Читать книгу Plain Protector - Alison Stone - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSarah’s vision narrowed tunnellike as she climbed out of the deputy’s vehicle in the parking lot of the health-care clinic. In a flash, Nick moved next to her and grabbed her arm. Her first instinct was to pull away.
Run.
She blinked up at him.
“Are you okay? Here, sit.” His words sounded distant, jumbled in her ears. She was only partially aware of him yanking open the car door she had just slammed shut and ushering her to a seated position inside his vehicle. He crouched down in front of her and studied her eyes. “Are you dizzy?”
“I stood up too fast.” She had learned to make excuses to cover her panic attacks. It was less embarrassing this way. Her feelings were irrational, self-created, yet she couldn’t always control them.
“You’ve had a head injury.”
Sarah absentmindedly reached up and touched her head and pulled her fingers away, sticky with her own blood. Her stomach lurched and she shoved back a million memories of another time her head had been bleeding. Back then, the man with her hadn’t offered to help. No, it took several hours and a heaping dose of remorse before he came back to her, pleading for forgiveness with a promise to never lift a hand to her again.
Until the next time.
“Do you think you can make it into the clinic? If not, I can get a wheelchair from inside.”
Embarrassment edged out her feelings of anxiety, two emotions that twined around her lungs and made it difficult to breathe. “I can walk in.” One thing her ex-boyfriend had taught her was to pretend to be tough.
She had gotten good at pretending. At a lot of things.
Sarah stood and the officer hung close by her side, holding her elbow. He obviously wasn’t convinced. When they reached the door of the health-care clinic, it was locked. He buzzed the intercom and a crackling voice responded. “Who is it?”
“Christina, it’s Nick. I have a patient for you to examine.” He was talking into the intercom but his intense brown eyes were locked on hers, unnerving her.
“Urgent?” came his sister’s one word response.
“No, a few stitches.”
“Not a good idea,” Sarah muttered. She tried to pull away, but Nick gripped her arm tighter. She winced and he eased his hold, but not completely. She must have appeared as unsteady as she felt.
“I’m not going to let you go home with a head wound. I don’t want to get a call that you ended up dying in your sleep.”
Sarah wasn’t sure if his words were an exaggeration to wear down her resistance or a flat-out lie. She hardly thought her injury was that serious. “I was cut by glass, not hit by the rock.” She lifted her eyebrows and could feel the stiffness of the dried blood on her forehead.
The annoying buzzer released the lock on the door. As the deputy pulled it open, he whispered, “I’m trying to help you. Are you going to fight me every step of the way?”
She shrugged. She imagined she’d thank him one day for insisting she be treated for the cut on her head, sparing her from a lifetime of explaining how she got the scar, but today wasn’t that day.
They reached the dated waiting room. Dark stains—including a now-black piece of bubblegum—marred the bluish-gray carpet. Nick didn’t ask her to sit down on one of the blue plastic chairs, something her pounding head definitely would have appreciated. Instead he guided her through the office with a gentle hand on her waist and found his sister on the phone in the back.
The attractive woman, her long dark hair pulled up into a messy bun, mouthed without making a sound, “Give me a minute.” Her gaze traveled the length of Sarah, a scrutiny Sarah had tried to avoid at all costs since she had moved into the small cottage in Apple Creek and set up her quiet practice through the church.
Sarah’s face heated and the urge to flee nearly overwhelmed her. Don’t have a panic attack. Don’t have a panic attack.
The physician pointed at the open door of an adjacent examination room. Nick understood the silent directive and led Sarah into the room. At his insistence, she sat on the exam table, the white, protective paper crinkling as she scooted back. Nick stood sentinel at her side, and an awkward silence joined the steady hum of an air conditioner. Sarah was grateful for the cool air blowing across her skin.
The doctor’s appearance in the doorway was never more welcomed. Her gaze went from her brother to Sarah and back to her brother.
“Sarah was cut by broken glass. Someone threw a rock through the basement window of the church.”
If Sarah hadn’t been watching the doctor’s face, she might have missed the slight flinch. “The church, huh? Is nothing sacred?”
