Wilson rested her hand on Christine’s shoulder for a second. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I understand.” Christine saw something in the woman’s eyes. Truth? Sympathy? Jess pointed to the brochure. “But if you ever find yourself in a situation where you’re not fine and you need help, call me. Even if you just want to talk.”
She gave Ruckman a good-natured grin. “Let’s go for lunch, say, next week?” She raised a hand to Christine. “Nice to meet you.”
As the door swung shut, Christine wondered if Jess Wilson had saved any women like her. What were their stories? How had they come to her? How many had died trying to get away?
Ruckman picked up the brochure and offered it to her. “No one is trying to pressure you into anything, Chris. I only wanted you to know that you have options.”
Christine shoved the brochure in her bag without looking at it. She was already thinking about her options. But they didn’t include a woman’s shelter.
Chapter 12
A THUD FROM BELOW WOKE Christine. She slipped out of bed, took Phillips’ Glock from the side table, and slipped out to the hallway. She peered over the banister. Light spilled into the foyer from the dining room. Muttering and glasses knocking against each other in the middle of the night was an all-too-familiar sound to her.
Worry tingled the back of her neck as she came down the stairs. Phillip was home already—drunk, as usual. Before she marched into the dining room, she closed her robe, as though it would hide her secret. She ran through answers in her head, to the questions Phillip would surely ask. She’d keep them short. The fewer the words the easier the lie.
She breathed in deeply to bolster her courage—but it was Melanie she found, slouched and drunk in the dining room. She almost laughed, her relief was so profound.
Melanie reordered the glasses and decanters on the sideboard—playing a drunken game of checkers. Oblivious to Christine standing a few feet away, she sang to herself like a lonely child. “Mel?”
Melanie flopped toward her and grinned. “Hi, Chrissie. How are you, honey?”
Christine waved the gun at her sister. “I could’ve shot you.” She dropped into a chair at the table and rubbed her temples. “You scared me to death.”
Melanie stumbled to the table. She stared, wide-eyed at the gun. “Now, that's a big one.” She giggled. “You like the big ones too, huh?” Christine put the gun in her pocket and sighed. Mel collapsed into a chair. “What's the matter?”
“You can't just come here in the middle of the night and drink my husband's booze.” Melanie stared—unresponsive. Christine snapped her fingers in her sister’s face. “Are you listening to me?”
Melanie pouted. “Why does he leave you all alone in this big house?” She arced an arm toward the foyer. “And why don’t you lock your door, damn it? There are dangerous people out there.”
Christine took Melanie’s wineglass before she dropped it on the carpet. “No, all the dangerous people are in here.” She scrutinized the wine decanter and then her sister. “How much have you had?”
Melanie squinted at the bottles lined up on the sideboard. “Not enough. Top it off for me, darling?”
“Are you crazy? This is his private reserve.”
Mel tried to stand but landed back in her seat. “Are you going to tell on me?”
Christine poured the wine left in Melanie’s glass back into the decanter. She fiddled with the bottle until sure she’d returned it to its proper place. Still, Phillip would probably ask if anyone had touched it.
Using the dining table for support, Melanie got up and gathered her bag and keys. “Shit, last call comes early in this place.” She slung her arm around Christine’s shoulders and made kissing sounds. “I love you, sissy.”
For a second, Christine saw the girl who used to be her friend and confidante. The girl who would’ve done anything for her. She hugged Mel and whispered, “I'm pregnant.”
Melanie blinked. “What? Does Phillip know?”
Christine checked over her shoulder as though Phillip were behind her. “He told me to have an abortion. I went to the doctor today, to do it. But I couldn't.” She grasped her sister’s hands. “Please don’t tell him. Don’t tell anyone.”
Melanie snarled. “Who does he think he is?” She shook her fist. “I’m going to call him and tell him where he can stick his abortion.”
Christine wanted to kick herself for her moment of weakness. Mel would blab and ruin everything. “No.” She squeezed Melanie’s hand. “You can’t tell anyone.”
