Finding Abigail

by Christina Smith

  He sighed heavily folding his hands in front of him. “He says you’re lying.”

  My heart sank and I closed my eyes while his words sank in. I should have known better. What was I thinking coming here? Nick wasn’t going to admit it. I opened my eyes and gazed at him, searching his face. But it was blank. He showed no emotion, taking no sides. The only way I knew that he was actually feeling something was his eyes; they were sad.

  “Of course he would say that, but how did he explain this?” I asked, pointing to my arms.

  “He said you had sex, and it got a little rough.”

  Rage twisted inside me. That lying sack of shit!!! “Are you serious? You’re not going to do anything about this?” I cried, louder than I had intended.

  His lips pressed together, creating tiny worry lines at his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. I can’t ruin a man’s career without proof.”

  “Proof? I told you he did it, and I have the marks.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, and from his tone I could tell that he wouldn’t help me. I was on my own.

  I sat still, waiting for something more, but that was all he would say. He just sat there looking down at his desk. I felt lost, helpless. What was I supposed to do when the people sworn to protect me refused to help? My eyes started to burn with the threat of tears, and since I would not let anyone else see me cry, I stood up. “Fine,” I yelled and rushed out of the room

  Nick sat in an office across the hall, and from the look on his face he wasn’t going to be happy when he saw me next. I rushed out of the station before he could catch me. I needed to protect myself, since no one else would. I was on my own. As soon as he got home I knew he would make me pay for what I had done. I had seen it in his eyes while he glared at me. There was only one thing I could do. RUN!

  Chapter Seventeen

  Defeated

  I rushed home, packed two suitcases, my laptop, and the pile of money I had stashed for rainy days, and ran down to the parking garage. I needed some time away. I could go stay at a hotel somewhere or rent a place for a few weeks and give him some time to cool off, time to get over me. We had made a mistake, and I had to believe that in time, he would see that.

  The sky was dark, filled with gray clouds as I pulled the car out of the underground parking lot. I sat idly for a few seconds contemplating where to go. I hadn’t thought this through; I just knew I couldn’t be at the apartment when he got home. There was no time to plan. Where could I go? New York popped in my head. It was so big, it’d be easy to get lost in the crowds. Or I could go to Canada. The border was only an hour away. I had never been there, and now was the perfect chance. But I had left my passport up in the apartment and I couldn’t go back for it. I didn’t have the time. So that left New York.

  Now that I had a destination, I tuned right onto Seaman and started to drive. I had just passed Watertown when I called my mom to tell her I was going away for a few weeks. I regretted it when she started to question me. Finally I just made up a lie about going to New York for work, and hung up. I didn’t call anyone else. If someone was looking for me, she could tell them I was away.

  As I drove, I thought about Nick, trying to see why he would have acted so violently. Had I provoked him in any way? He said he wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t run away from him. Maybe that was true. I probably should have stayed and talked to him, calmly. But I was so shocked after he slapped me, I wasn’t thinking straight. So much had changed in the last twenty-for hours. Yesterday I had woken up in his arms, happy and content. How could things have gone so wrong? I just didn’t understand. I was confused about my feelings for him. He had hit me, and turned into a different person, but how could I forget how much I loved him just one day ago? My emotions were in turmoil. It was good I was going a way for a while. It would give me time to think.

  Just as I passed Syracuse, lights flickered in my rearview mirror. As I looked up, my stomach dropped to the floor of the car. There was a police cruiser coming up behind me at top speed. It was Nick, I knew it. But how could he have found me? Would my mother have told him? Not likely. She didn’t like him. The car got closer, but I didn’t pull over. I was too afraid. I kept driving, hoping it was a different cop and that they would pass me.

  Headlights flashed behind me making me look through my mirror again, and now I could no longer deny who it was. There was no mistaking the cold dark brown eyes that glared at me. Fear ripped through my chest, stabbing me like a knife. Maybe I could talk to him, reason with him. He’s always been so sweet. Maybe it really had just been a bad day? My hands shook as I turned the steering wheel off to the side of the road.

