Chapter 5
5
H eath smoothed down his well-pressed uniform shirt then ran his hand over his beard. He shook his head, mentally berating himself for acting like an idiot.
His appearance shouldn’t matter. Not when he’d been called to the shelter because of the ruined blanket that he’d stepped over on his way to the door.
The tattered piece of fabric was a physical reminder of what Mitch wanted to do to Clara and her children. When the sheriff’s department received her frantic call, he’d jumped up and insisted he’d handle the case. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. He was too close to the situation, his personal experience reflected in the eyes of those innocent children.
Not to mention the way his heart beat a little more erratically every time he was near Clara.
But nothing could have kept him away. Because since he had first-hand knowledge of what Clara was going through, he also understood how hard it’d be to keep her safe.
Before he could get out of his head and ring the bell on the yellow siding, the door swung open and he found himself staring into the angry eyes of Mrs. Collins. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
“Of course.” He wouldn’t mention how he’d nearly dropped his hot coffee in his lap as he’d rushed out of the station.
She opened the door wider. “Come on in. Clara’s in the library.”
He followed her inside then waited for her to escort him to the library that stood on the other side of the winding wooden staircase. He’d been in the shelter a few times, but he always stayed on the perimeter. Always wanted to show respect for the women who may be there.
The dark green walls ran into the cherry wood built-in shelves along the back wall of the room. Red brick surrounded the fireplace, and a tan leather couch faced the mantle. A burst of deep hues on a cozy rug anchored the space. The Smoky Mountains loomed large outside the lone window on the far side of the room where an antique desk sat in front of it.
Clara sat on the sofa with her hands clasped on her lap. The rigid set of her shoulders and the way she tapped her foot against the floor announced her apprehension.
“Would you like me to stay with you?” Mrs. Collins asked. She moved behind Clara and rested a palm on her shoulder. “Elsie’s overseeing breakfast. If I hang here long enough, maybe she’ll clean up my mess.”
The side of Heath’s mouth ticked up at Mrs. Collins’ attempt at humor.
Clara squeezed the older woman’s hand and offered her a weak smile. “I’m okay. I’ll come find you when I’m done here.”
“Sounds good, honey.” Mrs. Collins crossed the room, hesitating on her way past him. “Get me if you need me. She’s shaken. More so than she’s letting on. Be gentle.”
He waited for Mrs. Collins to leave before approaching the couch. He opted to sit on the chair next to the sofa, as far from Clara as possible. Standing seemed awkward, as if he were trying to intimidate her with his stature. Sitting closer meant he might do something stupid like tucking the loose strand of hair behind her hair or offering comfort that wasn’t wanted—and definitely wouldn’t be appropriate.
“Morning,” he said, taking out a small notepad for notes. “I’m sorry to hear you had issues. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
She exhaled a long breath and replayed the moment she’d found her son’s destroyed blanket on the front porch. He struggled to keep his expression from pinching in anger. He focused on her words and the facts as he jotted in his notebook.
“Mrs. Collins looked at the video footage from the security camera,” Clara continued. “It clearly shows a man tossing the blanket on the porch. You can’t see his face, but it has to be him. I know it. I was stupid to come here. I should have known he’d chase us. I don’t know what to do now.”
The desperation in her voice tightened his chest. He coughed to clear his throat before speaking. “You could file an emergency protection order. The court would probably grant it rather quickly based on what landed him in jail in the first place. That would help keep him at a distance from you and the kids. If he violated the terms, he’d end up right back in jail.”
“You think a piece of paper will keep him away? He wants to make me pay for leaving him. Nothing can keep me safe.”
Needing to be a bit closer to her, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. The smell of lavender invaded his senses. “I can’t sit here and promise that Mitch won’t try to hurt you again, but I can promise you have a lot of people around who can help you. Who want to rally around you and those kids in there and do everything possible to keep you safe. All you have to do is let us. I’m just giving you an option, a few ways that will allow the sheriff’s department to step in and take action. To step in and do whatever we can before he takes it to a dangerous level.”
Crossing one arm over her middle, she bit her thumbnail. “He’s already so angry. Maybe if I just stay low and out of his way things will calm down. Taking this to court might just ignite his temper even more.”
He bit back his frustration. Patience was key, and Clara needed to make her own decisions. “There’s no pressure. Just think about it. I’m going outside to collect the evidence, even though we already know what happened.”
She winced. “Evidence. Such a cold, cruel word to describe something so sweet that held so much meaning. My mom made Davey that blanket when I was pregnant. It’s his favorite. He sleeps with it every night. I can’t believe I forgot it when we left last night, but we were in such a hurry. And now it’s nothing more than evidence against a father who’ll do anything to inflict pain on his mother.”
“I’m sorry, Clara.”
“Go ahead and file that restraining order.” She set her mouth in a firm line, silent determination coming off of her in waves.
