Leave Welcome Home? After she’d become so comfortable here? “He keeps winning, doesn’t he?”
“No, Mary Beth. He hasn’t won. He won’t win.”
As empathetic as Heather was, she still didn’t get it. “First, he forced me out of my house. Now he’s forcing me out of my new home. He’s still in control. And how can that be?” She couldn’t hold back the tears. Didn’t even try. “It’s because he’s got the connections,” she sobbed. “Don’t you see? A civilian can’t do it. But a cop can.”
She raised her head and stared at her counselor. “Don’t marry him, Heather. That cop you’re seeing. Don’t do it.”
“What? How did—”
“In a place like this, there are no secrets.” Heather seemed so young, so innocent.
“Dave isn’t like your husband.”
“He will be. Even Hank was nice in the beginning. I actually—God help me—fell in love with him.”
Heather started to get up from the couch. “Wait a minute,” said Mary Beth. “What do you think I should do?”
“The choice is truly yours, Mary Beth. We’re perfectly happy to have you stay. But if you don’t feel safe here anymore, then we’d be perfectly happy to take you to Dallas. Unless he actually quits his job, or takes a leave of absence, he won’t be able to nose around there like he’s doing here.”
“He’s only got the nerve to do it because he’s a cop,” she whispered.
“That’s not true. You’ve heard the others’ stories. These guys are all about control, regardless of their careers.”
But none of the others made the rounds of the domestic violence shelters. She scanned the familiar room. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“That’s okay,” said Heather, patting her arm. “Take some time and think about it.”
“You do the same. Before it’s too late.”
IT WAS ALREADY TOO LATE. Heather thought about Dave constantly. Her feelings for him were as strong as they could be. She reminded herself of Kathy some months ago. Walking around in a daze with Mark on her mind—and in almost every sentence she spoke.
But as deep as her feelings went now, she wasn’t ready for commitment. Not unless Dave changed careers.
She’d left Mary Beth a few hours ago, and now she was ready to cruise the streets. Tiffany wasn’t available that night, but if Dave’s dad was outside ready to follow her, she’d go anyway. In fact, the only reason she didn’t venture out alone was because she’d promised she wouldn’t. That would have to be renegotiated.
She got the box of sandwiches and supplies from the kitchen and loaded the vehicle. When she drove out, Dave’s mom and dad were waiting at the curb, Anne standing beside the car. She wore jeans, sneakers and an orange jersey. Clothes that a kid would wear. Heather waved and Anne walked over, opened the passenger door and got in.
“What are you doing?” asked Heather.
“I’m your partner tonight. Frankly, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SINCE WHEN HAD Anne McCoy wanted to ride the van? What was this all about? Kathy’s words came back to her about Anne wanting a job that would make a difference. Oh, boy.
“Mrs. McCoy, I don’t blame you for being bored back there.” Heather pointed to Patrick’s car, but Anne’s raised eyebrows made Heather realize how that had sounded. She didn’t mean Anne would be bored with Patrick, just with riding around two or three times a week. She apologized.
Anne chuckled and patted Heather’s leg. “Oh, I know what you meant. Believe me, Patrick and I are definitely not bored.”
Heather wasn’t going to touch that, and didn’t have to as her cell phone rang. She reached for it in the center console. “It’s Dave.”
Anne smiled, nodded.
“Hey,” said Heather into the phone. “Your mom’s sitting up here with me.”
“Which means you’re short staffed. But that’s fine as long as Dad’s following you.”
“McCoy, we have to renegotiate this deal now that I have a reliable vehicle.”
“And that would be negative.”
“If that’s cop talk, I don’t like it.”
“You just like to get your own way.”
She glanced at Dave’s mother. Anne’s expression was carefully bland. “I need to get going—”
“Hang on a sec. I should have touched base with you last night when I found out my schedule’s changed. I’m on my own again—on the beat. Eve’s been pulled off. She’s having a little trouble with the pregnancy.”
“Oh, dear. I’m sorry to hear that. And that explains why I didn’t see you yesterday when Landers came around Girlfriends after work.” She laughed softly. “You’ve always managed to show up at the right time in the past.”
“Landers? You should have called me. Heather, don’t trust him if he shows up again. Not for a second. Speed dial my cell. Call 911. Do not find yourself alone with him.”
She started to make soothing noises, but he cut her off. “Staying out of trouble in the first place might help. You could keep a whole division busy all by yourself.”
The last remarks weren’t fair. If he weren’t voicing such concern for her, she would have disconnected the call. “I’ve handled Landers twice. I can do it again. Nobody can watch me 24/7. So relax. I’ve got work to do. Goodbye.”
She kept her eyes forward and started the van.
“It’s beginning already.” Anne sighed. “I knew it.”
“Hmm.”
“I love my son dearly. But if he doesn’t change careers…” Anne tsked and muttered, “Oh, dear. I see a lot of wasted, empty years ahead.”
“Hmm.”
“A lot of heartache.”
“And I see three kids near the park entrance, Mrs. McCoy.”
“But you two really make such a good couple….”
Heather pulled up to the curb. She cut the engine. The kids were young. Really young. Maybe twelve or thirteen.
