Betrayed: Powerful Stories of Kick-Ass Crime Survivors

by Allison Brennan

  “I have no proof that Tom is abusing Missy. One statement she made nine-plus years ago isn’t going to cut it. Bruises on her thighs and the so-called accidental fall down her front stairs aren’t going to sway a judge. A cop might trust my instincts, but no one is going to arrest Tom because of my gut. I lived this, Rick! I know I’m right, but I can’t prove shit and it’s tearing me up.”

  “Babe, come to my place. Right now. Leave Tom alone.”

  “I won’t touch him, Rick. You have to trust me.”

  “I do, but this situation is already out of control, on top of what happened to the Beckers.”

  Jackie swerved to avoid a sudden slow down as she came up on Business 80, earning a loud horn from the truck behind her. She put on the gas and moved all the way over to the left lane.

  “This has nothing to do with the Beckers.”

  “It has everything to do with that family!”

  Rick was partly right. Everything was coming to a head because of what happened to Marla and Lizzy. But that wasn’t the only reason Jackie was driven to push Melissa now. She was pregnant, she was in pain, and Jackie feared for her life—and TJ’s.

  “Melissa may have convinced herself that what Tom is doing to her is normal, but she was genuinely going to leave him last time he cheated on her. My gut tells me he’s never stopped, just gotten better at hiding it.”

  Rick didn’t say anything for a minute.

  “Rick? You there?”

  He sighed and said, “She went back to him before.”

  Good, he was dropping his argument, at least for now.

  “This time is different. Tom knows she’s pregnant. She’s on edge—she’s worried. TJ thinks she’s sick. Probably morning sickness, but he’s going to be watching carefully. If he steps out of line as far as Tom is concerned—”

  “I’ll be the one to kill him if he touches that kid.”

  “I don’t want to lose my job, and I don’t want to lose you. But I can’t let my sister die. I can’t let TJ end up like Lizzy.”

  “You’re not going to lose me, babe, but I still don’t like this idea. Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.”

  She turned north onto I-5 and got off on the second exit, heading into Old Sacramento.

  “I can’t put you in the middle of this.”

  “I already am.”

  “I’ll come by when I’m done.”

  “Jack—”

  “Bye, Rick.”

  She hung up before Rick could talk her out of this.

  Tom Stafford owned three restaurants, but he spent most of his time at his bar and grill in Old Sacramento. Jackie knew where he liked to park his expensive car—a parking garage with security. Jackie had kept a log of where he went and when over the last couple of years. Obsessed? A little. Especially after Melissa’s tumble down the front steps. Rick didn’t like when she followed Tom—it was a sore spot between them, made worse by tonight’s conversation. But she couldn’t help herself. Melissa needed her help whether she admitted it or not.

  She drove into the same garage and found Tom’s white Mercedes Coupe with his personalized license plate: STAFF1. She left the garage, parked at a meter nearby, then walked three blocks to O’Hara’s. It had been the name of the bar before Tom bought it, and he’d kept it because of the established clientele, though he’d modernized the interior and added a stellar food menu. If Jackie didn’t hate his guts, it would be a place she might hang out in.

  She sat at the bar, ordered a Samuel Adams beer in a bottle, and surveyed the room. She didn’t see Tom at first, then he stepped out of the kitchen right on the heels of a tall, lanky, blonde in a tight black dress. His hand was on the small of her back, just above her ass. Intimate. His hand moved down briefly, he whispered something in her ear, then smiled and she sashayed across the floor toward the hostess stand. Jackie recognized the debauched look in Tom’s eyes and almost smiled.

  If he wasn’t screwing the blonde, he sure wanted to. But by the intimacy, she guessed they’d been going at it for a few months. Tom Stafford got what he wanted.

  He was about to turn back into the kitchen when he spotted Jackie. He momentarily scowled, then plastered on a fake smile. He walked behind the bar, saying hello to various patrons. By the time he made it over to her, she’d drained most of her beer.

  “Jackie,” he said with a slick smile.