  I watched him get out of the cruiser and moved toward me. When I rolled the window down, he bent his head into the car. “Where are you going, Abby?” His voice was clipped, holding in his anger.

  I thought of lying, telling him I was just going shopping in Syracuse, but if he looked in the trunk, he’d know the truth. “I need to go to New York for work for a few weeks. I was going to call you when I got there.”

  He narrowed his rage-filled eyes. “Really, then why didn’t you mention it when you saw me at the station after your talk with the captain?” I could feel anger coming off him in waves.

  “Fine, I needed to get away to think things over. I was going to come back. I swear.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He leaned in and grabbed my left hand, squeezing so hard he cracked my knuckles. “You were running because you were afraid of me. Abby, I wouldn’t hurt you if you hadn’t gone to the station. Why do you keep provoking me? I love you, why are you trying to fight me?”

  “I...I’m sorry.” I swallowed the lump of fear that burned my throat. “How did you find me?”

  His eyes flicked to my cell in the center console so quickly I almost missed it. But I had seen it, and I knew he had tracked me by my phone. “I have my ways. I’m a cop. You will never be able to go anywhere without me finding you.”

  I was at a loss for words. This was a new side of him. I didn’t want to provoke him, so I closed my mouth and didn’t say anything.

  He leaned in through the window and yanked the keys out of the ignition. “Come on, get in my car. I’ll have yours towed to the apartment.” He opened my door and glared at me, the vein in his neck throbbing. He was beyond pissed. I knew if I tried to run, he would catch me. I grabbed my purse and the bag next to me. He opened the trunk and pulled out the rest of my belongings, stashing them in the trunk of his cruiser. Then he put me in the front seat of his car.

  Once he slid into the driver seat, he started it without a word. The silence in the small space was palpable. With each passing mile my fear deepened. I needed to calm him down somehow. I didn’t know what to say though. I had never been in this situation before. It wasn’t until we passed Watertown that I built up the courage to speak. “Nick, I’m sorry, okay. I know I shouldn’t have left, or gone to the station, but I only did it because I was so shocked about last night.” The throbbing in his neck remained. His jaw was locked; his eyes never left the road ahead.

  Knowing that at least for now I was stuck with him, I needed to get through this. I had obviously screwed up by leaving without a plan. It didn’t occur to me that he could trace my cell—and my car, he’d have no problem finding that. He knew my plate numbers. What was I thinking, earlier? He was a cop. The only way I could get away from him was if I was careful. I knew that now. But in the meantime I had to get through this day.

  I reached over and placed my hand on his knee. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have left. You must have been worried.” The words felt like glue in my mouth, I didn’t mean them and I was afraid that he would sense that.

  Finally he turned to face me, his eyes softening to a cool breeze. “I was. I care for you, Abby, and I hate when we fight.” He didn’t say another word, but for some reason, I had hope. I knew in his own way he did love me. I just had to bide my time until I could get away for good.

 
He parked in the underground lot and led me to the elevators, gripping my arm as though he thought I’d run. Where would I go? He just proved that wouldn’t work.

  As soon as he shut the door behind us, he tossed my bags onto the floor. And in a move so fast I didn’t see it coming, he had me up against the wall with his hand around my neck, choking me. I couldn’t breathe, his grip was so tight. I thought this was the end. All I could focus on was the smell of his strong cologne and his beady eyes. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “If you ever pull something like you did today again, I will kill you. Remember, I’m a cop; I know how to kill discreetly. Do you understand me?” he asked, looking me in the eyes.

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Good.” He released me from his grip. I fell to the floor, leaning on my hands and knees coughing and wheezing, trying to get my breath back. I looked up at him to see him smiling down at me. “Now that we understand each other, let’s order some pizza.” His voice sounded cheerful as he clapped his hands together.

