by JoAnn Ross
“All I’m interested in is that she’ll be a damn fine deputy chief.”
“You do realize, that while talking to that douche with the Porsche, and those cops, that you referred to this little burg in the remote corner of the country as your town.”
“Yeah. I heard that, too.” Which had been a surprise. Aiden had taken this job to humor his father, get his mother to stop cooking all that damn food and worrying about him, and for something to fill his days for the next few months while he decided what he was going to do with the next stage of his life.
Sometime, when he hadn’t been paying attention, apparently being chief of police of his old hometown had become the next stage.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTER A LIGHT breakfast of Greek yogurt and blueberries, Jolene drove Gloria to Honeymoon Harbor General Hospital. Having downloaded a map of the hospital the night before, she felt as prepared as she could be. What she hadn’t been prepared for was Aiden, who arrived at the double glass doors the same time they had.
“Small world,” he said. “Hello, Mrs. Wells.”
“Your mother’s a close friend, Aiden. You’ve certainly called me by my first name whenever I’ve cut your hair.”
“Sorry. I’m here in my official capacity. So, it’s automatic.” He glanced over at Jolene. “Good to see you again.”
Gloria’s eyes narrowed as they went back and forth between the two. “I hadn’t realized you two had run into each other so soon.”
“Chief Mannion pulled me over for speeding when I first arrived.”
“Oh, dear.”
“But I didn’t give her a ticket since she hadn’t known the limit had been changed.”
“Well, that was very nice of you. I hope what brings you here today isn’t due to family trouble.”
“No. Like I said, it’s official business.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I also hope it’s not very serious.”
“That makes two of us.” Although he was polite, Jolene noticed him taking a surreptitious glance at his watch.
“Well, we’d better get going,” she said. “Mom’s just here for a routine test. I came along to keep her company.”
“That’s good.” Another glance at his watch, this time revealing a tinge of impatience. Which was just as well, since Jolene wasn’t in any mood to be chatty. Especially with Aiden Mannion.
“It’s nothing.” Gloria waved a hand that had been tightly clenched with her other all the way to the hospital. “Just routine.” She smiled. “A pesky woman’s thing.”
“Okay, then. I’d better get back to work.” He gave Jolene what appeared to be an almost sympathetic look. “Good luck.”
Then his expression hardened in a way she’d only ever seen from him once before as he headed toward the ER on a long, determined stride nothing like the reckless bad boy swagger that had drawn such long sighs from nearly every girl in high school. He’d definitely changed over the years he’d been away. Just as she had.
But, dammit, he still strummed chords she didn’t want strummed. And that powerful tug of attraction was something she didn’t want. It could only lead to something even more dangerous.
Following the downloaded map and the signs on the walls, they went through another door into the radiology department, where the receptionist took Gloria’s information, then directed her to a waiting room in the Breast Cancer Center.
“I did some reading about the hospital last night,” Jolene told her mother, who was once again clenching her hands together so tightly her knuckles whitened. “It’s public and part of a large state coalition. It’s rated higher than some of the bigger named ones.”
“That’s good to know,” her mother said absently as she watched the Pioneer Woman slicing up an orange butternut squash for a Thanksgiving side dish on the flat-screen TV attached to the wall.
“It’s not only a critical care hospital, it has top-rated surgical services. And an oncology clinic.”
“Which I won’t be needing because I don’t have cancer.”
Pioneer Woman had begun peeling the outer layer off a mountain of brussels sprouts. “I wasn’t suggesting you did. It was just one of the clinics highlighted on the website. It also has an orthopedics unit, a wellness program and has been diagnosed baby friendly by the World Health Organization.”
“I don’t plan on having any more babies, either,” Gloria said, her eyes glued to the TV as if the most important thing in her world was this dish. Which looked pretty good.
“I was just saying.”
Since she could tell she wasn’t going to get anywhere, Jolene gave up trying to reassure her mother as they both watched Pioneer Woman put the squash and sprouts on a baking sheet with sliced red onions, sprinkle with chili powder, salt and pepper, then drizzle it all with olive oil before sticking it in the oven.
The TV personality chef had moved on to mashed potatoes two ways when her mother was called into a back room.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Jolene asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Gloria said, color returning to her cheeks as she stood up and squared her shoulders as Jolene had witnessed her doing so many times in her life. Some might view Gloria Wells as a victim, both of circumstances and an unreliable, criminal husband who’d made her a widow thanks to his unwise choices.
Jolene knew that inside, her mother was Wonder Woman. If the tests did find bad cells, her mother would kick cancer’s butt. As she watched the TV cook stirring enough cream cheese and butter into the potatoes to clog all her guests’ arteries before they even they got to dessert, Jolene said a silent prayer that she and her mom would have something to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Then she texted Shelby to update her on the situation and received three high fives and five multicolor hearts in return. There were times Jolene idly wondered what her best friend had done before the invention of emojis.