Melanie grinned and put her finger to her lips. “Oh, okay. Big secret.” She drew her finger across her mouth. “Zip it. I get it. I got you.” She stumbled for the door. “Time to go home to bed.”
Christine caught her before she fell. As much as she wanted Melanie to go home, she couldn’t let her drive in that condition. She put her arm around Melanie’s waist to steady her and led to the stairs. “Looks like you’re staying here tonight.”
Melanie giggled. “I am? We’re having a sleepover? Oh, goodie.”
Christine got her up the stairs and into the guest room but she was out before she took off her shoes and covered her with a blanket. She grinned at her sister. “So much for a sleepover.”
She tucked Melanie’s keys in her pocket, turned off the light, and closed the door.
In the morning, she’d take Mel out for breakfast. Convince her not to say anything about the baby. Extract another promise of secrecy but when Mel was sober. So there could be no claims of forgetting.
All she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep. But she had to check the dining room for any evidence that Melanie had been rifling through Phillip’s private stock. She washed the wineglass and returned it to its place on the sideboard. At least Mel was a neat drunk. No spills or broken glass. A sweeping look around the room and she was satisfied.
When she reached for the light switch, a man clamped his hand over her mouth. She struggled—arms flailing, heart pounding. Michael whispered in her ear. “It's only me, my love.” Furious, she rammed her elbow into his ribs and he stumbled back. “Easy baby, that hurt.” He rubbed his side and chuckled. “Did I scare you?”
Panting, she glared at him. Misreading the cues, he grabbed her. He thrust his tongue so hard into her mouth, she gagged. She shoved him off, trembling. “What are doing?”
Smiling weirdly, he backed her against the table. “I want you. I want to take you right here on the table where he eats.”
He pushed her onto the table and she kicked him. He stumbled back—eyes wide and incredulous. “I said, no!”
Michael raised his hands and backed up. “Easy baby, just trying a little spontaneity.”
Heart pounding with fury, Christine shoved past him—using the table as a barrier between them. “Do understand what no, means? I said, no.”
Michael edged around the table toward her, hands outstretched. “I thought you were just teasing.”
Christine gaped. “Why do men think, no, is an invitation?”
Michael edged toward her, his hands still outstretched. “Honey. No, it’s okay. I wasn’t trying to scare you.” His cheeks colored. “I thought it’d turn you on.”
“You think assault is a turn on?”
He dropped his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m a shithead and I’m sorry.”
Still shaking she jabbed a finger at him. “Don't ever do that to me again.” She drew in a ragged breath. “Not ever.”
Michael inched toward her. “Okay, I got it. Calm down.” Worry clouded his eyes. “You’re going to pass out if you keep hyperventilating like that.”
He needed to understand. He needed to listen to her. She needed to be heard. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Women aren’t turned on by being terrorized. Don't men know that?”
Michael sighed. “How many ways can I say I’m sorry?” He smiled softly. “I won’t do it again. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you. I promise.”
He held her with his e
yes and her breathing slowed. “I just—” She rubbed her chest, willing her heart to slow. To stop racing. “I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to be afraid.”
Michael pulled her into his arms. “I don’t want you to be afraid either. I’m really sorry. Please, forgive me.”
He held her until she was calm and the fear passed. She looked up at him. “I can’t wait until this is all over. When you can just knock on the door like a normal person.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Me, too.”
She disengaged from his embrace, gently. “You have to go. My sister is upstairs. She can’t find you here.”
Michael looked toward the ceiling. “I thought you two weren’t close.”
She sighed, exhausted, tired of explaining herself. “It’s a long story.” A car drove past the house, its headlights flashed in the windows. Christine dragged him out of view. “You really have to go.” She imagined Phillip pulling into the drive, catching them together. In his house. Panic began to rise in her again. “You have to go now.”
