The Watchman

by V. B. Tenery

  Typical abuse victim. A woman alone with no family. “I’m sorry.”

  Silence filled the space between us for a moment. She gave a dismissive shrug. “It was a long time ago. I’m over it.” Her voice dropped to a husky tone and she looked up at me. “How did you know? Cody didn’t scream.”

  “Are you sure? Perhaps you were too frightened to hear.”

  “Maybe.” Uncertainty clouded her features. “Mr...I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Adams, Noah Adams. I’m a private investigator.” I searched my jacket and handed her my card.

  She studied it with blank eyes and slipped it into her pocket. A shiver ran through her body, her eyes wide. “We have to leave. Right away. Harry will never see the inside of a cell. My husband is a powerful man, Mr. Adams. A charter member of the good-old-boys network downtown. He’ll be home within the hour, and he’ll be raving mad. I don’t even want to think what might happen.” She shivered again. “We’ve left before. Wherever we go, he always finds us.” Angry tears pooled in her eyes. “Harry said he would take Cody away from me if I tried to leave again. I’d go mad knowing Cody had to face his father alone.” Her jaw clenched. “Harry London will be a dead man before I let him take Cody away from me.” Desperation resonated in her stiff posture and jerky motions.

  “Murder isn’t the answer. Cody needs you with him, not in prison. There’s a place I can take you, a place where your husband can’t find you. You’ll need to pack extra-warm clothing for the trip. It’s colder in the valley.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Where?”

  “A friend’s ranch near Green River. I’ll call and make sure it’s all right.” I reached for my cell-phone. “I won’t let him hurt either of you again. I promise.”

  She stood motionless, not making eye contact.

  The toll of clock chimes from the entryway spurred her into action. “Cody, we’re leaving. Gather up any toys you want to bring. Hurry. Your father will be home soon.”

  He appeared at her side. “Where are we going?”

  She gave him a gentle nudge toward the open doorway. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, we must hurry.” Her gaze tracked him down the hallway, and then she followed him inside.

  While they packed, I called my friend Emma Hand.

  Rachel returned with two suitcases. She blinked rapidly, trying to convey her sense of despair. “I appreciate what you’re doing. I...I have to trust someone. There’s no place else for us to go. But if you let me down and Harry finds us―” She dropped her gaze and drew a long, shuddering breath. After a pause, she raised her head, and looked into my eyes. “It could cost us our lives.”

  2

  Somewhere on Highway 80

  City lights disappeared in the rearview mirror as we trekked west toward Green River. An exhausted Cody fell asleep in the backseat soon after we left Hebron. The glow of the dash lights reflected Rachel huddled close to the door, eyes glued to the blackness, white-knuckled hands clasped in her lap.

  My mind focused on the small family. They had lived with pain for a long time. Thank God, Emma agreed to take them in.

  Emma Hand’s place sat two hundred miles from Hebron, off Highway 80, the interstate that ran across the lower half of Wyoming. A desolate, sometimes dangerous, drive this time of year. Relentless winds sheered across the highway, and violent snow gusts often shut down the road for hours.

  God’s hand guided us through the storm. Red taillights from the tanker in front of us cut a path through the darkness, a shield from the heavy storm.

  The long day wore on me, and I began to depressurize from the adrenaline rush of the past hours. I glanced at my silent companion. “If you’re in pain, there’s aspirin in the glove box.”

  She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her left ear. “I’m fine.”

  Wind danced flakes on the pavement before us like confetti at a Christmas parade. Through the flurries, I spotted a fast food restaurant sign at the next exit. “I need a caffeine fix. How about you?”

  “I’ll take a soda. I’m not much on coffee.”

  The drive-thru lane stood empty. I placed the order at the intercom, moved forward, and paid the pimple-faced kid at the first window. He handed me my change, and I inched to the second opening.

  Rachel’s troubled gaze searched my face. When she spoke, the timbre of her voice hardened. “The first time I left Harry, we went to the shelter. I thought we’d be safe there. Of course, as a judge, he knew where to find me. Harry produced a letter from my doctor saying I’d had a nervous breakdown, and he took us back home. I paid dearly for that little indiscretion.”