* * *
ALTHOUGH THERE WERE still four more days before Thanksgiving, Honeymoon Harbor General Hospital was getting a head start on Christmas decorating by putting up the artificial tree in the lobby. For as long as Aiden could remember, the ornaments were all cards and pictures made by children who’d been former patients over the year. They were all sent home with craft kits, then their parents would either mail or, more likely, drop them off at the reception desk, where they’d be added to the collection.
Aiden remembered Brianna helping his then seven-year-old brother Burke make a construction paper red-nose reindeer after he’d broken his arm jumping off the barn roof in an attempt to fly. After Christmas, like all the ornaments, the reindeer had been returned to his family to use in future years on their own tree. Despite the grim task he was facing, as Aiden exchanged a wave with the woman behind the reception desk, he idly wondered if his parents still had Burke’s reindeer.
Dr. Lancaster was waiting for Aiden as he reached the ER.
“What’s the story and where is she?”
“Amanda Barrow is in treatment room four. She has a periorbital hematoma that’s going to turn into a killer of a black eye, a probable concussion, since the neighbor, who’d been raking leaves and called 911, said that she was unconscious for at least a minute. Maybe longer. He wasn’t close enough to tell when it first occurred.”
Aiden cursed under his breath.
“Her shoulder was wrenched out of the socket,” Dr. Lancaster continued, “but Dr. Honeycutt, the ER attending, injected Ketorolac for pain and maneuvered it back into place. She has another hematoma the size of my spread hand on her hip that undoubtedly occurred when she hit the concrete driveway. And probably a cracked rib, but we won’t know for sure until we get an X-ray.
“Because the patient was insisting on going home, Dr. Honeycutt called me knowing that I’m her family doctor, hoping I’d be able to talk her into staying. Unfortunately, I got nowhere. Hopefully you’ll be able t
o get her to see the light.” She paused. “According to the neighbor, her husband kicked her in the ribs before driving away. Apparently she managed to roll out of the way before he ran over her.”
Aiden ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve already talked with her about this. It’s going to be a lot more difficult for her to cover up for the guy now that we have a witness. I’ll have someone take the neighbor’s statement right away.”
“Good.” She gave him the name and Amanda’s address, adding that she didn’t know which house was the neighbor’s. “But the EMT said it was the brown rancher with white trim. Ms. Barrow’s house is the blue split-level with white shutters. The witness, a Mr. Cooper, is waiting for someone to come by. Meanwhile, Dr. Honeycutt assigned a nurse to stand guard outside the door in case she tries to leave before you got here, or in the unlikely event her husband has the balls to show up.”
Despite the circumstances, her lips curved in a half smile. “In a way I wouldn’t mind if he did. Since the nurse just happened to have played fullback for UW and it would be a shame if anything happened to the husband while trying to take her out of here.”
“You’re not alone in that thought.”
After trading hellos with the nurse, who looked like he could hold his own with Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Aiden tapped on the door.
“Who is it?” a shaky voice asked.
“Chief Mannion.” Although he’d told her to call him Aiden, he needed her to understand the seriousness of this official police visit. He opened the door and went in.
Despite being in what had to be a great deal of pain, Amanda had ditched her hospital gown and dressed again in her jeans and a blue T-shirt sporting a red wheelbarrow full of flowers that read I’ll be in my office. Apparently she still fully intended to go home.
“Hello, Chief Mannion.” She didn’t look surprised, which told him what he’d already figured out the first time they’d talked. This wasn’t her first rodeo.
“Hello, Ms. Barrow,” he responded. “Would you rather I call you Ms. Barrow, or Amanda?”
“It’s still Amanda. And, as you probably already know, Barrow is my maiden name. Since my business was already established when I got married, I kept it for name recognition.” Her hands were clasped tightly together, and beneath what was obviously a struggle for composure, she appeared embarrassed, fearful and a host of other emotions Aiden had witnessed too many times before during his patrol days.
“Dr. Lancaster told me you’d like to go home.”
“I want to leave,” she qualified. “After that...” She shrugged, and he could tell, that despite the local painkiller, the movement hurt her shoulder. “I haven’t decided.”
“You do know you’re not safe at home right now,” he said gently.
A single tear overflowed her eyes and trailed down her cheek. “I know, but—”
“No buts this time, Amanda. I read the file from the Palo Alto police department. How many other cities would have similar reports?”
Her dark lashes glistened with moisture. She shook her head, and flinched, giving credence to Laurenne Lancaster’s suspicion of a concussion. “Does it really matter?”
“Not at the moment.” It might when it came time for prosecution, if whatever judge pulled the trial would allow past incidences, but this wasn’t the time to push too hard. “I suspect it’s been a few.”
“He can’t help it,” she said. “Eric’s not well.”
And didn’t that have Aiden hoping Eric hadn’t gotten his hands on a gun?
He didn’t ask why she’d stayed. He’d learned that reasons were complex and individual to each circumstance. To each battered spouse. He’d also learned, from a seminar he’d attended given by the police psychologist along with women who’d escaped their situations and had gone on to live happy, productive lives, that asking that question implied guilt and could inadvertently suggest that the wife, partner or girlfriend had somehow encouraged the violence.
