Cassie McGraw Box Set: Books 1-3

by David Archer

  “I should have,” Debra said. “Why didn’t I see it? I know how I acted when Denny told me I had to keep it all secret, especially after it started turning into things I didn’t want to do. Why couldn’t I tell my kids were keeping secrets from me? I mean, I’m looking back over the last few months right now, and it’s all right there. Not meeting my eyes when they talk to me about certain things, trying to make me take them with me when I left to go to the store or something, rather than leave them with their father. I should’ve seen it; why didn’t I?”

  “Because you couldn’t,” I said. “Your children are a bright spot in your life, and unless something like this jumps up and grabs your attention, you simply aren’t expecting to see those things. You grew up thinking that you’d never let something like that happen to your children, and so you don’t let yourself consider it a possibility.” I shrugged. “You can’t see something you don’t believe in, not something like this. And it may well turn out that it’s just a matter of him thinking you would be upset over bare bottom spanking. Maybe that’s the way he was disciplined as a child, so he wouldn’t necessarily think it was a problem, but he might not want to deal with you getting upset about it.”

  “But you don’t think it’s that simple,” Debra said, “or you wouldn’t want the psychologist to talk to them.”

  Once again, I shrugged. “Right now, I can’t say that I really think one way or the other about it. The reason I asked Nicole to talk to them is because they were told to keep it secret. Whenever a child is told to keep something secret from a parent, there’s the risk that the child is being abused in some way. Before we go any further, I feel we need to know for sure. If it turns out to be nothing harmful, that’s good; if it turns out to be a problem, then we need to deal with it. Don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, yes, I absolutely do.” There was a new steeliness in her voice that hadn’t been there before. I’ve found it tends to show up whenever a mother’s children are being threatened.

  “Okay. Now, let’s talk about getting you out of this situation. Naturally, if it turns out there is some kind of abuse going on, we’ll be involving the police and Family Services. Your husband would probably be arrested, but even if he isn’t, he’d be removed from the home. At that point, we would make sure you get an order of protection keeping him away, and then start working on what to do to make sure you have sufficient income to provide for you and the children. That’s one possibility.”

  I picked up a brochure and slid it across my desk. “This is some information about the Tulsa Family Sanctuary. It’s a shelter that’s been set up specifically for women and children coming out of an abusive situation. If for any reason your husband is not removed from your home, then you will be able to go there with your kids. They’ll help you get an order of protection, but they’ll also help you get a job or financial assistance so that you can get a place of your own. If you need daycare in order to get a job, they can help set you up with programs that will take care of your children while you work. There are a number of different things they can help with, so that you can get out on your own fairly quickly. As soon as we have some idea of what’s going on with your children, that will be our next step.”

  “I haven’t held a job in years,” Debra said. “I went to beauty school before Alex was born, but I was pregnant by the time I graduated, so I never got my license.”

  “You might still be able to get it,” I said, “or you might need to take some refresher courses, I don’t know. On the other hand, you could probably get a job as an assistant in a beauty shop or something like that, until you do. There are probably a number of jobs where some of that training would come in handy.”

  “Maybe,” Debra said. “I think I can find some kind of a job, even if it was in a factory or something. I mean, I’m not lazy. I haven’t worked all this time because Charlie wanted me to be at home with the kids, you know?”

  “I’m sure you can,” I said. “Things like that can be worked out, you just have to not let yourself be afraid of them.”

  The two women continued talking about the options for another twenty minutes, and then Nicole tapped on the door. I called out for her to come in, and she took a seat beside Debra.

  “What do you think?” I asked. I was watching Debra’s face, as Debra chewed her bottom lip and watched Nicole.

  “Well, the good news is that he has not actually molested either of the children,” Nicole said slowly. “However, Melinda says that he sometimes makes her sit in his lap with her pants still pulled down after he spanks her. This is not appropriate behavior, and Melinda says that it definitely makes her uncomfortable. She doesn’t seem to think of it as anything sexual at this time, but it makes her feel uneasy and ashamed, as if she herself feels that it’s somehow inappropriate.”

  “Oh, my God,” Debra said.

  “Now,” Nicole went on, “from a professional perspective, I would have to say that all of these things taken together—bare bottom spankings, telling the children to keep it secret, and requiring a six-year-old girl to sit in his lap with her private parts exposed—are what we call grooming events, and they constitute sexual abuse. This is the type of behavior that sexual predators engage in to prepare a child to be a willing participant in his or her own molestation. The statements that I got from both children support immediately removing them from the father’s accessibility and filing a report with Family Services and the police department. I would fully expect that he will be arrested and charged, and I don’t think it can happen soon enough.”

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Debra said with tears streaming down her cheeks. “My poor babies…”

  I leaned forward to get Debra’s attention. “Debra, listen to me,” I said. “Based on what Nicole has just said, I have no choice but to notify both the police and Family Services. Nicole is going to take you down to the playroom to be with your kids, and there will be a police officer and a caseworker here to speak with you very soon. Don’t leave the building, okay? This is very important.”

  Debra nodded, and Nicole led her down the hall to where her children were happily playing. I watched them go, then picked up the phone on my desk and pressed a speed dial button.

