by Geri Krotow
“So you’re saying she’s asked for help before?”
Josh’s expression stilled, and she knew the minute he trusted her. He shook his head. “Not here, not in Silver Valley. There are reports from where they lived before, though, out of state, in a rural area. The neighbors called in the loud noises, shouting. She and her husband told the responding officers that it was a mistake, that she was fine. She refused to press charges. They lived in a smaller house in a subdivision, according to the records. We only have them because we’ve been watching Valensky. At that time there were repeated complaints from the neighbors of angry shouting, the sounds of fights. But each time, she showed up at the front door with Valensky and said she was fine, and the local officers let it go. Which as you know, means they didn’t do their damned job. If it’d been an SVPD officer, he or she would have handled it the right way. We would have separated the two and got statements. They would have been recorded on the officer’s police cams. Charges would have been pressed.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his chestnut hair. It was short cropped but just long enough to remind her of the looser curls he’d sported in high school. God, how many times had she tugged his hair when they’d made out ad infinitum in that beat-up station wagon?
“What are you thinking, Annie?”
“Uh, nothing. Sorry—I drifted.”
His eyes were warm, and the crinkles at their edges teased her. “I’ve been doing some of that myself since you walked in here.”
They stared at one another, and it was like being in a bright tunnel, only the two of them, the years melting away. Except her body was feeling very adult responses to his every glance, each sound of his voice.
“Why didn’t you ever come back, Annie? Really.” He wasn’t asking for her résumé.
“I got involved in school, and then graduate school, and then this job.” And she’d been too wrapped up in her own hurt, needing the time to work through and heal from the abusive relationship that had flayed her soul and broken her heart. “And, well, I had some personal reasons, too, I guess.” Shame rushed her. “I should have come when your parents died. I’m so sorry, Josh.”
“It was a long time ago.” He shrugged off her too-late amendment and looked at her. “I wondered. About your personal reasons for staying gone so long.”
“You never tried to find me.” She didn’t mean for it to sound so accusing. “I never blamed you—we agreed we were done after prom night.”
His mouth hitched on one side. “What a freaking disaster, right? Again, I’m sorry, Annie. I was a bumbling teen, and I blew the best relationship I’ve probably ever had.”
“We were kids.”
“That doesn’t mean our feelings weren’t adult. We were pretty precocious, wouldn’t you say?” Was that a twinkle in his eyes?
“Precocious. That’s not a word you hear in police work every day.” She couldn’t help but tease him.
“I’m not used to a police psychoanalyst coming in here every day, either.” His grin was pure magnificence.
“Psychologist, thank you very much.” She mirrored his grin, and felt a warm glow that she’d thought had been eradicated from her emotional repertoire years ago. Was it possible to heal so much later, in such a spectacular way?
“Roger.” Josh spoke the police word for “I hear you.” He twisted his desk chair as he angled his long, lean frame to face her, their chairs next to one another. His forearm brushed hers in the cramped space, and the tingle it sent through her was positively delicious. It was at once sexy and alarming, as this police department felt like her workspace at NYPD. She’d learned early in her career to not get involved with another officer on the job, but she wasn’t working as a cop right now, not really.
She inched her chair away the small bit his cubicle allowed and chose to ignore the sexy smile on his too-handsome face. He knew he turned her on, a worse crime than the fact that she was getting so hot and bothered in the middle of trying to help a victim.
“Josh, I can’t...”
He coughed, loudly, stopping her weak protest.
“The problem we have, Annie, is complex. You’ve reported what you think is a sign of abuse, yet the woman was in your store, perfectly healthy and normal in her behavior, correct?” His brow rose, and she knew what he was getting at.
“Except for how frightened she seemed, yes. And the bruises.”
“That’s your interpretation. I’m not saying I doubt you at all, but without Kit coming forward, we don’t have a lot. We’ve never had any complaints since they’ve lived here, but their house is also out of earshot of anyone but the bears.”