  Perfect, thick sandy blond hair. Perfect, straight white teeth. High cheekbones. Strong jaw. Broad shoulders. Yes, he was a looker. But all Jackie saw was the evil slithering under his skin. His cold blue eyes couldn’t pretend to be anything but cruel.

  “Tom.”

  “Where’s your boyfriend? Or did he come to his senses and dump you?”

  “I saw Melissa today.”

  “She told me you came by. We have no secrets.”

  “She told me about the miscarriages. And that she’s pregnant again.”

  He didn’t respond right away. Was he trying to come up with a lie? “We’re waiting until after TJ’s birthday, when she’s a full thirteen weeks, before we announce it.”

  “Unless you kill this one, too.”

  Rage flashed, disappeared. He was so very good… but Jackie wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

  “I saw the bruises, Tom,” she said in a low voice. “I’m watching you. The laws have changed over the years.”

  “You’re nuts. Always have been. Your daddy must have dropped you on your head.”

  “Tick, tock, Tommy.”

  “I will file a complaint with your boss for harassment. You have no right to follow me around. Do you think I haven’t noticed? That I didn’t notice you sitting outside my assistant manager’s townhouse Saturday night?”

  “You get around.”

  “Screw you, Jackie. You have nothing on me because I haven’t done anything. But if you don’t watch it—”

  “What? What are you going to do? File a complaint? I’ll counter with everything I know about you. Do you think your business is going to thrive when everyone knows you beat your pregnant wife?” She let her voice rise.

  “Shut. Up.” He was still smiling, but barely. “I think it’s time you be on your way.”

  She put a ten on the bar and finished her beer. “You’re getting sloppy, and it’s going to be your downfall. It took me years to realize what you were doing to Melissa. Now, I see the evidence of your temper on a regular basis.” It hadn’t been years, but she wanted him to think he was on the edge. And she didn’t want to betray Melissa and what she’d told her before TJ was born. Tom might take it out on Melissa.

  “You are no longer allowed in my house.”

  “Tick, tock, Tommy, tick, tock.”

  Jackie walked across the bar, but before she left she glanced at the hostess and said, “Stay away from Tom Stafford if you value your life.”

  The girl first looked like a deer caught in the headlights, then narrowed her eyes as if she was thinking of a rebuttal, but Jackie didn’t stay for conversation and let the door close behind her.

  She was almost to her car when she heard footfalls behind her. She spun around. Even though she was expecting it, Tom was faster than she thought. He pushed her against the brick wall of an office building adjoining the parking garage, right in front of her car, his arm up against her neck.

  “This is your last warning, Jackie. Stay away from what’s mine.”

  He hit her in the stomach, but she had been expecting it and had tightened her abdominal muscles. It still smarted.

  Her knee shot up fast and hard into his balls. As Tom staggered, his hold on her neck loosened. She grabbed his forearm, yanked it hard, then elbowed him in the ear. He jumped back.

  “You fucking bitch.”

  She didn’t wait for the rest of it. She kicked him in the gut and hit him on his back when he doubled over. He dropped to his knees. “I could arrest you for assaulting a police officer,” said Jackie. “I’m warning you now, for the last time—I will see Melissa tomorro
w, and if she isn’t her perky self, I will destroy you. I’m watching you. Remember that before you hurt my sister.”

  He couldn’t speak yet, only a grunt escaped, so she walked away.

  Shit, shit, shit! She shouldn’t have come down here. Rick was right—she’d taken a chance and she’d blown it. But when he attacked, she couldn’t just sit back and take it. When her father went to prison, she’d vowed to never let another person, man or woman, hit her. She wasn’t going to let Tom walk away without twice the pain he gave her.

  But she couldn’t risk that he wouldn’t take everything out on Melissa, so she drove to their house and parked across the street, next to the park. The lights were off. Though Melissa had woken up at two in the afternoon, she appeared to be already asleep even though it was only ten at night.

  Had she screwed up? Was Tom going to come back here and try to kill his wife?

