by Mary Burton
Marilyn sniffed. ‘Who did you have this problem with? A brother or a sister?’
Lindsay usually was careful not to reveal too much about herself. It was important to keep barriers between her and her clients. But today her guard was down. Seeing Zack yesterday had brought a lot to the surface. ‘My husband. I was devastated when I realized he was an alcoholic, like my father had been.’
Marilyn stared at her through watery eyes. ‘What did you do?’
‘I begged him to stop drinking. And when he refused, I kicked him out of our house.’
Howard stiffened. ‘That sounds drastic.’
‘It was. But he is a tough, arrogant man and I wanted to get his attention. I wanted him to understand he had to clean up.’
‘Did he?’ Howard asked.
Her hope had been to save her marriage, not destroy it. ‘Yes. In the end, he got sober. But it was a very long haul.’
Marilyn swiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Did he ever thank you? Did he ever understand what you really did for him?’
Sadness tightened Lindsay’s chest as she remembered the morning after he’d left. She’d been guilt ridden after their fight, so she’d called his cell early the next morning to talk. A woman had answered. He’s in the shower right now. Can I have him call you?
That’s when she’d realized Zack had slept with another woman and their marriage was truly over.
Lindsay swallowed the emotions in her throat. ‘He’s living a happy, productive, and clean life now. That’s all I really wanted for him.’
‘So it was worth it,’ Howard said.
Lindsay tried to smile. She still loved Zack, but understood it was over for them. ‘Yes.’
Howard and Marilyn thanked her, made promises to consider what she’d said, and left.
Lindsay had spent a long time talking to the couple, and she felt completely drained. Normally, she worked through lunch, but today, she had to escape the building and get fresh air.
She dug in her jeans pocket and counted out the money she’d scrounged this morning from the coin jar on her washer. It was only six dollars and twenty-five cents. Not a fortune, but until she got her purse back, it was enough to buy her lunch.
She pushed through the security doors separating the counselors’ offices from the lobby, then swung by the receptionist desk. ‘Back in a half hour. Need anything, Madge?’
The forty-something woman peered over reading glasses. ‘A man who cooks.’
Lindsay laughed as she signed out. ‘I’ll see what I can do. Any particular type of cook you’re looking for?’
‘No, baby. Just as long as his food is tasty and hot, I’m good. It doesn’t take much to make Madge happy.’
As the phone rang, Madge handed Lindsay a stack of pink telephone messages before picking up the line.
Lindsay shuffled through the messages. Dana had called again. Ruby called once. And Zack called at 11:32.
Out of habit she reached for her cell in her purse. But she had no purse and no cell. Both were in her office. She felt naked without them. ‘Damn.’
She considered returning to the conference room to return the calls, but her stomach grumbled. Eat first, and then tackle the calls, she decided.
Outside, midday heat warmed her skin, which had been chilled by the hours in the air-conditioning. For a moment, she just stood and drank in the warmth. She opened her eyes and stared into the cloudless sky before returning her gaze to the pink message from Zack. The ‘Please Call’ box was checked. A lightning quick image of Zack’s piercing, unreadable gray eyes flashed across her mind. Her stomach clenched and her heart quickened. She wondered if his lips still tasted the same.
Not good. She crumpled her messages and shoved them in her pocket.
She started across the parking lot. A quarter mile down the road there was a fast-food joint where she could grab a burger. Not her first choice but it would fit the bill.
Halfway across the parking lot she heard, ‘Lindsay O’Neil!’
The gruff voice had her turning to find a tall man wearing faded jeans and a Redskins T-shirt. He weighed about 200 pounds and was losing his fine blond hair to age. He quickly closed the dozen feet separating them.
‘Yes?’ Lindsay said. The sun shone in her eyes, forcing her to squint.
The man’s jaw tightened, released. ‘My name is Burt Saunders.’ He dug calloused fingers into his jeans pocket and tossed her rumpled business card back at her. It fluttered to the ground and landed near her feet.
Saunders. Gail Saunders. This man was married to the woman she’d seen yesterday at Mercy Hospital. So this was the creep who had beaten the hell out of his wife. Damn, he must outweigh his wife by a hundred pounds.
