“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Carly felt pressure building behind her eyes. “I just keep asking myself why. Why is he coming after me? There are countless other women out there—I’m not irreplaceable. And then I feel guilty for wishing this on someone else. I don’t want some other woman to go through this instead of me—I just want it to stop.”
“I understand.” Sam leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Abusers have a different psychology than other people. When they experience a breakup, they don’t try to move on—they want that person back because they feel ownership over them. Mick thinks you belong to him, like a piece of property, and the fact that he lost you damages his pride. In that way, you are irreplaceable because he’s trying to restore his sense of manhood.”
“Yes, Mick’s a very prideful man. I’ve never met anyone more prideful.”
Sam nodded. “He also feels a sense of ownership over Sophie. Even though you have sole custody, he feels that he owns her because he’s her father.” He paused. “I didn’t see any reports of abuse toward her.”
“He never hurt her. Only me. That’s something I thank God for daily.” Carly shuddered. Mick never laid a hand on Sophie, but she’d seen enough abuse to be scared of him—and Carly wondered if she’d ever forget.
“The best way to deal with Mick is by taking legal action. He has to feel as though he’s no longer in control of the situation—he has to surrender that control to a power that he recognizes as being larger and stronger. What he’s doing right now by flitting around the edges of that fifty-foot radius is demonstrating how flimsy he thinks your case is. Do you have a lawyer out here yet?”
“No, but I’m sure I can get one pretty quickly.” Julia would probably have some recommendations. Carly would talk to her first thing.
“I’d make that a priority. You have some power here, Carly—Mick hasn’t taken everything away from you.”
How did Sam know exactly what she needed to hear? Ever since she’d received that box of chocolates, she’d felt victimized all over again, like Mick would be a constant looming shadow, and she would never be free of him no matter what she did. To hear that she wasn’t helpless, to know there were additional steps she could take—that meant everything.
“Thank you. So, assignments. I’m going to get a lawyer tomorrow, and I’ll say yes to the tour. You’ll talk to Mick, and then you’ll tell me what else I need to do, right?”
“Absolutely.” Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text. “I’m going to leave my car here overnight—Deputy Anderson will pick me up. He’ll also drive by several times during the night. Keep your phone handy, and don’t hesitate to call nine-one-one if anything unusual happens. I don’t think Mick will push the envelope much further just yet—he’s toying with you right now by showing up on your doorstep and making an appearance at the school. He wants to scare you and keep you scared before he takes things to the next level. I’m not expecting him to do anything tonight, but we’re going to stand prepared for anything.”
“He’s scaring me, but he’s also making me mad,” Carly replied. “He has no right to come here and interrupt our fresh start.”
“Stay angry,” Sam counseled her. “Keep that anger front and center. You don’t deserve this, Sophie doesn’t deserve this, and he needs to get out of your lives permanently. We’re working toward that end, Carly. You will get your fresh start back—as long as I have anything to do with it.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’re doing.”
“Tillie would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t take good care of her best friend.” Sam flashed Carly a smile, then glanced toward the window. Headlights could be seen through the curtains. “Looks like Anderson’s here. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Carly watched as Sam climbed into the other car and drove away, leaving his car there like a sentinel in her driveway. She really should stop peeking at him through curtains, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. There was something about him, something that appealed to her on a level she hadn’t experienced before. He was a man who had literally dedicated his life to protecting others, and she knew that wasn’t just for show—he wasn’t one of those guys who put on a good front in public and then went home and beat his wife. No, Sam’s heart was pure—she could feel that radiating from him.
She locked the front door, checked the others and also the windows, then went upstairs. Sophie had fallen asleep in the center of the king-sized bed, and Carly didn’t see the need to take her to her own room. She just slid her over, then lay down next to her.
So many things to do the next day . . . She needed to call Julia and confirm the tour, ask for information about a lawyer, and find out if everything was set to go with the album or if she needed to come and record anything over again. Once she had the lawyer’s information, she needed to contact him . . . or her . . . and set up a meeting. This was in addition to getting Sophie to and from school safely. She’d need to tell the school about Mick—she wished Sophie had said something before they left that afternoon, but she must have felt pretty overwhelmed.
And Carly was getting overwhelmed too.
She grabbed a notebook from her side table and jotted down a list. Maybe once she saw it laid out and could mark things off, she’d be able to think it through better. Right now, it looked like a big pile of spaghetti—threads going this way and that way and all over the place.
As she was writing, she got a text. It was from Quinn Dawson.
Julia mentioned you were having a rough day. Just wanted to let you know you’re still invited out to see my new pony.
Carly’s first impulse was to put him off—she didn’t want to impose. But a pony . . . Sophie would love to see a pony, and if she could do something to lift a little of the stress they’d both felt that day, she’d be silly to pass up the opportunity. She sent a text back. Would tomorrow afternoon be all right?
Perfect. I’m home all day.
She added “go see a pony” to her list. It might not seem as important as the other things, but . . . yes, it was. Sometimes fun was just as needed as everything else.