He kissed her cheek and backed toward the foyer. “Okay, my love. I’m going.” He smiled to reassure her. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to take care of it. You’ll never have to be afraid again.”
She followed him out of the room, casting a look at the front door and the staircase. “Go. Please.”
He touched her hair softly then started down the hall. She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. Should she tell him she almost went through with the abortion? Did he need to know? It would only hurt him. He was almost to the kitchen. “Wait.” He twisted back to her. “Can you really do it?” He tilted his head and wrinkled his brow. “Take care of Phillip?” She swallowed hard. “Are you really sure?”
He blew her a kiss and left.
Chapter 13
SHE WAS GREETED THE next morning with a text from Phillip. He was staying at least another night, maybe two. No doubt, confident she was bedridden because of the abortion. She was happy to let him think it and have another day of freedom for herself.
She ran up the stairs, laughing. As though a child who was free to play and run. She knocked on Mel’s door. No answer. She put her ear to the door. “Mel? Wake up, it’s morning, sleepyhead.” Still no answer. She opened the door and stuck her head in. “Mel?”
The bed was a tangle of rumpled bedclothes but otherwise empty. She patted her robe pocket—the keys were gone. She wasn’t surprised, Mel always did what she pleased. But she was a little disappointed. It’d been a long time since they’d brunched and window shopped. “Another time.”
Determined to enjoy her day of freedom, she made eggs, oatmeal, bacon, and toast for breakfast. And ate every bite. “Oooh, baby has a big appetite.” She was delighted. By everything. Her breakfast, her shower, the sun shining outside. It was all so wonderful.
She hopped into her car and drove with no destination in mind. She’d go where the day took her. Freedom, sweet freedom. It was new but tasted so good.
The shopping mall caught her fancy and she pulled into the lot. She hadn’t shopped for fun in ages. Now there she was, not burdened with a list dictated by Phillip, wary she’d forget something. Or buy the wrong brand. No list at all. Maybe she’d buy something for the baby or herself. New brushes or sketch books. Or just window shop. But she’d definitely buy one of those giant cinnamon rolls whose heavenly scent hung in the air and made her mouth water.
She wandered from shop to shop—tether free. No curfew or check-in time. Being her own woman seemed possible now. Was it?
Her mind flicked to Michael and acid sputtered in her stomach. Would he keep his promise and end her nightmare? She trapped the thoughts behind a closed door in her mind. Thinking about it would do her no good. The time would come when it came. He would keep his word or he wouldn’t. She would trust in God or the universe or whatever force controlled fate and let things happen.
As she passed a baby boutique she was seduced by the pastel-colored clothes and sweet little mobiles in the window. So many precious things. Cribs and strollers, tiny onesies, and every kind of stuffed animal imaginable.
She fingered a cashmere receiving blanket that was the color of fresh butter. It was soft against her cheek. She imagined swaddling her baby in it. Holding her close and breathing in that intoxicating baby smell. Murmuring a lullaby while she rocked her daughter to sleep. Yes, she had to have it.
Excited, she carried her first gift for the baby to the cashier counter. It was just one item and it would be easy to hide. But as she reached for her wallet, she felt under scrutiny. A quick scan of the shop didn’t turn up anyone looking in her direction. Still, she trusted her tingling arms and legs. Someone was watching and she needed to leave the shop. In one fluid moment, she returned the blanket to the shelf and slipped out of the store.
Eyes darting side to side as she walked, Christine hurried to the parking structure. Her ears pricked for the sound of footsteps behind her. Once inside the car, she checked the mirrors, the backseat, and scanned the lot from all angles. No one approached or looked her way. The tingling stopped and her breathing slowed.
She was an idiot. A paranoid idiot. It was nothing. Who’d care if she were window shopping? Even Phillip probably wouldn’t.
Resolving not to give in to her fear, she trapped the negative thoughts behind another closed door in her mind and reclaimed her free day. She switched on the engine and wheeled out of the lot.
