Chapter 6
6
D éjà vu altered Heath’s sense of reality as he found himself back in his cruiser with Clara. The giggles and chatter of children from the night before were gone, but her wide eyes and clenched hands on her lap were the same.
She stared out the passenger window as he drove away from the shelter. “I hate leaving the kids here alone.”
“They aren’t alone. They have Mrs. Collins and Elsie, two strong and capable women to protect them. Mrs. Collins assured us they’d keep the alarm system on and the kids inside. Everything will be fine.” He flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror and his stomach dipped as the house got smaller and smaller.
He hoped he wasn’t feeding Clara bullshit, but having the kids stay at the shelter was the best option. If Mitch had broken into their home, there was no telling what they’d walk into when they got there. And he needed Clara to tell him if anything else was missing from the property.
Then he could pin Mitch’s ass to the ground.
“I hope you’re right, because it doesn’t feel like anything will ever be fine.” She sighed and leaned her head against the seat. “I thought I’d have a few more years before I had to deal with any of this. By then, I’d hoped…. hell, I don’t know what I hoped. No matter when Mitch got free, he’d come after me and the kids. I should have been prepared for this.”
He hated the uncertainty in her voice. He fought the urge to glance her way, choosing instead to stare ahead at the country road that wound around the mountain. Towering pine trees clustered together, blocking the inner sanctum of the forest beyond. “You have prepared.”
Her derisive snort raised his hackles. “Sure looks like it.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve provided for you and your kids, you’ve made a happy life for your family. You’ve shown Davey and Avery what a strong woman you are, how you’re willing and able to go up against a bully and fight for what’s right.”
At her silence, he peeked her way for a beat. Her full lips were parted and gaze latched on his, as if the words had come from the mouth of a unicorn.
Shit. He’d gone too far. He’d only recently earned her trust enough for her to let her guard down. To share a laugh over a joke or not tremble when delivering his breakfast. Now he looked like a creeper who’d said too much and probably scared her to death.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just mean you seem like a great mom with two good kids. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You were in really bad situation and you’re doing what you can to stay out of it.”
“Sometimes I feel like everyone in this town is silently judging me for getting myself into this abusive relationship—for allowing my children to witness it for as long as they did. No one understands how hard it is to break the cycle you’re trapped in.” Her voice quivered and she sniffled. “God, I’m a mess. You’re going to regret offering to help me if I keep breaking down.”
“Never. I’m doing my job, and I’m glad to do it.” He held back the rest of what he really wanted to say. To explain his own past, his own experience. To let her know he understood all too well how she found herself in this mess, and he’d never judge her for it.
But he couldn’t. He was a deputy assisting a civilian. Anything more would be unethical.
Silence fell between them. The landscape morphed from untouched wilderness to large houses on sprawling lawns to the gridded streets of downtown Water’s Edge. “I’m not sure where you live.”
“Over on Chestnut. Second house on the left.”
He turned toward the right part of town and the midmorning sun streamed through the windshield. He flipped down his visor then rummaged for his aviator sunglasses in the center console.
Clara followed suit with her own visor, grabbing her eyewear from her purse. “Thanks, by the way. For what you said. Especially about the kids.”
“What did I say?” Frowning, he tried to recall his words.
She chuckled. “Must not have meant it if you don’t even remember.”
“I have the memory of a goldfish,” he said, tapping his fist on the side of his head. “Sometimes you just have to remind me.”
“You said they were good. That’s all I want. To raise good, happy kids who go on to do good, happy things in this world. The fact you see that when you hardly even know them means a lot. Of course, they were on their best behavior for the policeman.”
He grinned at the name Avery had given him. “It’s a perk of the uniform, I guess. But I have a feeling your two are always pretty well behaved.”
She grew quiet for a beat before she said, “They’ve learned it’s best to not ruffle feathers. I hope that doesn’t mean they’ll always choose to be quiet instead of speaking up—instead of taking a stand.”
The urge to share about his past sat heavy on his tongue but he swallowed it. He wanted to erase as much of her worries as he could, but this wasn’t the time to open up old wounds. Especially while on duty and focusing on her issues. Getting lost in old grief would do neither of them any good.
“You’re showing them how to do both,” he said instead. “Keep showing them love and a happy mom and you’ll all be just fine.”
She flashed him a genuine smile.
He turned into her driveway and the smile melted away. “You okay?”
“Yes, no, I don’t know.” She heaved out a long breath. “I’m scared to go inside for some reason. I mean, it’s not like I think Mitch is sitting in the living room waiting to ambush me, but there’s this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like my whole world has shifted in the span of a day, and I’m not sure I can put it back in place.”
He parked the cruiser and faced her. “You can do anything you set your mind to. You’ve already been through the ringer. Just keep pushing forward. And as for what’s in that house, I’ve got you. No matter what’s waiting inside.”
She stared out the front window, brow pinched in determination. “Let’s get this over with.”
* * *
Heath’s words played on repeat in Clara’s mind as she marched up the gravel drive to the house. Dread slowed her steps and the sound of her feet crunching over stones rang in her ears.
Why was this so hard? She’d bet a month’s worth of wages Mitch wasn’t here. So why did it feel like she was walking to her executioner?
Because this place of security and love she’d worked so hard to create had been violated.
Bracing herself for the worst, she found her keys and pushed open the door. Confusion rooted her to the worn carpeted floor.
Heath waited behind her. “Everything okay?”
She took three steps inside, allowing him space to enter. “This isn’t what I expected. Everything appears to be exactly the way I left it.”