“Hey, guys. I’m Heather.”
Two girls and a boy. They eyed her with suspicion.
“Hungry?”
Of course they were. She turned toward Anne. “Could you get the box of…?”
She didn’t have to finish the question. Anne came toward her with sandwiches, drinks and blankets. “I thought they could use these, too. The evenings are getting cool.”
The woman’s logic was fine, but her blinking eyelids told their own story. Anne’s heart had taken over. She’d have to learn to control her emotions and set personal boundaries to be effective. Establishing those boundaries always proved to be the hardest thing a caseworker had to learn.
“So’s how’s park living?” asked Heather as the kids scoffed their food.
“It’s okay,” said the boy.
“We made, like, a little apartment under one of the giant turtles they have,” said a girl, pointing to a round cement structure. The other two smiled and nodded. “That’s our place. It’s really cool.”
So they thought all their problems were solved. “Anybody hurting?” asked Heather. “Sick? Need any supplies?”
She pulled out her mobile. “I’m glad you’ve got a place, but here’s what I do every time we visit.” She went into her “call home” and Youth Center speech.
No takers. Maybe next time. At which point she’d try to have a private talk with each of them. “I’ll be back Monday night,” she said. “Take care of yourselves.” She established eye contact with each of them. “And if you need help, ask somebody—anybody—to call me or the Youth Shelter. They’ll take you in day or night.” She gave each youngster a business card.
She motioned to Anne, and they returned to the vehicle.
“I hate leaving them out there,” said Anne.
“I know. But they’re not ready to come in yet.”
Anne seemed lost in thought and didn’t reply immediately. “One African-American, one Hispanic, one white. A microcosm of the city.”
“That’s com
mon with young runaways. They don’t have to prove themselves to a gang. Their issues don’t involve turf wars. They’re simply—if you can use that word—running away from a bad home.”
“Or what they think is a bad home.”
Heather had to agree. Kids that ran away overnight to a friend’s house were included in the researchers’ statistics, too. But these kids had gone further than that.
She glanced into her rearview mirror. Patrick kept a steady pace. Funny, she’d almost forgotten he was there. Come to think of it, she’d bet money the kids didn’t notice him, either.
“Your husband is really good,” said Heather.
“Ex. You mean ex-husband.”
Heather grinned. “It’s kinda hard to remember that.”
“Oh, hush,” said Anne, making a production of searching her pocketbook for a pen and paper. “I have an idea. Let’s buy some prepaid phone cards to give out. Then they won’t have to ask a stranger for help.”
“I’ll put it on the wish list,” said Heather. “It’s a great thought.”
She pulled onto the service road and cruised the right lane. Her skin began to tingle as she approached the run-down strip mall where the incident had happened. Some incident. Knives and her. And what seemed like the whole police department. Tonight, she counted about six or seven youths in the parking lot.
For a moment, she got lost in déjà vu. Her heart raced, she gripped the wheel. Only perps were known to go back to the scene of the crime. Victims rarely wanted to.
“What’s wrong, Heather?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” She took a deep breath, yanked the wheel and parked in her old spot. Patrick drove past the entrance. Probably didn’t want to appear too obvious, but Heather gulped as he disappeared down the road.
Heather opened her door, walked around the front of the van and stopped dead. “Brenda! Oh, my God. What happened to you?”
Tears began streaming from the girl’s eyes. One of her cheeks was so swollen, the eye above was almost closed. Her bruises showed black upon her brown skin. Heather ran to her, arms extended, and held her.
“Oh, sweetie. Who did this?”
But the teen was crying too hard for Heather to understand her.
“Let’s see if we can help her,” said Anne in a soothing voice. She held a plastic bag of ice and some paper towels. “I took the cubes from the cooler.”
“Thanks.” Heather placed the ice pack carefully on Brenda’s cheek. The girl barely flinched.
“You need a little barrier,” said Anne, as she inserted the paper towels between the ice pack and Brenda’s skin. “We don’t want ice burn.”
“Thanks again.”
“So what happened, Brenda?” asked Heather once more ignoring the audience.
“I—I went home…” came her garbled reply. “But…but…”
Heather heard Anne gasp. “I’m so sorry, Brenda. Sometimes home is just not the best place to be. Sometimes it can even be the worst place.”
“Yeah, I knew that…but I was hoping…and I was tired.”
Heather could see the change in her. She had once been a spirited and yes, defiant, child. Now, she hit bottom. She needed to understand that bottom didn’t mean the end.
“There are people in this world who want to help you, Brenda,” said Heather. “But you have to give them a chance.”
“Like you?”
“That’s right. And like Julie at the Youth Center.”
Brenda nodded and winced. “Miss Julie was all right.”
An understatement. “Do you want to go to the center again? It’s your decision.”
Heather reached for her cell phone and offered it to Brenda. Brenda’s fingers wrapped around it and she punched in the number to the Youth Center. The kid had learned it by heart, but Heather wasn’t surprised. A sharp memory served as a survival skill.
Silence seemed to hang in the air as Brenda, in a shaking voice, asked to speak to Julie.
