The Woman He Knows

by Margaret Watson

  Patrick focused his attention on Chuck. On frustrating him. Angering him enough to make him sloppy. “This place is my business now, and you’re done. I don’t want to see you here again.”

  He was taking a chance. If Chuck stormed out and didn’t return, they had lost Theresa.

  But he was betting that Chuck and Theresa had to be here for some reason.

  “Tough shit. I ain’t going nowhere.”

  “I think you are.” He stuck his arm out, as if to escort Chuck from the bar, and Chuck reached inside his jacket.

  Patrick didn’t see Danny move, but suddenly he shoved Patrick aside. “You carrying?” he asked Chuck.

  Chuck slapped his fist on the bar. “’Course not.”

  Danny pulled out his badge. “Police. Open your jacket.”

  Chuck stared at Danny. Danny stared back, but his hand slipped into his own jacket. Stayed there.

  Chuck’s gaze slid to one side. Then the other. The bar had fallen silent and everyone was watching.

  “Hands on the bar,” Danny barked. “Both of them.”

  Chuck stared at Danny and didn’t move. Danny eased his gun out of his jacket and pointed it at Chuck’s chest. “We going to do this easy? Or not. Your choice.”

  It felt as if the room had taken a deep breath. Finally Chuck put both his palms on the bar.

  Still holding his own weapon, Danny flicked open Chuck’s jacket to reveal the holstered gun. He stared at it for a long moment, then barked, “Hands on top of your head. Now.”

  Chuck scowled. “You’re going to regret this.”

  “Don’t think so. Carrying concealed is a crime in Illinois.” He holstered his gun and pulled a pair of handcuffs from the back of his belt. Once Chuck’s arms were secured behind his back, he pulled out his cell and called for backup.

  “Get me a bag,” he said to Patrick without looking at him.

  “Jesse,” Patrick said. “Give me one of the carryout containers.”

  A few moments later, the gun was nestled in a circular foil pan with a plastic cover over it. Takeout from Mama’s.

  Danny searched Chuck and found a knife strapped to his ankle. That went into another container.

  The front door opened and two uniformed officers walked in. “Hey, Kopecki,” one of them said when they saw Danny. “Whadda ya have?”

  “Carrying concealed. The collar’s all yours.”

  One of the uniformed officers took Chuck’s arm. He shook it off and turned to Patrick, eyes blazing with fury. “What about the woman I came here with?”

  “I’ll make sure she gets home. I’ll drive her myself.”

  “No. Call her a cab.”

  “When she’s ready to leave, I will.”

  “Now.”

  “She can finish her drink first.”

  Chuck turned to Kopecki. “I want my phone call.”

  “And you’ll get it, as soon as you’re booked.” He nodded to the uniforms. “Get him out of here.”

  Chuck struggled when they took his arms. By now, the whole restaurant had fallen silent.

  When the police finally disappeared through the door with Chuck, people began talking again. The noise level rose, and Patrick saw Darcy, standing next to Theresa. As if protecting her.

  He hurried over to her. “The lady’s escort is indisposed. He requested that we call her a cab.”

  Darcy opened her mouth to say she’d drive Theresa home, but Patrick gave her a tiny shake of his head. “I’ll call the cab. You wait outside with her. Make sure she gets safely into the taxi.”

  “Okay.” Darcy swallowed. “I’ll do that.”

  “Thanks.”

  He drew his car keys out of his pocket, and as he brushed past her, he dropped them into her apron. Disappearing toward the kitchen, he heard her say, “Are you ready to go, Theresa?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THERESA’S FACE WAS white. Her mouth trembled. As she looked up at Darcy, her expression showed both fear and hope. Finally she nodded. “Yes, I’m ready to go.” She fumbled in her purse. “I need to pay my bill.”

  Darcy touched her hand. “You can get it next time, Theresa,” she said, her voice loud enough for the neighboring tables to hear. “I know you’ll be back.”