  He had never hurt her so badly that she needed immediate medical attention. He hurt her to maintain control. The push down the stairs may have even surprised him. Coming here and just killing her? He would fight. Things would break. And Jackie would be here to stop him.

  The more that she thought about Tom and Melissa, the more she suspected that he might be more than a straight-up abusive spouse. Melissa’s comments about rough sex and the bruises on her thighs suggested that something far more insidious was at work in Tom’s psyche. Yes, he’d hit her before—but now he kept the evidence hidden. Thighs. Stomach. The humiliation, pain and anger in rape. Because most every married woman Jackie had met didn’t believe that a husband could rape his wife. That if he wanted sex, he could take it. That if he hurt her in the process that was just fine because that was how he liked it. Maybe it started as fun and games between willing partners, but Tom got off on the fear, the pain, the total control and Melissa thought she had no way out.

  Jackie’s fists tightened around the steering wheel. She forced herself to let go, to calm down. This kind of violence was way over her head. She would talk to Dr. Monroe about it. Maybe the shrink had some ideas on how Jackie could turn the conversation around with her sister and get her help.

  She slumped in her seat and half-dozed, half watched the few cars that turned onto this quiet street. Normal weekday nights, Tom would be home between eleven and twelve. But would he be busy tonight screwing his hostess?

  A car turned up the street just after eleven, driving slowly, but the headlights didn’t say Mercedes. They said cop. A minute later, the car had turned around and parked behind Jackie and flashed the brights.

  She kept her hands on the steering wheel and rolled down the window.

  “Hello, Officer. I’m Detective Jackie Regan with the Sheriff’s department.”

  “You have ID?” He was average in every way, and she didn’t recognize him—but she didn’t know all the Sac PD uniforms.

  “Yes, and my service weapon.”

  She pulled open her blazer and showed her weapon, and the badge that was clipped on her belt, then pulled out her wallet.

  He flashed a light on the ID for just a moment, then handed it back. “We had a call from a neighbor about someone sitting in their car for the last hour and change. You working?”

  “No. My sister lives at that house, 3045. Her husband is abusive and I’m worried about her.”

  “Did she file a complaint?”

  “No.”

  “You have something on him?”

  “Nothing I can take to court.”

  “You’re treading in a grey area.”

  She didn’t comment because he was right.

  “Technically, you need a permit to park on the street in this neighborhood between midnight and six a.m. You have about forty-five minutes, then you’re going to have to leave—I’d look the other way, but I get off duty at midnight and other cops might not be so generous.”

  “Thanks, Officer.”

  The officer left and Jackie waited.

  And waited.

  She stayed until one in the morning and Tom hadn’t come home, and no other cops had come by. If Tom wasn’t home by now, would he come home? Was he off with the blond hostess? Blowing off steam?

  Reluctantly, she left. Rick lived only a mile away. She called him. He answered on the second ring.

  “Is it too late to come over?”

  “You have the key.” He sounded irritated.

  “Maybe I should go home.”

  “Get over here. We need to talk.”

  It was a short drive to Rick’s small apartment building, walking distance to the hospital.

  She parked in Rick’s garage—his bike was all the way up at the front, and her Jeep was short enough so that they could both fit in the single underground spot.

  She had her key out, but didn’t need it. Rick opened the door as soon as she came up the stairs to his apartment. He was in sweats and no shirt. He had more scars on his body than on his face, but she’d always found him the hottest, sexiest man on the planet.

  “I’m sorry, but I had to keep the pressure on him.”

  “You’re crossing the line, Jack.” He closed the door behind her. “Not just Melissa and Tom, but visiting your mother? You know what does to you each and every time!”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Can you?”

  Suddenly his expression darkened.

  “What happened?”

  She didn’t know what he meant. “I went to O’Hara’s. To let him know I knew.”

  He pulled aside her collar. “This. You have bruises on your neck. On your jawline. What did he do?”