Sarah lifted a shoulder, finding it difficult to respond.
“I don’t have insurance,” Sarah repeated her lie. “I can pay over time if that’s okay?”
“We treat a lot of patients without insurance. We’ll figure something out. First things first.” The physician grabbed a clipboard. “Do you mind filling out this form?”
Sarah took the clipboard in her shaky hands and stared at it. Her pulse rushed in her head and the letters forming the words Name, Address, Phone number scrambled in her field of vision. She placed the clipboard down on the crinkly white paper and slid off the table.
Nick gently touched her elbow.
The world shifted around Sarah, and she grabbed the smooth vinyl edge of the table to steady herself. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“You need to have that cut looked at.” Nick, in his crisp sheriff’s uniform, loomed over her, his commanding voice vibrating through her. The walls grew close. Too close.
Sarah pushed past him. “I don’t have to do anything.”
“Wait,” the physician said. Instinctively, Sarah stopped in her tracks. “You.” The physician pointed at her brother. “Wait outside.” She turned to Sarah. “And you. Please, let me look at your injuries.”
A small smile touched the attractive doctor’s face. “You don’t have to fill out any paperwork.”
Sarah let out a long sigh, and without meeting Nick’s gaze, she returned to the exam table. The deputy slipped outside and closed the door.
The physician examined her in silence. The young doctor smelled like flowers and coconut lotion. She brushed a damp gauze pad across Sarah’s wound. “I’d feel better if we put a few stitches in this cut. I’d hate for you to have a huge scar.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary, Dr. Jennings?” Sarah didn’t notice a wedding ring on her finger, and since she was the deputy’s sister, she made the leap that her last name was the same as Nick’s.
“Yes, I do. And feel free to call me Christina. If I wanted to be Dr. Jennings I would have stayed at the big research hospital where I did my residency before I opened this clinic.”
Christina got out her instruments, and Sarah found herself wrapping her fingers around the edge of the table as another wave of panic crested below the surface.
“Perhaps you should lie down. I’d hate for you to pass out while I’m working on you.” With her hand to Sarah’s shoulder, Christina guided her patient to a supine position.
Christina cleaned the wound with a cool swab. “I’m glad you caught me. I was about to close up for the night.” The doctor ran the back of her protective glove across her forehead. “It’s been a long day, and the paperwork is endless.”
As Christina leaned in close to examine Sarah’s wound, Sarah noticed creases lined the physician’s pretty brown eyes, making her a few years older than Sarah first would have guessed.
“Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time. I had tried to tell your brother I didn’t need medical attention.”
Christina made a sound with her lips pressed together, a cross between an “I see” and “let me make that decision.” Sarah didn’t ask what she meant by that because she figured it didn’t matter. If she got these stitches maybe Nick would leave her alone and she’d resume her quiet life. God willing.
Unless Jimmy had found her...
Sarah swallowed back her nausea, fearing if she let her worries take root, she’d have a full-blown anxiety attack.
Dear Lord, protect me and please, please, please keep me safe from Jimmy.
They fell into silence as Christina focused on the task of suturing Sarah’s wound. After Christina finished, she placed a small bandage across Sarah’s forehead near her hairline. Christina smiled at her work. “I think that should heal nicely. My father once suggested I go into plastic surgery, but my heart had more humble goals.” Christina’s brown eyes met Sarah’s as if to say, “So, here I am in this small-town health-care clinic.”
Christina held Sarah’s hand and helped her swing around to a seated position. The physician tipped her head and met Sarah’s eyes. “You feel okay?”
Sarah nodded. As good as I’m going to feel under the circumstances. But she kept that thought to herself. She had learned to keep a lot of things to herself over the past six months. And even before that.
Christina turned her back to Sarah and put a few instruments onto a tray. “Is there anything you’d like to share with me?”
Emotion rose in Sarah’s throat, and she cut her gaze toward the door. The need for escape was strong. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Christina turned around slowly. “I’ve seen a lot working in a rural health-care clinic.” She tipped her chin toward the discarded clipboard. “You didn’t want to share any personal information. What or who are you hiding from?”
