Rescue Me Page 4

  What could she say? Any protest would be greeted with suspicion, in view of his accusations about her interest in the library director.

  She put on her widest, brightest smile. “That would be great.”

  “What do you have planned for this morning?”

  “I have a riding lesson, and the farrier is coming.”

  Stephen headed toward the hall. “See you at lunchtime.”

  The study door closed with a definitive click and Julia exhaled sharply. This would be a very long day. She stepped into the laundry room and pulled on her paddock boots, grumbling to herself. One of the things she loved about living so far away from town was the freedom she had to keep her own schedule. The 50-mile drive had its disadvantages, but at least when Stephen left for the day, he was really gone.

  Outside the back door, she inhaled the cool fresh air, flooding her senses with the sweet fragrance of dew on evergreens. She gazed at the mountains to the east, their majestic ridges and peaks forming an erratic line against the morning sky. Her backyard was thousands of square miles of the Wenatchee National Forest, abundant with lakes and trails, and no civilization. She was surprised at how much the thought pleased her. Had she become a hermit at heart?

  She headed toward the barn, her thoughts sobering. Stephen’s helpful plan would effectively foul up her own ideas for the afternoon. Without the freedom of driving her own car, she wouldn’t be able to do a couple of the things she’d planned, but perhaps she could still slip out of the board meeting a little early and spend some time on the computers. A small step, but the best she could do for the time being.

  Just before noon, Julia walked toward the house. A black Porsche was parked by the front door. She frowned as she entered the kitchen through the back door, mentally reviewing what was in the fridge. Stephen wasn’t a fan of sandwiches, so she’d have to come up with a hot meal.

  Loud voices echoed from the study and Julia tried to tune them out as she retrieved a cold roast chicken and salad greens, but Stephen’s guest was clearly upset. More than upset—he sounded livid with anger. She set the food down and moved to the edge of the hall to listen.

  “Dorsey, you knew those inflated numbers would get the commission’s attention. We have to give them a revised report or this whole thing will blow up in our face.

  “Calm down, I’ve already done that.”

  “I hope so. I’ll be God-damned if I’m going to jail because of your ego.”

  Stephen’s voice hummed with malice. “You just take care of your end of the deal.”

  Julia quickly returned to the kitchen, grabbed the food, and stuffed it back into the refrigerator. She grabbed her boots and ran outside, her heart thumping and a fine sheen of perspiration rising over her neck and face. She’d just heard something she wasn’t supposed to, and if Stephen found out, she didn’t want to think about what he’d do. She pulled on her boots and walked toward the barn, then turned at the sound of a car door closing. Stephen’s company was leaving. She hurried to the back door and stepped into the kitchen just as her husband appeared from the hallway.

  He smiled. “What’s for lunch?”

  Julia leaned close to the mirror and frowned. Now that the bruise had settled, the darkest spots were harder to conceal. Nothing to do but make the best of it. She dabbed one more glob of makeup over the outer ridge of her cheek, then ran a comb through her hair. God, how she hated this haircut.

  “Julia? Are you about ready?”

  “Coming.”

  She stepped back from the mirror and took one last look at herself. She’d chosen tailored slacks and a simple long-sleeved blouse. No jewelry, no perfume, no extra eye makeup, no lipstick. Stephen certainly couldn’t complain that she was dressed provocatively for Dave Fortune. She grabbed a blazer and hurried down the hall to the kitchen.

  Stephen turned, then surprise lifted his eyebrows. “Is that the way you dress for these meetings?”

  “It’s a casual group.” She cocked her head. “Is this is okay for the restaurant?”

  “Yes. You’re such a knock-out, it doesn’t matter what you wear.”

  Stephen’s car glided along the winding highway and Julia gazed at the rolling foothills and the scattered farms along the way. Within about twenty minutes, the scenery changed to small communities and housing developments. Urban sprawl was reaching its long fingers into the untouched land to the east, but the national forests would stop the advance.

  Stephen’s voice jerked her out of the reverie. “So tell me what the library board does at these meetings.”

  She hesitated. Why on earth was he asking this question? He’d never shown interest in any of her activities that didn’t include him.

  “Mostly planning for the system’s financial health, and sometimes organizing work groups to implement programming.”

  “Hmm, sounds interesting. Maybe I should sit in. I might have some insights into the financial aspects.”

  Julia almost threw up. Who did he think he was kidding? He only wanted to be sure she didn’t sneak off with Dave Fortune. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat.