Bloodshot eyes glared at her as he advanced a step. ‘Where is my wife?’
She glanced back toward the building and wondered if anyone on the other side of the tinted glass could see her. Wasn’t there supposed to be a security guard by the door? ‘I don’t know.’
He swayed as if he’d been drinking. And he reeked of beer and vodka. ‘She moved out last night. All she left me was a goddamned note that said good-bye and not to come looking for her.’
Good for her! Lindsay would gladly have gloated over the victory but she wasn’t a fool. Burt Saunders was a big man, he was drunk, and he was real pissed. ‘I don’t know anything about your wife’s whereabouts, Mr Saunders.’
‘You know where she is. She had your card.’
She took a step back. ‘I don’t know anything.’
He moved with lightning speed, wrapping his hands around her throat. With a violent shove, he ground her back into the hot metal of a parked car, which quickly started to burn through her cotton top. ‘Bitch, I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me where my wife is staying.’
The pressure on her throat made speaking difficult. She thought about the mace she carried in the purse she didn’t have. ‘Get your hands off me,’ she managed.
He snarled and put his lips to her ear. ‘I ought to choke the life out of you.’
Lindsay grabbed his hands and tried to pry them from her neck, but his grip tightened. Black spots dotted her vision. She coughed and gasped for air. Soon she’d black out.
Without warning, Saunders released his grip and lifted his weight off of her. She staggered away from the car and fell to her knees. At the same moment, Saunders dropped to the ground with tremendous force. He was clutching his own neck.
Lindsay looked up, squinting into the sun.
Looming over Saunders was Zack, who was already removing cuffs from his waistband and reciting Saunders his Miranda rights.
Warwick was right behind Zack, gun drawn.
Zack didn’t take his gaze off Saunders as he shoved the man down on the ground to his belly. Zack then wedged his knee into the man’s back and forced his face to the ground. Cuffs clamped on wrists.
Saunders had regained a little of his composure and started to fight the cuffs. ‘Fuck you!’
Zack pressed his knee deeper into Saunders’s back. ‘Don’t you speak one more word.’ He glanced over at Lindsay. ‘Are you all right?’
Her throat burned as she straightened and coughed. ‘Yes. I’m fine.’
Warwick didn’t lower his weapon. ‘Do you have him, Kier?’
‘Yes.’
Warwick called dispatch. ‘This is Detective Jacob Warwick. I need a patrol car at the county mental health building on Woodman Road.’ He waited as the dispatcher responded, ‘Right.’
Saunders struggled. ‘Let me go. That bitch won’t tell me where my wife is.’
Again Zack dug his knee into Saunders’s back. This time the guy flinched. ‘Don’t say another word.’ The menace in his voice chilled Lindsay and reminded her of a time when he’d been that furious with her.
Still, she’d never been happier to see anyone. ‘Thanks.’
Zack shot her a glance, swiftly assessing her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ His voice sounded brittle.
‘I’m
good.’
Warwick moved beside her. ‘Your neck looks bruised.’
The guy almost sounded concerned. ‘Like I said, I’m fine.’
Zack studied her for another beat and then turned his attention back to Saunders. He informed him he was under arrest for assault.
Saunders’s wrists strained against the restraints. ‘The bitch deserved it. She butted into my life.’
Zack jerked on the cuffs. ‘Shut up.’
Within seconds two blue-and-white patrol cars, lights flashing, pulled into the parking lot. The uniforms took custody of Saunders and put him in the back of one of the squad cars.
The reality of how close she’d come to a bad beating or worse sank in.
Zack rested his hands on his hips and stared at her. He kept his voice low but she heard the tension. ‘What happened?’
‘The guy’s name is Saunders. His wife was taken to Mercy Hospital yesterday. She had injuries consistent with a beating, so the doctor on call asked me to visit with her.’
‘That’s the appointment at the hospital you had.’
