The Debra Dilemma (The Lone Stars Book 4) (2 page)

Wouldn’t her father be proud? She’d become the cliché he’d always accused her of being. Poor little rich girl who was good for nothing. Hadn’t she become the slut Warren Daniver had accused her of being all those years ago?

If only her son had lived to see his mother right now. That’s why he’d been taken from her. Because God knew—just like her father had known and Warren knew—that she was a terrible person. She destroyed every life that she touched.

There was no one to blame for her life, but herself.

Her baby boy was better off in Heaven so she couldn’t screw up his life, too.

“Ma’am.” Officer Morris held up a cell phone. “Who would you like me to call?”

Those words reverberated through her brain and marched right down into her soul. She’d done this. She’d done so many horrible things. And there was no one she could call.

Tears raced down her cheeks as if they knew she was awful and wanted a fast get-away.

“If you don’t know the number, I can call information.” He waggled the phone.

It was funny that he thought she couldn’t remember the number and that’s why she hadn’t answered.

He turned around and picked up a box of tissues from a chair across the hall and took a handful. Gently, he wiped her nose and cheeks and placed the used tissues on her knee.

“I know it seems bad now, but we’re not going to charge you. The owner of the house isn’t pressing charges and I told my boss that it’s your first offense.” He sat down next to her. “Just tell me who to call and let’s get you home.”

He was being nice. She didn’t deserve nice. Anger she could have handled, but not nice. The tears came faster.

He smiled kindly. “Do you have any family? All I need is a name and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Sweet Louise Harding.” What? Where had that come from? She hated Debra.

His eyes narrowed. “Is that her real name?”

“Yes.” Debra nodded. Sweet Louise wasn’t likely to come for her, but at least she’d given him a name.

Warren Daniver had a problem. Debra Covington was no longer making his life a living Hell. With one hand, he shoved another handful of sour cream and onion potato chips into his mouth, and with the other hand he fiddled with the navigation system in his Tesla Model S. He typed Safe Place Austin into the destination, but nothing came up.

Which kind of made sense considering that Safe Place was a battered women’s shelter.

He leaned back against the seat and glanced at the clock on the screen built into the dash. It had been exactly two months, one day, four hours and seventeen minutes since he’d heard that Debra was counseling battered women. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe it, it was more that he wanted to see for it himself. He reached into the potato chip bag and grabbed another handful of his guiltiest pleasure. Sour cream and onion potato chips, preferably the Texas-based Lay’s brand, made the world a better place, and he hadn’t had them since¬—well, since Debra had broken up with him exactly five thousand, seven hundred and ninety-four days, two hours, and forty-two minutes ago. He didn’t blame her for that—there were so many other things for which to blame her. Back then, he’d accused her of sleeping around, and in the last ten years, she’d more than proven that to be true.

As owner of the American football team, The Austin Lone Stars, Warren had watched her work her way through his team. Each time she took a player to her bed was a little stab to his heart. And she knew it, too—in fact, that was precisely why she’d done it. Debra wanted to make him pay for choosing money over her.

Every time he’d seen her on the arm of one of his players, he paid and paid and paid for the mistake that had cost him the woman he loved. But now she was different. Retribution didn’t seem to be her main goal in life anymore.

And he just needed to make sure that she was okay.

It didn’t make sense and he shouldn’t care—but he did.

Debra’s one-eighty had thrown him for a loop, and Warren wasn’t a loopy kind of guy. He liked straight lines and balance sheets and women who didn’t make him feel anything, which was exactly why he shouldn’t be obsessing over Debra.

He hit the phone button on his car’s display screen and then said, “Call Sweet Louise.”

The phone connected and then rang. He reached into his right trouser pocket and pulled out the platinum filigree wedding band that he always had with him. It should be on Debra’s finger right now, and God only knew why he’d kept it all of these years.

Sweet Louise Harding was the mother of one of his players and a good friend. If the team had a mom, it was Sweet Louise.

“Warren, I was just thinking about you.” Sweet Louise’s Tennessee drawl had put him at ease.