The smell of fried chicken on the air led her to a KFC. Suddenly ravenous she ordered a five-piece with all the trimmings and took it to the park near the Community Center. Perched on a picnic table, she nibbled chicken and watched kids play. So happy. Laughing and climbing and sliding. All giggles and pink flushed faces.
She delved again into her baby dreams and imagined them here. Baby’s first swing. Baby’s first slide. Baby’s first sandbox adventure. It was going to be so wonderful to have someone she could love with all her heart.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow. But when she turned to face it, there was nothing there. Worry crawled up her spine. First the mall, now the park. Phillip had hired someone to follow her and Michael. He’d shown her the pictures and that proved it. She’d assumed it was over because of the pictures. But was it? Was his spy still watching? Still trying to catch her?
Casually, she trashed her lunch and strolled to the car. A nice leisurely stride, doing nothing to draw attention to herself. She locked herself inside, idled, and checked her mirrors. Her blind spots. Why couldn’t she see the presence she felt? She’d call Michael for reassurance. He’d talk her off the ledge of her paranoia. Assure her she was over-reacting.
A rap at the window shot the phone from her hand and sent it under the seat. Trembling, she turned to the window. But the familiar woman looking in at her was no threat. She buzzed down the window. “Hello?”
“It’s me, Julie.” Her lopsided grin flagged. “From the Community Center?”
Christine remembered. “Oh right, Faith’s mom. Hi. How are you?”
Julie pointed toward the soccer field. “Just waiting for Faith to finish practice.” She lifted her lips in a smile but seemed tense, worried. “I waved at you earlier but you didn’t see me.”
There was nothing outwardly intimidating about the woman but Christine sensed something wasn’t right. She kept her finger poised above the window button. “Sorry, a little preoccupied these days.” She smiled politely. “Nice to see you, though.”
Julie rested her hand on the window frame. “I thought you’d like to grab that cup of coffee now. Faith’s almost finished and there’s a great little café on the other side of the park.”
Christine told herself she was being paranoid. Julie was a perfectly nice woman—and probably lonely, having no friends nearby. But if someone was watching her, Julie would be drawn into her troubles. And maybe even her sweet daughter. She couldn’t risk it. “Um...that would be lovely, but I’m late for an appointment. Sorry.”
She buckled her seatbelt. “Maybe another time.”
Julie flicked a look to Faith then back to Christine. She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I understand. Sometimes, we have no control over our own destinies.” Christine didn’t know how to respond. Julie bowed her head and stepped back. “Well, I’m glad I ran into you, anyway. Faith loved her first painting lesson. She couldn’t stop chattering about it.”
“She’s a lovely girl.” Christine wanted to leave but she also wanted to understand why she felt a connection to Julie. “I’m so sorry, but I really have to go. Another time?”
Julie raised her hand. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be around.” Then she turned and hurried back to the soccer field.
Christine lingered to watch Julie and Faith together. They were clearly very close. Like best friends, giggling and whispering to each other. Faith slid so easily into her mother’s arms. The girl knew where she belonged. Jealousy gurgled in her stomach. I want that. Then Julie spotted her, watching them, and waved. Startled, Christine shifted the car into gear and drove away.
When she arrived home to an empty house, her spirits lifted. Phillip’s truck was still gone, the doors were still locked, and her sense of calm returned. Still free. For now.
FOR TWO DAYS, SHE DIDN’T hear from Phillip. No texts, no calls, no unannounced arrivals home. It made her nervous not knowing what he was up to. What plans he had.
She only dared to speak briefly on the phone to Michael—worried Phillip would bound through the door any second.
She told herself it was nothing. That he’d probably encountered a new woman who’d caught his eye. A new distraction that made him change course. He had said he might be gone as long as a week, but he was never gone that long. Something wasn’t right.
She thought about calling Martha to see if she could pry any information out of her about what Phillip was doing. If anyone knew, it would be her. But Martha was loyal to Phillip and would call him as soon as they hung up.
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