No Safe Haven

by Virginia Vaughan

  “Thank you for the ride,” she said, then opened the door and hopped out without waiting for him.

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” Andrew said, getting out and following her.

  She stopped him at the porch steps. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I should be going, anyway. Thank you for your help with Sarah today. I’ve been trying for months to get her to leave Robert. You’re right. I should have come to you sooner.”

  She stopped him as he turned to walk away. “Why didn’t you?”

  For months he’d worried about Sarah, pleaded with her to get help. He’d even picked up the phone to call Jessica several times. He shrugged and admitted the truth. “You and I have been at odds so many times I suppose I was afraid you might turn me away, and I didn’t know what I would do if you did that.”

  “Andrew, we’ve had our disagreements over cases, but why would you think I would turn you down? We’re not enemies. We’re both on the same side—helping people.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it and a singe of electricity rushed through him, kick-starting his pulse into high gear. Her touch had had a calming effect on him earlier but was now having the opposite effect.

  “Really? Tell that to your friend Margo.”

  “Margo is just very passionate. She knew Alicia Meadows. She’d counseled her several times. Then, she was one of the detectives who responded to the scene the day Tim Meadows shot her then himself.”

  “I wish I could have done more to protect her. If there had been anything else—”

  “You did what you could. Sometimes the law just isn’t enough.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. Was she implying she would go outside the law to protect those in her care?

  Or that she had?

  Jessica spun at the crunch of leaves on the other side of the porch. He saw her—felt it really—tense. Her eyes widened and she gripped the railing. He would almost say it was fear that crossed her face.

  But before he could check to see who was approaching, he heard the distinct yapping of a dog.

  Jessica seemed to relax at that sound. “It’s just my next door neighbor.”

  A moment later, a robust, elderly, grandmotherly type woman appeared in the light, a tiny Yorkshire on a leash yapping and dancing at her feet. “Hush, Marlon,” she scolded the dog.

  Jessica leaned over the railing. “Hello, Mrs. Brady. How are you tonight?”

  She smiled a genuine smile that stretched across her face. “I’m doing very well, Jessica. I was in a baking mood today so I made this for the girls at the shelter. I thought they could use a little treat.” She handed Jessica the cake plate she was carrying. “It’s Pineapple Upside Down cake.”

  “I’m sure they’ll love it, Mrs. Brady. Thank you.”

  The older woman glanced up at him. The look of curiosity on her face told him that finding Jessica with a man at her house wasn’t a common occurrence.

  Jessica was quick to introduce him. “This is A.D.A. Andrew Jennings. We are working on a case together.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Brady.”

  “Yes, nice to meet you, too.” She turned back to Jessica. “My ladies’ group is also knitting some mittens for the children. I know it’s warm today but we’ve already had two cold snaps and it’s only October.”

  “That’s very kind of you. I know they’ll appreciate it.”

  Mrs. Brady aimed her next comments toward him. “Since Mr. Brady passed away I haven’t had much to occupy my days except doing for others. I wasn’t blessed with children of my own so I’ve got no grandbabies to spoil. My sister has been hounding me for years to move in with her, but all her family is up north and it’s too cold there. No, Marlon and I are very happy here, aren’t we, Marlon?”

  The little dog yapped his response.

  “Would you like to come inside for a moment?”

  “No, thank you. I’m right in the middle of pounding out pie crusts. I was watching out my window to make sure I saw when you came home. I wanted to catch you to give you that cake.” She picked up her dog. “I really should get back. Take care.”

  Jessica watched until she and Marlon made it to her house. She placed the dish on the railing. “Her kitchen overlooks my yard so she can see people coming or going.”

  “It’s nice to have people watching out for you.”

  “In my line of work it’s a necessity. Who knows when some angry, vengeful husband or boyfriend might decide to follow me home? I have all the necessary precautions—alarm system, dead bolts, timed lights, even an automatic garage-door opener—but it’s still nice to know I’ve got another pair of eyes looking out for me.”

  “I guess you make a lot of enemies in your job. You certainly made one in Robert today.”

  “I know. It’s a risk of my job.”

  A risk she was only too willing to take. Just like Tory. “I should go. I have to be in court tomorrow morning. I’m in the middle of a case.”

  “Yes, the Trevino trial. How is that going?”

  “Good. Jury selection is over. We start opening remarks tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be at the courthouse tomorrow. Maybe I’ll see you.”

  He nodded then turned and walked away. He avoided looking back at the house as he headed to his car but heard the sound of the door close.

  His brain swam with conflicting thoughts. He’d worked with Jessica many times before and her presence had never elicited this kind of reaction in him. In fact, she usually had the effect of annoying and frustrating him in their dealings. But today something had been different between them, something that had left him both electrified and apprehensive at the same time.

  He’d spent the two years since Tory’s death throwing himself into work and avoiding personal contact. Today, he’d crossed that boundary without even seeing the line.

  It was time to focus on his case again. But at least he knew Sarah was in good hands.

