A Place to Rest My Heart (23 page)

“Sure. Be careful.”

Mindy laughed and revved up her bike and quickly left. The rest of us got in Stacey’s prim little Saturn. Subtle style and grace, just like Stacey. I often pictured Stacey as the local schoolmarm, stunningly beautiful once you got behind the glasses.

I almost laughed out loud at my own musings. I had been watching way too many westerns lately with Tommy. The man was a nut for them. I would have to put Mason down as the gunslinger and Chase was the dark rider come to town who really didn’t want trouble, whom but trouble found anyway. Sean would be the sheriff. I wonder who I would have been? I thought about that while we drove through evening traffic to the coffee shop, got some coffee, and sat in a corner booth. I’m not one to miss dessert, so I got a chocolate éclair with my coffee. I figured I had earned it after my session with Dr. Bob.

Once everyone was seated, Mason took a look around the room and then looked at me. “I need your help tonight with a possible problem. I hesitate to ask because it is a bit outside the normal realm of our day job and yet it encompasses it quite a bit.”

Mindy shook her head. “Mason, get to it.”

Mason sighed. “We,” indicating Mindy and Stacey, “and a few others are founders of a special group of people who offer protection to women and children in need — battered women and abused children who need help getting out. We’ve started an underground railroad, so to speak, that offers places for women to go that is secret and protected, with safe houses and shelters in other cities. We don’t break the law, nor do we take it into our own hands, but we certainly skim the fine line around it.”

Mindy nodded. “We help get the women into shelters and into counseling. But first we help get them out of the abusive environment. Often times the abuser isn’t kept at bay with restraining orders. A piece of paper only goes so far in protecting someone. The police do all they can but women are still dying because the system still doesn’t support them.”

Stacey stole a bite of the éclair that was sitting, forgotten and uneaten, in front of me. “The system has come a long way but it still isn’t perfect. Children in abusive homes or abusive foster care don’t always have a voice in the system. The system is overwhelmed and underfunded.”

I watched each of these women as they spoke. Each one’s voice had the ring of experience in it. In some part of their lives they had been touched by abuse. I had never gotten into the system. I had suffered my abuse behind gilded walls.

“So how does my help come in?”

“Our group is called New Directions; we offer an escort service — so to speak — for anyone who wants to walk out safely. If they need to get to a shelter or to the hospital, we take them. There have even been times we’ve helped women disappear and get a new identity and a new place to live. This is often harder because we have to make sure, if children are involved, that we aren’t violating any custody decrees set down by the court. As I said, this one is more time-consuming and difficult.”

“Tricky you mean,” said Stacey.

My coffee was now cold, but I drank it anyway. “You keep saying we. Who is we?”

“Average people, mostly women. Health care workers, lawyers, doctors, teachers. There are several male volunteers. Detectives and doctors. Oftentimes abused women are too afraid of men to take help from them.”

“I take it from all the secrecy at work that certain parties at Woo do not know about this group.”

All three looked at each other.

“I see. Interesting”

“We’re fairly secretive. Often, once we get the woman or child out of the abusive home, then we’re not privy to where they go from there. There are only a select few who know the whole system inside and out,” said Mindy.

“And Mason is one of them?” I asked already knowing the answer.

Mason smiled. “I told you she was quick. Yes, I am. We have a pick-up tonight and I’m expecting trouble.”

“So why not ask the police to be there, when you pick her up?”

“We tried that. The police are stretched thin as it is in most cities. They cannot always stay and help. If they get a call then they have to respond to it. We are waiting for a call from a PI who has been watching the place to let us know when the boyfriend has left. Once he’s gone we go in and get a woman and one child out. They are not married and the eight-year-old is not his. The woman has been in the hospital three times in the last month. The last time he broke her arm. She is terrified of him. Last time she tried to run away he apparently found her. Not … ”

“Not this time,” I said interrupting her. I needed no more incentive to give them my help. I knew what it was like to be unable to run, too scared to trust anyone.