Annie swallowed and nodded. She knew everything he said was true. Still, she wished it could be taken care of more quickly, without the added risk of each hour Kit lived with that bastard.
“I knew you’d say that, and I do understand the legal issues. And there are problems with going to their home without her requesting help, and no reports of any noise or disturbance. Right now it’s my word, my observations only. But I also know you can go check things out, interview Valensky.”
The lines between his eyes deepened, and her fingers itched to smooth them. “We could. As I said, I’d prefer to do it with her corroboration, and when I know she’s not there. It’s admirable that you’re willing to help her, Annie. We’re far from at the end of the road for solutions. If she shows up at your knitting circle tonight, talk to her. Earn her trust. Get her to confide in you, to come in with you or at least agree to speak to me, and we’ll be able to move forward.”
“The odds of that...” She ran her fingers through her hair, her frustration familiar but no less dismal. Domestic abuse remained the toughest nut to crack.
He touched her forearm, a gesture of assurance that grounded her. “Normally, yes, the stats are against us in this type of case. But with you on her side, the odds of her opening up are high. That is, if you’re half as good a listener as the girl I knew.” His eyes blazed with the same heat that simmered in her belly and zinged straight to the intimate spot between her thighs, begging for release. If they weren’t in the Silver Valley Police Department, would he kiss her? She wasn’t sure.
Annie was absolutely certain, however, that she’d lean in and kiss him. Heck, who was she kidding? She’d straddle him in his chair and lay the hottest, sexiest, all-tongue kiss on him she had to give.
“Avery! Chief Todd’s called in a DUI on Silver Valley Pike.” The receptionist’s voice echoed through an intercom.
“Roger. I’m on it.” His gaze never left hers as he replied to the request and his mouth lifted in his signature half smile. “Until we meet again, Annie Fiero.”
Chapter 3
Annie was still thinking about Joshua Avery long after she left SVPD, and later, as she closed the shop Friday night. It was as if he’d personally stayed with her all day, but whether it was the sexy edge to his humor or her reaction to him, she couldn’t tell. He’d believed her story regarding Kit, and he had enough police information on Vadim Valensky to validate Annie’s concerns. She’d hoped to have more information for him after tonight’s knitting circle, or better, to bring Kit into SVPD to file a report. But Kit hadn’t shown up, much to Ginny’s and the other knitters’ dismay. Annie was the most disappointed but unable to share it.
The night hadn’t been a total wash, though, as a newer couple to the group, John and Jacob, were happy to announce their engagement and the night turned into a double celebration, adding to Lydia’s birthday party. Three new knitters had joined the festivities, as well. Annie had to hand it to her grandmother. Just as she’d told Josh, Ezzie had not only formed an entire community around the shop, she’d created a unique family of fiber crafters.
Annie turned the Open sign to Closed against the stained glass and locked up the store. She climbed the worn cherrywood steps to the apartment above the shop, running her hand along the timewo
rn banister. Silver Threads Yarn Shop was one of several businesses in downtown Silver Valley proper, but its Victorian architecture was rare. At some point it had been divided, and the other side had been remodeled into a dentist’s office, which it had remained until recently when a local had returned to Silver Valley after serving as an FBI agent in Washington, DC. She’d turned the dentist’s office into an outdoor adventure travel agency. It was especially busy this time of year, as groups of tourists came to the area to hike the AT, canoe the Susquehanna River and its tributaries, and enjoy day trips to surrounding attractions such as Gettysburg Battlefield and Hershey, Pennsylvania. Annie had met the owner, Abi Redland, only once but had liked her immediately. They were around the same age, she guessed.
Annie remembered when Ezzie had surprised her family by announcing she wanted to convert her library and living room into a yarn shop, move the kitchen upstairs and remodel the bedrooms, many empty, into an apartment. Annie marveled at her grandmother’s intelligence and, more importantly, her determination to make a life for herself after her beloved second husband of forty-five years had passed away suddenly, when Annie was in high school.
