Deep Night (18 page)

“Please, give me just a minute. I'm really worried about your daughter.”

The woman glanced over her shoulder, then back at Sara. “She's doing fine, too.”

“Are you sure?” Sara hadn't wanted to jump to the chase quite so quickly, but she didn't want to waste this opportunity. “I don't want her to overhear us.”

“She's in her room,” the woman offered suspiciously. “What is this about?”

“I have a lot of experience with children who are being sexually abused by a parent…”

The woman's expression froze and she swung the door closed. But Sara was quicker. She grabbed the door and pushed it back open.

Speaking in a low voice only inches from the woman's face, Sara stated, “I believe your husband is having sex with your daughter, and if you don't want to ruin her life forever, you'll do something about it right now.”

The woman's eyes narrowed. “How dare you come to my home and accuse my husband of something so horrible.”

“I wouldn't do it if I didn't think there was a high probability.” Sara was desperate to make the woman take this seriously. “I know the signs, and your daughter has all of them. I'm just asking that you talk to her. He's probably told her it's what she's supposed to do and that she can't talk to anyone, especially you, about it. This sounds crazy, but please check it out. There's still time to save her…”

Long, steely fingers wrapped around her shoulders and yanked her back so hard that her feet flew out in front of her. She looked up into the enraged face of the husband, who was literally holding her off the ground.

“You crazy bitch. What kind of shit are you telling my wife?”

His pupils were dilated so much she could hardly see the brown ring of iris around them. He was furious, and spit shot out of his mouth with each word.

“I take good care of my family. You have no right to be here. Beth, call the police. This woman is trespassing on our property.”

“John, she was just…”

He silenced her with a warning look that was so filled with violence that Beth took a step backward as if he'd shoved her. She turned and ran inside, presumably to the phone.

“That's a great idea,” Sara told him, trying hard not to cower under his brutality. “While they're here, they can check your daughter for signs of abuse, you filthy son of a bitch. I know what you're doing to her in the middle of the night. I don't know what kind of sick fuck gets off screwing a little girl, but I'm going to make sure you don't touch her again.”

He lowered her so that her feet were back on the ground, but then twisted her arm behind her and pushed her down the steps. She landed face-first in the front yard. He jumped down behind her and pinned her to the ground with his knee in the small of her back. “Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about.”

Sara lifted her head and spit out the mouthful of grass she had ingested. The sound of a siren could be heard getting closer. “I know you're a child abuser and you probably pushed your wife down the stairs, too. But I'm just here to save your daughter before you ruin her life…or kill her.”

With a roar, he rolled her over and punched her in the face. He pulled his hand back to hit her again when the cold steel of a gun barrel pressing against his temple stopped him.

“I could take it…but she's just a little girl. Well, you're never going to hurt her…or me…again, you sorry piece of shit.”

He turned his head, glancing sideways at his wife. “Go back in the house, bitch. I'll take care of you later.”

“No, you won't,” Beth whispered.

While Sara watched in horror, Beth pulled the trigger and John's brains blew out all over her and the ground before he fell forward like a sack of potatoes.

Sara sat on the top step with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She had washed her face and hands with the garden hose, but her blouse and shorts were still covered in bloody goo.

“Come on, Sara, let us take you to the hospital,” Blake urged as he knelt in front of her. He gently probed her cheekbone, where a purple bruise was already starting to spread. “You need an X-ray. It looks like he hit you pretty hard.”

“I'm fine. Just a little shaken up.” She had worked with Blake for several years, and she trusted his judgment. Except when her health was concerned, which was her business.

Blake took a cold pack out of his kit, squeezed to activate it and then handed it to her. She held it gingerly against her cheek. “I don't think it's broken.”

He shook his head in exasperation. “I'm not going to argue with you about it. I recommend that you go, but you and I both know I can't make you.”