Pride constricted his throat, and he struggled to keep on his mask of professionalism. She was doing exactly what she needed to protect herself, and now that she agreed to take legal action, he could pay the sonofabitch a visit and let him know he planned on doing everything he could to keep Clara and her kids safe.
* * *
Hovering the cursor over the submit button, Clara stared at the computer screen and second-guessed her decision to take more legal action against Mitch. Maybe he’d made his point. He’d had his moment and would just move on with his life, forgetting about the wife and kids he didn’t love. No way would he do something so extreme that he’d risk going back to jail.
But deep down, she knew that was nothing more than wishful thinking. Hell, it wasn’t even deep down. No doubt Mitch’s game of revenge had just begun.
“You doing okay?”
The sound of Heath’s deep baritone made her jump. She slapped a hand over her heart and turned on the hard desk chair to face him.
He stood in the doorway. Concern in his kind eyes. There was something disconcerting about the way he stared at her, as though he saw through her—understood what went on in her head. But instead of it making her uneasy, it made her feel like she had an ally.
Her gaze dropped down to the yellow evidence bag in his hands, and her stomach revolted. Before answering him, she faced the computer and clicked the button to submit her forms. Worry and relief twisted together like a pretzel inside her. “I’m fine. Just a little unsettled and wondering what’s next.”
Crossing through the room, he settled on the edge of the sofa and slid a black backpack from his shoulders onto the floor. He stretched out his long legs and placed the evidence bag on the couch with extreme care. “Now we can get you an emergency order against Mitch. That means you don’t have to go to court or face Mitch. The order will be delivered to him.”
“By who?”
“Me.”
The single word was said with so much force, so much power, she could almost believe everything would be all right.
“He won’t take that well,” she said, a strong impulse to warn him pushing her to speak. Mitch was a bully through and through, and not even a sheriff’s deputy would dissuade him.
“You let me worry about that.” He shifted his gaze toward the leather-bound books lining the shelves. “I’ll get all this filed right away then go directly to speak to Mitch about the restraining order. In the meantime, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”
“How will you know where to find him?” she asked. “Last night, it sounded like he planned to come right back to the house and stay.”
“His probation officer should have that information. Tracking him down shouldn’t take too much time.”
A thought crashed against her, spiking her anxiety. “He broke into my house.”
Heath stilled, eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
She flicked her wrist toward the evidence bag. “The blanket. We left in a rush, grabbing only what we needed. Davey’s blanket was in his room. The only way Mitch could have gotten that blanket was to enter the house last night and take it.”
Expression hardening, Heath muttered curses under his breath. “If he broke into your home, you can file further charges against him. Especially if he had no key or no permission granted for entry.”
She shook her head, anger heating her blood. He’d come back just like he’d promised. Thank God she hadn’t been there. “He had neither. I changed the locks while he was in jail, and I told him last night to leave the house—you can ask Laura Sulley. She was on the phone with me during the entire conversation. His name isn’t on any of the paperwork for the home either.”
“This could be enough to put him back in jail. We should go back to your home and see if he took anything else. The more weight we can add to these allegations the better.”
She was about to agree when Davey and Avery burst into the library. A tiny flour-covered apron was hooked around Davey’s neck and tied around his waist. Avery’s dark hair had been pulled back to a stubby ponytail.
Davey ran past the fireplace and grinned up at Heath. “Hi! I made muffins today. Do you want one?”
Heath ruffled Davey’s hair. “What kind of muffins?”
“Blueberry.”
“Well, that is my favorite.”
“Policeman!” Avery squealed and ran toward Heath with her arms spread wide and drool trailing over her chin.
Clara made a move to step in front of him and intercept the dirty child, but he plucked the little girl off the floor and whirled her in the air before holding her securely in his strong arms.
“Did you help bake, too, little lady?” he asked Avery, tapping the tip of her upturned nose with his finger.
She shook her head. “Eated them, policeman.”
Clara couldn’t help but laugh. “Honey, his name is Deputy Sterling.”
Avery frowned and shook her head. “No. Policeman.”
The sound of his warm laughter skimmed over Clara like a jolt of electricity, making sparks of life erupt in the pit of her stomach.
“You can call me whatever you like, but how about Heath? I like that better than policeman.”
“Heath,” Avery said, a little lisp slurring the name. She twisted her mouth back and forth as though giving the matter serious consideration.
Davey took a step forward, head tilted to the side. “Can I call you Heath?”
“You all can,” he said. “Even your mama calls me Heath. That’s what friends do, right?” He shot her a look with his dark eyebrows raised in a silent question.
Something in her soul settled at the idea of having him as a friend—having him in her corner. She wasn’t sure why or how but over the months of pouring his coffee and closing his tab, he’d become her friend. Had become someone she trusted. And for the first time in a long time, it was like luck was on her side.
“Yes, Heath, that’s what friends do.”