“What? He’s there now?” How had he found her?
“No. The police arrested him. He’s gone. They’re just trying to figure out how he found out about the place.”
“Do you think she told him?”
“I don’t know. I hope not.” Berta sounded breathless.
Who could blame her for being shaken? Danae’s hands were trembling. “You’re sure everybody’s OK?”
“He shoved Misty around pretty good, but she’s OK.”
“Did Austin see it happen?”
“No, thank goodness, he was down for his nap.”
Thank you, Lord. “What should I do?”
“It’s up to you. Since you’re already here, if you want to go ahead and work, you can. But let me talk to one of the officers first.”
“OK. I’ll wait.”
“Don’t hang up. I’ll be right back.”
Berta appeared at the front door, and Danae drove the car forward a few feet and rolled her window down. She saw Berta speaking with the officer and pointing in her direction. The officer turned to look at her and then waved her forward.
She thought about calling Dallas, but he would have a fit and probably make her come home. She would tell him about what happened. Just not yet.
One of the officers motioned for her to park behind a police cruiser. She did so and got out of the car, locking it behind her—something they’d taught them in the training, but that had never seemed so important until today.
“You work here, miss?”
“Yes, sir. Well, volunteer, that is. What’s going on?” She was curious to hear his side of the story.
“The director can explain it. Everything’s under control now. It’s safe to go inside, but we’d like to ask you a few questions first.”
“I just got here. I . . . wasn’t here when it happened.”
“When what happened?” Suspicion—accusation?—was thick in his voice. “I thought you weren’t here.”
She held up her phone, feeling sheepish. “I talked on the phone to one of the other volunteers who’s inside. Berta Salmans.”
“OK.” That seemed to satisfy him. “We just have some routine questions.”
“OK.” Maybe she should call Dallas in case this made the news before she got home.
The officer showed her a list of all the shelter’s volunteers and asked her to verify her name and contact information. Then he asked questions about Misty and Austin and asked whether she’d ever met Misty’s husband. Apparently they thought one of the volunteers must have tipped Hank off. She didn’t know all the volunteers, but none she knew would have done such a thing.
It seemed more likely that Misty—or maybe even Austin—had slipped up and said something that clued him in.
“So, is her husband—Hank—in jail?”
He looked at his watch. “He’s probably out by now.”
“What?” Surely he was kidding.
“The wife didn’t want to press charges. Probably because she knew if she did, the beating he’d give her when he got out would be twice as bad.”
“What? Why would he be getting out?” She hadn’t meant to sound as if it was the officer’s fault. But why was Misty’s jerk of a husband going free? It made no sense. He was obviously a danger to his wife and child—and everyone else in the shelter. This event had no doubt traumatized the other women, who thought they were safe from that kind of assault here. That was the whole point of the safe house, after all.
She was just grateful Austin hadn’t had to witness it. Or get hurt again. “Is Misty OK? She didn’t have to go to the hospital or anything?”
“She’ll have a pretty nice shiner but no broken bones. She refused treatment. From what the director said, this was minor compared to what he’s doled out before.”
“Yes. It probably is.” She hiked her bag up on one shoulder. “Can I go inside now?”
“Sure. Be aware we may call you with further questions if we need to.”
“That’s fine. You have my cell number”—she pointed to the shelter’s contact list he held—“and I usually have my phone with me whether I’m here or at home.”
“OK. Thank you, ma’am. We’re just about finished here. Y’all take care tonight.”
“Am I OK to stay parked here?”
The officer eyed her car, then nodded. “You might want to come and move it once we clear out, but it should be fine there. I won’t give you a parking ticket or anything.”
She smiled uncertainly, not sure if he’d meant it as a joke.
His expression gave no hint either. When he turned and strode toward another policeman, Danae walked across the street to the shelter. She took the steps up to the front door two at a time, nervous about what she might find inside. She punched in the security code and waited for the lock to release. How had Hank gotten in? Unfortunately, she knew the answer. He’d probably simply knocked.
They’d gotten lax. The first night she was there for training, Renee had made it sound as if they’d be under lock and key
twenty-four seven. But in reality, no one seemed to worry much about security beyond the alarms to alert them when someone came or went from the house, and those got ignored too much of the time, with each of them assuming any alarm was another volunteer coming on shift, or a resident going out for a cigarette or a stroll. They weren’t running a prison, after all.
It was quiet inside, but Berta met her in the front hall. “You missed it, girlie.” She threw her arms up and waggled her hands, obviously still pretty wound up.
“Were you here when it started?”
Berta dipped her head. “I’m the one who let him in. I feel like a fool.”
“Oh, Berta . . . But I probably would have done the same thing. Any of us would. I never saw a picture of him, did you?”
She shook her head. “But I shouldn’t have believed the jerk.”
“What did he say?”
“That he was here to spray for termites. He had me convinced. He even had a logo on his shirt. Next thing I knew, he was dragging Misty out of the dayroom, and she was screaming bloody murder. It’s a wonder Austin didn’t wake up.”
“I’m so glad he didn’t.”