“How not well?” he asked.
“He’s bipolar. In the beginning, when he was taking his meds regularly, everything was fine. He was sweet and funny, in a nerdy kind of way. In fact, it wasn’t until after we married that he even told me about having the disease. I hadn’t suspected a thing.
“We met in California when he was working at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory. I was installing landscaping outside a restaurant where he’d go for lunch. His job was so top secret, we’d dated a month before he even admitted he worked there. To be honest, I had to Google it, where I learned that it’s a premier research and development institution whose principal responsibility is ensuring the safety, security and reliability of the nation’s nuclear weapons.” She put air quotes around the description.
“I’ve heard of it.” Aiden also wondered how a bipolar guy who obviously had a trigger temper had landed a job dealing with nuclear weapons.
“Then, shortly before our first anniversary, he was working on a project and kept complaining that he was missing a vital point in the equation. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was when he’d decided that the very same medicine that was keeping his mind—and our marriage—stable, was also taking away the mental edge that had always made him brilliant.
“He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. For a while I thought maybe he might be on drugs. Or, since he’d also started going to the gym in the mornings after only three or four hours sleep, maybe anabolic steroids. I’d come downstairs in the morning and find formulas written all over our dining room walls.”
“He’d gone off his meds.”
“Yes. That was when he started becoming impatient with me, and all the rest of us with our ‘moronically dull minds.’ It started with sarcasm. Then temper.” She paused. “Then one day, when I didn’t have dinner ready when he got home, he slapped me. I’d gotten hung up at the nursery waiting for a delivery of azaleas.” She lifted a hand to her bruised cheek as if remembering that previous pain.
“I was stunned. And didn’t know what to do. But he immediately apologized and promised me he’d never, ever hurt me again. That the pressure at work was too much, that it was breaking him. He had quit that day.”
She drew in a breath, flinched from the pain in her ribs. “I found out later he’d actually been fired. But he went back on his meds and I supported us for a time until he found another job in El Segundo working as a propulsion engineer for the NRO. The National Reconnaissance Office. Again, I had no idea what he was doing, but it had something to do with rockets to send spy satellites into space.”
“Your husband is an actual rocket scientist?”
“A brilliant one,” she said. “I’ve always felt inferior, which I suppose is partly how I landed here.” She waved a limp hand around the room. “He’s also into controlling everyone around him, who would be me, which is laughable when you think about it, because he can’t even control himself.” She laughed, but the ragged sound held no humor.
“Anyway, the cycle’s been going around and around for eight years with the time between episodes getting shorter. Finally, when we were in Palo Alto, I’d decided to file for divorce. But then he came home and said he wanted to move here, because he decided that he was being held back by working in those rigidly controlled labs where everyone behaved like robots programmed not to ever think outside the box.
“He thought that living in a small town, in such a beautiful place, would calm his mind and give him the opportunity to achieve what he was meant to do. He literally got down on his knees, promised to stay on his meds, even go to counseling, and begged me to give him one more chance.”
“Which you gave him.” Aiden had heard that story too many times.
“He showed me Honeymoon Harbor’s website and it looked like a wonderful place for both of us. And for a while it was. I’m always closed on Mondays, so we’d spent the day hiking, taking sailing and canoeing lesson
s, and even went over to the coast for a long weekend. He was unusually quiet during that trip, but when I asked if anything was wrong, he said he was just thinking about his work.
“Then this past summer, he announced that he’d decided to set up his own research company.”
“To send satellites into space?”
Aiden didn’t know anything about rocket propulsion or satellites or nuclear weapons, but with all the scientists around the world engaged in a war to be the biggest, best and first, he had trouble imagining anyone creating a unique, never-been-tried system in the dining room of a 1930s bungalow on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula.
“No. To send people into space. His intention is to have the first colony established on Mars by 2025. He’s now decided he can only plan that off the grid in Alaska. That was why he got furious at me this morning. I love it here, I have employees depending on me, and who fires people at Christmas? So I refused to go with him this time.”
“Wise call.” Aiden didn’t believe she’d stay alive that long if she allowed him to isolate her somewhere in the wilds of Alaska. “You do realize you have to get out of that cycle,” he said. “Because it’s only going to escalate.”
“I know. But I—”
“We can help you,” he said quietly. But firmly. He looked at his watch. “We only have a four-hour arrest window in Washington State from the time of the abuse, and the clock is ticking, so we’ll need to do that now.” Whether or not she agreed, but she’d already given up so much power in her marriage, he didn’t want to tell her that she had no choice in this situation.
“All right.” Her eyes were still glazed from pain and, he thought, regret for all that had gone wrong in a marriage she’d undoubtedly entered with such high hopes.
“We’ll pick him up, then, because you say he’s brilliant—”
“He is.”
“Our jail is pretty much like what Otis used to sleep off benders in Mayberry, so I’ll have the county sheriff’s department take over from there. They have the facilities to keep him incarcerated until the trial. And he’ll have a psych evaluation, and I expect the doctor assigned to his case will get him back on meds.”