Chapter Forty-five
Jake’s blood boiled as he drove along Dr. Dave’s street, a single lane that snaked through dark woods, filled with towering evergreens and oak trees. There were no other houses on the street, much less painted mailboxes, holiday flags, or recycle bins that had to be rolled away by nightfall. Of course Dr. Dave lived in the Pendleton Tract, a beautiful hundred wooded acres under easement to the county, never to be developed. Jake hated that the man who cuckolded him had evergreens that weren’t planted in a zigzag pattern.
He turned onto Dr. Dave’s driveway and parked behind his Prius, in front of a house that was predictably spectacular, an ultramodern series of glass-walled boxes with concrete edges and flat rooflines, situated on at least six wooded acres. Jake cut the ignition, blood pounding in his ears. He’d had only a single second thought on the drive over, which was about Dr. Dave’s wife. He didn’t want to tell her that her jerk of a husband was cheating on her. That would hurt her the way he’d been hurt, so he’d have to make sure she was out of the way, to avoid collateral damage.
He got out of his car and slammed the door behind him, which echoed in the woods. He stalked up a flagstone path, bordered with tiny lights to show the way through the trees. The air smelled fresh and clean, which infuriated him all the more. His enemy even had better oxygen.
He glanced at the floor-to-ceiling window on the left of the house, which looked into a showplace living room, with black leather sofas and chairs. A set of gauzy curtains muted the view, but the living room was empty. He reached the front door, also of glass panels, and he was about to pound on one hard enough to break it when the door opened.
Dr. Dave stood in the threshold, blinking calmly behind his hip graphite glasses, and Jake realized that Pam must have warned him that he was coming, which felt like a body blow.
“Dr. Dave, tell your wife to get lost. She’s not going to like this conversation.”
“She left for the airport. Come in.” Dr. Dave opened the door, standing aside politely. Classical music played in the background, from a crystal-clear sound system. “So what are you going to do, Jake? Punch me in the noggin? Go ahead. You’re bigger than I am. Displace all the anger you want.”
Jake stepped inside. “Hold the jargon. I’m not impressed.”
“I was in the kitchen, having dinner. Would you like something?”
“Are you out of your mind, shrink?”
“Suit yourself.” Dr. Dave turned neatly away on his thin black loafers and sauntered down a short hall to the back of the house.
“Oh I get it. This is the psychology part. You act very cool when the raging husband comes over.” Jake stalked after him into a modern kitchen. Stainless steel appliances lined the back wall, under a large window that was as black as night, reflecting the two men like a dark mirror.
“Not at all, Jake. I’m a therapist, and so I understand the power of a good conversation.” Dr. Dave crossed to an island with tall cherrywood stools and a black granite countertop, which held a complete place setting, a plate with a chicken breast and wild rice, next to a glass of wine and an open bottle. Suddenly a little Siamese cat jumped onto the countertop, but Dr. Dave pushed it roughly to the floor, where it landed on its feet.
“You preyed on my wife and now you’re preying on my son. I want you to leave my family alone.”
“How do you feel about Lambrusco? It’s coming back, you know, and this Lini Vineyard produces such a special grape.” Dr. Dave lifted the bottle of wine, showing off the label.
“Stick your wine up your ass and listen, I’m talking to you.” Jake collected his thoughts. “I’m not going to hit you. I’m not a bully, a thug, or a badass. But I’m not a pushover either.”
“I take it that’s a no on the Lambrusco.” Dr. Dave picked up his glass, swirled the wine around, then took a sip. Meanwhile, the cat walked to the back door, meowed, and sat down, curling its brownish tail around its delicate brown feet.
“I came here to say that I’m trying to save my marriage and my family, and if you can’t respect that, then I don’t know what kind of a man you are.” Jake couldn’t hold back his temper. “Put another way, if I catch you anywhere around my wife or my son again, I will beat you to death with my bare hands.”
“My.” Dr. Dave took another sip of wine, which darkened his teeth. “These are two separate issues, your wife and your son. As for Pam, if your marriage were a happy one, your wife wouldn’t have come to me, and I assure you, she came to me.”
Jake swallowed hard, suppressing a deep stab of sexual jealousy.
“As for Ryan, I’m his shooting coach, whether you think I’m qualified or not, so it would be quite impossible to comply with your demand.”
“Take care of the other kids. Leave him alone.” Jake’s phone rang in his pocket, but he let it go, guessing it was Pam.
“Are you sure you have Ryan’s best interests in mind?” Dr. Dave seemed to be warming up, wanting to spar. He leaned against the counter, palming his glass. “In my professional opinion, Ryan is experiencing situational depression brought on by several factors, such as the conflict between you and Pam, his schoolwork, and the championship. He’s been making statements to his teammates that suggest he’s having suicidal ideation, which is—”
“I know the term, and you’re not qualified to be Ryan’s therapist. You were sleeping with his mother.”
“I know Ryan very well, and we could work together and have a very good outcome. I’m sure that Ryan would love to work with me. We’re very close.” Dr. Dave set down his wine, and the cat meowed again, loudly this time.
“I said, leave my son alone.” Jake didn’t tell Dr. Dave that Ryan knew about his affair with Pam, because he didn’t want Dr. Dave to know more about his family than he already did.
“Jake, you’re making decisions for Ryan that he’s perfectly capable of making for himself. Excuse me, this cat won’t shut up.” Dr. Dave crossed to the back door, twisted the deadbolt, and opened the door. The cat slipped outside, and in the next moment, a motion-detector light went on in the backyard, illuminating a fancy two-car garage.
In front of it was parked a gleaming black BMW 535.
And its license plate read HKE-7553.