The call came a few minutes later and we were up and off. We headed to an area in South San Francisco that is avenue upon avenue filled with narrow houses all lined up and down the streets, almost like dominoes turned side to side. All the same make and model, just painted different colors. This area was seriously lacking in self-respect. Yards were littered with garbage, broken toys, and abandoned cars. Music and television sounds blared through open windows or thin walls.

Mason pulled alongside a beat-up sedan and rolled down her window. “Cody.”

“How do, Mason. Your boy left about ten minutes ago. You want me to hang around?”

“You might want to cruise around in case he comes back.”

The man, whose face I could not clearly see, nodded and pulled away from the curb. Mason turned the car around and pulled up to the curb where the sedan had been. Mindy pulled up into the driveway, got off her bike and pulled out a small video camera. “Ready when you are, Mason,” she said.

Mason turned in her seat to look at me. “I want you at the front door as back up. I am going in and get the woman and child. Her name is Emily Peters and the little girl’s name is Kara. If he shows up, you do not touch him unless you deem it necessary to stop him. Don’t hit first.” Mason handed me a photo of the guy from a file. I looked it over, nodded and handed it back. Mason and I got out and Stacey moved over to the driver’s seat. Mason must have read my mind because I was getting ready to ask about the seating arrangements for the ride back. “I’ll ride back with Mindy. You’ll go with Stacey.”

“Fine by me.” I followed Mason up the cracked walkway to the front door. She knocked three times before the door opened slightly and a bruised eye looked out at us.

“Hi, Emily. You ready?” Mason’s voice was gentle as she smiled at Emily.

I could read the indecision on Emily’s face as she slowly opened the door. I looked down to the little face that peeked around her Mother’s legs.

“I don’t,” Emily took a deep breath. “I mean, Wayne, he might come back soon and you know last time, he found Kara and me.”

Mason nodded. “Yes, he did. That is why there will be no record of Emily or Kara Peters anywhere. You won’t even be in the city.”

Kara moved out from behind her mother. “Mommy, do we get to find a new place to live without Papa Wayne?”

Emily knelt down next to her daughter. “Do you want to leave here, Kara?”

Kara nodded, and touched her Mother’s bruised face. Emily stood up and I could see her upper lip stiffen. “Come in. I have a few things packed but I couldn’t do much, with him here. Ever since I ran off last time he’s been keeping an eye on me.”

Mason followed Emily and Kara into the house as Mindy followed to document everything. I stood in the front entryway and watched the street and half listened to the sounds from inside the house. My line of sight into the house from the front door was down a short hallway and into a kitchen to the left, a living room straight ahead and another hallway, presumably the bedroom was to my right. I saw him at the back door window just as he kicked the door in.

“We’ve got company.” I yelled, and moved quickly down the hall to head him off, stopping to block the hallway to the bedrooms. I hoped that they had another way out in case he got by me. Now granted there was no way in hell he was getting by me, but hell often covered a large territory. I stepped in his way, much like the matador does the bull. I knew I could not hit first but I was hoping that he didn’t know that.

“Emily! You bitch! Get out here!” He stopped, and looked at me. I was not who he expected. “Who the hell are you?”

“The tooth fairy.” I had no idea why I said that, but it threw him off just enough that I was now in front of the entryway to the bedroom hallway and he was going to have to go through me to get by me. As God is my witness a part of me prayed he tried. Just one chance to smack him down. Just one.

He got in my face. “Get out of my house, bitch, or I will kick your ass and then call the cops and tell them you broke in.”

Why, pray tell, when they got in your face, did they have to have bad breath? Was it a prerequisite for get-in-your-face assholes to make sure they either smelled of onions or rotting teeth and cigarettes? Keeping my eyes on his I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a roll of wintergreen lifesavers. “Want one?” He smacked them out of my hand and told me what I could do with said roll of lifesavers.

“Mason,” I whined. “He took my breath mints. Can I hit him now?”

“Please try to be a bit more patient. Just a few more minutes,” Mason called out from the back of the house.

“What are you? Some fucking lesbos?”

“Wow, your grasp of the English language is rather extraordinary. Did you have to study long to learn the big words?”

“No goddamn dyke is keeping me away from what is mine.”