‘Yes. I spoke to Gail, this guy’s wife, and gave her my business card, but I didn’t think she cared about what I was saying.’ She nodded to the car where Burt sat in the backseat. He was glaring at her. ‘Ole Burt said she moved out last night. He found my card and figured I knew where to find her. And for the record, I don’t know where she is.’ She frowned. ‘She could have called me. But if she had, she couldn’t have gotten me at Sanctuary or on my cell, which is in my purse in my office.’
Zack tightened his jaw. ‘I’ll get your purse back today.’
‘Thanks.’ Lindsay watched with satisfaction as Saunders struggled against his cuffs in the squad car’s backseat. ‘Gail might not have been willing to file assault charges against him, but I have no problem with it.’
Zack moved away and spoke to Warwick. After several minutes of discussion, Warwick got in the front seat of the patrol car holding Saunders, and the car drove off.
The shrill of an ambulance siren had her cringing. The flash of red lights got closer and the ambulance turned into the parking lot. ‘Please tell me that ambulance isn’t for me.’
‘It sure is,’ Zack said.
She dragged a shaky hand through her hair. ‘I’m fine.’
He towered over her. ‘Easier to get an ambulance here than you to the hospital.’
His proximity made her uneasy. She’d always had trouble thinking when he was close. ‘I’ll go see my family doctor.’
Even, white teeth flashed. ‘Time has not made you a better liar.’
She tried to sound offended. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I know you. You’re not going to see a doctor. You’ll retreat back to your office, maybe eat a pack of Nabs, and drown yourself in work.’
Uncomfortable, she shifted. He’d hit the nail on the head. Still, pride had her denying it. ‘You’re wrong.’
The paramedics got out and shook hands with Zack. ‘Bill, good to see you.’
Bill was medium height, muscular, with ink black hair and a Cary Grant cleft in his chin. ‘You too, Zack. So what’s going on?’
Zack took Lindsay by the arm. His touch was gentle but unbreakable as he pulled her toward Bill. ‘Have a look at her. I just pulled a creep off her. He was trying to strangle her.’
Strangle. It sounded more frightening when Zack recapped the incident. Adrenaline fading, she felt her knees weaken.
Bill lifted his sunglasses. His green eyes were sharp as he leaned forward to look at Lindsay’s neck. ‘Some red marks that will likely lead to bruises. Come over to the back of the truck and sit down, so I can have a closer look.’
Lindsay didn’t argue. Saunders could have done real damage and she’d be a fool at this point to pass up a quick once-over from the paramedic.
Zack walked with her to the ambulance.
Bill opened the back of the truck and his partner climbed inside and removed a tackle box filled with medical supplies. With Zack behind her watching, Lindsay climbed inside and sat on the cot.
After donning rubber gloves, Bill turned her head from side to side studying her battered skin. ‘You’ve got some scratches and you’ll have a couple of fingerprint-size bruises in a few days. Can you swallow?’
Lindsay nodded. ‘Yes. My throat is fine.’
Bill pulled an alcohol swab packet from the tackle box and tore it open. ‘This might sting but I want to get those scratches cleaned.’
She winced when the alcohol made contact with her raw skin.
‘He grab you anywhere else?’ Bill asked.
‘No. Just the throat,’ Lindsay said.
‘Who did this to you?’ Bill asked.
‘Some guy who took exception to the fact that I encouraged his battered wife to leave him.’
Bill’s lips flattened into a grim line. ‘I thought I recognized you. I’ve seen you over at Mercy Hospital in the emergency room. It was a couple of months ago. You showed up to talk to a woman who had been beaten.’
‘Good memory.’ Lindsay held out her hand. ‘Lindsay O’Neil.’
Bill took her hand and grinned. The smile was warm, genuine, and she found her foul mood lifting. ‘Bill Kline.’ He wiped her neck a second time, his hand lingering close. ‘I work out of the station house down the road.’
The guy was flirting with her. And she felt flattered.
Zack pulled off his sunglasses. Dark eyes flashed annoyance. ‘Does she need to see a doctor?’
Bill’s gaze skipped between Lindsay and Zack. Realization that Zack wanted Lindsay to himself had Bill easing back a fraction from her. ‘A throat X-ray wouldn’t hurt.’
