by Robyn Carr
“My husband,” she slurred. “Dr. Brad Delaney. We’re separated. He lives in Mill Valley. He’s angry.”
“No kidding,” the paramedic muttered. “We’re going to start an IV, just to keep a vein open in case you need drugs. We’re going to transport.”
“Is that really necessary?” she asked. “I’m starting to feel better...”
“No reason to take chances with a head injury. And I think we should check for facial bone damage.”
“My teeth feel loose. Do I have all of them? Are they whole?”
“I think they’ll make it, but you have to go to the ER.”
“Ma’am,” the officer said. “Did anyone besides you and your husband witness this assault?”
She held out her phone. He recognized what she was showing him—the doorbell camera and speaker. While the door stood open, the sounds of Brad growling at her, threatening her and Lauren begging him to stop hurting her were loud and clear. The sound of him hitting and kicking her were clear. The image and audio recording would last for up to seven days, but she could save it now.
Typical Brad. They had closed circuit security at their Mill Valley home but he must not have considered that Lauren might have it at this old Victorian. He thought no one would ever know...
“I think we’re going to have to have this phone,” he said.
“No, you don’t,” she said. “You can dump everything on this phone if you want to but I need it. It’s the only way I can reach people who will help me now, and there is no house phone here. I can email you this image and recording right now.”
“That would help, if I’m going to pick him up.”
“What are you going to do with him?” she asked.
“He’s going to jail, ma’am. There are two offenses for which at least twelve hours in jail is mandatory—DUI and battery domestic. One, so the offender can sober up and is no longer a menace on the road and the other, so the victim can ensure his or her safety.”
“So he’ll be in jail all night?”
“I can assure you,” the young officer said.
“Even if he’s a very rich surgeon with a bunch of lawyers?” she asked.
“Even if,” the cop said.
“Here,” she said. “Email this to yourself.”
“You’re not going to beg me to leave him alone?” the officer asked.
“No,” she said. “Take him to jail.”
“What’s going on?” Beau shouted from the door. “What the hell? Where’s Lauren? Lauren!”
She was already on the gurney, sitting upright, holding the ice pack on her face. Beau was pushing his way through the paramedics and the two police officers instinctively grabbed his arms, holding him back.
“Let me go!” he said. “Let me see her! What happened to her?”
Lauren lowered the ice pack.
“Jesus,” he said, looking at her weakly.
“Let him go,” she garbled. “He’s a friend and neighbor.”
He rushed to her. “What happened? Who did this?” he kept his voice soft.
“I think you know,” she said, her speech slurred.
* * *
Beau followed the ambulance to the hospital and paced in the waiting room while Lauren was with doctors and nurses.
Lauren was in the ER for three hours, holding an ice pack to her mouth and cheek. She had stitches inside her mouth where her teeth had cut her lip and she felt swollen from her neck up. Her CT scan was negative—no fractures of the skull or facial bones. At almost midnight one of the officers who had come to her house returned to the ER. He spoke quietly with the doctor before approaching her bed. She was sitting up, getting ready to make her escape as soon as the paperwork and insurance nonsense was complete.
“So, it’s going to be okay, I’m told,” the officer said. “You’ll heal and maybe get better locks?”
“I have good locks,” she said, but she sounded more like I hab goo wocks.
“Your husband has been cited, arrested and taken to booking, but is there somewhere you can stay or someone who can stay with you?”
“I’m going home,” she blubbered. “He’s obviously not coming back. I’m a mess.”
“That guy is still in the waiting room,” the officer said. “Is he someone you can trust?”
“He’s a neighbor. I’ve known him a few months and he’s been helpful and kind. He’s still here, huh?”
“Waiting to see you, I guess. Hopefully take you home...”
“That’s nice. I can get a cab if he wants to get home.”
“I wish you weren’t going to be alone. Your husband is a piece of work. He tried to convince us you did this to yourself. The problem with that story was that when we found him, he was icing his hand.”
A huff escaped her. “His precious hands. Insured for millions...”
“Then there’s the recording. So he tried saying it was your boyfriend...”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said. “The man out there is a new friend. Not that new.” She groaned and said, “I met him at church.”
“Your husband’s voice on the recording is recognizable,” the officer said. “Is there someone who can stay with you? You should contact a family member. This is a traumatic injury. You might get home and realize you wish you weren’t alone and the doctor says you can’t drive. Not for at least twenty-four hours. As a precaution.”
“I agree,” the doctor said, pulling back the curtain to enter the little cubicle. He held a chart. “I’d admit you for the night but it isn’t absolutely necessary and hospitals aren’t the coziest places. They’re noisy, for one thing.”
“I want my own bed.”
“Then call someone,” the officer said. “Someone who can make sure you’re home and inside and helped to your bed. There must be someone...”
“The neighbor says he’s going to get her home, stay with her until she’s settled. And he lives a few blocks away so if she needs assistance, she can call him. That work for you, Mrs. Delaney?” the doctor asked.