Chapter Seven
Sam put on his uniform the next morning instead of his suit. The suit was great when he had political or diplomatic things to take care of, but the uniform carried a bit more legal authority when it was needed.
After checking his pistol, he walked down to the station, signed out one of their other cars, and drove out to Elmwood Apartments.
“Yes, sir, that man rented room three,” the clerk said, nodding at the picture Sam showed her. “He paid for a week in advance in cash, and he’s been real quiet since he got here.”
“When did he get here?”
“Five days ago,” she said after looking at her registration book.
Sam pursed his lips while he thought about that. Mick had been in town for a few days before he contacted Carly. Did it take him that long to locate her, or was he putting some sort of plan in place? Maybe he was just getting settled, but Sam wasn’t inclined to give him the benefit of a doubt. “Thank you,” he said to the clerk, then stepped out of the office toward room three.
Mick’s financials had shown that he withdrew several thousand dollars from his bank account eight days ago, enough money to keep him going here in town for quite a while. Sam didn’t like that. Mick also had several credit cards with lots of room on them. He was well positioned to do just about anything he wanted to.
Sam realized he was conjecturing a whole lot. Mick’s record was for spousal abuse, and there was nothing to indicate that he was a flight risk, but still . . . Sam’s gut was telling him to check into everything. Was he going overboard? Maybe. But he’d rather do that than get caught unaware.
He reached room three and knocked on the door. All the rooms opened out to the parking lot—there was no interior hallway that he could see. That meant there would be windows on the other side, though, and possibly
back doors.
“Coming.”
The door opened, and Mick stuck his head out. He looked as though he’d been asleep.
“Mick Clark?” Sam asked, although he knew it was. Just following procedure.
“Yes, Officer. Can I help you?”
“May I come in?”
“Sure, sure.” Mick stepped back and let Sam enter. Sam took a quick look around. Three suitcases were stacked in the corner. He could see clothes hanging in the closet, and a sock sticking out of one of the drawers—Mick had unpacked. He intended to be here for a while. A box of cereal stood on the counter. One half of the bed was rumpled—it didn’t look like anyone was traveling with him.
“My name is Sam Bolton. I’m the chief of police here in Cherry Creek. I thought I’d swing by and welcome you to the neighborhood.”
“Oh. Well, that’s nice of you,” Mick said. He was a well-groomed man, six feet tall, sandy hair, blue eyes, weighed around two hundred pounds. Fit, but not an athlete. He wore a T-shirt and sweats, but they were nice brands. Sam knew from Mick’s dossier that he was a day trader—apparently, a very successful one.
“We like to keep tabs on the people who move into our community. It helps keep everyone safe.” Sam stuck his thumbs through his belt loops and rocked back on his heels. He knew it made him look like an old-fashioned small-town cop, and that’s what he was going for. “So, how long are you here for, Mr. Clark?”
“Oh, I just might move here. It’s a really nice area.”
“Move here, huh? Well now, I’m not sure I’d be that hasty.” Sam softened his voice into a lazy drawl. “Seems to me that not everyone here would take kindly to that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I heard there’s a restraining order out on you, and it might be real hard for you to maintain that order if you were all living in the same town.”
Sam could see the muscles in Mick’s jaw working. “I haven’t done anything to violate that order, Chief Bolton. And if someone’s told you I have, they’re lying.”
Sam held up a hand. “No one’s said anything of the kind. I’m just letting you know the lay of the land. It’s important for everyone to understand the rules of the place where they live, and if you’re going to live here in Cherry Creek, you should know that we take things like restraining orders very seriously. Maybe even more seriously than they do in other towns. Probably because we don’t have much else to do, so we have all the time in the world to drive around and check on people’s whereabouts and whatnot.”
“I saw you at the grocery store yesterday, didn’t I?” Mick pointed a finger at him in recognition. “You had a little girl with you.”
“Yes, we even have time to grocery shop alongside people,” Sam continued. “Some folks think we’re extra friendly. We consider it doing our jobs.”
Mick looked toward the window, then back, obviously becoming irate. “What you’re saying is that if I stay in town, I can expect to have you breathing down my neck.”
“Oh, that’s not something special we’re doing just for you. That’s how we treat everyone who comes to town with some sort of shadow on their records. You see, our job is keeping Cherry Creek a safe place to live, and if we think, for any reason, that the safety of our residents is going to be compromised, we tend to get a little up in arms. I hope we understand each other.”
“I understand. I understand that you came in here and threatened me.” Mick pointed at the door. “Get out, and don’t be surprised if you get a call from my lawyer. I will not be threatened, and I will not be harassed.”
“I wasn’t threatening you, Mr. Clark. I was giving you a friendly heads-up as to how things are around here. But yes, I’ll go. I’ve got some errands to run.” Sam nodded at the pile of apparently dirty laundry in the corner. “Maybe we’ll run into each other at the laundromat.”
“Get out!” Mick took a step closer, and Sam left, pulling the door behind him until it clicked.
Maybe he had pushed things too far, but he’d enjoyed playing with Mick’s head. He’d given the man fair warning, and now anything else that happened was purely Mick’s choice.