‘No,’ Lindsay said. ‘I’m fine.’
Bill took a last look at her neck. ‘If you have any trouble swallowing, get to a doctor immediately. Otherwise, aspirin and rest are the best medicine.’
‘Thanks,’ Lindsay said.
Zack nodded. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her.’
She scooted off the cot and hopped down onto the asphalt. ‘Thanks, fellows, I’m fine.’ As the paramedics packed up, she painfully started walking the quarter-mile toward the fast-food joint. She needed to sit down before her knees gave way.
Zack followed Lindsay as she made her way across the parking lot. She needed a cold soda and a couple of aspirin.
‘I don’t need a babysitter,’ Lindsay said.
Zack wasn’t put off. He fell into step beside her. ‘When’s the last time you ate?’
She faced him. ‘I was on my way to lunch when what’s-his-name decided to turn my neck into hamburger.’
Zack glanced down the road. ‘The closest place is a burger shop.’
‘Walkers can’t be choosers.’
‘You need a real meal – the kind with plates, a table with a cloth, and napkins.’
‘I don’t have time or a car for that kind of stuff.’
‘You can spare an hour. I’ll drive.’
He was right. She was hungry, shaken, and needed to collect her thoughts. ‘Fine.’
Zack guided her to his car, opened the door, then closed it after she got in. He slid behind the wheel, put the car into gear, and pulled onto Woodman Road.
In the confined space, Lindsay was aware of his hands on the wheel, the width of his shoulders, the way he clenched and unclenched his jaw as he drove. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.
‘So where are we headed?’ she said.
‘An Italian place close by.’
She tried to relax back into the seat. She needed to loosen the reins for a little while but feared if she did the energy would completely drain from her body.
Zack soon pulled into the parking lot of a small eatery, put the car in park, and turned off the engine. She had climbed out and was halfway around the car before she really looked at the restaurant. Zola’s. The restaurant owned by his parents. ‘Aw crap, Zack. Not here. It’s your parents’ restaurant.’
He had the nerve to
look shocked. ‘Why not? It’s the best food in town.’
She shot him a frustrated look. ‘Zack, I’m not exactly on your parents’ favorite person list. I haven’t seen them in a year.’
That seemed to surprise him. ‘They’ve nothing against you.’
She blew out a breath. ‘Please, Zack.’
He stood so close to her she could see he wore the shirt she’d given him. ‘They like you, Lindsay. It will be fine. Besides, they’re not even here today. Mom’s got Dad helping her with Eleanor’s birthday party. It’s Saturday.’
His explanation didn’t dispel her unease. ‘Eleanor must be excited.’
‘Mom’s turning the party into a big thing. Dad is going along without a fight, which tells me he’s having fun. They’ve invited half of Richmond.’
Lindsay’s heart clenched. When she’d eloped with Zack the Kier family had welcomed her with open arms. She’d fallen for the entire clan as hard as she’d fallen for Zack. And when she’d kicked him out, she’d desperately wanted to explain to his parents why. But they’d never called her and she hadn’t felt right about calling them. As fast as she’d made a family, she’d lost one.
Lindsay managed a smile. ‘I’m glad for them. Don’t they have an anniversary coming up soon?’
‘Next month. Thirty-five years.’
‘Wow.’
Zack stared at her as if trying to read her mind and then, placing his hand in the small of her back, guided her into the restaurant. Immediately they were hit with a blast of cold air. The interior was dark and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust. The place was deserted.
‘Where is everyone?’ she said.
‘We don’t open until four on Tuesdays.’
‘If they aren’t open, why are we here? I don’t want to put anyone out.’
‘You’re not. And they’ve always got pots on the stove simmering for dinner. I know we can scrounge a decent meal.’
The familiar smells of marinara and freshly baked bread swirled around her, and for a moment she was transported back to those few months when everything had been good between them. ‘The place is just as I remembered it.’
‘Mom wants to redecorate – she’s even called in a few contractors for bids. But Dad refuses. He says people like tradition, places that don’t change.’