Lacy's End

by Victoria Schwimley

  Lacy sat on the brick wall, searching for Angela, who was supposed to pick her up. Jake sat beside her. “She’ll be here,” he assured her.

  “I know, but why does she always have to be late? And why does she even have to pick me up? I can walk. I’ve been walking home since I was a kid.”

  “You know the reason, Lacy.”

  She sighed, made a mocking face as she said, “We can’t risk your father finding you.”

  Jake laughed at her expression, which made her laugh, easing tension.

  “It’s sweet of you to wait with me, Jake.”

  He picked up her hand, holding it tightly in his. “That’s what I’m here for,” he said.

  “So, are you going to the school dance?” Lacy asked, changing the subject.

  “Are you?” he asked in return.

  Lacy took on a shocked expression. Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t go to dances.”

  “Then neither am I.”

  “Why? Just because I’m not going, doesn’t mean you can’t go.”

  “I go where you go,” he said. “I told you that, Lacy. I’m here for you. To help you get through this ordeal. Whatever decision you make, I have to support.”

  She turned and looked at him. “Who sent you, and how did you know I need help?”

  Jake smiled. “The one who sent me knows everything.”

  She laughed. “That’s creepy, Jake.”

  He didn’t reply, just looked at her.

  “Seriously Jake, how did you know I needed a friend?”

  “You asked for me.”

  She snapped her head around. “I did?”

  Suddenly she felt a sharp thud against her back. She turned around to find Millie standing behind her, a group of girls surrounding her. “Who are you talking to?”

  Lacy looked beside her but found the place Jake had occupied empty. She shook her head. “Nobody.”

  “You need to get a grip, girl. I think your father has given you one too many blows to the head.”

  The group laughed, and Millie smiled in satisfaction. Was she trying to earn favor with her new group, at Lacy’s expense?

  Lacy’s eyes misted over. “Why would you say that, Millie? That was mean.”

  Millie softened at the hurt look on her friend’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Lacy looked away. “It’s okay,” she said.

  “Hey! We’re going for ice cream on the way home. Do you want to come along?”

  Lacy caught the expression on the other girls’ faces and knew they did not welcome the invitation. She shook her head. “Thanks, Millie, but I can’t. I’m catching a ride.”

  “Oh. Is your mom out of the hospital?”

  “Yeah, but she’s not the one picking me up. Angela is.”

  Millie’s smile dropped. “The social worker?”

  Lacy nodded. “Mom and I are staying with her.”

  “Yeah, we know. It’s all over the school how your dad tried to kill your mom, and they took—”

  Lacy put her hand against Millie’s lips to stop her words. “I know all about it, Millie, and I’d rather not have people continually reminding me.”

  A horn beeped and they turned to look toward the car. Angela waved from behind the wheel. Lacy waved back. “I have to go now.” She jumped down from the wall and rushed to the car. “I have a shift in an hour. Maybe I’ll see you at the diner?”

  Millie nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

  She got into the car and fastened her seatbelt.

  “Are those your friends?” Angela asked as they drove away.

  “Millie used to be. She’s hanging with a new crowd now.”

  “Did you two have an argument?”

  Lacy thought about it for a minute. “Just a parting of the ways, I guess.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Angela said.

  Lacy shrugged. “I have Jake now.”

  Angela stopped for kids in a crosswalk. She looked over at Lacy. “Jake,” she said. “That’s the kid you were calling for in the hospital. Is Jake your boyfriend?”

  “Just a good friend.”

  “Does he go to school with you?” She eased the car forward as Lacy frowned.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I see him at school all the time, but I don’t have any classes with him.”

  Angela took a deep breath. “Where did you meet him?”

  Lacy thought about it for a minute. Technically, she met him here at school, but she remembered the day she had driven her mother to the hospital. He had been standing across the pond, and she had waved to him, but she didn’t want to tell Angela that. She might think she was crazy. “I met him here at school.”

  Angela let out her breath. “How often do you see him?”

  “Geez, what is this, trivia hour?”

  Angela blushed, glanced quickly at Lacy, and then back to the road. She pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building, swung into her marked space, and put the car in gear. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not trying to pry.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t really mind,” Lacy said. “It’s not as if I have anything to hide.”

  They each exited the car, shutting the doors simultaneously.

  “I’m used to dealing with kids who have things to hide,” Angela said, laughing. “You’re like no other kid I’ve ever dealt with.” They walked to the front of the car, meeting near the center of the hood. “You’re a good person, Lacy. I just want to help you do as much as you can with your life.”

  “I know. I don’t blame you for doing what you did—taking me from my parents, I mean. I get why you did it.”

  “You and your mom will be on your own soon. In the meantime, it’s nice having the company.”

  They entered the apartment, and the empty feel of the apartment surprised them. They looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

  “Mom?” Lacy called.

  From the corner of her eye, Angela noticed the broken chain and door jamb on the front door. She walked to it, picked it up, and examined it.

  Lacy went pale. She ran through the apartment, looking for her mother. “Mom!” she called, repeating her name with each room she searched.

  “She’s not here,” Lacy said, looking ashen. “We have to call the police. Oh, God—Dad has her.”