***
“I’m not sure we’re equipped to deal with a situation involving a violent non-custodial parent,” the school principal said, her eyes showing concern. “Yes, we have fences and playground monitors, but we don’t have an actual security team set up.”
“And I have little to no confidence in your playground monitors, for that matter,” Carly said. “My daughter has told me about two incidents that have taken place on your playground, and I can’t see where your monitors are doing any good.”
“I’ll look into that,” the principal replied. “Now, back to the issue of your ex-husband—you said we should be keeping an eye out for him. What are we expecting him to do? Is he going to pose a threat to all the children? Please help me understand what we’re dealing with here.”
“I believe that he’ll try to speak with Sophie, and that would be very emotionally difficult for her. I don’t believe that he’d harm the children in any way, but his presence might be upsetting.”
The other woman nodded. “If he shows up, how are we to handle it?”
“Have Sophie go inside, and I’ll talk to her and explain what we’re doing and why so she understands the importance of minding you. The police have also said they’d be driving by regularly.”
The principal grabbed a sticky note, wrote on it, and handed it to Carly. “You might give this to them—it’s our schedule of recess times. I’m sure they already know, but just in case. So they’d know the best times to drive by. If they forgot.”
Carly could see that the woman was rattled. “I’m sorry to be causing so many problems. This wasn’t at all what I had in mind.”
“It’s not something you could have helped. You were doing the right thing in creating a new life for your daughter, and I applaud you for that. I just wish I felt better equipped to help you deal with the situation.” She paused. “I’m very concerned about Sophie, but I’m sure you understand when I say that I’m concerned about all the children at this school. If Mr. Clark shows any violent tendencies or tries to enter the schoolyard, that puts everyone at risk.”
“I completely understand your concerns,” Carly said. She understood them perhaps better than an ordinary bystander would—she’d taught second grade before she got married, and they’d done active shooter drills. She’d felt the massive pressure of knowing that the safety of those children was dependent on her and the ability she had to stay cool.
“Thank you, Ms. Wayne. I’ll circulate this picture to all the teachers and the aides, and we’ll be diligent in keeping our eyes open.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your time.”
Carly exhaled sharply as she walked out to her car. She’d gotten just about the response she’d expected. It would be up to Sam to ensure that nothing more happened with Mick—well, she supposed it was actually up to Mick, and that thought wasn’t comforting at all.
She drove back to the house, smiling when she saw that Sam’s car was still parked in her driveway. Thank goodness there was room for two cars side by side. She parked, then got out of her car in time to notice a deputy drive by slowly. He flashed his lights at her, and she waved in acknowledgement before going inside.
She tossed her bag in the corner, then flopped onto the couch. She missed her mom—she’d love to grab Sophie and hop in the car and go for a visit, but Sam was creating a safe perimeter for her here, or whatever they called it. Anyway, she’d be foolish to leave—Mick could catch up with her at any point, and then where would she be? Not only that, but she didn’t want to drag her mother into this any more than she already had been. No, she should wait and see what Sam was able to do. She’d call her mom later that night after she felt a little less harried—her mom could always pick up on stress in her voice, and she didn’t want to cause her any additional worry.
Instead, she picked up her phone and called Julia
.
“Okay, here’s the rundown,” she said when Julia picked up. “We’re on for the tour, but depending on what happens between now and then, I might need extra security.”
“We can do that,” Julia replied. “Any particular dates?”
“No, just whenever you can pull it together. Thanks for doing this, Julia.”
“Not a problem.”
“And I also need to know if you can refer me to a good lawyer. I have one in Colorado, but I need one here, too.”
“I know the best, actually. Pretty sure you’ve heard of her—Meg Forrester.”
Carly laughed. “Yes, of course I’ve heard of her. But aren’t she and Quinn busy getting ready for the wedding? I don’t want to bother her in the middle of all that.”
“Listen, Carly. If she finds out that you’ve been having domestic problems and she wasn’t called in, she’ll be furious. Even if it’s right in the middle of her wedding ceremony. Her specialty is domestic cases—yeah, she’s done a lot of work on Quinn’s contracts, but that’s not where her heart is.”
“I’m heading out to Quinn’s this afternoon—he really wants to show Sophie his new pony. Think she’d be willing to meet with me then?”
“I’m positive she would be.” Julia paused. “You sound a little hesitant to talk to her. Do you want me to set up the meeting?”
“Would you?” Carly was so relieved by the suggestion. “I just hate the idea that I’m putting anyone out.”
“You’re not putting her out! I told you, she loves this kind of thing. She’s a total law beast—you’d be silly not to work with her.”
“Okay,” Carly said, feeling a bit better about it, but still hating the idea of interrupting wedding plans.
“Carly, I’m going to be blunt, all right?” That was kind of funny—Julia was always blunt. “It’s time for you to take care of yourself, and that means getting a good lawyer to stick up for you. And when you take care of yourself, you’re also taking care of Sophie. There’s no guilt to be had here, all right? Just none.”
Sidearms and Songbirds (Hearts of Nashville Book 3) Page 5