  During dinner, I was the typical doting spouse. I served him, I smiled. I listened to him complain about work, I even kept my mouth closed when he grumbled about the problems I had caused at the station. I frowned, told him again how sorry I was, and rubbed his arm. When a smart comment came to my mind, it was replaced by an image of his hands around my neck and his threat that he would kill me. For that reason alone, I bit my lip and apologized, knowing that from this day on I was going to plan, and I’d be smart this time. No matter how long it took.

  That night in bed, I woke to the sound of deep raspy sobbing, and a shaking body pressed against me.

  I blinked my eyes opened. It was still dark, and I was in bed. Nick was the one leaning over me. “I’m so sorry. I love you, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll try harder, I promise. I don’t know why I do it. You’re everything to me.” His voice was so sincere, the pain audible. He rubbed the back of my head lovingly as he sobbed into my shoulder, his tears making my cheeks damp. He leaned up and pulled at my tank top, and started to kiss the bruising around my neck and shoulder. His lips brushed the tender skin, his cool breath washing over my heated irritated flesh.

  Did he really feel sorry for what he did? Did he really love me as he said? The pain was so real in his eyes and voice that maybe he really would never do it again. He did genuinely sound like he regretted it. “Please say you forgive me, and we’ll start again. I can’t lose you. When you left today, I was so angry, but what was worse was that my heart broke at the thought of not having you in my life.” His soft kisses moved up my neck, to my chin, and then my lips.

  Could I trust what he said? Should I give him a chance? The pain he felt was real, I knew that. I almost felt sorry for him. “Please,” he begged against my lips, “I need you.” His voice was edged with sorrow. My heart ached at the sound of it. Before I knew what was happening, I kissed him back, grief and sadness turning to need. Need for the love we shared, need to erase the last few days. He kissed me hungrily, and in that kiss I felt his sorrow and pain, and all I wanted was to make it better. We made love, and afterwards I lay wrapped in his arms. “I love you, Abby. Please don’t leave me again,” he whispered as he fell asleep.

  The next morning he was happy and loving as he said goodbye to me at the door. I had hope that he just had a bad couple of days. Maybe it wouldn’t have gone as far as it did if I hadn’t run after he slapped me, or if I hadn’t went to the station. I wasn’t ready to give up my plan to leave, not yet. But maybe I could give him another chance. It’s not like I could run tomorrow. I had to plan it, make sure he wouldn’t find me again. And he seemed so sorry and so happy that I was here. What if it really was just a one-time thing? Maybe I could put the idea on hold, give him one more shot. If he did it again, then I would continue my plan.

  It lasted a week. One night as I was dishing out Chinese food onto plates, he came in the door and slammed it. And when he saw what I was doing he yelled at me for not making him a home-cooked meal. I stared at him in shock. He knew I didn’t cook, and had told me that he found that cute. I froze with a big spoon in my hand, not knowing what to do. He stomped toward me, his eyes cold, jaw locked. The furious glare he gave me was the only hint I needed to know that he was never going to change.

  His hand shot out before I realized he’d moved, slapping me on the back of the head. Pain shot through my skull, but I didn’t react to it. I bit my tongue, holding back the curse and reminding myself not to make it worse. “What’s wrong?” I asked, feigning concern for him after he slapped me.

  “Nothing, just get me a beer.”

  It got worse. By the time I went to bed, my upper arms were bruised again, and I was pretty sure my wrist was sprained, making it impossible to write.

  When Nick left for work the next day, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my face. I looked defeated, trapped, with nowhere to go. The expression reminded me of something. I had seen the look on someone else before, but who? As I gazed at my eyes that appeared colorless, I realized what I had been missing. Now it all made sense.

  A few hours later there was a knock at my door. I opened it to see Heather waiting in the hallway looking uncomfortable. Her brown hair was down, cascading over her shoulders and back, but it looked messy, like all she had time for this morning was a quick brush-through. She was wearing an oversize coat and dark blue jeans. Her skin was as pale as it always was. “Okay, I’m here. What do you want?” She took a step inside, but stood as close to the exit as possible.

  Closing the door, I took her fluffy blue coat, hanging it up on the coat rack, and gestured to the dining room table. “Come in and sit down. Would you like a glass of wine?”