She nodded. “I don’t want to call my sister or daughter this late. I must look a wreck. I haven’t even seen your handiwork.”
The doctor opened a drawer and pulled out a round mirror, handing it to her. She lifted it to her face. Her lip was three times its usual size on one side, her face was distorted, one cheekbone swollen, her eye was puffy and black and blue and her blouse was covered in blood and drool.
She almost passed out and both the doctor and officer caught her before she fell back on the bed. They helped her sit back upright.
“Oh my God,” she said. “This would terrify my sister. And her husband is a cop. He could lose his mind.”
“Cop? Where?”
“Chip Shaughnessy. Oakland.”
“I know him. Good guy. Want to call him?”
“Want to really test his control?” she asked.
The doctor handed her a clean washcloth because every few words brought a new drizzle of pink spit. She didn’t want either Beth or Chip to see her like this. Beth was angry enough with Brad. She didn’t mind that she hated him. In fact, she liked that. However, when she was trying to stay focused, stable and smart, she didn’t need haranguing. Her lawyer had prepped her well to listen only to her advice and not that of relatives and friends. And her brother-in-law, sweet, laid-back Chip, why tempt fate? This could be the thing that tipped him over the edge and he might just go beat the hell out of Brad. Truthfully, that could feel quite satisfactory, but why should Chip land in jail?
“Beau can take me home,” she said. “He’s trustworthy. And very kind. My phone?” she asked.
“In your purse,” the officer said, handing her the purse that had come with her to the hospital.
She scrolled through her text messages and found the last one from Beau.
Are you still here?
I’m here. How are you?
I’m ready to go home. Can you give me a lift?
Ready when you are. I’ll move the truck to the loading zone and come for you.
“He’ll take me home,” she told the officer. “He’s moving his truck. Would you bring him back here?”
When Beau got back to the cramped ER space, his eyes narrowed and he ground his teeth. “Where does it hurt right now?” he asked.
“Where you can see,” she said. “I almost think he wanted it to show.”
“We have to get you to a safe place,” Beau said.
“Home. Please. Leave me with my door locked and my ice pack. He’s not coming back. At least not tonight.”
“How can you be sure?” he asked.
“I called the police,” she said. “He’s in jail for the night. I’ll be talking to my lawyer tomorrow. I think we’re beyond negotiating agreeably. Don’t you?”
“I’ll take you home,” Beau said. “Can we get you a sleeping pill? I’ll stay on the couch, just as a precaution.”
“No sleeping pills on top of a possible concussion,” she said. “But I want my bed. I’m not afraid. Not right now.” She dabbed at her lips. “I should have locked the door right away, but it was still light and I saw him on the monitor. I told him it wasn’t a good time. If the door had been locked...”
The doctor stretched his hand toward Beau. “I’m Dr. Kraemer. You’re the escort home, I presume?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, though it was possible the doctor was younger than Beau. “I’ll stay with her tonight. Anything I should watch for?”
“Yes. Keep an eye out for disorientation, nausea and vomiting, unconsciousness... Her CT was negative, but let’s be observant. If she’s asleep, don’t wake her. If she passes out and won’t rouse—call for medical assistance.” He looked at Lauren. “How’s the head?”
“It feels like I’ve been kicked by a mule.”
The young doctor smiled wanly. “You have. Here are a few business cards—shelter, social services for victims of battery domestic, Lt. Sanders of that unit at the police department. Please make an appointment with your family physician...”
She let go a pathetic laugh. “My husband is a physician. Surgeon.”
“If there’s no one for you to call, just come back to the ER and I’ll handle taking out the stitches for you in a week. Here’s my card. I know how that goes—doctor in the family, you either let him handle your issues or it’s one of his friends. Don’t do that, Lauren. He’s obviously dangerous.”
“He’s locally very well known,” she said.
“I know. I never liked him. Take care now. Call if you need us.”
“Let’s go,” Beau said, taking her purse and her hand. “I’m parked in the loading zone. We’ll be home in ten minutes.”
“I really appreciate this,” she muttered, towel still hovering at her chin. “How did you happen to see the commotion around my house?”
“I went to the market for milk and bread. When I came out there were police and fire department vehicles in front of your house. Took about ten years off my life.”
“Mine, too,” she said, hanging on his arm as they walked through the waiting area and outside.
“Let me lift you up into the truck. Hand me the towel and ice pack.”
“You don’t want to touch this...”
“Gimme,” he said. “Grab the handle, we’ll go slow.”
He drove cautiously on the way to her house. What he’d done by following her to the hospital, he’d involved himself. He was in now. He knew instead of making it easier for them to bond it would make it more complicated. Both of them would wonder if it was vulnerability rather than pure attraction. He didn’t care and there was the danger. That’s what happened with Pamela—she was needy. She was a single mother on a limited income with limited potential and two sweet, rambunctious little boys. She needed a man, needed him. It wasn’t genuine, it was artificial and he knew it. Even so, even having that history, he wanted Lauren to find a hero in him. But this was new territory. Pamela had never been physically beaten. She’d been fooled and abandoned by first one man and then another, but no one had ever punched her in the face.
