“Sit down,” Jackie said.
“Morning sickness,” Melissa said.
She quietly cleaned up Melissa’s vomit. How could she convince Melissa to take the risk on leaving Tom? Jackie was at a loss. She’d already tried everything she could think of, she’d used every argument at her disposal, and nothing worked.
When the kitchen was clean, Jackie brought Melissa ice water and crackers, then sat down across from her at the kitchen table.
She asked, “Have you seen a doctor yet?”
Melissa nodded. “Last month, just after I took the pregnancy test. I’m eleven weeks. We’re happy, Jackie. Why can’t you be happy for us?”
“For you, I am. You’re a great mother, Melissa. You love TJ, you’re good with him, and you’ll love this baby. But Tom isn’t going to stop hurting you. You call it rough sex, I call it sexual abuse. If Tom says this is normal, he’s manipulating you to keep you in line. And at some point, he’s going to hurt TJ.”
Melissa stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “That’s—that’s disgusting!”
“I didn’t mean he’d rape him, just that he’d hit him. Jesus, Melissa! We grew up just like this.”
“We didn’t. We grew up moving from place to place because Daddy couldn’t keep a job. Sure, Mom was a basket case, but she tried. And all you did was bitch and complain. Daddy was mean, I grant you that, and you did everything to protect me from him, and I’ll always love you for it, but Tom is not Daddy.”
“Yes. He. Is!” Why didn’t Melissa see the obvious?
“Do you hate me that much? To hurt me like this? Why? Why are you doing this to me?”
“You know why, Melissa. Tom is never going to stop. You have to get out while you can.”
The two sisters were suddenly startled by a loud pounding on the door. “Mrs. Stafford? This is the police.”
Melissa jumped up and ran to the door. “Thank you. Thank you.”
What the hell?
Jackie slowly rose from the chair and followed Melissa into the living room.
“We had a call from your husband that there was trouble.”
“My sister—Jackie—she’s been harassing me and she doesn’t leave when I ask her to. I hate to drag you in to a family dispute, really, but I don’t know what else to do. She’s a police officer, and she thinks she can just come in here and bully me. And—and I’m scared.”
Jackie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Tom hadn’t come home last night, but he and Melissa had talked… and Tom had set this up. He was probably outside, watching. Waiting for Jackie to show up and then wham! He called the police.
“Officer?” the cop said to Jackie.
“Detective Regan. Sheriff’s Department.”
“Why don’t we step outside?”
Jackie stared at Melissa but her sister averted her eyes. “This is your last chance, Missy,” Jackie said. “Tell these officers the truth. That your husband rapes you. That he hits you. Tell them!”
She couldn’t keep her voice down. She tried, but she was so worried, and angry, and dammit! Why couldn’t Melissa just do what she said?
Melissa shook her head. “You live in a fantasy world, Jackie. I’m sorry.” She turned to the officers. “Our father abused us and Jackie hates men. She thinks they’re all mean and abusive. I’ve tried, Tom has tried, and… she won’t listen. I’m pregnant, and I’m scared, please make her leave.”
Jackie felt physically sick. It was over. It was really over. She couldn’t help Melissa anymore. She might not be able to help herself.
“Detective,” the officer said.
Jackie followed him out. Before Melissa closed the door on them, Jackie turned and said, “I love you Melissa. I hope you survive this.”
Melissa slammed the door.
#
Jackie sat across from Frick and listened to him yell at her for a good thirty minutes.
“Are you even paying attention?” he said after his tirade was over.
“Yes, sir.”
“Your sister filed a restraining order against you. You can’t go anywhere near her, her son, her husband, her house. You understand that? A restraining order against one of my deputies!”
“Yes, sir.”
She had failed her sister, and failed her employer.
“IA is investigating. Your brother-in-law has friends in high places.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“She’s my sister. She’s pregnant. He beats her. What was I supposed to do?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“She’s never filed a report. Her doctor has never filed a report. The police have never been called out to their house until today when they were called to remove you from the premises. You not only overstepped, Regan, but you may have gotten yourself fired. Dammit! You’re a damn good cop, but this isn’t the first time you’ve gone off the deep end.”
“I’ve never been wrong.”
“Being right isn’t a defense in this case.”
Her boss finally managed to calm down a bit. “Jack, this is hard on me—but my hands are tied. I need your badge and gun.”
She stared at him. Jackie couldn’t believe it.
“I’m hoping it’s temporary, but you have to talk to IA. They have to clear you of wrong-doing, of abuse under color of authority”
This day had started bad and gone to hell from there.
“I never went over there flashing my gun and badge.”
“Doesn’t matter. The complaint says that you used your position as a law enforcement officer to threaten and intimidate your sister and brother-in-law.”
It was a losing argument at this point.
Jackie removed her gun from her holster and placed it on Frisk’s desk. She held her badge a moment, stared at it. What the fuck did it even mean anymore? She hadn’t been able to save Marla and Lizzy Becker with the badge. And now her sister. TJ. Her family, her blood.
