Chapter 1
CALLIE
Seven years ago…
I resisted the flinch hunching my shoulders and squared them instead. “Mom? Mom, you need to do something.”
Mom curled into herself and shook her head. “Just let it go, Callie. He’ll stop in a bit. Just let him wear himself out.”
“And let him keep beating the shit out of you?” I scoffed and locked my arms around my middle to keep from dropping into the floor next to her.
Wade Harlan, the man Mom had married and demanded I call Dad downed another gulp of liquor.
He stormed around the narrow trailer, sweeping his arm across every available surface and sending everything crashing to the floor.
We didn’t have much, and nothing of value, but the fact he destroyed because he could and knew he’d get away with it sent hot acid burning down the back of my throat.
Call the police on his drunk ass. What would they do?
I eyed the trashed living room and Wade stumbling around in a stupor.
My gaze swung down and around to Mom, huddled on the floor and covered in various bruises.
Would she tell the police the truth? Probably not.
“Hey, Callllllie.” Wade swaggered toward me, his red face bloated from too much drink and body saggy from too little exercise. He swished the empty bottle back and forth. “Get me another drink.”
To obey or not to obey was the question of the day.
I’d given in more times than not to try and keep the peace, but I’d seen this side of him before.
Too often not to understand what happened next. It was the same thing that he’d been working toward for years.
It started with breaking Mom down day by day until she reached this point where she no longer had the will to protect me.
I shook my head and eased toward the door. “Get it yourself. The bar’s down the street.” If he’d just leave, I could get Mom up and maybe convince her to go to the hospital.
I was pretty sure that last hit had broken a rib.
If she wouldn’t tell the doctors the truth, maybe I could.
Maybe someone would listen to a twenty-one year old trying her best to hold her shit together and protect her mother.
Wade tsked, his tongue clicking against his teeth as his eyes narrowed. “That’s not the right answer, baby girl, and you know it.”
“Don’t call me that.” I’d never talked back to Wade. Instead, I swallowed my words until they rotted in my throat, hence the acid that burned with every breath.
Wade took a swipe at me, his thick fingers grasping my arm and dragging me to his chest. “Sounds like it’s about time I taught you about the real world.” He pressed a sloppy kiss to my neck and ground his hips into me.
“Fuck you.” I shoved him, both hands against his chest and every ounce of my disgust behind the motion. Hours working in the shop fixing cars and bikes didn’t give me a hell of a lot of a cardio workout but it sure as shit had helped my upper body strength.
Wade stumbled, the backs of his knees catching on a table and sending him sprawling.
Curses flowed hot and thick, and he swung blindly in my direction.
I didn’t hesitate this time as I leaped for the phone and dialed those blessed three numbers.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“My stepfather is drunk and hitting my mother. He’s trying to rape me.” I blasted the words as fast as I could while Wade scrambled to his feet.
“You’re going to regret that.” He waved the whiskey bottle side to side, his entire body weaving.
I might regret it later, but right this instant, I needed him to go away. I needed a second to breathe and figure out what to do next.
Mom always told me the Jamesons were tough.
We never asked for help. I understood that mentality, but if the police could get Wade out of our house long enough for me and Mom to find a safe place, I’d call them a million times over.
Sirens sounded. Wade cursed and flung the bottle at my head.
I raised an arm to deflect it, and the solid thunk clipped my shoulder instead of my face.
The door flew open behind him and police swarmed inside. I’d never seen anything like it, and my jaw practically hit the floor as the leading officer took one look at the situation and slammed Wade into the nearest wall.
Wade bellowed and cursed, trying to buck off the officer twisting his arms behind his back. “You’re going to regret this.” He laughed, eyes crazed and spittle flying from his mouth. “I’ll have your badge for this. You don’t know who I am. Who you’re messing with.”
“Are you okay?” A female officer cut between me and Wade. She wore a dark blue uniform like the others, but the understanding in her eyes set her apart. “You have a cut.” She tapped her cheek.
“Mom.” I barely managed to say that much before I fell into the nearest chair with a bone-rattling thud. “Can you help my mom?”
A shudder rippled through my entire body, and I shivered.
“Sure. We’ll see about her too.” The woman angled her head toward Mom. “My name is Officer Davis. I have a few questions for you.”
A man and a woman dressed in white shirts and blue slacks carried medical bags inside.
One stopped next to Mom, and the other came my way.
I waved them off, pointing at Mom.
My teeth chattered too much to speak, but they understood.
The woman draped a thick blanket over my shoulders, retreating when I flinched.
Two officers wrestled Wade through the busted door and into a cop car.
The red and blue lights from the emergency vehicles spun in dizzying circles my eyes tried to follow.
I slumped against the wall and tried to pay attention to Officer Davis. “He threatened to kill us. He…” I swallowed hot bile, unable to continue. Others had suffered so much worse. All I’d endured was a few hits and tonight’s fumbling kiss. It was more than enough.
“It’s going to be okay.” Officer Davis patted my knee, then wrote in her little notebook. “We’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“How?” Tears blurred my vision. I refused to cry. He wasn’t worth it, so I took a deep breath and willed my body to straighten. It would take more than a creep like Wade to break me.