  She hesitated, giving me a cautious glance, but took the seat I was pulling out for her. “Sure, I’ll have one.” She glanced around the apartment, knotting her fingers together anxiously as I poured two glasses of wine.

  Her posture was guarded when I returned with the drinks and sat down next to her. I could smell her perfume. She took a sip and glared at me, waiting for me to say what I had called her over for. I tasted the wine as well, savoring the bubbles on my tongue, searching for courage, and then finally set my glass down. “When did Rob start hurting you?”

  I was expecting her to be shocked—she wasn’t. Her eyes were blank as she gulped her drink. When she swallowed, she asked, “How soon was it for you? As soon as he got the ring on your finger, or when he moved in?”

  “Oh, he waited a day, until he moved in, making it harder for me to get rid of him,” I answered, leaning back in my chair. “So, why didn’t you tell me? “

  “Because my kids need a mother and if I told you, Rob would kill me. And I hoped that I was wrong about Nick. I didn’t know he’d be like his brother. He’s never really been in a serious relationship.” She paused, holding her wine glass in her hand. “Besides, I did try to warn you at the baseball game.”

  “You did, only I didn’t understand. Until I saw the look on my face this morning, and remembered I had seen it before, on you.”

  “What look would that be, fear, humiliation, hate?”

  “Defeat. I don’t want to be with him, but I don’t know how to get out of it. That’s what I see when I look at you.”

  She sighed, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes as she leaned back in the wooden chair. “It started with us after we were married, but we didn’t live together until then. It was such a shock. He wasn’t like that at all before then. Sure, there were signs, but nothing compared to what he became. He said I was his wife now and I belonged to him.” She took a long gulp of her wine, finishing it off. “Like I’m a goddamn TV or something. They see us as a possession.”

  I got up and went to the kitchen to fetch the bottle. When I returned, I poured her more. She nodded in thanks, a small smile on her lips.

  “Why didn’t you leave him?” I asked, rubbing the bottom of my wine glass with my finger. Since it was crystal, it made a high-pitched sound.

  “I
loved him, and he said he loved me. And every time he hit me, he was so sorry after. He would always beg my forgiveness and bring me gifts. I know it sounds crazy, but he’d get so torn up about what he did to me, I ended up feeling sorry for him.” I widened my eyes in shock. “I said it sounds crazy.” She waved her hand in the air. “Anyway, then I got pregnant, and I hoped once Bobby was here, he would change. Of course he didn’t and I never would have had Nicky if he hadn’t hidden my birth control pills. He wanted a boy. I didn’t want to bring another child into the madness. I love Nicky with all my heart, but he’s another reason why I can’t leave.”

  “It can’t be good for them to see it though.” My heart was heavy for those poor kids. To live in a home with abuse was just awful...I couldn’t imagine the damage it could do to them. It made me appreciate my own upbringing all the more.

  She scowled. “Rob usually waits until they’re in bed or when they’re not home, but they know, they’re not stupid.”

  “Well, I need to do something because there’s no way in hell I’m marrying him now. But he won’t leave. I told him it was over, I even went to the station to get a restraining order. The captain said I had no proof since Nick denied it and made up an excuse for the bruises.” I kept the fact that I had run to myself.

  Her eyes widened to the size of golf balls. “Wow, you actually reported him?” She shook her head. “You’re braver than I am. He always told me he’d kill me if I did that. Since he’s a cop and his father and brother are cops, I figured I was screwed.” She bent down, holding her head in her hands. “Sometimes I feel so trapped.”

  My chest ached for her, even though I was now in the same situation, but I didn’t have kids, which made leaving him a little easier. “You could go to a shelter, and maybe they could help you. You know, leave so he can’t find you.”

  She looked up and smiled sadly at me. “I went to a shelter once. He found me...” She trailed off as her eyes took on a far-off look. I could only imagine what happened after he found her. “I can’t leave. I can’t put the kids through that, life on the run. But you should, you don’t have any children.”