  “Alicia? It’s Cassie.”

  TWO

  Nicole walked into my office forty minutes later and shut the door behind her. “Charlie Lamzig has been picked up, and he will spend at least the next seventy-two hours in jail. The DA is filing sexual abuse charges against him, and he will be classed as a sexual predator. Debra and the kids are on the way home now, but I got a temporary protection order in place already, and there will be a hearing tomorrow to make it permanent and official.”

  “Why seventy-two hours?” I asked.

  Nicole grinned. “I said at least seventy-two hours,” she replied. “The DA is going for a high bond, and the Lamzigs don’t have any serious assets. I’d say there’s a pretty good chance he’s going to sit in jail until he either goes to trial or takes a plea. Family Services is going to work with Debra to get her set up with assistance, but she says it’ll only be temporary. I get the feeling she really does want to go out and get a job.”

  I leaned back in my chair and stretched. “Good for her.” I yawned. “Goodness, I’m tired. Sometimes, this job just really takes it out of me.”

  “Does that to all of us,” Nicole said. “But you did good work, today. You spotted the problem and dealt with it, and that’s what counts.”

  “What I spotted was that those kids wanted to get away from their father,” I said. “When I was talking to Debra about shelter, those kids were silently begging her to take me up on it. Then Alex talked about the bare butt spankings and I saw Melinda turn red. Those were warning signs, to me.”

  Nicole nodded, just looking at me. “I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I could use a beer. It’s quitting time, want to hit the bar with me?”

  I gave her my usual “are-you-sure-you-want-to-be-seen-with-me” grin. We spoke to each other a
round the office, but we had never gotten together socially before. “Might want to think about that offer,” I said. “You’re still single, and guys won’t want to approach you if you seem to be friends with the burned gal.”

  “Any guy who would avoid me because of one of my friends wouldn’t be worth knowing anyway,” she said. “Come on, we can let our hair down and bitch about men together.”

  I laughed and nodded. “That sounds good. Let me get my coat and I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  “Cool beans,” Nicole said, and she walked out the office door. I got up and started to reach for my coat, hanging on the hook behind my desk, and that’s when my phone rang.

  Nicole was right, it was after quitting time. For my phone to ring, though, a call had to either be put through from the switchboard or come in on my direct number. Since the receptionist was already gone, I decided to answer it.

  “Cassie McGraw,” I said.

  A voice that sounded like it was almost robotic came through the earpiece. “How many lives did you ruin today?”

  My eye opened wide. “None, I hope,” I said. “Who is this?”

  “You tell those women it’s always their man’s fault, but that isn’t true. They bring it on themselves, because they don’t know the Word of God. Ephesians 5:22 says wives are to submit to their husbands, because the husband is the head of his wife. If she does not, then she should be punished, but you and your kind tell them that the punishment is wrong, and then the men are destroyed for doing as God wills them to do.”

  My eye grew even wider as the voice droned on. “God doesn’t tell men to beat their wives, or to abuse their children,” I said. “There is a big difference between submission and being abused. Who the hell is this?”

  “You refuse to see,” the voice continued, “and therefore God has told me to open your eyes. I pray that you’ll come to realize the truth, before He commands me to bring an end to your evil works.”

  The line suddenly went dead, and I checked the caller ID display to find out where it had come from. Instead of displaying a number, however, it simply said, “Restricted.” I stared at the single word for a moment, then went out to the reception desk and logged onto the computer there.

  All calls into the Outreach were recorded, and the recordings were kept on the computer. It took only a moment to find the call, and I played it through again.

  “What the hell is that?” Nicole said, suddenly appearing behind me. “I thought you got lost so I came to look for you. What are you listening to?”

  “This call just came in,” I said. “Listen.” I played it again.

  Nicole’s eyebrows rose. “That sounds pretty ominous,” she said. “Any idea who it was?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t. Probably one of the men who thinks I destroyed his life by getting his wife away from him.”

  “Could be a threat. Maybe you ought to tell the police about it.”

  I stared at the screen for a moment, then shook my head. “Not at the moment,” I said. “I’m pretty good at taking care of myself, and it could be just somebody trying to be a jerk. I’m not going to waste police time and resources on somebody this stupid.”

  Nicole made a face. “That’s up to you, of course,” she said. “I just think you need to be cautious with people like that. Sometimes they aren’t all that stable, you know?”

  I shut off the computer and turned to face her. “Neither am I,” I said with my Freda Krueger grin, “so let him come after me if he’s that stupid. Now, let’s go, I want that beer.”

  We went back by my office so I could grab my coat and purse, and then headed out through the back door. Nicole waved as I got into my car and backed out, and she followed a moment later. I drove for about ten minutes, and I led Nicole right into the parking lot of Grizzly’s, which happens to be my favorite watering hole.

  I had been introduced to the place a few months earlier when I met Dexter Tate. Dex is an unusual guy, not least because he isn’t the least bit put off by my scars. He’s extremely intelligent, loyal to a fault, and would walk into the jaws of death to help someone he cared about—or even a stranger, sometimes. I had met him while trying to track down the husband of a client, a man who had abducted his stepdaughter and was suspected of abusing her. Dex had gone to school with the guy and they had been friends for many years, but that meant nothing to Dex. He had given me the information I needed to find the guy, and later, after I had been forced to shoot the man to death, he had asked me to meet with him.