A few of our neighbors strolled past the open door. Whispers drifted on the night breeze, my name mingled among the whispered words.
They’d blame me for this. Mom did, so why shouldn’t they?
Officer Davis continued to reassure me, mixing in a few questions along the way.
By the time she wrapped everything up and left with her partner, Mom had been checked out and bandaged.
One of the EMTs handed me a sheet of paper.
I scanned it, my eyes narrowing on the words BATTERED WOMEN’S SHELTER written in bold ink.
Mom would never go.
I nodded in what I hoped was a thankful way and closed the door behind them.
It stuck on one side, the hinge at the top bent from the forced entry.
Oh well. I managed to lock the small chain in place. It wouldn’t keep us safe, but it would offer a warning if anyone tried to enter.
“Callie?” The pitiful sound of Mom’s voice trickled into the emptiness. She sat propped against the counter, her head in her hands. “What happened?”
“It’s okay, Mom. Everything is going to be okay.” I repeated it to her five more times while helping her onto the couch and covering her with a blanket.
The entire trailer smelled like booze, but her room with Wade smelled even worse.
I didn’t want her sleeping in there.
Mom turned on her side and drew the blanket up beneath her chin. “Thank you, Callie.”
“You’re welcome.” I choked on the words and wiped both hands down my face.
My arm throbbed, and I remembered the officer mentioning a cut on my arm.
I twisted my forearm to check.
A long, ugly cut ran half the length of my arm.
Blood trickled from it in a slow stream, running all the way to my fingertips. I stared at it, then the living room floor.
Drops of blood littered the carpet and sections of the linoleum in the kitchen. I had no memory of when it happened.
Maybe when Wade shoved me into the mirror when I tried to keep him from kicking Mom.
I shook my head. Didn’t matter.
Three steps down the hall and I hooked a right into the bathroom, flipping on the bare bulb that swung overhead.
I opened the medicine cabinet and riffled through Mom’s bottles and Wade’s mess. Not a band-aid in sight.
Great.
Scowling at my haggard expression in the mirror, I slammed the cabinet closed and stalked to their bedroom.
Wade was not coming back.
I intended to make sure of that. And he could take all his shit with him.
I yanked a black garbage bag from beneath the bed and stuffed his smelly clothes into it.
I moved from the floor to the closet, yanking the flimsy door so hard it groaned.
Mom’s clothes draped over hangers.
Wade’s lay in piles on the floor.
Touching them made my skin crawl, so I kicked as many as I could into the bag.
My toe hit something solid. I grunted at the impact and shoved a bundle of clothes to the side, revealing an old Adidas shoe box. Wade wore biker boots.
He wouldn’t touch Adidas with a ninety-foot pole, and we were too poor for name brand.
I kicked out a clear spot in the floor and yanked the lid off the box. A bundle of receipts flew out.
I scanned them, then tossed them aside, along with two bottles of old cologne tucked into the corner of the closet.
A plastic bag crinkled when I grabbed a third bottle, then fell over with a thud. “What the hell?” I pinched the bag between my thumb and forefinger and dragged it forward. A worn notebook had been stuffed inside and sealed with rubber bands around the bag.
My heart raced. Wade had secrets. I’d known that for a while.
He’d been a secretive bastard as long as I’d known him, but his threats tonight confirmed something I’d been hesitant to name.
I ripped the bag open and flipped through the notebook.
Names. Dates. Dollar amounts.
They lined the top of the page and had been filled in with cramped penmanship that almost made them unreadable.
I scanned the list, noting local businesses and entries that matched names Wade had mentioned with a curl of his lip and respect in his eyes.
I flipped to another page that listed payoffs, favors, drop locations, and what looked like illegal shipments based on the cargo he noted.
Tiny writing in the margin bent me forward to shove the notebook into a tiny fragment of light.
“Mrs. Tanner. Three year old girl. Leverage.” My blood ran cold. I read every single entry, every notation of what the evil son of a bitch considered leverage. My lungs burned with the need to breathe, and I inhaled so sharp and fast my vision swam.
Jail would not hold a man like Wade.
For all the officer’s reassurances, he would not stay gone.
Wade in jail gave me time to prepare for his inevitable return.
And when he came back, he’d come back hunting for control.
He’d come back for revenge.
I had proof of his evilness in my hands.
Proof, and insurance.
And something that would most definitely get me killed if the wrong person realized I had it.
At that point, I would not be Wade’s problem.
I would be the problem they all needed to eliminate.
Heart in my throat, I shoved the notebook back into the bag and wrapped the rubber bands around it while standing and leaving the room.
I couldn’t make a decision tonight.
My jumbled thoughts told me to burn it. Immediately.
But what happened when Wade came looking for it? I needed some kind of leverage, and answers like that didn’t pop up in a moment of whimsy and sleep-deprivation.
I’d hide it for now and figure out what to do with it later.
I shoved it under the loose floorboards beneath the bathroom sink and stood listening to Mom’s breathing, taking in the smell of spilled whiskey with every inhale.
I’d deal with it in the morning.