Sarah’s cheeks flared hot. “I’m...” The lie died on her lips. She had mentally trained herself to deny, deny, deny even though deceit went against her Christian upbringing. White lies were a matter of self-preservation. She prayed God would understand.
Sarah looked at the closed door. Christina was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. Sarah closed her eyes and made a decision. She’d confide in Christina.
Sarah swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I came to Apple Creek to get away from my ex-boyfriend.”
“He’s abusive.”
“Yes. I feared if I stayed in Buffalo, he’d kill me.”
Christina reached out and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “I’m sorry.” She narrowed her gaze. “Do you think he found you? Do you think he could have been the one to throw the rock through the window? To scare you?”
“No, no. No one knows where I am.” Sarah hoped saying the words out loud would make them true.
“No one?”
“Only the pastor and his wife. And our pastor back home. My mother also knows where I am. It gives her some peace to know.”
Christina flattened her lips and nodded, as if giving it some thought.
“And my brother?”
Sarah shook her head, her eyes flaring wide. “No, I just met your brother tonight.”
“My brother’s a deputy. He can protect you.”
“My ex-boyfriend’s a cop. He’s on the force in Orchard Gardens, a suburb of Buffalo.” Sarah’s voice grew soft, dejected. “He didn’t protect me.”
Christina twisted her lips. “My brother’s a good guy.”
Sarah gingerly touched the bandage on her forehead. “A lot of people think Officer Jimmy Braeden is a good guy. Do you know how hard it is to file a police report when his brothers in blue think he’s such a great guy?” All the old hurt and pain twisted in her gut. “No thanks.”
“I think you’d be safer if someone in law enforcement here in Apple Creek knew to be on the lookout for him. Where do you live?”
A little voice in the back of Sarah’s head was growing louder and louder: Don’t tell her. Don’t let her in. He’ll find you.
“I rented the cottage on the Zook’s property.” A knot in her chest eased a fraction. It felt good to confide in someone. Was Christina right? Should she let Nick in on her secret?
“I don’t want anyone else to know what I’m running away from. I’m safer this way,” Sarah blurted before she changed her mind.
“What about tonight? Do you think he found you?”
The heat of anxiety rippled across Sarah’s skin. “Tonight was just some kids.”
“But you don’t know that.”
“There’s no way Jimmy knows where I am.”
“Are you sure?” The tone of the doctor’s voice sent cold shards shooting through Sarah’s veins.
Sarah shoved back her shoulders, trying to muster a confidence she didn’t feel. “I have stayed off the radar for six months. No car. No credit card purchases. I’ve been careful about contact with anyone from my past. There’s no way he can know I’m here.” And if Jimmy had found her, he wouldn’t have simply thrown a rock through the window and fled. He would have stayed, stormed into the basement and killed her.
Unless he wanted to terrorize her first. Make a game of it. Jimmy loved nothing more than playing games. Games that were stacked in his favor.
Sarah shook her head both to answer Christina’s question and to shake away her constant irrational thoughts. This is what Jimmy had done to her. Not just the physical abuse, he had made her question her own sanity.
She had to flee Buffalo to save herself physically, emotionally and professionally. Jimmy was able to poke so many holes in her accusations that her job as a social worker for the county had been in jeopardy.
Christina ran a hand across her chin. “If you’re running away, why only go an hour from Buffalo? You could have gone anywhere. The other side of the country.”
“It’s twofold really. The pastor of my old church had a connection here in Apple Creek. They needed a social worker. And my mother still lives in the area.”
“You realize it’s dangerous to contact your mother. Your boyfriend—”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Well, he’s probably keeping tabs on your mother in case you make contact.”
“I haven’t. Only through the pastors have we kept in touch. Through letters.” Loss and nostalgia clogged her throat. “My mom’s sick. I need updates, and I need to be able to run home in an emergency.”
Christina bit her lower lip and nodded. Sarah appreciated that Christina didn’t question her need to be near her mom. Just in case.
“If even one person knows where you are, you’re in jeopardy,” Christina added.
Sarah was about to say something when a quiet knock sounded on the door.