“Do not talk to your sister. Stay away from her and your nephew. Dammit, Regan, you have to listen to me on this.”
“I hear you.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“How long?”
“They’re expecting you in IA at fifteen hundred hours.”
#
Jackie wasn’t a huge drinker. She had a beer or two, liked wine with dinner, but she never lost control. She didn’t like the feeling of being impaired. But tonight, she got drunk. The only hard alcohol in her house was a bottle of special reserve Jameson that had been a Christmas present from her partner. Chris may be a Hispanic saint, but he sure liked his Irish whiskey. The first glass tasted pretty good and she wondered why she hadn’t opened the bottle before.
Then she couldn’t taste anything.
She didn’t even know how much she drank. She wasn’t counting, and no one else was around to count, either.
She’d failed in every way. She’d failed her mother when she couldn’t stop her from marrying losers. She’d failed her sister when she couldn’t convince her to leave her abusive husband. She’d failed TJ when she couldn’t protect him. Her partner when she left the reservation. Her lover when she broke her promise.
Jackie closed her eyes and let self-pity fall. The memories of her father’s belt coming down made her jump.
Whack!
You disrespectful child! I put food on your table! I put a roof over your head! And you talk back to me?
Whack!
You will listen to me. You will obey me. I am your father!
Whack!
Tell me! Tell me you’re sorry. Bow down on your knees and tell me!
Whack!
I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Whack!
Damn right you’re sorry. In the closet.
No. Please no.
Whack!
She’d fucked up big time. Still, Jackie had held her own in
the meeting with Internal Affairs, and she expected she would get her badge and gun back after a mandated unpaid leave as punishment. It had been a family disagreement. But it was pretty clear she’d be pulled from the special crimes task force. No one had to spell it out for her. It was obvious to everyone that Jackie was too close, too personally involved with the women and children who faced violence in their homes.
But she still had to go through the motions with IA. She was good at that, good at playing the role of the repentant cop. And maybe it was for the best for Jackie to change direction in her work. After all, losing Marla Becker had hurt, but losing innocent Lizzy Becker was like losing a piece of her soul. Through no fault of her own, just by being born, Lizzy had been marked for death.
For the best? No, it wasn’t. Jackie could handle the emotions and pain because Jackie saw what others missed. Or, rather, she could learn to handle her emotions better. Maybe more time with the Doc would help. She almost laughed at the thought—her willingly wanting to see the shrink. But her instincts plus her training made her perfect for the special crimes unit and she didn’t want to walk away or be forced out.
IA pushed hard about whether Jackie was projecting her own experiences onto her sister. And Jackie knew—even as she lied to the IA detectives that maybe she had been, maybe she was blind when it came to her family—that she knew truth. And worse, they knew she was lying and they didn’t care.
Because no one cared about battered women. They made their own bed, right?
Right?
It was a slippery slope that Jackie battled every fucking day and it was killing her. Leaving special crimes was for the best for Jackie, but not for the victims she saw, victims no one else saw.
Whack!
You should never have been born.
Whack!
“Jackie. Jackie, baby, wake up.”
She opened her eyes. Rick stood above her, worried. She could see that she’d caused him pain, and he was the last person Jackie wanted to hurt.
Go away.
She didn’t know if she spoke out loud. If she had, Rick ignored her. He pulled her out of the dining room chair she was slumped in and helped her up the stairs. She wasn’t really registering what was happening. She was in a fog. A glorious, pain-free fog.
Whack!
She jumped.
“What?” Rick asked. “Jackie, are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
By the time Rick got her into her bed, she had passed out again.
Chapter Eleven
She woke up to voices. Voices in her bedroom?
She sat up and winced. Inside her head, a terrible lead weight moved in circles. She fell back on the pillow and she still felt like she was moving. Like she was on a ship. A rolling ship, tossed about in a storm.
“Jack, sit up and drink this.” It was Rick talking. Not voices. Just his.
“God, no.” The smell alone was going to make her puke.
“It’s the Hunter family hangover remedy. Trust me.”
She opened her eyes. Okay, half opened her eyes. Rick held out a large cup of something orangish-red. “No. God, no.”
“Drink. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“Close enough.”
“You want me to puke. What’s in it?”
“You don’t want to know, but you won’t puke. I promise.”
She took the glass. Rick held it with her. It tasted horrible. But so did her own dry mouth. It took her five minutes to finish the god-awful concoction, then Rick made her drink an entire water bottle with four aspirin. She collapsed back down on the bed.
She might have dozed off. She didn’t know because she didn’t dream and that was a damn good thing.
She opened her eyes a bit. Her head wasn’t moving anymore. She didn’t feel great, but she didn’t feel like she was going to puke.
Rick was sitting on the bed next to her. “Why aren’t you at work?” she mumbled.
“I called in sick.”
“Don’t do that for me.”
“I don’t get sick. When am I going to use my sick time except for you?”
She wasn’t going to argue with him—mostly because she didn’t want to argue with him or anyone.
“You must really love me.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
He pressed something cool on her forehead and she sighed. “What time is it?”