  She hadn’t known he’d hurt her that bad. Her adrenaline had masked the pain. She walked down the hall to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. There was a dark bruise the width of Tom’s forearm where her jaw met her neck. “Shit,” she said.

  Rick was right behind her. She could see saw muscles bulging in his neck. She had never seen him so angry. She locked onto his eyes in the mirror.

  “He followed me out of the bar. I provoked him. I did it on purpose, and I wanted to say so much more… but then I realized he might take it out on Melissa. I’ve never provoked him before, not so in-his-face. I think I know who he’s screwing in the bar, and why he spends so much time at O’Hara’s. I thought I could follow her when she got off work, get pictures. I walked out, he followed. I kind of expected it, but he was faster than I’d anticipated and he got a hold on me. It didn’t last long.”

  Rick said nothing, and she couldn’t read him. She turned to face him. He blocked the bathroom door, so she leaned against the counter.

  “I then spent two hours watching their house. Waiting for him to come home. He didn’t. He’s always home by midnight during the week, and he wasn’t. I left just before one.”

  Still, silence.

  “I don’t know what to do, Rick. I don’t know how to fight this. I can’t bear the thought of TJ ending up like Lizzy. You’re right—I can’t get the Beckers out of my head and all I see now is Melissa and TJ dead. How do I make Melissa tell me the truth? How do I make her leave him? She’s pregnant! She’s pregnant and she’s going to be raising her baby in that house. TJ is a great kid, but he’s starting to notice things. Tom hasn’t touched him before, but we both know he could at any moment. What if TJ walks in when Tom is hurting his mother? What if he gets in the middle of a confrontation? When Melissa is eight months pregnant and any bruises may be seen by her doctor, who is he going to turn his rage on? Who is he going to hurt? His girlfriend? His son? I just—”

  He stepped forward and kissed her, hard and long. “Come here.” He didn’t wait for a response but wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his bedroom. “You should have had me with you.”

  “Rick—”

  “Shut. Up.” He kissed her. “You have a blind spot when it comes to Melissa and Tom.”

  “You think I’m wrong?”

  “You’d ask that?”

  “You said—”

  “Listen to me! You’ll risk ev
erything for your sister, and I can’t lose you.”

  She was confused and worried and she had no idea what Rick was trying to say.

  “You’re not going to lose me, Rick. Who else would put up with my shit?”

  “You don’t listen. You bait Tom, he’s going to go after you.”

  “I wish. I’d put him behind bars so fast—”

  “Listen to yourself! You can’t fight off a bullet. That’s your blind spot, that you love your sister so much you’ll risk yourself to protect her. She doesn’t want your protection. She doesn’t want help.”

  “But TJ doesn’t have a choice! He’s stuck there no matter what, and I can’t just stand by and let him suffer like I did. I can’t stand by and watch Melissa slowly die. She’s not my mother. She has fire and brains. I just have to convince her that being alone is better than being dead.”

  “Jack, I—shit.” He fell back onto his bed and brought her down on top of him. “We’ll figure this out. But don’t go it alone. Please—” He kissed the bruises on her neck. “Don’t.”

  She couldn’t talk because Rick took her face and kissed her. Then she didn’t want to talk. She wanted to forget, and Rick was the best at making her forget everything except the two of them, together.

  Chapter Ten

  Thursday morning Jackie waited until Rick left for work before she headed to Melissa’s house. Rick knew better than to give her an ultimatum, but she promised she would be cautious.

  Tom’s Mercedes wasn’t in the driveway, which gave Jackie a small ounce of hope. She watched as Melissa drove TJ to school and waited until Melissa returned. As soon as she pulled into the driveway, Jackie got out of her car and approached.

  “Where’s Tom?” she asked.

  Melissa stared at her as if she were surprised by the question. “I know what you’re doing. Tom told me everything. I saw you sitting out front last night. You’re trying to frame him or something.”

  “What? You believe that?”

  “What are you doing to my family? Oh, God.” She ran inside, but Jackie followed. Melissa barely made it into the kitchen before she puked next to the sink. She began crying.