“All good I hope.” He smiled.

“Mostly.” She laughed. “The bad’s what makes life interesting.”

There was an awkward pause. How did he bring up Debra?

“You gonna tell me what you need or is this a guessing game?” Sweet Louise always got to the point. No beating around the bush for her.

“I heard…” Suddenly his mouth was as dry as the Sahara. He swallowed a couple of times, but it didn’t help because there was nothing to swallow. He cleared his voice. “I heard you got Debra a job at Safe Place.”

There was a full minute of silence.

“Sweet Louise? Are you still there?” He leaned forward, —listening intently.

“Yes.” She sighed heavily. “Why do you want to know?”

Her voice held more than a little bit of suspicion.

“I, um…” He picked up the bottle of water from the cup holder, unscrewed the cap, and chugged back a mouthful. He swallowed. The liquid did little to help with his dry mouth. “I wanted to make sure that she’s okay.”

“Well now, that’s interesting.” She didn’t sound convinced. Did she know about his history with Debra?

“Is she okay?” Getting Debra’s address and phone number weren’t going to be as easy as he’d thought.

“So you’re the one.” Sweet Louise said. He could all but hear her nodding. “You’re the one she’s spent the better part of a decade trying to hurt.”

What was he supposed to say to that?

“Um…” How much did she know?

“You need to leave Debra alone. She’s getting her life together and she doesn’t need any interference. Whatever happened is in the past, and it needs to stay there. That child has hurt enough, and I won’t have her hurt again.” Sweet Louise meant business. When she got like this, a wise man didn’t cross her.

No one had ever accused him of being wise.

“I don’t suppose you’d give me her address.” He matched her tone. He might not be wise, but he had tenacious down to a science.

“Honey, is English coming out of my mouth? I said to leave her alone.” Sweet Louise took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She’s doing well if that makes you feel better.”

“I’d still like to see—”

“No means no. Now promise to come to dinner tomorrow night and stop asking about Debra.” He heard a tapping sound like nails drumming against a table. “I’m having lunch with her tomorrow and I’ll double check that she’s doing well. Does that make you feel better?”

Another pause.

Not really. “I guess.”

The only way he’d be able to sleep tonight is if he saw her. Since he couldn’t think of another way to get her address, he’d have to wait. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

“It’s the least I can do for my second son.” She laughed. It was throaty and deep.

“You call everyone that.” He smiled to himself. He did think of her as his mother. Well, the mother he’d wished he’d had, since his own left a lot to be desired.

“Don’t get in a huff, I love all of my boys equally.” She turned serious. “And when you’re ready to tell me about what you did to Debra, I’ll be ready to listen.”

“How do you know it was me? Debra could have done something.” He tried to sound offended. She had done many bad things, but he’d started it.

“Honey, you’re male. Those pesky mismatched chromosomes always get y’all into trouble. I’m not saying they make y’all feeble-minded, I’m just saying that sometimes they make y’all stupid.” Sweet Louise’s eye roll was implied or more than likely, it was real only he couldn’t see it.

“That’s not very nice.” He took another stab at being offended.

“It may not be nice, but it’s the truth.” She drummed her fingers again. “So are you coming to dinner?”

“That all depends…are you making your famous peach pie?” Peach pie sounded heavenly and just the thing to take his mind off of his troubles.

“I think that can be arranged. I put some Fredericksburg peaches in the freezer last summer so I could make a pie or two.” There was a grin in Sweet Louise’s voice.

“I’ll be there.” Too bad dinner wasn’t tonight so he could get his mind off of Debra.

“Six-thirty sharp.” She said.

“I won’t be late.” Now he’d have to wait twenty-two hours and twelve minutes until he got the latest Debra report.

Unless….

“Sorry, Sweet Louise, but I need to go.”

“Bye, Honey. See you tomorrow.” She hung up.

Now all he needed was to find Safe Place. How about a little donation to his new favorite charity?

Debra Covington could finally look at herself in the mirror and not turn away. She’d spent the last ten years punishing a man who didn’t love her, but it had only taken five minutes of working at Safe Place to realize that the only person she’d been punishing was herself.