  “Why would your doctor lie? He could lose his medical license.”

  “Dr. Saunders is a personal friend of Harry’s. I’m sure my husband applied a great deal of pressure. Anyway, after that I decided to try something new. The last time, Cody and I packed my car after Harry left for work. We headed for California. I’d stashed money for six months so I wouldn’t leave a trail he could follow. Somehow, he knew we had left. Before we reached the state line, the police stopped me and brought us back. That’s when I knew I’d have to kill Harry to get away.”

  While we waited for our drinks, I scanned her face in the dim lighting. Where did she find the courage to keep going with such odds against her? She’d kept herself and her son alive through sheer strength and bravery.

  “I can only imagine how hopeless you must have felt.”

  She gave a short laugh. “Whoever you are, it’s difficult to imagine we could be worse off than we’ve been with Harry.”

  Her chest rose as she inhaled a deep breath. “You’re my last hope. I don’t know if you’re a guardian angel or a serial killer—a stranger who showed up at my door. Yet here I am taking my son on a trip to God-only-knows where.”

  “I mean you no harm, Rachel. Though a serial killer would probably say that as well.” I managed a half grin. “But killers rarely call the police, give them their license number, and home address before kidnapping victims. You and Cody were in trouble. I wanted to help. It’s as uncomplicated as that. Emma Hand is a fine woman. You’ll be safe there, and you can leave whenever you want.”

  She frowned and gave her head a slow shake. “I have an appalling record of making the wrong choices where men are concerned.” She lifted her chin. “But this time, I’m leaving Harry for good, and I don’t intend to become someone else’s victim.”

  “Point taken. You’re right to be wary of strangers.”

  Wind-driven snow speckled the windshield under the drive-through portico. “Do you have access to a bank account or other funds?”

  Her eyes widened.

  “You won’t need money at the ranch, but you will need an attorney, and Cody should see a doctor. You‘ll have to prove ongoing abuse.”

  Her posture eased. “We have medical insurance, but Harry can trace us if we use it. I also have credit cards, but he’ll cancel them before morning. He always cancels the cards when I leave.”

  “Half of everything he has belongs to you and Cody. But you’ll have to file for a divorce to get it.”

  Her jaw set in an oddly vulnerable way. “Like I would ever do that. Stand alone against Harry in Hebron. He would have Dr. Saunders as a witness. It would be my word against two highly respected professionals. Taking him to court would be the mother of lost causes.”

  “I’d be there for you, and I know a good attorney. The sooner you take legal action against your husband, the sooner you’ll be free of him.”

  The young woman at the window passed two cups out. I handed one to Rachel, took a sip from mine, and placed it in the console holder. “Do you guys have passports?”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Just in case I need to move you into Canada.”

  She unsheathed the straw and punched it into her drink. “They’re in a safe at home along with a large amount of cash. Harry brags there is more than a $100,000 dollars inside.” She shook her head. “But I can’
t get my part of the money, or the passports. I don’t have the combination.”

  Not surprising Harry denied her access. Money meant freedom, and abusers liked to keep their victims dependent.

  “Does he open the safe often?”

  She considered the question for a moment before she answered. “He opens it every Monday before he goes to work to pulls cash for the week. And probably other times I’m not aware of.”

  “Where’s the safe?”

  “In the library, behind an ugly modern painting.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you crack safes in your spare time.”

  I shook my head and chuckled. “I can barely crack an egg.”

  “Too bad. I was getting ready to hand you my house key.”

  “No promises, but there’s a good chance I can help you get access to the passports and money when you need them.”

  She twisted the straw but didn’t drink from it. “As hard as I’ve tried, I haven’t been able to start a life for Cody away from his father. I’m a miserable failure as a mother. Cody has lived a nightmare every day of his life—thanks to me.”

  “How did you reach that conclusion?”

  “I married his father, didn’t I?”