  For a moment, Theresa looked confused. Darcy held her gaze, and the older woman finally nodded. She understood.

  As Theresa struggled to her feet, Darcy steadied her good arm. Her heart thundered in her chest, so loud she was sure everyone in the restaurant could hear it. She schooled her face into a polite, helpful mask.

  Thank God she knew all about masks.

  As they walked slowly toward the door, no one seemed to be paying attention. Finally, when they’d stepped outside into the chilly air, Darcy took a deep breath. “Do you want to get in that cab and go home? Or do you want to go to the shelter? It’s your call, Theresa.” She wouldn’t take control away from the woman. As much as she wanted Theresa to go to the shelter, it had to be her decision.

  Theresa swallowed. Stared at the cast on her arm. “I want to go to the shelter,” she said, but her voice shook.

  “Are you sure? I’m not going to pressure you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Her voice was stronger. “You figured out a way to get me free, and I’m going to take it.”

  “All right.” She touched the woman’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  “I’m...scared.” Her voice wavered.

  “I know.” She’d been terrified herself when she made the decision to escape. Afraid that Tim would catch her before she reached the sanctuary of the shelter. Afraid it was all a dream, that she’d wake up and Tim would be staring down at her, his fist raised.

  She took Theresa’s hand. Felt it trembling. “I’ll keep you safe.” She prayed that was true. Darcy looked around the quiet business district. Happy Foods grocery store was still open. So was the ice cream shop. Everything else was closed.

  No one would be watching from a storefront, able to describe her and Theresa to a police officer searching for a missing woman.

  They reached the edge of the parking lot, away from the restaurant windows. No one inside could see them, either. Theresa slowed. “What happened with Chuck? Why did the police arrest him?”

  “I’m not sure,” Darcy answered. “I didn’t want to get too close and make Chuck suspicious.”

  Theresa’s gaze drifted over the cars in the parking lot and paused at a large black SUV sitting in the corner. “My husband will come looking for me.”

  “And we’ll tell him you got into a taxi. We assumed you were going home.”

  “Will it really be that easy?” she whispered.

  “Getting into Patrick’s SUV and going to the shelter? That’s easy. The rest? Not so much.” Darcy stepped in front of her and took both her hands. “It’s scary, and lonely, and depressing. Completely disorienting. But sometimes, it’s the only way to save yourself. The only way to be free.”

  “How long ago did you escape?”

  “Three years ago. I’m still afraid. Still worry that he’ll find me. But if I’d stayed, he would have killed me.” Just like your husband will eventually kill you.

  Theresa swallowed. “I’ve thought about this for a long time. So, yes. Please take me to the shelter.” She seemed to stand straighter. “I need to do that before I can do anything else.”

  Thank God. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Her voice firmed. Strengthened. “I am.”

  “Okay.” They headed toward Patrick’s vehicle, but Darcy faltered when she heard a rustling to her right. In the undergrowth at the corner of the parking lot.

  She stared at the dense, bare-branched lilac bush, but couldn’t see anything but shadows. Still, she reached into her pocket for Patrick’s ke
ys. Clutched them in her hand with the ends protruding between her fingers.

  Chuck was in custody. There was no way Theresa’s husband could know what was happening.

  Maybe someone was watching Darcy.

  Fear rushed through her. Tim.

  No. Her ex-husband didn’t skulk in the bushes. He confronted. Fists and feet ready to punch. Kick. Hurt.

  Maybe someone was there. Or maybe it was an animal. Darcy shifted the keys so they were more comfortable, then closed her fist tighter. She wasn’t taking any chances with Theresa’s safety.

  When they were finally inside the SUV, the doors locked, she took a deep breath. Let some of the tension ease from her shoulders. “The shelter is only a few minutes away.”

  “Okay.” Theresa’s hands shook as she buckled her seat belt. “I’m ready.”

