modest size, and he scrutinized the hangers, studying the clothing that hung there.

Two dozen or so empty hangers had been shoved to one side, and Marcus suspected the man had already transported most of his belongings to his own place. There were, however, three oversized T-shirts that were far too large to be Rebecca’s. Marcus wondered if she slept in them, like Jane had often done.

It was odd to be here, in this woman’s bedroom, looking at her clothes and pondering such intimacies, but he couldn’t keep the thoughts from rushing his brain. Was she ready for this divorce? Was she ready to move on?

He’d known other women who had forgiven their partner’s sexual transgressions. They’d been able to salvage their marriages. Would Rebecca want to try? Or was she done with Wesley?

Is he done with her?

He found a pair of jeans and a warm but loose blouse. Those should do fine.

When he opened another drawer, he was faced with yet another dilemma—picking out a bra and a pair of panties. Everything was lace and pastels… silky.

Jesus, Marcus. They’re clothes. Stop thinking like a pervert.

It was ridiculous really. Here he was, red-faced and sweating, sorting through Rebecca’s intimate lingerie, and all he could think of was seeing her in them.

With a shake of his head, he grabbed a handful of lace and shoved them in the pile of kids’ clothes. He left the closet, feeling like he should apologize. Luckily, there was no one there to witness his embarrassment.