She tried to smile, but the left side of her face hurt too much. “Thanks. Oh, and can you please not spread this around the department? The less they know about this, the better.”

Blake's eyebrows arched. “You know you're going up shit creek once it gets back to the boss.”

“I know, and I want to handle it as carefully as possible.”

“I understand. But it's going to be hard to keep this quiet.” Blake took the blood pressure cuff off her arm, dropped it into his kit and stood.

“He's DOTS,” Cheryl, his partner, said as she walked up to them. “I've radioed the coroner.”

Sara knew DOTS meant “dead on the spot” in paramedic shorthand. Not that she had any doubt. With the size of the hole and the amount of brain matter that had exited the wound, she would have called it, too.

Cheryl looked at Sara with a critical eye. “You're lucky he didn't knock your teeth out.”

“It would have been worth it,” Sara muttered.

“You'd better hope so. Why were you here, anyway?” Cheryl asked.

Cheryl wasn't one of Sara's favorite people, and it was just bad luck that she and Blake had been the ones to answer the call. Sara hoped there would be some professional courtesy involved and Cheryl would keep her mouth shut.

“I was just driving by on my way home, and I thought I'd check on Beth. We brought her in a week ago.”

“Not cool,” Cheryl commented.

“Yeah, well, in hindsight, probably not,” Sara admitted out loud, but inside, she was glad John was dead. At least he wasn't going to be around to hurt anyone else. She looked over at Beth, who was sobbing while trying to tell two cops what happened. The little girl was being shielded from the scene by a social worker and a couple of firemen, who were letting her sit in the fire truck. Sara's smile was wistful. She wished someone had rescued
her.

One of the cops came over, and Sara saw it was Jim.

“You need to make an official statement as soon as possible. Are you up to it today?” he asked.

She realized she was shaking all over and knew that shock was about to set in. “Can…I…come…by…tomorrow?” She had to force the words out between chattering teeth.

“You really should go to the hospital,” he told her.

Blake and Cheryl nodded their agreement, but she waved them away.

“I…just…want…to…get…home.”

“Let's go, Rambo. I'll take you home. I'll get Sam to drop your car off later.” Jim held his hand out to her.

She let him help her up. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her to his car. He settled her in the front passenger seat, belted her in and closed the door. She sat, still holding the lightweight blanket around her with her arms crossed over her chest. He kept up a line of chatter, but she couldn't focus enough to contribute anything to the conversation.

He parked in front of her building and helped her out of the car. She managed to dig her keys out of her purse, and he went with her up the elevator and to the apartment. He unlocked the front door and swung it open.

Chris saw Jim first. “Hey, dude. What are you doing here?”

Jim stepped aside and let Sara walk in.

Chris's eyes widened. “Holy shit! What happened to you?” he asked her. When she didn't answer, he turned to Jim. “Is she hurt? What happened?”

Jim filled him in quickly on the part of the story he knew. “She's about to crash.” His cellphone beeped, and he looked at the text. “I've got to run. Can you take it from here?”

“Sure. Thanks for bringing her home.”

“No problem.” Jim handed him her keys and purse and left.

Chris didn't hesitate. He led Sara into the bathroom and sat her on the closed toilet lid while he adjusted the water in the shower. “Can you undress yourself?”

She shrugged the dirty blanket off her shoulders and tried to unbutton her blouse. When it seemed to be too much for her, he stood her up and gently released the buttons, took the blouse off, then tossed it on top of the blanket. Her shorts followed, then her panties and her bra. She swayed, and he had to hold on to her to keep her on her feet.

There was no way she was going to be able to stand up in the shower, and the last thing he wanted was for her to fall and hurt herself further. With one hand on her, he used the other hand to quickly undress himself, leaving just his boxer briefs on. All the while, he kept a close watch on her reactions in case she objected, but she had completely shut down.

He stepped into the shower with her and closed the curtain. He eased her under the spray until she was wet from head to foot. He let the water course through her hair until all the foreign matter had washed down the drain. Then he poured shampoo into his hands and thoroughly washed her hair.