  * * *

  Jessica hit the light switch and scanned the room carefully before coming inside and locking the door behind her. Nothing seemed out of place. The butterfly on her prayer quilt was upright on her chair. The books on the window ledge were in order by title. No one would get through the window without her knowing. Her laptop was closed, the pen intentionally placed atop it still in its position.

  Yet she had the eerie feeling someone was watching her and she thought she smelled men’s cologne.

  Get a grip, Jessica.

  It was probably only the aftereffects of her confrontation with Robert Young, but her emotions were on edge.

  She checked the rest of the house but found no evidence that anyone had been there. Convinced she was imagining the strange scent, she set the pineapple upside down cake on the coffee table, certain Mrs. Brady had brought over that cake only as a means to check on her. It wasn’t every day— In fact, she’d never before brought a man to her home.

  She should have invited him in for coffee. It was innocent and she trusted Andrew. And after the day’s events with Robert Young, the house seemed so dark and empty. She was tired of doing her usual routine of checking behind every door and inside every closet just to assure herself that no one was there. For once, she wanted to return home without being afraid.

  Dean’s Den was her baby, her ministry, but even though she routinely stayed there for days on end, she enjoyed having a home of her own, a sanctuary where she could hide out and recharge after confronting so much violence and suffering.

  But lately, she’d been praying about whether or not to keep it.

  Was it right for her to have such a place when those she counseled had none? She sighed, thinking of the greater benefit her rent money could go to—new bed sheets, more games for the kids, another counseling room.

  And even though she’d fel
t God leading her in that direction, He hadn’t yet provided her the clear sign she needed to make the change.

  She was usually keyed up after a difficult confrontation, but something about this encounter felt different to her. She’d taken out her frustration on Andrew back at the shelter but truthfully it was herself she was mad at. She’d lost her professionalism. She’d looked into Robert’s eyes and seen a familiar face—a face that still haunted her even after all this time.

  Mitch.

  She rubbed her hand over the goose egg on her temple. Why was all this coming up now? It had more to do with Andrew than it did with Robert. He reminded her so much of Dean in the way he’d held on to Sarah. He’d risked his life and his career to help her.

  Just as Dean had once done for her.

  She picked up the photograph of her brother from the bookcase. She and Andrew didn’t always have to see eye to eye for her to help him. Whatever she had to do she vowed she would do it. She would not allow Andrew to give up his life to protect Sarah.

  Her stomach clutched as a wave of loneliness enveloped her. She was twenty-six years old. Her heart insisted that was too young to give up on love, but her mind knew better. She’d already been down that road once before only to have it end in tragedy. She had no illusions about love and relationships.

  Yet when she’d stared into Andrew’s fierce green eyes...

  She pushed those thoughts away. Of course he was handsome. Every woman in the television viewing area knew he was handsome.

  But she would never again be fooled by a handsome face and boyish charm.

  * * *

  Leslie Wells, the receptionist at the district attorney’s office, met Andrew as he walked through the door. “He wants to see you.”

  Andrew glanced at his watch. He’d been gone for several hours after getting Sarah’s messages. He didn’t even bother going to his office first to drop off his coat and briefcase. He knocked on Bill’s door then stepped inside. “You wanted to see me?”

  Bill Foster leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and studied Andrew. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

  “I know. I apologize. I had an emergency.

  “You know who does return my calls? Jason Clark. He said you didn’t come back after the lunch recess then went missing most of the afternoon.”

  Andrew grimaced. Jason Clark was a first-year attorney fresh out of law school with a lot of ambition and an oversize ego. “I had an emergency with my sister.” He hated using that excuse again but he had no choice. He’d kept Bill in the loop about what was happening with Sarah and, so far, his boss had been reasonable about giving him the necessary time. But with the election season about to go into full swing and Bill eyeing the state’s attorney general position, Andrew knew he had to watch his step. “I can assure you everything is fine now. Sarah is safe and my focus is now solely on this trial.”

  “This is a big case for our office, Andrew. A conviction could do a lot to benefit your career.”

  Brian Trevino was a career criminal with multiple counts of home invasion on his rap sheet. He’d already served two stretches for burglary at Parchman Prison and now he was on trial for two counts of homicide related to a home invasion where he’d killed a fifty-two-year-old couple when they awoke and discovered him inside their home. A conviction would do wonders for Bill’s campaign.

  “We’re ready.”

  “Good. I’ll be stopping by the courthouse tomorrow. I think I’ll bring CJ along with me and let her see how a good trial lawyer does his job.”

  Andrew understood his meaning. CJ Bennett was another up-and-coming attorney in the office. She’d been biting at Andrew’s tail to grab the biggest and most profiled cases she could get. She was hungry to make a name for herself. Bill’s not-so-veiled threat was clear—do a good job on the trial or he might find his attentions turning toward CJ instead of him.

  “I won’t let you down, Bill.”

  “I hope not, for your sake.”