Berta nodded. “I called 911—and Mary. She and the police got here about the same time.”
Mary was the director of the shelter. She ran several safe houses in the Greater St. Louis area and spent more time there than she did in Cape. Danae had only met her a couple of times, but she liked the woman.
“How do you think Hank knew where to find Misty?”
Berta shook her head. “I’m half afraid she told him.”
“Misty? Why would she do that?”
“Honey, a woman gets lonely and forgets all but the good parts of her man. One part in particular.”
“Berta!” She wasn’t sure the woman meant it how it sounded.
“I’m just sayin’ ”
Apparently that was exactly what she meant. That didn’t sound like Misty to her, though. But who knew? “Where is she now? Is she doing OK?”
Berta pointed over her shoulder. “She’s resting. It’s a plum miracle that Austin slept through the whole thing.”
“Thank the Lord,” Danae whispered.
“You got that right. But Mary won’t let them stay here now that he knows where they are.”
“Where will they go?” A wave of sadness rolled over her, thinking about never seeing Austin again. Misty too. They’d become a surprisingly big part of her life over the past few weeks.
Berta shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s not fair for the rest of the women to be put in danger because she’s here. The police said they’d keep a watch on the place for a few days, but this is not going to make the neighbors very happy.”
She hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t be very happy if my neighborhood was swarming with cops.”
“Or men like Hank either.”
An involuntary shudder went down her spine. It had
more to do with telling Dallas what had happened than it did any danger she might be in. It was a conversation she was not looking forward to.
* * *
Feeling nervous and uncertain, Danae went into the dayroom where Misty was curled in the corner of the sofa, looking small and alone. “Are you OK?”
Misty didn’t look up. “Do I have a choice?”
“I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. Of course you’re not OK.” She sat on the edge of the sofa. “I’m so sorry for what happened.”
Misty shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault.”
She didn’t have a reply for that. “Berta said you’d have to find another place. If . . . if there’s anything I can do to help. Maybe help you call some of the other shelters . . . ?” She felt so helpless. She couldn’t fathom how terrified Misty must be. And yet she seemed surprisingly calm, sitting here. Calmer than Danae felt herself.
“There is something you could do.”
“Sure,” Danae said, leaning forward.
“I need to go home—to my sister’s—for Thanksgiving. My brother is going to be there, and they don’t exactly get along. Big surprise.” She shook her head, looking embarrassed. “Could you watch Austin for me until Sunday?”
“But it’s Thanksgiving. Won’t your family want to see him?”
Misty shook her head vehemently. “It don’t matter. I can’t risk it now. Not with Hank the way he is. I can’t risk him coming after Austin.”
“No. Of course not. But . . .” This wasn’t what she’d expected when she offered to help. She didn’t know what to say.
Misty seemed to sense she needed convincing. “I could come back Saturday if that would help. But my brother will be there until Sunday afternoon, and he was gonna give me a ride back, so . . . there’s that.” She eyed Danae.
“I’ll have to ask Dallas,” she said finally. “And make sure it’s OK by the shelter’s rules. But . . . I don’t know why it wouldn’t be. We always go to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving. It’s just outside of Cape near Langhorne. Is it OK if Austin goes with us?”
She shrugged again. “He won’t care. As long as Mr. Dallas is there, he’ll be happy. And you too,” she added quickly. “He thinks you’re—”
“Don’t worry,” Danae said, laughing. “I know Mr. Dallas is way higher on Austin’s list than I am.”
Misty looked up at her with a hint of a smile “Maybe if you changed your name to Bug Tussel?”
Danae laughed out loud. It was so uncharacteristic of the somber young woman, and it touched her that Misty remembered their conversation from that first night when they’d talked about Dallas and Austin both being named after Texas towns. “I don’t think I’ll be changing my name any time soon. I guess I’ll just have to live with being second fiddle to Mr. Dallas.”
Misty uncurled from the corner of the sofa and stretched her legs out on the ottoman in front of her, looking much relieved. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”
Danae held up a hand. “It’s not for sure yet, Misty. I really do need to check with Mary and Berta—and, of course, Dallas—first.”
She wasn’t worried about Mary or Berta, either one. But if Dallas refused, she’d rather assign the blame to the shelter than to her husband. Misty had enough prejudices against men without making Dallas a bad guy too.
14
Well, that pretty much cinches it for me. I don’t want you going back there, Danae.”
“Dallas.” She turned off the water at the kitchen sink and dried her hands. “I knew you’d freak out and be irrational about this, but—”
“Irrational?” Was she serious? “Since when is it irrational for a man to do everything in his power to protect his wife? And for him to prefer that she not willingly go places where crazy men are breaking in and beating the—”
“Dallas!” She threw the dish towel on the counter in a heap. “Can we please just talk about this?”
“I’m willing to talk about it. But it’s going to take some pretty heavy-duty convincing.” He picked up the towel and twisted it into a knot. What had she been thinking to stay there and work her entire shift after that man had weaseled his way into the shelter and beat up his wife? Did she not have a brain in her head? Dallas shuddered to think what might have happened if Danae had been there when it happened. Knowing her, she would have tried to intervene and it might have been her with the black eye—or worse.