  “You can’t change the past, Rachel. You can change what comes next. The blame for Cody’s abuse lies squarely on Harry London’s shoulders. Not yours. Just keep repeating your promise to never again be a victim.”

  

  Hand Me Down Ranch

  We reached the ranch just before midnight. The sheep farm lay in a valley surrounded by mountains and a few scattered pines. Next to a nearby barn stood a water tower and large corral, the landscape covered in snow. A low, rambling structure glowed in the distance like a beacon guiding us to a safe haven.

  Emma must have heard the car pull in. The front door opened, and a welcoming smile wreathed her face. She swung the door wide for us to enter.

  Cold wind nipped at my face and stung my eyes. With Cody in my arms, I hurried inside, making hasty introductions as we crossed the threshold.

  Emma pointed down the hallway. “Take the boy to the third bedroom on the left.”

  Rachel followed me to the designated room and tucked Cody into bed. She pulled the covers up around his neck and smoothed damp, blond curls from his brow. I left her there, dashed back to the car, and brought their luggage inside to the entryway.

  Emma gave me a hug when I entered the den. “I’ve made a bed for you. It’s too late to drive back to the city tonight.”

  I nodded and hustled close to the fire, absorbing the warmth, letting it thaw the chill that numbed my feet and hands.

  She turned to Rachel as she entered. “Your room is next to Cody. I lit the pellet stoves earlier. You should be cozy if you leave the doors open a little.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Rachel crossed the room to stand beside me in front of the crackling blaze, her hands outstretched to the heat.

  “Can I get you folks some coffee or tea?” Emma asked. “It’ll only take a minute to make.”

  Rachel looked utterly undone. The day’s events showed, her mouth drawn tight, her posture strained. “Thanks, but none for me. If you don’t mind, I’ll go to bed.” She started toward the hallway, and then turned back to Emma. “I’m not good at expressing my feelings, but I appreciate...what you’re doing...for Cody and me. I hope I can repay you, somehow.”

  Emma crossed the room and gave Rachel a long hug. “You don’t have to repay me, girl. I’m glad to help. There are blankets in the cedar chest at the foot of the bed if you get cold. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Good night,” Rachel said and headed down the hallway.

  I soaked up the heat for a few minutes and then picked up the bags and followed her. She’d moved Cody to her bed. Trust didn’t come easy for her.

  We met just inside the room. Her eyes misted as she touched my arm. “You’re a good man, Noah. One of the very few I’ve met.”

  I console weepy women about as well as I tap dance. I squeezed her hand and withdrew it quickly. She flashed a weak smile and closed the door.

  Her brief touch revealed more than I wanted to know about the tragedy of her life—the premature death of her parents, her troubled years with Harry, the ache of disillusionment, and the defensive wall she’d built to ward off pain. The enormity of it staggered me. I leaned against the wall for support and closed my eyes. Adrenalin bubbled in my chest and the horrors of abuse made me gasp for air like a loose vacuum cleaner hose.

  After a moment, I inhaled a deep, calming breath, and rejoined Emma. “I’ll take you up on that coffee unless you’re too tired.”

  “You know me. I’m a night owl. I’d like some myself.” She led the way into the kitchen.

  The room was large and rustic with a sit-down island in the center. A working kitchen, with brick floors and knotted pine-cabinetry. The large window at the breakfast nook looked out over the distant hills and trees in the daytime. Dark now, reflecting moonlight on the pristine snow.

  An attractive widow in her mid-fifties, Emma looked exactly like what she was, a sheep rancher with a big heart and kind face. Slim, with salt-and-pepper gray hair, she moved with easy grace while she fussed over the coffeepot.

  I took a seat at the island and filled her in on the circumstances surrounding her guests. “I won’t lie to you. This could be dangerous. Rachel’s husband is a nasty piece of work. He won’t stop until he gets his family back under his control. Feel free to back out of this deal anytime.”

  Minutes later, the coffeepot’s red light came on, filling the kitchen with its fresh-brewed aroma. Emma poured two large mugs and placed one in front of me.