  Andrew accepted the admonishment and left. He dropped his coat in his office as he gathered his files. His team was scheduled to meet in the conference room for a last-minute strategy session. And the number one item on Andrew’s agenda for the meeting was to ream Jason Clark about squealing to the boss.

  * * *

  Jessica’s cell phone buzzed, alerting her to a message. She checked it and saw it was from Margo. Perhaps she hadn’t gotten out of that rebuke, after all.

  Her friend was at the door a moment later. “I cannot believe you did that,” Margo said, storming into the house. The disapproving look on her face was not surprising. It was no secret what her friend was referring to—going to Sarah’s house alone.

  “It was an emergency situation. The husband was escalating. The wife needed to get out. I saw an opening and I took it.”

  “You should have called me before you went over there. Did Mr. ‘Oh, I’m so wonderful’ convince you to go?”

  “No, actually, I have a friend in the Pearl Police Department who called me. He said Robert Young was a maniac, and he was right. Sarah was in real danger staying there. Andrew has reason to be concerned about her.”

  “That man doesn’t even know the meaning of the phrase ‘real danger.’”

  Margo stopped and glanced around. “Is he here?”

  “Of course not. Why?”

  “I smell men’s cologne.”

  Jessica shuddered. So she hadn’t been imagining it. “I noticed it too when I came in.”

  Margo placed her hand on the weapon at her hip as she scanned the room. She walked cautiously toward the kitchen and glanced around before moving to the desk. She pushed through the stack of mail until she reached a postcard. As she sniffed it, her body relaxed and she released the hold on her gun.

  “For a moment, I thought you’d invited Mr. Hottie A.D.A. over for coffee.”

  Jessica saw the card was an advertisement for men’s cologne complete with a sample scent. She felt heat rise in her face both at her silly concerns and the insinuation Margo made. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Why is that ridiculous? I saw the way you two were going at it in your office.”

  “We were arguing. The man is intolerable. All he cares about is getting his handsome face in the newspaper.” She felt heat rise in her face as she realized that despite their previous interactions and the opinions she’d had about him until now, she could no longer say that.

  Margo grinned. “So you think he’s handsome?”

  Jessica snatched the card from her. “I think he thinks he’s handsome.” She sniffed the card, remembering the musky scent of Andrew’s aftershave. “What I know is he has no idea what the women we counsel endure and no desire to learn. He didn’t want Sarah to stay. He still thinks he can handle this all himself.”

  “Well he was right about one thing—you placed yourself in a dangerous situation...again. I wish you’d let me teach you to shoot.”

  Margo was always pushing her to buy a gun, but each time Jessica considered it, she flashed back to that terrible night five years earlier. Dean had spent hours with her at the gun range, but all the training in the world hadn’t done her any good at the moment it really mattered. “Margo, I appreciate the self-defense lessons, but I’m just not comfortable around guns.”

  “You deal with dangerous men. You need to do a better job of protecting yourself.”

  “I take all the precautions I can.”

  “You should stay at the shelter.”

  Jessica gave a weary sigh. “If it were up to you, I’d live at the shelter.”

  “You’d be safer.”

  Safety, she’d learned, too often became a prison. That was something Margo didn’t yet understand. She was still too tied up in her own pain and fear.

  Margo gave her a piercing look, obviously
realizing she wasn’t going to get anywhere. She stood to leave. “I should go. I had a rookie follow me here. He’s waiting in the car. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I’m always careful.” She closed and locked the door behind her friend then reset the alarm.

  She sniffed the postcard, relieved this was the origination of the scent. Why hadn’t she thrown that away yesterday with the rest of her junk mail? She had no desire to purchase men’s cologne.

  She had no one to purchase it for.

  * * *

  Jessica had a busy morning ahead of her. She couldn’t afford the headache that insisted on hanging on overnight. She swallowed two pain relievers then tossed the bottle into her purse. She had a feeling she would be needing it again to get through the day.

  She called the shelter to check on things. Mia updated her on the goings-on including heated words between two of their residents—Joan Ratliff, a pregnant mother with a two-year-old, and Amber Wade, a mother of three who’d fled her alcoholic husband for the third time. “What happened there?”

  “Just rising tension. Danielle stepped in and calmed them down.”

  Jessica was glad for the assistance of Danielle Manchester, a young college-aged girl whose boyfriend had beaten and stalked her. Danielle was always quick to help care for Joan’s baby or occupy Amber’s kids. Still, four children under eight years old confined to a small area was bound to grate on everyone’s nerves. Tensions were certain to rise. “Maybe it would be a good idea to take the kids to the park today. Just don’t forget to take your cell phone in case there’s trouble.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Mia said.

  Jessica heard the hesitation in her voice. “What is it?”

  “It’s Sarah. She’s determined she’s not going to press charges against her husband. She’s worried about him going to jail.”

  Jessica sighed, disappointed but not really surprised. It wasn’t uncommon for a battered wife to refuse to press charges.

  “Reassure her that she doesn’t have to press charges to stay at the shelter. I’ll try to talk to her too when I get there.”