“Here we are,” he said. “You okay?”
“Hm. Sure.”
“I’ll come around and help you down—sit tight. Is there a key in your purse?” he asked.
“I’ll get it,” she said. She found it and opened her own door. “I’m going to be fine now. You can go home and sleep.”
“Let’s get you settled. What are the chances you have frozen peas on hand?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Then how about if you change into something clean—pajamas or sweats or something. Do you need help?”
“I’ll manage. I’m not really ready for you to see me in my underwear.”
“I could do that without assuming you’re flirting,” he said.
“I’ve got this,” she said, wandering into the bedroom and closing the door behind her.
He called Drew.
“I woke you, I’m sorry.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes and no. My friend had an accident and needed a ride home from the emergency room. She’s all bruised and has some stitches. I just wanted you to know I’m staying here to make sure she’s all right tonight. She lives alone. There’s no one to look out for her so I’ll hang out on her couch.”
“Are you okay?” Drew asked.
“Yeah, but after the ER doc told me to watch for things that meant she should get back to the ER, I don’t feel like I should leave her. You’re all right alone, aren’t you?”
“I’ve done it before, Dad. I work in the morning. Call me and let me know everything is okay.”
“Sure. Get some sleep. My phone is on if you need me. I’m not far away.” Then he found the frozen peas and a dishtowel from a kitchen drawer.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened and Lauren stood in a set of un-sexy pajamas with long sleeves and long pants. At first glance it looked like they were covered in a print of ice cream cones. On closer look he saw they were flowers.
“Come on,” he said, turning her around to send her back into the bedroom. “Let’s get you comfortable and I’ll give you a shoulder rub. It’s guaranteed to make you relax...”
“You really don’t have to,” she said.
“I know. But I’m here and I’m not leaving. Once you’re snoring, I’ll grab a little sleep on the couch. Just give this a chance. You won’t regret it.”
He helped her position herself on her side, her head elevated because of the swelling, the peas balanced over her swollen lip and bruised cheek. He kicked off his shoes and climbed up on the bed behind her. Then he started to gently knead her shoulders and neck. “You won’t be able to go to work for a few days. You definitely won’t be filming any cooking videos. The good news is, the swelling will go down in a couple of days and you might be able to disguise the bruising with makeup. Or you can just say you were in a car accident... Or tripped and fell... Or you can be honest. I know this stuff happens. I’m not naive. But anyone who hits his wife, even the wife he’s not getting along with, is an animal. A dangerous animal.”
“He has a lot of people fooled,” she whispered.
“Not the ER doc,” Beau said. “Could he ruin his reputation?”
“Nah. Privacy laws.”
“Too bad,” Beau said. “Well, he’s screwed. If he thought there was any hope of restoring his sad marriage, it’s impossible.”
“I think he knows that now. I think he finally realized it was the end of the line and he left me with a reminder of how cruel he can be.”
“Was it twenty-four years of that, Lauren?”
She sighed. “Like many troubled marriage
s, maybe like yours, there were times it wasn’t awful. But when you live with someone whose mission it is to control everything, even the good times were just a place holder.”
“That’s going to change,” he said. He massaged her neck, her shoulders. Softly. “For now, just let go and see if sleep comes. If you have to think at all, just think that you’ve turned a corner and from now on you’ll accept only the most perfect treatment. Because you’re a good person and you deserve it. You’re a good, beautiful person and no one gets to treat you like you’re not. I’m not just talking about the man you’re finally leaving for good, I’m talking about all people. You’re not without options anymore.”
“Turned a corner,” she repeated.
“Headed for a better life,” he said.
She gave a huff of laughter. “I don’t think it’s going to be that simple.”
“Maybe not, but in the end it’s going to be better. You can’t have a person like that stalking you. We’ll work out some details tomorrow...”
She sighed softly, relaxing into his hands. The same hands that dug in the ground, drew designs of beautiful gardens, remodeled his fixer-upper house, raised his stepsons—those hands, gently caressing her shoulders and neck. She began to doze off, then jerked in her sleep.
“Shhh,” he said. “You’re okay.”
“You don’t have to stay,” she said. “I’ll lock the door. I’m safe.”
He eased down behind her, spooning her, one arm sliding lightly over her waist. “I’m not leaving you, Lauren. I’m right here if you need someone, if you’re afraid, or if your head hurts, if you need a fresh ice pack.”
“I shouldn’t let you stay...”
“It’s okay if you want me to,” he whispered. “And I want to. Don’t worry. No lines will be crossed.”
“With my lip like this, I’ll probably snore...”
“It should be a regular symphony with my snoring.”
“Some people would call this an affair...”
He laughed sharply. “And what would they call what happened to your face? A love tap gone too far? Just relax and feel safe. If that’s an affair, you should have had more of them.”