“Are you sure Mitch was here? Was the door locked?”
“I didn’t check to see,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I just put the key in and turned. It could have been unlocked. I wasn’t thinking. Didn’t realize it could have been an issue.”
“There’s no issue.” The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, as if to stop her spiraling before she started. “But I need you to be one hundred percent sure Mitch broke in last night before we can file a complaint for the probation officer.”
She moved through the living room, noting subtle changes that screamed at her but no one else would notice. A shift in the energy was enough to convince her Mitch had been here, but the extra smooshed couch pillows and the slightly off-center picture frames told her more.
But where was the anger? The rage? The shattered glass and busted walls?
A shiver ran down her spine. “I don’t know how to handle this.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He was here. I can feel it.” She crossed the living room to where a photo of her with her arms around Avery and Davey hung on the wall. She straightened it, staring hard at the usually clean glass. A smudge covered her face. “He moved things, touched them.”
“Before yesterday, when was the last time he was allowed in the house?”
Snippets of the night he’d been arrested flashed in her mind. “At least six months. Since the night he went to jail.”
“Then we can dust for fingerprints.” He dug out a pair of gloves from his pockets and secured them over his hands. “You need to look around the house not only for things that may have been taken or tampered with, but even touched. I’ll call people in to dust for prints in all the usual places, but the more evidence we have the better.”
“That picture,” she said, pointing to the wall. “There’s a print on my face. That wasn’t there before.”
He plucked the frame off the wall and set it aside. “What else?”
Steeling her nerves, she walked into the adjoining kitchen. When nothing seemed amiss, she retraced her path through the living room and down the hall. She dipped into the bathroom then made her way to her room.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Her pulse pounded against her temples. Something in the air made her uneasy. She whirled around and found herself face-to face with Heath. “I swear I can smell him. I can feel him. But I don’t understand. This,” she flung her arm to the bedroom. “This isn’t like him. This is controlled. Cool-headed. Planned. It’s like a whole new level of mind games and I don’t know how to play.” Panic tightened her chest, choking off her breath.
“Hey. It’s okay.” Heath set a gentle hand on her forearm and took a step closer. “Just take a minute. This is a lot and there’s no right way to handle it. You’re doing great.”
The scent of his cologne—cedar mixed with a hint of lemon—beat back the lingering smell Mitch had left behind. The touch of his hand calmed her, centered her. She stared into his kind brown eyes and felt safe. Protected.
“I hate that he was in here.”
He gave her arm a little squeeze before removing his hand and letting it hang at his side. “Then make him pay. We’re almost done. Look and see if anything in here is missing then we have one more room.”
She nodded, hating how cold her skin felt without the feel of his palm on her arm. Shoving aside her nonsensical emotions that didn’t matter, she crossed over to the second-hand dresser pushed against the far wall. All the knickknacks and little treasures the kids gave her were in their place. She lifted the lid to her jewelry box, and her gaze landed on the empty space where her wedding ring was supposed to be.
Her throat went dry, and the spot on her empty left finger where that ring had sat for years started to burn. “My ring.”
Heath appeared at her side. “What do you mean?”
“My ring,” she repeated, pointing at the box. “My wedding ring is missing.”
“You sure that’s where you put it last?”
“Yes. The day I came back from the hospital, when he was in jail and I filed for divorce, I put the ring right there and never touched it again. I thought about selling it, or burning it, or just tossing it in the river but something always stopped me. So I kept it there. Locked away in that box. Why would he want it?”
“People do weird and crazy things all the time. Mitch has done more than one horrible and crazy thing. Honestly, stealing your wedding ring is low on his list of offenses. But by taking it, now we can add burglary to breaking and entering.”
She let his logic sink in. He was right. Standing around and trying to figure out the motives of a psychopath would do her no good. Best to just gain the facts, file away his misdeeds, then put it all behind her.
With that in mind, she finished her search of her room, relieved to find no other surprises. “The kids’ room is right across the hall.”
He fell into step behind her. “I hate to ask, but you’re certain you didn’t pack Davey’s blanket last night?”
She chuckled, shooting a smirk over her shoulder. “Oh, trust me. We got out of here as fast as we could last night, leaving behind his blanket was the worst mistake. It took him forever to sleep. I’m sure he kept everyone at the shelter up until he finally calmed down and fell asleep.”
She sighed, thinking about the ruined blanky her son had slept with every night since birth. Mitch had a way of finding the cruelest way to punish her. “Now I’ll have to find something else to comfort him at night.”
“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect replacement.”
Mentally, she sorted through some of Davey’s treasured items. He didn’t have much, but there were a few stuffed animals he loved that might do the trick. Her mind continued to work through the problem as she stepped over the threshold.
“Oh, my God.” Her hand flew to cover her mouth, and she took a step backward.
Heath sidestepped her and rushed into the bedroom. “Sick son of a bitch. Is that a stuffed dog?”
A velvety purple dog laid on the double bed. Its head laid beside the body, white cottony stuffing scattered around the dismembered toy like snow.
Tears filled Clara’s eyes, but this time they came from a place of hard, cold anger. She pushed past Heath and grabbed the body. “Who does this to a little girl’s toy? What kind of a monster did I marry?” She shook the toy with each word until something small and hard flew out of it.
“What was that?” Heath stooped down and picked the flying object off the floor. “Looks like the lid to a USB stick.”
“Why would that be in Avery’s stuffed animal?”
“Simple answer, because someone hid it in there. What we really need to figure out is what was on the thumb drive that was so important Mitch risked his neck to break in and take it.”