“Eleven.”
“Shit.”
“You don’t have anywhere to be. Neither do I.”
“You know what happened?”
“Yes.”
It took her a moment to figure it out. “Chris.”
“He’s a good partner, and a good guy.”
She sat up. Her head still felt heavy, but it wasn’t spinning anymore. “I don’t drink whiskey.”
“It was good whiskey, but even too much of a good thing will give you a hangover.”
“I messed up, Rick.”
“We’ll get through this.”
“I really fucked up. IA is involved.”
“Chris told me. You have a lot of support on the force.”
“I don’t deserve it.”
“What the hell, Jack? Of course, you deserve it! You’re a great cop. They’re going to back you. Just because you’re going through a shit time doesn’t matter. They trust you.”
“I can’t prove anything against Tom Stafford.”
“You’re going to have to let that go for a while, but Chris told me flat out that there’s an investigation into Tom.”
“What?” That made no sense. She’d know if her brother-in-law was being investigated.
“He wouldn’t tell me what about, but it might not be related to Melissa. It might be his business.”
“Business.” She blinked, tried to think, but her head still hurt. She was never drinking whiskey again.
“Jackie, you can’t fix everything yourself. And family is complicated.”
She barely remembered what she had told Frick, what she’d said to IA. Evidently, she said something that stuck.
“I’m scared.”
It was so damn hard for her to say that.
“I know.”
“Thank you.”
“No thanks, Jack. This is what love is, sweetheart. Get used to it.”
For the first time, in a long, long time, she cried for herself.
#
Saturday morning, Rick didn’t argue with her when she asked him to stop at her mother’s house on their way to Lake Tahoe. But he wouldn’t wait in her Jeep. He walked her to the door. Stood next to her in solidarity.
Rhonda answered. She looked from Jackie to Rick and back to Jackie. She was almost shaking. “Y-You can’t be here.”
Jackie glared at her. “Do you have a restraining order against me?”
“No, but—”
“Do me a favor. Give this to TJ.” She shoved a small, wrapped box into her mother’s hands and started to walk away. Rick was right behind her.
“You hurt us, Jackie. Me and Missy. Why can’t you be happy that we found someone who loves us?”
She stopped. Turned and faced her mother. “Love? Your husband—your third husband—killed a man. He broke your arm and ribs and would have killed you if he hadn’t been sent to prison. Yet you visit him every week, bake him cookies, and get conjugal visits once a month.”
“How—?”
“I know, Rhonda. I know everything. I’m a cop.”
“Not for long,” she said with a sneer.
Jackie stiffened. “Melissa deserves better than Tom, but you taught her that love comes from violence. She bought it, hook, line, and sinker, and I want you to know you’re relegating your grandson to grow up just like Tom. Children of abusers too often become abused or abusive. So that’s your legacy.”
“What are you? You think you’re tough because you have a badge and gun? Like the men who took away your father? You’re the one who’s abusive, Jac
kie.”
“Watch it, Rhonda,” Rick said.
“You’re just like her.”
“Proud of it.”
Jackie squeezed Rick’s hand. “Paul Regan was a sperm donor, nothing more, nothing less,” she said. “He killed a man while driving drunk and deserves every minute he’s spent behind bars. And you’re lucky.”
“Lucky? The men who took care of me were taken from me, and you think I’m lucky?”
“You’re lucky to be alive. I pity you.” She paused. “I take that back. I hate you because you won’t lift a finger to help your daughter.”
“Why the hell would I help you?”
“You wouldn’t. But Melissa? You said you loved her. That baby she’s carrying is going to be motherless or dead if you don’t convince her to leave Tom. And you damn well know it.”
Jackie walked away before she did something she’d regret. She’d already fucked everything up, but couldn’t risk overstepping now. She wanted back on the force.
There were other people who needed her help. Other people who would accept it.
Jackie had to get back on duty to help those who were brave enough to help themselves.
#
That weekend in Lake Tahoe, Jackie had the best time she’d had in a long, long time.
She wasn’t about to lie to herself and say she didn’t think about Melissa or Tom or the restraining order or her job. But she had a certain distance that she’d never had before. It put many things into perspective.
She could help battered women, but they had to want her help.
She could find a way to see TJ, to make sure he was safe. Talk to the school, his teacher, the neighbors. The more people watching Tom and looking out for TJ, the better for everyone. People other than herself.
Jackie had learned her lesson. Family was complicated, and she had nothing else to give Melissa, at least now. She spent a good two hours writing—and re-writing—an email she finally sent late Saturday night. She told Melissa she loved her, but she was backing away for now. She explained that she knew exactly what Melissa was going through, but Melissa had to take the next step.
Call me, and I’ll be there. You only have to ask once.
That was all she could do.
Rick had to work Monday, and she had a meeting with her boss, Frisk, and the assistant sheriff then as well. They returned early Sunday evening after enjoying the slopes and went to bed early.
Betrayed: Powerful Stories of Kick-Ass Crime Survivors Page 46