The roomy upstairs apartment had always been the perfect place for Annie to lick her psychological wounds, too. First when she’d broken up from an abusive boyfriend, during college. She’d only ever told her family the barest facts of her harrowing escape from the man who’d abused her regularly, who’d emotionally battered her until she was but a shell of the young woman who’d graduated high school with dreams of traveling the world and becoming an artist.
They all knew why she was on sabbatical this time, though, and supported her need to heal. And run her grandmother’s shop.
“Meow.” Ezzie’s cat greeted Annie at the door, wrapping his warm body around her ankles.
“Come here, Bubba.” She lifted the large orange tabby into her arms and was surprised that he didn’t try to claw his way out of her hug as she walked them both to the sofa and sat down. “Thank you, sweetness. I need a little TLC right now.”
Bubba purred as he rubbed his head along her chin. As she accepted his feline ministrations, she was reminded of the scary bruises on Kit’s jawline she’d spotted. Her stomach hardened at the brutal violence that she believed caused them. “We’re going to get that bastard and see that he’s locked up, aren’t we?”
Annie looked around the living room that was piled with various knitting and crochet projects, the baskets heaped with yarn, the doilies under each and every knickknack. Grandma Ezzie had managed to pack two lifetimes’ worth of stuff into the homey apartment. She wondered what she and her parents would do if Ezzie decided to stay in Florida for good. It would take months to clear the clutter.
It was “clutter” for many, but to Annie it was pure comfort. She set Bubba next to her on the sofa and stood. His tail twitched. “I’m going to make a cup of chamomile. Would you like a kitty snack?”
At the word snack, Bubba’s purr turned into an all-out drone. “You sound like you’re revving for the Indy 500, sweetie.”
Annie padded on bare feet into the kitchen and rummaged around in the cupboards for a tea bag and the aluminum pouch of cat nibbles. Two definite raps sounded on the apartment’s front door and she jumped, but then stilled, her heart calming along with her mind. All part of police training to help her ascertain if there was indeed a threat, or if raccoons were in the garbage bins out back again. Silence settled over the tiny kitchen. Nothing. Bubba twitched his tail from where he sat atop the table, and she shooed him off.
“I hope those cute raccoons aren’t back. They’re handsome, but we don’t want to risk rabies, right, Bubba?” She shook the kibble bag at him, ready to offer the cat his treat, but Bubba darted to the front door, tail held high.
Annie blinked. Pets never lied about something different going on, or about intruders. She made her way to the door as quietly as she could, and peered through the peephole.
The top of a head was all she could make out, but the shade of hair and approximate height of the person was all she needed. Before she opened the large wooden door, the person looked into the peephole and knocked, more loudly this time.
“Annie, it’s me, Kit. Please. I need you.”
* * *
Kit wasted no time telling Annie that she feared for her life and wanted Silver Valley PD protection. Annie didn’t think twice; she called Josh. She spoke to Josh from the privacy of her bedroom while Kit waited in the living room.
“Where is she now, Annie?” His concerned tone reached through the phone.
“Here, with me. I’m staying upstairs from the yarn shop, in my grandmother’s apartment.”
“I sent an officer to her house earlier today but we didn’t get very far. She denied all possible charges and Valensky did, too.”
“The officer’s visit probably triggered Valensky.”
“Yeah, not unusual. If she’s ready to move forward, though, I can have charges filed against him by tomorrow. Not sure how you do it at NYPD, but at SVPD, the police officer files the charges. It’s to protect the victim and to prevent the all-too-common dropping of charges by the same victim.”
“I understand. What should I do now, besides wait for you?”
“Stay put and I’ll be over as soon as I have Becky’s sitter come over. If I can’t make it within twenty minutes, I’ll send another officer. Keep her comfortable and take note of what she tells you. I guess I don’t have to tell you that. You’re a professional.”