  Angela’s primary focus was to calm Lacy. She held her by the shoulders and made eye contact. “Breathe, Lacy. Nobody has called so I’m sure everything’s okay. I’m going to call Allen.”

  She dialed the direct line to his desk but received no answer. She pressed the receiver button, disconnecting the phone. Then she dialed the operator and had him paged. She hung up the phone to wait for his return call.

  “Why don’t you just call his cell?” Lacy urged.

  “He doesn’t carry it in the hospital. It interferes with the machines or something like that.”

  “I’m calling the police,” Lacy firmly said.

  Angela did not make an effort to stop her, and when the police arrived at her door, she was the one who let them in.

  There was an older officer, and a younger one, who looked out of place in his uniform. The older man nodded at her when she opened the door. “Good afternoon, I’m Deputy Chief Charlie Renton, and this is Officer Billy Sikes.” He indicated the younger man. “You reported a break-in?”

  The younger man looked sternly at Lacy. “Hey, Lacy,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  Angela looked at the two. They looked as if they could be classmates.

  “I’m staying here with Angela.”

  “Does your dad know?”

  “Why? Are you going to run and tell him if he doesn’t?”

  Angela noted the sharpness in her voice and turned to look at her. Then she noted the accusation in the young officer’s stare. Clearly, there had been issues in the past. Angela stepped in. “Lacy’s here under court order.”

  “We don’t owe Billy any explanation, Angela,” Lacy said.

  �
��Tell us what happened,”Deputy Chief Renton interjected.

  “Lacy and her mother, Brenda, are staying here with me by court order. There is a restraining order against Sheriff Waldrip in regards to both of them.”

  Charlie nodded. “I’m aware of the situation,” he said, remembering the sight of the Waldrip’s bedroom. “What does your break-in have to do with Sheriff Waldrip?”

  “They’re bogus charges!” Officer Sikes exclaimed.

  “That’s enough, Billy,” Charlie said. He turned to Angela. “I tried,” he said, “but it’s out of my hands now. I’m transferring to Vegas next week.”

  Angela sighed and shook her head, thinking this was all a waste of time. She showed them the door. “We came home to find someone had busted in my door, and Brenda Waldrip is missing.”

  “You don’t know it’s the chief who did it,” Billy said, his fiery accusation slicing the air.

  “Ugh…Billy, I swear. You are no smarter now than you were when you graduated last year. Hasn’t the police force taught you anything?” Lacy asked.

  Both Charlie and Angela stifled a chuckle but were unable to hide a grin. Billy blushed in embarrassment, and Lacy’s cheeks became pink with frustration.

  Charlie started to make his way to the door. “You’ll get this fixed right away?”

  Angela nodded and began to close the door after him.

  He stopped it. “Make sure it’s a strong one.” She nodded again.

  The phone rang. “Maybe that’s Dr. Petoro,” Lacy said.

  Angela picked it up, nodding in affirmation to Lacy.

  “Hi, Allen,” she said.

  “Hey, Angela. What’s up?”

  “Someone busted down my door, and Brenda’s missing.”

  “Yeah, it was Sheriff Waldrip.”

  “You know about this?”

  She watched the deputy chief’s eyes narrow.

  “It happened around noon.”

  “Is Brenda there with you?”

  “I wish,” he said. “I took her to lunch, introduced her to a few people, and then she insisted I take her back to the trailer.” He grew silent. “The sheriff threatened her and Lacy. She thinks she’s playing it safe.”

  “Safe! The man’s a time bomb.”

  “We both know that, but Brenda’s not convin…” He stopped in mid-sentence, stared at the doorway with wide-open eyes.

  “Allen?”

  “I’ve got to go, Angela. Brenda just walked into my office.”

  “Is she okay?”

  He looked her up and down. She leaned against the door, her arms crossed in front of her. Noting her dazzling smile, he said. “She looks perfectly fine to me.”

  He hung up the phone. Rushing to her side, he grabbed her against him. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

  She bobbed her head rapidly, talking excitedly. “Oh, Allen—I can’t take it anymore. I’m through being that man’s punching bag. I had no idea how bad the last beating was until I saw the room.” She took a deep breath, gasping for air. “It was like this big reality hit me in the head—I don’t deserve this—and neither does Lacy.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes, each of them grinning. Then grasping her face with both hands, he pulled her mouth toward his own, kissing her with a passion she had never felt before.

  When he broke the kiss, she gasped. She whispered, “He’s going to be angry when I’m not there tonight.”

  “I know that.”

  “He’s going to retaliate.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “It’s not going to be easy.”

  “You’re worth the effort.” He silenced her further protestations with another kiss.

  When he pulled away the second time, it was she who was reluctant to let go. She grabbed the back of his head, forced their lips into a tight bond. His arms went around her, encircling her waist. He pulled her hard against him, crushing their bodies until they looked like one. His lips found her neck and kissed it hungrily. He whispered words of love into her ear. She smiled, enjoying the feelings rushing through her.