She stood like a child and let him bathe her. Of course, she didn't have the body of a child and he had to fight back his own libido as his hands slid over her slick, wet skin. In other circumstances, he would have been harder than a rock right now, but facing the harsh reality of what she had just experienced, his need to take care of her overrode his sexual desire.

When she was completely clean, he helped her step out, wrapped her in a big towel and tucked it in over her breasts. He used another towel to dry her hair, then he sat her back on the toilet while he dried himself off, took off his wet briefs and pulled his shirt and jeans back on, without underwear.

“Stay here,” he told her. “I'll be right back.” She managed to nod, so he trotted into her bedroom and found a cotton nightgown in one of the drawers of her dresser. He returned to the bathroom and replaced the towel with the gown. She held her arms up as he slipped it over her head and the soft material slid down, thankfully covering her naked body from his view. Because she was still shivering, he also took her fluffy robe off the hook behind the door and wrapped her snugly in it. He brushed her wet hair, then checked out her bruised cheek and her eye that was not only black, but swollen almost shut. Chris bit his lip to keep from saying out loud what he was thinking about the bastard who would do that to a woman. Instead, he said, “Are you hungry? How about a sandwich? Or maybe some chicken noodle soup?”

“Maybe…some…soup,” she managed to say.

“Good. Let's get you settled on the couch, and I'll bring it to you.”

She was able to walk to the couch by herself, where she sat and curled her feet under her. She didn't even bother changing the TV channel from the golf game that was on.

Chris kept glancing over at her as he opened the can of soup, dumped it into a bowl and heated it up in the microwave. It wasn't as good as his mother's homemade chicken noodle soup, but it would have to do. He put the bowl on a tray, added some crackers and a glass of water and carried it to her. He set it on her lap and waited until she held it steady with her left hand and picked up the spoon with her right.

He sat on the opposite end of the couch, reached for the remote and changed the TV to the local news channel. The news was on, but he was watching Sara, encouraged as she continued to eat the soup and crackers.

“Did you make it to your exam today?” he asked.

She nodded. “How about you?”

“Yeah, it was pretty easy. I have one more left.” Chris noticed she was speaking more clearly and coherently. The magical power of chicken soup.

“That was my last.” She put down the spoon, having finished almost half the bowl, and gave him a shaky smile. “Thanks.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Her shoulders slumped, then she lifted her chin. “I just wanted to check on the kid. I didn't mean for anything to happen. But he caught me talking to his wife…Apparently she didn't know what was going on with the daughter. I heard Beth telling Jim that her husband had been abusing her for years, but she couldn't get away from him. He threatened that she would never see her child again.”

“And all the time, he was also abusing the child,” Chris guessed.

Sara nodded. “When she heard he was sexually molesting the girl, Beth went ballistic. First, she called the police, then she got the gun out of his hiding place and…finished it.”

“I guess there's no way to keep your name from coming up when they do the investigation.”

“Worse than that…Blake and Cheryl were on the call.”

Chris groaned. “That's bad.” He knew them both and while they were good at their jobs, they were like the District 1 kids in
The Hunger Games
, all golden and glory-driven.

“I asked them to keep quiet until I could talk to the chief, but I don't know if they will.”

Chris took her tray to the kitchen. “Want anything else?” he called.

She snuggled more deeply into the soft pile of the robe. “No, I'm fine. Just really tired. And my face hurts.”

“How about an ice pack?”

“I think there's one in the medicine cabinet.” She started to get up, but he waved her back down.

“I'll get it.” He took it out of the cabinet and squeezed it before handing it to her. “It's the last one. If you keep getting hurt, we're going to have to buy them in bulk.”

Gratefully, she held it over her left eye.

“I'm going to take Riley for a quick walk. Are you going to be okay?”

“I'm fine. Just take your keys.”