“Got it. And, Josh? Thanks for picking up.”
* * *
“You did the right thing by coming to Annie’s.” Josh’s voice reverberated around Ezzie’s living room. She’d been back in touch with him for less than twenty-four hours, and yet he’d come when she’d called, agreed to help her with Kit’s situation. Annie wanted to act quickly since Kit could decide against telling the police everything at any moment. She’d reached out to Josh, hoping he’d send an officer right away. He did—himself. Annie’s shoulders immediately lowered as the tension left her. Josh could put the most feral cat at ease.
“Vadim will kill me if he finds out I told anyone. He was so angry when that cop showed up at the house today, asking questions.” Kit shivered under one of Ezzie’s hand-knit afghans.
“You don’t have to go back there. There’s a women’s shelter in Cumberland County, right, Josh?” Annie’s confidence in Josh and SVPD’s efficiency were boosted by Kit’s words. But Josh hadn’t told her that he’d sent someone to Valenskys’ house. Not that he reported to her.
Josh nodded. “Yes, there is, but to be honest I think Kit would be safer either staying here with you or going to a shelter in another state.” He gave Annie a meaningful look and mouthed the letters ROC. Of course. She should have thought of it. If Valensky was part of ROC, he’d have connections everywhere and find out where Kit was without much effort. It was the sad truth about organized crime. Its effectiveness depended on networking. Nothing happened in an area the ROC claimed without the ROC knowing about it.
“He’ll never know if we play this right, Kit.” Annie wrapped her arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “You can tell him that I called you, or that my grandmother did, for help with the shop. Or, if from what you told us, he’s still passed out, he’ll never know you left.”
“Is that true, Kit? That he drinks so much on a regular basis?” Josh’s tone conveyed authority but more importantly, compassion.
She nodded. “Yes. His drinking is much worse these days than in the beginning.” She started to cry again. “He used to be much nicer to me. The beatings didn’t start until the last couple of years. First before we moved here, and then once we were in this big house.”
Annie met Josh’s gaze over Kit’s bent head. Anger, determination and compassion were reflected in his eyes. The realization that they were a team working this case together hit her. So
much for her sabbatical.
“I’m only the yarn shop owner, as far as your husband is concerned, Kit. You already know from my grandmother that when I’m in New York I work for NYPD on their staff as a psychologist.” Annie braced herself, waiting for Kit’s reaction.
Kit sniffed. “I knew what you did when I came into the shop. Ezzie told me all about you. She’s so proud.”
“My point is that I’m obligated to report any evidence of possible abuse that I witness. I went to Josh with my suspicions after you were in the shop earlier.” Annie waited for Kit’s response. This was always the tricky part—garnering trust while in fact working without the victim’s tacit permission.
Kit looked Annie in the eye and nodded. “I know what you do, and while I don’t like it that you went to the police without telling me, I understand. I suppose I’m the fool for not coming forward sooner.”
“You’re no fool, Kit. You’re one brave woman.” And Annie meant it. Because she understood more than Kit knew she did. She’d been the victim of an abusive boyfriend in college.
She caught Josh’s eyes as he stared at her. Hope reflected in his expression. Somehow, they were going to save this woman and put the man who’d basically enslaved her behind bars.
As they gazed at one another, the connection moved from solely professional to a level of intimacy.
Sensual awareness hit her in the solar plexus. Annie knew the feeling—she was swimming in the deep end of the relationship ocean with this man. It was going to be all or nothing, starting with her agreeing to serve on this case while she ran her grandmother’s shop. It seemed incongruous to be on sabbatical from such a huge personal and professional loss at NYPD, then be called to serve on a dangerous local case while she did something as mundane, as far from law-enforcement ops as possible, as run a yarn shop. Annie fought the urge to speak up and say she couldn’t help, not this time. What if she screwed up, missed another warning sign like she had in NYC? But Josh’s expression kept her silent. He needed her, Kit needed her.