Christina lowered her voice so Nick wouldn’t overhear through the door. “If you’re not going to leave Apple Creek, I strongly encourage you to confide in my brother. He can protect you,” she repeated.
A stark reality weighed heavily on Sarah. If Jimmy Braeden found her, no one could protect her.
* * *
“A deputy sheriff’s escort to my home is more than enough. You don’t have to walk me to the door, Officer Jennings.” Sarah slowed at the bottom step of her rented cottage and turned to face him, obviously trying her best to put her protective shield back in place. Nick could see it in her eyes. She was refusing his help every step of the way.
What secret was she hiding?
“You were attacked this evening, and whoever did it is still out there.”
“I was hardly attacked. Someone threw a rock through a window, and I got in the way. It was probably kids fooling around.”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “May I make sure your property’s secure?” He framed it as a question, but he wasn’t leaving until he made sure she was safe.
“Only in a small town.” Sarah shrugged and smiled, an attempt to sound light and breezy, but she wasn’t fooling him.
“I’ll check the doors and windows.”
“Okay.” Sarah sounded exhausted.
His cell phone chirped, and he glanced at it and held up his finger.
“Deputy Sheriff Jennings.”
“Hey, Nick.” It was Lila, the dispatcher. “Sheriff Maxwell caught some kids lurking around behind the general store. They were throwing empty liquor bottles against the wall.”
“Any of them confess to shattering the church window?”
“Not yet, but I imagine once we get some of their fathers in here, they’ll straighten right quick.”
“Amish?”
“Three of the five. Two are townies.”
“Are they being held?”
“Yes, at the station. If you want to put the fear of God in them, you should come in quick. I don’t imagine they’ll be there long.”
“Okay.” Nick clicked End and looked at Sarah.
“They caught some kids breaking glass bottles behind the general store. No one claims to have thrown a rock through the church window, but it’s possible.”
An overwhelming need to protect Sarah filled him. What was it about her? Her petite stature? Her vulnerability? Or was he drawn to Sarah’s fiery attitude that emerged every time he suggested something she didn’t like.
His mind flashed to his sister Christina. She seemed to have her life together now—she lived and breathed the health-care clinic—but there was a time when she, too, had been vulnerable and he hadn’t been there to help her. His stomach twisted at the thought of what might have happened if she hadn’t gotten away the night she was attacked on campus. His head told him he couldn’t be everywhere, but the pain in his heart told him he needed to try. It made him want to be a better officer.
They stood in silence for a minute before Sarah turned and inserted the key into the lock. Most people in Apple Creek didn’t lock their doors, but he supposed a single woman living out here all alone wasn’t like most people.
And enough bad things had happened, even here in Apple Creek, that eventually everyone would realize they’re not immune to evil.
Sarah pushed open the door and propped the screen door open with her hip. She turned to face him. “Since they picked up the kids breaking bottles, I’m fine out here.” There was a hint of a question in her tone.
“Hold on, you’re not slipping away from me that easily.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes. He couldn’t seem to reach her, and he wasn’t sure why he was striking out.
“I’m going to call Sheriff Maxwell and get their names, and you can tell me if you know any of them from your meetings.”
Sarah leaned on the doorframe and held the screen door open a fraction with the palm of her hand, apparently still hesitant to allow him into her home.
Once Nick gave the names, Sarah frowned. “Ruben and Ephram Zook live next door.” She stretched out her arm and pointed to the well-tended home across the field. “I’m surprised they’d get caught up in such foolishness. I’m renting the house from their parents. Their father is rather strict. However, I suppose saying an Amish father is strict is redundant.” The tight set of her mouth relaxed into an all-too-fleeting smile. “But neither boy has been to one of my meetings. I’ve never heard of them having issues with alcohol or drugs. Or being otherwise wild during rumspringa.”
“What about the other names?”
Sarah shook her head. “Not familiar to me.”
“I’ll have to talk to each of them. See if they’d been near the church first.”
“Please don’t tell anyone you asked if the young Amish men had been to one of my meetings. My work is based on trust. They’ll be afraid to come if they think I’ll rat them out.”
Trust.
Nick nodded. Strange word for a woman who seemed afraid to trust him. She was obviously harboring secrets.