“OK. Before we talk about the whole volunteer thing, there’s something else I want you to please consider.”
He pulled out a stool at the bar and straddled it. “I’m listening.”
“They’re letting Misty stay for another week. She’s going home—to her sister’s in St. Louis—for Thanksgiving and to try to figure out where to go next.”
He didn’t know where she was going with this, but he hoped it wasn’t where he thought it was.
“Hear me out, babe.”
“I’m listening, I’m listening.”
“Misty asked if I’d be willing to take Austin over Thanksgiving weekend.”
“What? She doesn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with her son?”
“It’s a long story, but she doesn’t want to take Austin with her because she’s afraid Hank might show up at her sister’s house. Austin could come with us to my parents’, and I’d stay home—not volunteer at the shelter, I mean—during those days. Most of the women are leaving for the weekend anyway, and—”
“I like that part. You not volunteering.” He tossed her a crooked grin.
“Dallas . . .”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“We’d have Austin for about four days. I’d go pick him up from the shelter on Wednesday night, and Misty promised she’d have something worked out by Sunday, and I can take Austin back to the shelter then. She won’t have transportation, so she can’t pick him up,” she explained.
“The shelter is OK with all this?”
“Berta talked to Mary. She said it’s a little unconventional, but they don’t have any problem with it as long as Misty makes arrangements with us personally and doesn’t involve the shelter.”
He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t like the sound of this one bit. Except, on second thought, he did know why. Danae had grown attached to the kid. And she was going to get her heart broken. Misty couldn’t stay at the shelter, which meant Austin couldn’t stay there either.
“This is for four days?”
“Yes.” She sat up straighter and her eyes sparked. “Wednesday night through Sunday night. He can sleep in the blue room on the daybed.”
The woman knew she was wearing him down. After all, what kind of jerk would say no to such a request, especially when they had the extra room in their house? Two of them, in fact.
“What if Misty doesn’t find a new place to stay by then? That doesn’t give her much time, Danae. And I know you—you’d have them both moved into our house before I knew what hit me.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” She studied a fingernail as if she’d never seen one before. “Not without asking you.”
“Danae. That is not even an option.”
“I never said it was.”
“I see that gleam in your eye.” He shook his head and groaned.
She smiled. “I promise. I’m only asking if we can babysit Austin for four days.”
He knew when he’d been had. “Do you promise you won’t cry when you have to say good-bye to him on Sunday night?”
Her blue eyes filled with tears and she went back to inspecting that fingernail.
He slid off the stool and went to her, pulling her into his arms. “This is exactly why I’m nervous about doing this. You’re going to fall in love with the little guy, and then you’re going to be heartbroken when Misty takes him back to St. Louis.”
“Dallas, I fell in love with him the first night he showed up at the shelter. But I know I can’t save the whole world. I know that. And don’t tell me you aren’t a little bit in love with him too.”
/> He nuzzled her neck. “He’s a cute kid. But I’m not going to cry my eyes out when he moves because I’m not going to get attached to him.” He pulled away and waited until she looked him in the eye. “You need to promise me you’ll guard your heart too.”
“I can’t make a promise like that.”
“Then I’m not sure we should babysit.”
“Dallas, it’s just four days. If I want to cry about it when he moves, what do you care?” She clenched her fists and sucked in her cheeks the way she did when she was fuming.
“Babe, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ll be fine. I told you . . . Please, can we do this for Misty?”
“Isn’t there anyone else at the shelter who could take him?”
“She asked me, Dallas. Us. She’s never met any of the other volunteers’ husbands, and as you can surely imagine, she doesn’t trust just anyone. She liked you. And Austin likes you too. That’s one of the reasons she asked us.”
He grabbed up the dish towel again. “OK, now you’re not playing fair.”
She giggled. “Well, it’s true.”
He sighed. What was keeping him from agreeing? It was only for a few days. And Danae was right. It wasn’t his business whether she let herself get too attached. Her passion was the reason she’d been drawn to volunteer at the shelter in the first place—and why she was so good at the job. He blew out a resigned sigh. “All right. We can do it. But it won’t be my shoulder you cry on Sunday night, you understand?” But he knew better. He would always be there for her. Always.
Danae nodded, beaming, all but jumping up and down.
“And we’re not keeping him any longer than that. Sunday night he goes back to Misty.”
“I know.”
He’d been had again. This woman . . . “Come here.” He held his arms out and she filled them.
“I love you, Dallas Brooks.”
“I know you do. And that’s where all my problems begin.”
She smacked him one for that. But her kisses said she knew exactly how he meant it.
15
Still trying to warm up since plowing the driveway on the open tractor, Grant rubbed his hands together and watched out the front windows as white flakes drifted down from a gray sky. It had been snowing since seven a.m. and already the boughs of the fir trees were flocked with an inch of the stuff. “We may not have a white Christmas,” he told Audrey, “but we’re going to get a white Thanksgiving.”
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