  My stomach growled a reminder that I’d missed dinner. I nodded toward an apple pie on the counter. “If you’ll cut me a piece of pie, you’ll save a man in the throes of starvation.”

  A deep chuckle rumbled in her throat. “Deal. If you really think this London fella is dangerous, I’d best ask Bill to move into the guest house for a while.”

  Emma’s son was ex-Army Ranger and pastor of a local church. He was also a friend. A good man to have on our side. And Rachel needed all the help she could get.

  Emma cut a large wedge of pie, set it in front of me, and then topped-off my coffee. “I can make you a sandwich if you like.”

  I shook my head. “This will do just fine.” I took a bite, and the buttery crust melted in my mouth, the apples sweet and tart. “Delicious. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Sure you don’t want that sandwich?”

  “I’m sure,” I swallowed a mouthful. “Rachel’s husband may try to have me followed, so I won’t come back to the ranch unless it’s necessary. He’ll also have my home and office calls traced, so I’ll pick up a throwaway and give you the number when I get back to town. Don’t try to call me until I give you the new number.” I wolfed down the last bite. “He’ll also pull my phone records, and your number will be there. I’m hoping he won’t realize its significance.”

  With a peck on her cheek, I said good night and went to my room.

  Well after midnight, I stretched out on the feather mattress. The excitement of the past six hours faded as my body melded into the bed’s softness. Folding my arms behind my head, I waited for sleep to conquer my overactive mind.

  Rachel faced serious danger from her demented husband. The Hand Me Down would be difficult to find unless Harry somehow discovered my relationship with Emma. I had to face reality. With his unlimited funds and infinite resources, eventually Harry would find them if they remained in one place.

  I couldn’t afford complacency. With that unpleasant certainty, I fell asleep.

  

  Next morning, Bill Hand sat in the kitchen with a steaming cup to his lips. He placed the mug on the counter, stuck out his hand, and squeezed mine with an iron grip. Bill stood a little over six feet tall. All muscle. His steel-blue eyes twinkled. “You been out lookin’ for trouble again, Noah?”

  �
�Don’t have to look. I’m a bona fide trouble magnet.” I took a seat at the bar. “Sorry I’ve put Emma in such a precarious position. This situation with Rachel and Cody happened so fast, I couldn’t think of any other place to take them.”

  I selected a cup from the countertop and poured coffee from an insulated carafe. “A shelter was out of the question. Her husband’s a judge and knew the location. I’ll find a permanent place as soon as I can.”

  Emma bustled around the refrigerator and pulled out bacon and eggs. “Don’t worry about that for now. That’s why I asked Bill to stay for a while. This place is certainly big enough. Besides, it gets lonely out here. I’m glad to have the company.”

  A chorus of good mornings greeted Rachel and Cody when they eased into the kitchen. Cody clutched his mother’s hand in a death-grip.

  “Rachel, this is Bill Hand, Emma’s son.” I turned to Emma and Bill. “And the big guy holding Rachel’s hand is Cody.”

  Rachel nodded a shy smile at Bill, placed Cody on a stool, and sat beside him.

  Warm rays of sunlight filtered through the windows and bathed Rachel’s face in a soft glow. The dark shadows under her emerald eyes had vanished overnight. The angry bruise on her cheek remained. She tugged at the sleeve of her sweater in an obvious attempt to cover the black marks on her wrist.

  “Hi, Cody, I didn’t get a chance to meet you last night.” Emma ruffled Cody’s hair. “You folks ready for breakfast?”

  The boy gave Emma a wisp of a smile and shied away.

  “Let me help. I make great pancakes,” Rachel said. She moved to the counter beside Emma.

  “You got yourself a job. I’ll fix the eggs and bacon while you rustle up the pancakes.” Emma pulled mix from the pantry and handed it to her houseguest.

  Bill turned to Rachel. “Don’t suppose you’ve had time to think about school for Cody?”

  Rachel stopped stirring the batter and shook her head. “Not really. My only concern last night was getting away from Hebron. Christmas break starts next week. I’ll have to make a decision soon. Enrolling him in public school would run up a flag his father would see.”