  As they drove through the neighborhood, the streets were dark, with only the corner streetlights illuminating the way. Lights gleamed in the windows of most of the houses, but no cars drove past. No one was out walking.

  The big black SUV passed through the neighborhood like a ghost, unseen and unheard.

  Finally she rolled to the curb at the shelter. The fence surrounding it was high, but lights were on in the director’s first-floor office, as well as several other windows.

  “We’re here.”

  Theresa gazed at the rambling colonial house that blended in with the rest of the neighborhood homes. “It doesn’t look like a women’s shelter.”

  “They don’t want to advertise.” She jumped out of the driver’s seat and hurried around to help Theresa. As they walked toward the gate, Theresa reached for her hand. Clutched it tightly.

  Darcy remembered the day three years ago when she’d walked into a similar shelter. She knew her life had changed forever. She had no clue what the future held. She’d worried about what her friends would think.

  And terror had been the slick, greasy glue binding it all together.

  She also remembered the relief of knowing she was safe. Knowing that no one would hit her again. No one would threaten to kill her again.

  “It’ll be okay,” Darcy murmured. “I’ll introduce you to Kelly, the director, then I have to get back to Mama’s. I don’t want anyone to notice I’ve been gone.”

  Theresa gripped her hand more tightly. “You’re going to leave me here?”

  “I have to, Theresa,” she said gently. “We don’t want anyone missing me from the restaurant.”

  “Will you come back when it closes?”

  She wanted to say yes. She knew how desperately Theresa needed to hold on to a familiar face. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, at least tonight.” She wrapped her arm around the other woman’s shoulders and felt her trembling. “Your husband will probably come looking for you. I don’t want to lead him to this shelter.”

  “No.” Theresa stared at the front door. “Me, either.”

  “I’ll come back when I can. I promise.”

  Theresa turned her head slowly, as if her joints were stiff. Sore. She nodded. “Okay, Darcy. I believe you.”

  Darcy pushed the buzzer, and Kelly’s voice came through the intercom. “Yes?”

  “It’s Darcy.”

  The gate buzzed, and they walked through. The sound of the lock clicking into place behind them was reassuring. Comforting.

  She was a big fan of locks.

  Kelly opened the door as they approached. “Hi,” she said to Theresa, holding out her hands. “I’m Kelly. Welcome.”

  Darcy sat in Patrick’s car for a few minutes, staring at the closed door. Theresa had gathered the courage she needed to take the next step. To free herself of her past.

  Did she have as much courage as Theresa? Could she take the next step, too? Free herself from the memories that wrapped around her like chains?

  The past two nights, when Patrick had followed her home and checked her apartment, he’d wanted to stay. She’d wanted him to, as well. But she hadn’t been able to force the words out of her mouth.

  Maybe it was time to find that courage. To release herself from the past and become the strong woman she wanted to be.

  Maybe it was time to ask Patrick to stay.

  * * *

  AS DARCY PULLED into Mama’s parking lot, a cab was idling at the front door. She kept her head down as she walked past it, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the driver talking on his cell. Suddenly, he tossed the phone onto the seat next to him, threw his arms in the air and pulled away, tires screeching.

  Darcy hurried in. Patrick was standing at the podium, replacing his cell in his pocket. She nodded to him, saw his shoulders relax.

  “Everything okay?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yeah. We’re good.” She edged toward the far side of the podium and scanned her tables. “You brought out my orders. Thanks.”

  “Not a problem.”

  She curled her hand around his keys and slid them gently into his pocket. The fabric of his pants made a warm rasp against the back of her hand. The material was softer than she’d expected. No wonder it hugged his butt like a glove.

  As she slid her hand into his pocket and released the keys, his muscles tensed beneath her fingers. He stilled, and his gaze locked on her face. His eyes darkened.

  She couldn’t turn away. She’d started to lean toward him when the outside door opened, sending in a whoosh of cold air.

  Her face flaming, she snatched her hand away. Stupid. Really stupid.