When a car pulled into the lot and drove slowly past them to the main parking area, Heather wasn’t surprised to seee Patrick behind the wheel. He and his nondescript car blended into the environment perfectly. Goodness, tonight was a big success. So far, Heather had no complaints.
An hour later, Heather and Anne were on their way to Welcome Home. Julie had picked up Brenda and a second girl. The other youngsters had melted away before Julie’s arrival but knew when the van would come around again. Anne had been quiet on the ride back so far.
“Was this a typical night for you?” she asked.
Heather thought for a moment. “In some ways, it was better.”
“Because of Brenda?”
“Yes. It’s hard to measure long-term success, but now I have some hope for her. Real hope.”
“I just wanted to cuddle her and take her home with me.”
“I know,” Heather said.
“Am I that obvious?”
Heather grinned. “You’ve got nothing to hide. Being a good mom is a special gift, and tonight you gave the kids a dose of Anne McCoy mothering. They need that just like they need a plan and goals and reassurance to go along with a secure home.”
Heather parked the van in the Welcome Home lot, and she and Anne walked to the front of the building. Patrick strode toward them.
“You’re just in time, Pat,” Anne said. “And by the way, you did a great tailing job tonight. I hardly remembered you were there.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” said the retired cop, but he winked at Heather.
Heather giggled. “Oh, it is,” she said. “Even I forgot you were there except when you drove past the strip mall.”
“Were you concerned?”
Heather looked away for a moment. “For a second, yeah. But only for a second.” And then she had been fine—almost like her old self. “Anne did a great job tonight, too.” Heather covered a yawn. “For a rookie.”
“But I don’t want to stay a rookie,” said Anne in a voice that brooked no question. “Heather, what do I have to do to start a second career in your field?”
“What?” interrupted Patrick, his voice rising with surprise. “I’m retired, and you’re going to start over?”
Anne spun in a circle, arms out to the night sky. “You bet I am. I’m only fifty years old, Patrick. I have time for a second act!”
She stopped in front of the man, her face tilted up toward his. “Are you with me on this?” She raised her index finger. “Before you answer—I warn you—”
“I don’t need any warnings, woman. If you’re happy and excited, I might even join you for an encore.” He put his hands around her waist and twirled her in the air as though she weighed nothing.
Heather disappeared before they could notice her. And for the first time since they’d left Houston, images of George and Jolene filtered through her mind. She hoped they were doing well.
MARK’S CAR WAS PARKED in the street when Heather finally got home. She was glad of the company to help her wind down.
But Kathy and Mark didn’t look very happy when Heather stepped into the kitchen. “We’re so glad you’re home.”
“So am I. What’s up?”
Kathy glanced at her fiancé, then at Heather. “Pour yourself a cup of coffee first. Have some Mississippi Mud Pie.”
Her evening had been full enough. She was more than willing to postpone whatever they wanted to share. “Mississippi Mud Pie. My favorite! Forget the coffee. This cake requires a side of milk.” Heather opened the fridge and poured a glass, then gestured at the dessert. “What’s the occasion?”
“My mom,” said Mark, shrugging. He started to pace.
“Your mom? That’s the explanation?”
“She’s trying to be nice.” Kathy raised a brow at Heather. “If she’s any nicer, I won’t fit into my wedding dress. But this cake was for you.”
Mark spoke up. “She says it’s an apology.”
“I don’t need an apology.”
Kathy took the carafe and re
filled Mark’s cup. “Believe me, I’ve received a mountain of apologies since the night at the country club. It’s enough.”
Heather dug into the cake.
She looked up. “Okay. Spill it. What’s really going on?”
“Hank Landers called here tonight,” replied Kathy.
Heather forgot to chew.
“He strongly suggested that I keep you in line. Guess he found out that I was the executive director and that you actually work for me.” Kathy shrugged. “Like it matters.”
“Get to the point, honey.” Mark jumped impatiently into the conversation. “He’s on a rampage looking for his wife and kids. I don’t like this. Not at all. I’ve never heard of personal contact between the abuser and the shelters. But what the hell do I know about social work anyway?”
Things were coming at her too fast. “This is extremely unusual, so start from the beginning,” said Heather. “What else did he say?”
“He wanted me to confirm that his wife was in El Paso,” said Kathy.
“Which you didn’t.”
“Of course not. I told him I knew nothing at all about his wife and hung up.”
“Then he called again,” Mark said.
“At which time I repeated myself and said that even if I did know his wife, I wouldn’t tell him a thing. And please don’t call back.”
“And that’s when the man blew up,” said Mark, “and I got on the phone. That’s when he slammed the receiver. But at least there haven’t been any more calls… Pack some clothes, Heather. You and Kathy are coming to my place tonight.”
He sounded just like Dave. She swallowed her protest. She even managed a tiny smile. “Okay. But first we’re stopping at the police station. I’m filing a restraining order against John Henry Landers.”
He nodded. “I like that idea.”
“I also want to call Dave,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Really?” said Kathy. “Think he’d care?”
“I think he’d go bonkers if I didn’t.”
She punched his cell number, but got no answer. That meant he’d probably responded to a call from his dispatcher and was out doing his job.
A Man of Honor (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 16