“No, the tooth fairy is keeping you from what you
think
is yours.” I had no doubt I was pushing him, and I did not care.

He outweighed me by a good hundred or more pounds and by the look of the paunch at his belly that protruded from beneath his shirt, he was probably way out of shape. But as much as a part of me wanted to go at it with him I knew that part of me was trying to use him as the scapegoat for the wrongs done to me. Not fair. Now granted by the looks of Emily he probably didn’t deserve fair but he was not the answer to my future revisions. Emily’s yes, but not mine.

A voice from the front door caused him to turn away. “Hey, Wayne, you need some help?”

Ahh, wonderful, Wayne’s cavalry was here. Wayne nodded and looked back at me. “Yeah, some dykes are trying to kidnap Emily. Good thing you called me, Rick.”

Well that explained how Wayne got back here so soon. Got to love nosey neighbors. “Excuse me, but I never said I was a dyke, Tooth Fairy yes, but not a dyke. What do you have against dykes anyway? Are you afraid that your manhood won’t stand up to one? Or is it that you’re afraid Emily might be more satisfied by one?”

Well that did it for Wayne. I had pushed too hard. He took a swing at me, I ducked, and he tried again and I got out of the way again. This, of course made him even angrier. His buddy at the door started to come in but was stopped by a six-foot-six wall of a man, with long black hair in a ponytail. The neighbor, Rick, apparently thought twice about jumping in for his good buddy Wayne. I guess neighborhood loyalties only go so far these days, assuming that the rather tall man at the door was Cody. I was doing my best to keep Wayne from getting a hold of me and trying to let him exhaust himself with all his empty swings.

“You want any help there, little lady?” Cody asked from the doorway, while he watched the neighbors start to gather out on the street.

Who the heck was he calling little lady? “No, I think I got it covered.” Wayne was cursing up a blue streak. “I’m getting a glorious education here into the English language. I should be able to hold my own with any merchant marine after this.”

Wayne was getting winded and by now two pieces of living room furniture had broken due to his weight falling on them, and he had yet to lay hand on me. It was when I saw the flashing red lights and the cops heading up the walk that I let poor tired Wayne get a hit in on me. I took it in the shoulder and fell back with it rolling away from him as the cops told him to freeze.

“This bitch broke into my house.” Wayne whined to the cops as they escorted him into the kitchen to get his take on the evening’s activities.

The two cops looked at me. I slowly stood up, “No sir. Ms. Emily Peters let us in to help her pack. She and her daughter are leaving. This man here came into the house and was trying to stop her.”

A good while later statements were taken all around from myself, Cody, and Mason. There was no sign of Mindy, Stacey, Emily, or her daughter. Quietly, Mason told me they had left just before the police arrived. They had gone out the bedroom window. The police were none too thrilled to not have Emily Peters to question but Mason assured them that Emily would provide them with a statement in the morning and she gave them the video from the camcorder.

Once we got outside, though, I knew the night was not over with. Standing off to the side of the gathered crowd was Chase and Mike. “Do they always travel as a team? You know, Tonto and the Lone Ranger?”

Mason shook her head and sighed. “Well, hell. This is going to be a long night.” Cody chuckled, nodded to Mike and Chase and wished Mason good luck. He looked at me. “You did good kid.” And he sauntered off. Who was he calling kid?

Chase turned and headed to his car as Mike took my arm and pulled me toward his truck. “Don’t even think of not coming with me, Laney.” I hadn’t really thought of that. I could tell that whatever needed to be said between Chase and Mason would best be said in private.

Mike opened my door and all but tossed me up into the seat. Okay enough is enough. “Look, Mike, I am coming with you of my own volition, so you don’t need to be so damn rough. Keep it up and I will get a ride with someone else.”

I could see his temper just sitting at the boil over point. I wasn’t even sure if I was the intended target but I was going to be the bearer of it, regardless. I climbed up into the seat and got my legs out of the way just before he slammed the door. He got in and started up the truck and then turned it off, started to say something to me, then shook his head, started the truck again, and pulled away from the curb.