She shot him an exasperated look. “Frank...Frank wasn’t the easiest man to live with,” she began.
Jack snorted.
“Do you want to hear this or not?” she snapped, eyes sparking.
He nodded and shut his mouth.
“We met my freshman year of college and dated for the next few years. I thought he was great. As a competitive gymnast, you don’t get much life outside the gym and it can be hard to meet guys, but Frank was one of the followers.”
He interrupted. “What do you mean, follower?”
“He was one of a group of guys that would show up at every practice, watching, learning the routines, and getting to know the gymnasts. They would travel to all the away meets. It was great to have such enthusiastic support. And it wasn’t just college guys. We had a few retirees and rich couples that were followers and lived for the gymnastic season. They flew to the meets, bought us nice dinners after the competitions and cool gifts. Gymnastics was big in Mount Junction, bigger than football or basketball. We packed the stadium every meet and billboards with our faces lined the freeways. Strangers would come up to us in shopping malls or restaurants, recognizing us from TV.” She smiled. “The school had a legendary gymnastics program. Consistently in the top three in the nation. I was on a first-name basis with every sports anchor and writer in the state. We were minor celebrities in that town.”
“And Frank?”
Her brows shot together. “After Suzanne vanished, he was my rock. He helped me through some really dark times back then. After I graduated, we got married. He’d graduated two years before. It was fabulous. I thought our marriage would last a lifetime.”
“I hear a big ‘but’ in there somewhere.”
“But...I don’t know. He had been the one who wanted to go to dental school.”
“He did?” Jack wouldn’t let that guy near his teeth. Licensed or not.
She nodded. “He applied for years, all over the country. His scores just weren’t good enough. When I got accepted it really ate at him. He grew...bitter. He truly became a different person. He sort of lost himself. I don’t know if it was symptoms of depression that were emerging, but he felt that didn’t have another direction to go.”
Jack recalled the way Frank had slurred her doctor title that night. Pure jealousy.
“My mother was sick about the same time, and it was hard on both me and my dad. I was getting ready to start school, my mother was fighting breast cancer and my husband was becoming a different person every day. I decided not to tell him about the money that would come to me if my mom died.”
Huh? “What money?”
Lacey squirmed on her seat and toyed with her mug.
“My mom left me a considerable inheritance, old family money. And life insurance.” Shadows dropped in her eyes and he felt like a prick for making her touch on a painful past.
“What about your dad?”
She waved a hand. “He had his own money. He knew Mom had named me the beneficiary for her life insurance, and she’d set up a trust for me when I was an infant. She came from blue-blooded timber money.” A small smile lightened her face.
“Only in the Northwest.” Jack understood perfectly. The original timber barons in the Northwest had amassed huge fortunes before the economy and timber industry went belly up. Most had already left the industry with their millions intact before things collapsed. Now he understood why Lacey taught school and worked for the medical examiner instead of owning a dental practice. She didn’t need to work. She could do as she pleased. He had a hunch “considerable” was the wrong way to describe the amount her mom had left her.
“So you never told Frank you were loaded. What did he think about your family? Couldn’t he see you came from money?”
“I guess not. Frank saw only what he wanted to see. They never flaunted their wealth.” She rolled her eyes. “My mother drove the same damned station wagon for twelve years. I hated that car.”
“So what happened?”
“We fell apart. Frank was angry all the time. I was at school all the time. He turned into a different person. The responsible, sympathetic man I’d married was gone. He started drinking too much, too often.” She coughed, and Jack figured she didn’t want to expand on the drinking. Too bad.
“He hit you.” It wasn’t a question.
She briefly met his eyes and looked away. “Yeah. After I’d been beaten and nearly killed by DeCosta, Frank punching me in the face was a definite deal breaker. He did it only once, but that was enough for me. No second chances. He found out about the money after the divorce. He’s hated me ever since for hiding it and denying him anything in our settlement.”
Jack briefly closed his eyes, seeing black eyes and split lips on her face. Rage boiled up again, but he fought it down. “The court didn’t make you split it?”
She blinked innocently, deliberately. “I was a poor dental student. What was there to split? I’d put the money in my dad’s name after mom died. Deep down I must have known it would go sour with Frank.”
Smart girl. “That would explain the ‘million reasons’ he had to be rude to you that night. He was talking about your money.”
She nodded. “And Celeste is convinced I cheated her husband out of his due. They both despise me.”
“So why did you give him money the first time?” He saw she’d forgotten about his original question.
“He was in debt to some bad people. The money went to them, not him.”
“You paid off his loans?”
“I wouldn’t call them loans,” she said dryly. “They were more like choking nooses around his neck. And impatient people had their hands on the other end.”
“He gambled?”
“Nasty habit. Sinks a lot of people. I guess you’d call me an enabler, but it never happened while we were married. This addiction cropped up afterward. I should have let him deal with it himself, but the money wasn’t a big deal to me. He swore he wouldn’t gamble anymore.”
Jack snorted. Right. “You think he’s in trouble again?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but I would bet he’s deep in debt to someone. He’s probably happy to be in jail. He’s safe there.” She looked thoughtful. “I could have Michael figure out who he owes. He’s got tons of sources at the newspaper.”
“Who?” Jack’s throat tightened. “Are you referring to Michael Brody by any chance?” Jack mangled the words, his tongue not working right. “My buddy at The Oregonian? He’s a friend of yours? You’re not referring to the reporter who’s in charge of digging up my past and plastering it on the front page?”
Her mouth opened and then closed as she rapidly blinked. Steam built in his chest, and he was about to press the subject when someone knocked on her door. An angry, pounding knock.