She looked around. She’d done her best to turn her drab, taupe, institutional office into a mellow safe haven for the abused, but the apricot-colored walls, muted watercolors, and marshmallow-soft, over-stuffed furniture couldn’t banish bruises, physical or mental. She knew she should be doing better for the clients who funneled in and out of here, but in the meantime she put on a good show. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about every single one of them, it’s just that she was a wonderful actress. Pretending to be a good person was working. If they only knew the real Debra, they’d hate her too. The people who made it to Safe Place deserved the best possible version of herself, even if it was a lie.

Besides Debra and the staff, no one wanted to be at Safe Place—it was a last resort in a life filled with unimaginable pain.

“Is my mommy going to be okay?” Five-year-old Ellie sat on a puffy light blue beanbag in front of Debra’s desk. She looked like something from a Campbell’s Soup commercial with her curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across a turned up nose—but this little girl had seen more than any child should ever see. This time her father had beaten her mother unconscious because she’d put four ice cubes in his iced tea instead of five.

“Absolutely. As soon as Dr. Matthews is finished with her, I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Debra stood, walked around her desk, and offered the little girl her hand. She’d learned to offer a touch but never take it for granted, because those who’d been abused needed to control their personal space—it was step one in learning to control their environment.

Ellie looked at Debra’s outstretched hand and finally made the decision to take it. The child had only the clothes on her back and no shoes. As soon as Ellie’s mother had regained consciousness, she’d grabbed her child and run to a neighbor’s house. Hopefully, this was the wakeup call that she needed to get away from her abusive husband, but the statistics weren’t on her side. On average, a woman leaves her abusive partner seven times before she leaves for good. For Ellie’s sake, Debra hoped this was lucky number seven.

“How about we stop by the toy room on our way to see your mother. I bet there’s a teddy bear in there waiting for a new home.” This was the part of her job that Debra loved the most. Taking a scared child into the toy room and watching their face light up as they picked out something new.

“I had to leave Mr. Snuggles at home. He’s my teddy bear. Think he’s okay?” Ellie looked up, her blue eyes clouded with sadness. “When I get scared, he keeps me safe.”

“How about we find Mr. Snuggles a new friend? Don’t you think he’d love a new friend?” Somehow, Debra would find a way to get Mr. Snuggles back to Ellie.

Many times she’d fantasized about giving the abuser a little taste of his own medicine, but life just wasn’t fair, and Safe Place frowned on the idea of her beating up the beater-uppers. She’d even tried teaching a self-defense class, but no one showed up. Apparently, the psychological abuse inflicted on these women made it impossible for them to stand up for themselves. She could almost understand that, but she wasn’t quite there yet. It seemed to her that for the price of a baseball bat, these women could have peace of mind. After all, everyone had to sleep sometime, and applying the business end of a baseball bat to a sleeping abuser sounded like a great plan to her. Oddly, every time she’d voiced that opinion, she’d gotten in trouble. The job of a victim was to
not
fight back, and every abuser used that to their advantage.

Reluctantly, Ellie nodded.

They walked hand-in-hand down the hall and around the corner to what used to be the toy closet, but was now—thanks to Debra and the millions her father had left her—a toy room. Spending her father’s money on helping the weak and scared was the ultimate fuck-you to the man who’d centered his life around fucking up other’s lives. She glanced down, sure that he’d departed in that direction, and mentally shot him the finger. She hoped mind reading was a big pastime in Hell.

As she opened the door, she glanced down just in time to see Ellie’s face light up. That was the reason Debra had come to work here—seeing that moment of joy on the face of a blameless victim. For a split second, they forgot all the terrible things they’d seen and just lived through one perfect moment of joy. It was payment for all the shit that Debra had to wade through, all the late nights working the hot line, where she listened to excuse after excuse why the victim couldn’t leave the person who was making their life a living Hell. This work at Safe Place was her own way of making up for the devastation that she’d caused when she’d been so blinded by revenge that she hadn’t noticed the collateral damage she left in her wake.