  He pulled away, breathless. “I have to go. My patients are waiting.” He took a card from his wallet, wrote something on the back, and pushed it into her hand. “Meet me at my house at six.” He turned to leave, turning back at the last minute. He kissed her again, tenderly. “I love you,” he said. He opened the door and walked out, leaving her standing in his office with her mouth agape.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After Peter left Brenda, he headed straight for the closest beer, which happened to be at Logan’s Place, a local tavern close to the sheriff’s station. There he would quench his thirsts for beer and women. If all went as expected, he could be tipping the mug and tantalizing the tongue in as soon as fifteen minutes. Not to mention satisfying his throbbing member. Add one more thing to the list of duties his disrespectful wife had denied him. When he got his hands on her, he’d make her pay. She wouldn’t be able to walk for a week when he finished claiming all his denied rights. A grin spread across his face as he grabbed his throbbing groin.

  He walked into the tavern, boldly sporting his sheriff’s uniform. He normally avoided wearing his uniform here, except on official business. Despite his loose, lurid behavior, he tried to show respect for his position—at least most times. Today, however, he was angry enough not to care.

  Several pairs of eyes swung toward him as he strutted up to the bar.

  “Morning, Sheriff,” Josie, the bartender, said as he sat on a stool. “Startin’ a bit early today, aren’t ya?”

  Peter narrowed his eyes at Josie. “It’s none of your business, Josie. Your job is to fill the tankard and leave the rest to me.”

  He laughed as Josie set the mug in front of him. He downed it in five seconds flat.

  Josie shook her head, chuckling. “That’s a new record for you, Sheriff.”

  “Fill it again,” he said, slamming the mug down hard on the bar.

  Josie shook her head again but filled the mug. She moved away, wandering around the bar straightening up and wiping down surfaces. Peter watched her work. He tilted his head to one side and began rolling his eyes at her. Occasionally, he’d snort at her. She pretended not to notice his obvious contempt.

  The bar usually wasn’t busy this time of day, and Josie always used the noon hour to clean. She watched the sheriff from the corner of her eye, careful not to let him see her watching him. She was growing wary of him lately. He seemed to be becoming increasingly more aggressive as the days passed.

  She recalled a trip to the market a few weeks ago. It had been a crazy day. It was her day off, and she had a million errands to run. Tyler, her youngest, had been running a fever, but wasn’t sick enough to stay in bed. Just entering his terrible twos, he had been bouncing off the walls and driving her nuts. When she went to fill his Sippy cup with juice, she had become frustrated to discover an empty carton that someone had put back in the refrigerator. “Trevor,” she had screamed, knowing it must have been her eldest son’s doing. He was always returning empty cartons to the refrigerator. Not that it had done her any good. Trevor was at school, but shouting to vent her frustration had felt good. Hoisting the toddler on her hip and depositing him in his umbrella stroller, she had walked the ten blocks to the corner market to get more juice.

  That was where she had run into Mrs. Waldrip. The woman had looked so ragged and torn that Josie had barely recognized her. Tyler had dropped his teddy bear on the floor, but Josie hadn’t seen it. She was on the verge of running it over when Mrs. Waldrip had stuck out a hand to stop the stroller.

  “Oops. We don’t want to run over the little guy.”

  She had given a wan smile and handed the stuffed toy back to Tyler.

  Josie had nearly gasped when she saw the bruises on her face, arms, and around her neck. Mrs. Waldrip had apparently noticed what she had been looking at because she turned away, blushing.

  When Josie’s husband, Mark, came home that night, Josie fixed him hi
s favorite dinner, bathed the children early, and sent them off to bed. She had made passionate love to him, and when he questioned her sudden voraciousness, she held him tight and told him she just wanted to show him how much she appreciated him.

  “Josie!” the sheriff bellowed, bringing Josie back to the present. “Get me some more beer.”

  “It’s barely noon,” she protested. “I think you should just go on back to work, and forget about the beer.”

  He tore himself from the barstool, propelling toward her so fast that she barely saw him coming. He clutched her around the throat, backing her against the wall. Her eyes went wide as she gasped for air. Her feet barely touched the ground.

  “You aren’t the beer monitor,” he spat, spittle flying from his mouth, his bulging eyes threatening to come out of their sockets.

  “And I’m not your wife,” she managed to squeak out.

  His hand tightened for a few seconds, and then he let go. Josie fell to the floor, her hands going instinctively around her throat as she fought to bring air into her lungs. She ran to the bathroom, gasping and coughing. She slammed shut the door and turned the deadbolt almost simultaneously.

  Josie staggered to the sink, splashed cold water on her face and examined it in the mirror, checking for damage. Her eyes were red and watery. Splashes of color still stained her face from the disrupted blood flow, and she could see the marks on her throat from the pressure of his hands. Her heart squeezed tight at the realization of what his wife and daughter must feel on a nearly daily basis.

  She heard the doorknob jiggle and froze.

  “Josie, you all right in there?” the sheriff asked.

  She didn’t answer, hoping he would go away.

  He knocked again. “Josie. I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me. Please open the door.”

  Torn with indecision, she stared at her reflection. If she reported the incident, what kind of wrath would she be unleashing? On the other hand, the sheriff clearly was out of control, and someone had to put a stop to him. Mark was certain to notice the bruises already forming on her throat. How would she explain them?