  By the time she reached her cluster of tables, the heat was fading and she was able to smile. “How are you doing?” she asked a couple who’d finished their dessert. Their heads were close together, and they were holding hands. “Can I get you anything else?”

  The man looked up at her. “Just the check, please,” he said as he smiled at his date.

  “I’ll get it right away.”

  As she finished her shift, she thought about Theresa. Wondered how she was doing. Hoped she felt safe.

  She glanced at her watch. Two more tables were getting ready to pay their bills. Once they left, she could start her prep for the next day.

  The sooner she finished the sooner she could go home.

  Would she be able to ask Patrick to stay tonight? Could she take what she wanted?

  Her foot jiggling, she started her chores while she waited for her customers to study their checks and pull out their wallets.

  “You’re planning on going back to the shelter, aren’t you?” Patrick murmured, touching the back of her hand as he appeared beside her.

  Nerves jumped and her abdomen tightened at his quick caress. “Not tonight.” She kept her head down and concentrated on picking up one spoon, two forks, one knife. Tried not to think about Theresa, alone at the shelter. “I don’t want to take a chance on being followed.”

  His hand covered hers. “That’s smart.” He squeezed. “Hard, though.”

  “Yeah.” Tears prickled her eyes, and she blinked them away. Theresa was safe. She had to remember that.

  “You sticking around for wine?”

  “God, no.” It was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Maybe you should. After a night like tonight? The hockey crowd, the guy taken out in handcuffs, the woman who had to take a cab home? Everyone wants to talk about it. You disappear, it might look odd.”

  He was standing so close. All she had to do was move a few inches and they’d be touching. She wanted to lean into him. Wanted to soak up some of his strength. Instead, she straightened. “You’re right. I’ll stay.”

  “Good,” he said quietly. “I’ll be here, too. We’ll get through this together.”

  * * *

  PATRICK RETREATED to the podium, but he kept an eye on Darcy. She’d been shaky. Upset.

 
Taking Theresa to the shelter must have cut close to the bone for her. Brought back a lot of memories.

  A few minutes later, he watched her head into the kitchen. She paused as she pushed open the door and caught his eye. Her expression softened. She smiled at him, then let the door close behind her.

  One smile. A simple curving of a mouth, and he felt as if he’d taken a shot to his chest. He pressed a hand to his sternum, remembering how her mouth had felt against his two days ago.

  She’d been off last night, and he’d missed her like hell.

  After work on Wednesday, he’d followed her home and checked her apartment, but she hadn’t asked him to stay. She’d acted like she wanted to, but hadn’t been able to work up the nerve.

  He wasn’t going to push her. Instead, he’d gone back to Nathan’s and pored over the documents they’d retrieved. He had to figure out what was going on.

  Especially now. With Chuck arrested and Theresa disappearing, things were going to come to a head. He’d done what he had to do—he’d kept Theresa safe. But a shit storm was about to hit Nathan. And by definition, the rest of his siblings.

  He’d set it off, and it was his responsibility to deal with it.

  First step was getting everyone out of the restaurant tonight.

  He walked through the room, saying good-night to the lingering customers. Thanking them for dining at Mama’s.

  When he was in the far corner, the slam of the front door told him they had another customer. Keeping his smile firmly in place, he headed toward the man standing at the podium.

  The guy was tall, with thinning red hair. He’d probably been muscular and fit when he was younger, but now his bulk was running to fat. He scanned the room, his mouth a thin line.

  “Can I help you?” Patrick asked.

  “Where’s Devereux?”

  “I’m Patrick Devereux.”

  “Nathan’s brother?” The guy finally focused on Patrick’s face.

  “One of them.”

  “I’m Eddie O’Fallon.” He stuck out one beefy hand. When Patrick shook, O’Fallon squeezed hard. Patrick smiled, held on and squeezed back, equally hard. O’Fallon let go first. “My wife and one of my associates were in here earlier. They didn’t come home.”