“You going to be okay out here?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Nick hesitated a fraction before pivoting on his heel and stomping down the porch steps.
Sarah Lynn had secrets. Unless her secrets drew the attention of the Apple Creek sheriff’s department, Nick decided he’d let her be.
The last thing he needed was to get caught up with someone like Sarah. It would be easy to do. But Nick had already been burned by a woman with her share of secrets.
Once in a man’s lifetime was enough.
* * *
Sarah walked through the small cottage she rented—cash only—from the Amish family next door without turning on any lights. The downstairs windows lacked curtains, and she hadn’t remedied the situation because she had to be conservative with her money. Make it last. But she hated the lack of privacy. A woman who had a stalker didn’t relish the notion of being in a lit-up fish tank. So most nights, she retired to her upstairs bedroom to read in privacy.
How long can I keep hiding? Delaying my life because I’m afraid of one man?
Sarah reached the kitchen. The white moonlight slanted across the neat and functional cabinets and stove. Englischers, as the Amish called people like her, had lived here and when they moved away, Amos Zook had purchased the house adjacent to his land for future use by one of his children. Therefore, the house had modern amenities, such as they were, that would have to be torn out once one of the sons and his new bride moved into the house. Perhaps when Ruben, their second-eldest son, married Mary Ruth. If the rumor mill was to be believed. When Sarah first heard the plans for the house, she found it amusing. Updating a home by removing modern conveniences.
Sarah opened a cabinet closest to the sink and got a glass for water. As the cool liquid slid down her throat, her mind drifted to her mother. Alone in the only home Sarah had ever known.
She and her mother had been exchanging letters through their pastors. Her mother’s were always filled with cheery accounts of what she had been up to depending on the day and the weather.
“Weeded the garden today. You should see your father’s rosebushes.” Her father had been dead twenty years, but his rosebushes kept thriving.
“Wow, had to shovel the walkway three times today. I don’t think spring is ever going to get here.”
Or...
“It’s been so hot that I’ve had to turn on the fan at night. You know how I hate to sleep with that fan.”
Despite her mother’s lung cancer diagnosis almost a year ago, Sarah rarely ever heard her mother complain about her health. And when it came time to flee Buffalo because of Jimmy, her mother encouraged her to go and live her life, happy and healthy and away from that domineering man.
Her mother made it sound like her last wish: that her daughter live a happy life. Perhaps the kind of life that had eluded her mother after she lost her husband in a drunk-driving accident.
Pinpricks of tears bit at the back of her eyes. Losing a dad as a little kid did that to a person. Her poor dad had gone out for ice cream when some drunk teenager T-boned him at an intersection. Sarah inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, a trick she had learned to calm her anxiety. It worked maybe half the time.
Sarah glanced around the dark kitchen, and her cheeks flushed. Her mother had been widowed when Sarah was only ten. She raised Sarah to be a confident, independent woman. It shamed Sarah that she had fallen for a man who was able to control her.
Instead of following her mother’s lead, Sarah had grown up fearful, cautious, contained.
Now she’d have to spend the rest of her days hiding. And pray she’d get to visit her mother again in person before the horrible disease took its toll.
A rush of nostalgia overwhelmed her, and the sudden urge to call her mother nearly brought her to tears. Sarah moved to the kitchen hutch in the darkness and opened the middle drawer. It opened with a creak, sending shivers up and down her spine. Sarah hated that she had grown fearful of her own shadow. Yet, she had turned Nick away when he volunteered to check her house. Such was the conundrum of being stalked by a cop.
Afraid, but too afraid to call the police.
Glancing around the darkened space of her current home, she convinced herself she was alone. Safe, but alone. She laughed, an awkward sound in the silence.
Boy, am I ever alone.
Leaning down, she stretched her arm to the back of the drawer. There, she found the disposable phone and a prepaid card with one hundred minutes. Items she had purchased—with cash—in a moment of weakness, but then never used. Sometimes just knowing she had a phone, a way to reach out, made her feel less lonely.
Tonight she had reached her breaking point. No one could trace the call, she reasoned. She needed her mom. What girl didn’t? She needed to hear her mother’s reassuring voice. Tonight of all nights.