He patted the pocket of his jeans. He slipped his feet into a pair of flip-flops and picked up the leash. Riley was already sitting expectantly by the door. “Be right back.”

Chris's foot was still sore, so he didn't take the dog on a long walk, but he wanted to step outside the building just in case Sara's dad was lurking around. There was a little park two blocks away, so they headed that way, studying all the people they passed. Riley loved going to the park, but he stayed obediently at Chris's heel. It wasn't until they got there and Chris sat down that Riley was free to roam, at least as far as the twenty-five feet of leash allowed. They returned on the opposite side of the street, but during the whole trip, there was no sign of anyone matching the description of Sara's dad.

By the time they got back to the apartment, Sara was asleep on the couch. Chris locked the door, hung up the leash, turned all the lights off with the exception of the bathroom because he knew she hated the dark, then returned to the couch. He thought about carrying her to her bed, but he didn't think she would want to wake up alone. So, he turned the volume on the TV down low and got comfortable.

An hour later he woke up and she had shifted around so her head was in his lap. Chris didn't want to wake her, but his legs were starting to cramp. He lifted her just enough so he could stretch out on the couch beside her. With his head on a throw pillow, he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her against his chest. Her body fit perfectly in the curves of his, and she snuggled closer with a contented sigh. With the soft, sweet-smelling fluff of her hair under his chin, he relaxed.

When he'd seen her with Jim, he had been surprised at the rush of jealousy he felt. Of course, she didn't owe him any explanation about where she was, but that didn't stop him from worrying when she wasn't back after he returned from his exam. When Chris saw Jim at the door, he thought she'd been out on a date with him…until he saw her condition.

Chris's arms tightened around her possessively. It occurred to him that he hated the thought of her being with another guy, especially after their one intimate event. In the most primal sense, she belonged to him. Of course, she didn't see things that way…yet. He breathed in the sweet smell of her skin and smiled. She still owed him a few answers, but her complexity was just one of the things that made her fascinating. It made her worth the effort…and the wait.

He was used to seeing people battered and bruised. But when he'd seen her beautiful face all swollen and mottled, it made him sick to his stomach. Part of him wanted to beat the hell out of whoever did that to her and another part made him want to lock her away so she could never go out in the world and get hurt again.

He knew he had been born with an extra protection gene. It was what had made him join the Navy and become a medic. The whole service mentality must run in his family. Sam's calling was to protect the streets and carry a big gun. Rusty's was to ride around in a huge white truck and carry a big axe. All of them devoted their lives to saving other people, not always successfully. But that didn't make Chris feel better. He had dropped the ball with Miller.

Now he could redeem himself by saving someone else, and this time he couldn't fail. Surely, he could succeed if he focused on saving just one person, a very important person…Sara. He had to.

Sara eased her eyes open slowly, trying to get her bearings. Clearly, she wasn't in her own bed…and she wasn't alone. The large, warm body pressed against her back felt good and solid. Instead of being frightening, it made her feel safe because she knew it was Chris.

She glanced at the clock in the kitchen and saw it was well past dawn. That couldn't be possible. She hadn't slept ten hours straight in years…and definitely not through a whole night. She became aware that her head was throbbing and her left eye wouldn't quite open all the way. Slowly the events of yesterday came back to her. For a few moments when she was lying on the ground with John's knee buried in her stomach and his arm raised to hit her, her life had flashed before her eyes. She'd always thought that was baloney, but in those few seconds, images flickered through her brain like an old-time movie…her grandmother who had died when Sara was six…her mother as she iced Sara's birthday cake…her father when he took her fishing. It had been a long time since she'd had a happy memory of him, but until that night of her tenth birthday, he had been sweet and kind. But then, she had known only the outside view. No one had any idea what was going on inside him. What turned him into such a monster? Had it always been there, lying dormant like a cancer cell, waiting to burst into a destructive force?