  He said he wanted to talk to me about a problem of his own that he hoped I could solve, a friend who had gone missing a couple of years earlier. He’d offered to take me to dinner, which I refused at first; one of the basic tenets of my personal philosophy was that men weren’t going to be interested in dating a girl who could play Freddy Krueger’s sister. Hell, I wouldn’t even need makeup for the part.

  He’d been tenacious, though, and I’d finally agreed to meet at a restaurant. He’d told me about his friend and given me a file full of information on her, and I’d agreed to look into the disappearance for him, but then he’d suggested we go have a drink. I hadn’t been to a bar in a long time, mostly because I hadn’t wanted to be stared at, but on that evening I decided to throw caution out the window and had gone with him.

  Okay, I’ll be honest. Dex was the first man who’d ever even acted like he wanted to talk to me since I was burned, and I was enjoying the attention. When he grabbed my hand and dragged me onto the dance floor, I glared and acted pissed, but the truth was that I was having more fun than I could recall ever having before.

  And then the son of a bitch kissed me.

  Grizzly’s was decent, a country bar that featured live bands several nights a week. The first barmaid to serve me that night had done a double take when she saw my scars, but then she’d made it clear that it wasn’t a big deal to her. It had put me at ease, and I’d been back several times since then. Sometimes, I came back with Dex, who had become something I refer to as a “friend with benefits.”

  That was because, after he actually kissed me that night, I finally realized that he was flirting with me. I blamed it on the alcohol, but I went home with him that night. It wasn’t until the following morning that I learned that he had also been burned, years earlier, though his scars were from the middle of his chest down and were all hidden by his clothing.

  He was still a good friend, and we see each other a few times each month. Sometimes we spend the night together, sometimes we don’t. It doesn’t seem to matter to either of us, but we both know it’s always an option.

  Okay, that’s enough about that. Nicole and I sat down at a table close to the wall, where I wasn’t as likely to be under scrutiny.

  “Hey, Cass,” said Amanda, the barmaid. She had seen us come in and followed us to our table. “Usual?”

  “Yep,” I said. “Bud Light in a bottle.”

  Amanda turned to Nicole. “What can I get you?”

  “Same thing,” Nicole answered. “It’s beer time, and thank goodness.”

  Amanda chuckled and walked away, and Nicole leaned toward me so she wouldn’t have to shout over the band. “Don’t look now, but I think you’ve got an admirer.”

  I looked around and spotted Dex, leaning against the bar and looking over at us. “That’s not an admirer, that’s Dex. He’s a friend of mine. Mind if he comes over?”

  “Not a bit,” Nicole said. “Does he have a friend?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Me. But he might know a halfway decent guy who wouldn’t go screaming into the night when he sees us.” I raised a hand and waved him toward us, and he slowly made his way through the crowd just as Amanda brought our beers. I looked at Nicole. “How did you know he was looking at me? There’s a hundred other women in here he could’ve been looking at.”

  “Yeah, but he saw us as we came in and his eyes locked on you like targeting radar. I know he wasn’t looking at me because I got caught in the press for a second, an
d he was staring at you the whole time. Something more than a friend?”

  “FWB,” I said, “friend with benefits. We have something in common, like a mutual need for intimacy that doesn’t come with any strings attached, and he isn’t afraid of my scars.” Dex got there then, and he pulled a chair a little closer to mine and sat down. I pointed at Nicole. “This is Nicole, she’s the psychologist at Saint Mary’s. Nicole, this is Dex.”

  Dex smiled his charmer smile, the one he uses when he wants to be friendly but not let his guard down, and they shook hands over the table. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  “Same here,” Nicole replied. “Cassie’s been telling me what a good friend you are.” Her smile was anything but innocent, and I felt the slightest hint of jealousy. It wasn’t that I’d actually care if they hooked up sometime, but I was already thinking that he might be exactly what I needed that night. Couldn’t have her waylaying him, now, could I?

  Dex turned his eyes to me; I suddenly remembered how easily he could read me and half my face turned red. I looked at him as innocently as I could and grinned. “How was your day?” I asked.

  “Coulda been better,” he said. “The new trucks have this problem called axle wrap, where the rear axle makes a vibration when it takes off, and the engineers haven’t figured out how to fix it yet. I’ve got three of them sitting in the shop now, and nobody can tell me how to make the problem go away. How was yours?”

  I shrugged. “We found out a man’s been getting far enough out of line with his kids to justify locking his ass up, so it was pretty good.”

  “And then she got a threatening phone call,” Nicole blurted out, “just as we were leaving to come here. Tell him about that, Cass.”

  I glared at her, but Dex was already on it. “Who was it?” he asked, and even I could hear the hardness in his voice. Dex had been in Afghanistan with the Army, and had even won a couple of medals for bravery. He was the kind of guy who would run into a fight when a friend was in danger, and while we weren’t exactly lovers, I knew he cared about me.