Sarah flipped on a light. Her hands shook with the knowledge of what she was about to do. Sarah fumbled with the packaging until she freed the phone. It fell and clattered against the pine table in her kitchen. She scooped it up and held it close to her beating heart, feeling as if she were doing something criminal.
The tiny hairs on her arms stood on edge and she couldn’t shake that feeling that someone was watching her. She lifted her head and stared toward the back window, her reflection caught in the glass. Beyond that, the yard was pitch-black. A surge of icy dread coursed through her veins. She’d have to save up for curtains. Sitting here like a duck on a target stand with a big red bull’s-eye over her head didn’t do anything for her nerves.
She gathered up the phone’s instructions and turned off the lamp. She hurried into the downstairs bathroom, closed the door and turned on the light to read the instructions. In short order—after installing the battery and activating the phone—she was calling the familiar phone number of her childhood home. The same phone number Sarah had since the time she could reach her mother’s rotary phone mounted on the wall in the kitchen. The phone had been updated, but little else had in her mother’s cozy home.
Yeah, the Gardners didn’t have the fanciest gadgets, but they did have each other. Sort of.
With shaky fingers, Sarah pressed the last digit of her home phone number and held her breath. Silence stretched across the phone for a long time. Sarah pulled it away from her ear and glanced at it, wondering if it actually worked. A distant ringing sounded in the quiet space, and Sarah quickly pressed the phone to her ear. It was getting late, but she knew her mother didn’t sleep much nowadays.
...Three, four, five...
She counted the rings.
“Come on, Mom, answer the phone.”
She imagined her mother pushing off the recliner—maybe asleep in front of whatever show happened to be on right now—muttering about the nerve of someone calling so late. No matter how many times she told her mother to keep the portable phone by her side, her mother insisted on placing it in the charger.
Every. Time.
...Eight, nine...
Sarah’s body hummed with impatience.
“Hello,” came her mother’s curt greeting, startling Sarah who had all but given up hope that she’d reach her mom tonight.
Sarah swallowed a knot of emotion. “Mom.” The word came out high-pitched and tight.
“Sarah...” her mother said her name on a hopeful sigh.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Her mother’s tone shifted from surprised delight to concern. “Is everything okay?”
Sarah touched the bandage on her head. “Yeah, yeah, I just missed you and needed to hear your voice.”
Her mother made an indecipherable sound and started to cough, a wet, popping noise. Her mother tried to talk, but the racking cough consumed her.
Sadness, helplessness and terror seized Sarah’s heart.
She envisioned her mother reaching for a tissue and holding it in a tight fist against her mouth as her pale face grew red from the exertion of coughing. Her eyes watering. A loud gasp sounded across the line as her mom struggled to catch her breath.
Sarah muttered a curse against Jimmy. She should be there caring for her mother. Not hiding an hour away, alone in someone else’s house.
After a moment, when the coughing slowed, Sarah asked, “Are you okay?”
Her mother seemed to have collected herself. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.”
Her poor, sweet mother, always trying to protect her only daughter. Sarah hadn’t magically forgotten that her mother had lung cancer.
“Have you been keeping up with your doctor’s appointments?”
“Yes. There’s just so many. Sometimes I’ll have a coughing jag when I’m driving...” Her mother forced a cheery tone. “Now, don’t worry about me. I’m as tough as they come. Now tell me about you. I thought we were only supposed to write letters. Safer that way.”
“I called on a disposable phone.”
Silence stretched across the line. “Jimmy came here the other day.”
Sarah’s heart jackhammered in her chest. “What did he want?” You, stupid, stupid girl! Suddenly the phone felt like a hot coal in her hand. What if he tracked her down here? How? It was a disposable phone.
Jimmy was resourceful.
She looked up at the lavender walls of the small downstairs half bath. She’d have to run again. This time farther away. Away from her mother.
“Jimmy acted like he was checking up on me, seeing if I needed anything—boy, that man could charm a lollipop from a baby—but I knew better. He was fishing around to see if I knew where you were. Same as he’s done the other times he’s swung by the house on the guise of checking up on me.”
Sarah pressed the phone tighter to her ear, her racing pulse making it more difficult to hear. “What did you tell him?” Sarah’s mouth grew dry as she anticipated her mother’s answer. They had rehearsed before Sarah left as to what her mother should say or do, but Sarah constantly worried that her mother’s illness, medication or just a plain old slip of the tongue would jeopardize her location.
Sarah knew she was being irrational, but having someone mess with your mind for two years straight had forced an otherwise sane girl to consider every crazy scenario.
Her mother started coughing again, but regained her composure more quickly this time. “I told him what we agreed upon. Again. That you had a job opportunity in California. Lord, forgive me for lying, but I do it to keep you safe.”
“I imagine he’s pressing you for an address. A phone number.”
“I told him it was best if he moved on now.”
Sarah could imagine Jimmy’s reaction when he was told to give up on something. Jimmy Braeden wasn’t a quitter. Or one who liked to lose. And losing Sarah had come as a huge blow to his ego.
“Mom, there’s no way Jimmy believes I moved to California for a job. Not when you’re not feeling well.” Not feeling well. That was an understatement. “He’s going to keep pushing.” Maybe they should have come up with a different story.
Jimmy would never stop looking for her. That much she knew for sure. Knees feeling weak, Sarah grabbed the towel bar and lowered herself onto the closed toilet lid. She reached forward and turned the lock on the bathroom door.
One swift nudge with a strong shoulder would send the door into splinters. How pitiful. She had locked herself into the bathroom of the home where she lived alone.
“I’m sorry I’m not there for you.” Sarah fought to keep the tears from her voice.
“I’m managing fine.”
Sarah cleared her throat. “What did the doctor say last time you were there?”
She envisioned her mom waving her hand in dismissal. “Oh, the same as always. If I believed everything they told me, I’d be buried next to your father already.”
Cold dread pooled in Sarah’s stomach. She feared her mother would never tell her the truth when it came to her prognosis.
Sarah traced the round edge of the brass door handle. “Maybe it’s time I came home.”
“I’m fine.” Her mother’s forced cheeriness sounded shrill. They both knew Sarah returning to Buffalo would only add more stress to her mother’s already stressed life. And they both knew Jimmy was a violent man who had the backing of his brothers in uniform—both in Orchard Gardens where he worked and his fellow cops in nearby Buffalo. All the cops seemed to know each other. Yet, Sarah couldn’t fault the men. Jimmy was a great liar and friend, when he wasn’t beating up his girlfriend. She didn’t blame his fellow cops for being deceived. Hadn’t she been? When Sarah tried to make a report, Jimmy’s own mother gave him an alibi. Then the rumors began when Sarah showed up at the station with a black eye.
Sarah had been out drinking and picked up the wrong guy. Now to save face, she’s trying to blame it on Officer Braeden because they just went through a bad breakup.
It was then that she knew she’d never get justice. And if she valued her life and her mother’s peace of mind, she had to leave.
Sarah pulled off a strip of toilet paper and wiped her nose. “Maybe you and I can go off somewhere. Somewhere where Jimmy can’t find us.”
“Sarah... Sarah...” her mother said, in her familiar soothing voice that made Sarah’s chest ache with nostalgia. “We’ve been through all this. I need to stay close to my doctors. And I like my home. Tending the garden.” I want to be in my own bed when I die. Her mother didn’t say it, but it was implied.
Sarah swallowed around the knot of emotion in her throat.
“Have you made any friends where you are? Someone you can trust?”
Nick’s kind smile floated to mind. “It’s hard, Mom. I don’t know who I can trust.” However, Sarah had confided in Nick’s sister, but Christina was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. And sweet, Amish Mary Ruth would never understand her new friend’s predicament.
And Sarah didn’t trust her own decision-making skills. She had been wrong—so very wrong—before.
“You need to stay safe,” her mom said, her voice cracking. “Please, I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom. I’ll stay here.”
“That’s my girl. Go and save the world.” Her mother liked to tout that her only daughter was always looking for ways to help people. Too bad Sarah didn’t know how to help herself.