  “Um, that might be something to think about. We can always use fresh ideas.”

  Stephen’s cell phone rang and he pressed the speaker button. “Yes, Janice?”

  “Jillian Cruse is coming in at four-thirty to pick up the final Wharton contracts. She wants to see you.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Have her wait.”

  Julia struggled to keep relief from showing in her expression as Stephen pulled up in front of the main library.

  “Guess I’ll have to visit another time.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll pick you up right here at five-thirty.”

  Once inside the glass-faced building, Julia looked back to assure herself that he’d really driven away. But, with Stephen, appearances could be deceiving. He was paranoid enough to sneak back and try to catch her at whatever he suspected she was doing. She shook her head. How had she ever gotten herself into such a horrible existence? Stupid and starry-eyed—that’s how.

  She turned away from the window and came face to face with the library director.

  His pleasant features blossomed into a smile. “Hey, hi Mrs. Dorsey. Great timing.”

  “Hi yourself. And please call me Julia—Mrs. Dorsey is my husband’s mother.”

  They both laughed, and Julia realized how seldom she laughed out loud. A brief shot of sadness tugged at her heart.

  They walked across the lobby toward the security scanners. When they reached the area by the circulation desk, Julia stopped.

  “Dave, you go on up. I have a couple of books to find, then I’ll be along.”

  He saluted and headed toward the elevators at the back of the building. Julia waited until he’d actually entered the elevator, then turned back toward the lobby to take one more look out the windows before she got down to business.

  Several circular kiosks were placed strategically around the main floor. The structures supported four computers each, the cubby holes shielded by high dividers that wrapped around the computer and its user. Julia chose a kiosk at the far end of the room, one that was away from the main path to the elevators or reference desk. She sat down and looked back toward the doors. If Stephen came in, she’d see him before he saw her.

  She swiped her library card and the computer screen opened to an Internet browser. Glancing once more at the entrance, she opened a search window and started to type. Her fingers turned to lead and her thoughts blazed. She found it almost impossible to type the words “battered women,” a horrifying concept, yet one she now knew personally. Her eyes widened at the thousands of hits that appeared. Apparently, she was not as alone as she’d thought.

  She scrolled through the list, then returned to the advanced search option and entered “Seattle.” The list narrowed to only a hundred, and then she saw it. The name on the billboard. “The Refuge: a haven for battered women.”

  The Website statistics stunned her
. “Over 4 million women are physically abused by their partners, and over 20 million women are emotionally or verbally abused.” The numbers were staggering. “In the U.S., battering is the single major injury to women, exceeding muggings, rapes, and auto accidents combined.” Julia exhaled slowly. The tragic situation had spawned an entire industry of organizations dedicated to helping these women. Julia didn’t need to read further. She just needed to talk to someone. She wrote down the toll-free number on a scrap of paper, then fed by her paranoia, tucked it into her bra.

  On the side of the screen, a small box appeared with the words “If you do not want anyone to know you visited this page, click here.” She clicked, closed the browser, then signed out and took a quick look at her watch. The process had only taken ten minutes. She rose and started toward the elevators, then stopped. Except for Dave, no one else knew she was here. She could later say that she didn’t feel well and opted out of the meeting. What were the chances that the information would filter back to Stephen? None, unless she and Stephen happened to meet up with one of the board members at some point. She turned away from the elevators. The risk was worth it.

  She strode to the front doors, scanning the street in both directions, then hurried up the block toward a row of small stores and pushed through the door of a smoke shop. The spicy, warm aroma of designer tobaccos was surprisingly pleasant.

  An Asian man with a wrinkly smile stood behind the counter. “Can I help you?”

  Julia glanced around, then pointed. “Yes, I want one of those prepaid cell phones.”

  The man moved to the display. “What brand?”

  “Which one is the best?”

  He pulled a card from the rack. “This one is good. Thirty dollars. Comes with ten minutes.”

  “I’ll need a minutes card too. About sixty minutes, I think.”

  The man rang up the phone and the time card, and Julia handed him four twenty-dollar bills. Five minutes later, she was back on the street, hurrying toward the library. Once inside, she walked toward the back where the study rooms were located. She’d spend the remaining time learning to use her new toy.

  At exactly five-thirty, Stephen’s car rolled up in front of the library and Julia climbed in. Immediately, she caught the strong scent of her husband’s cologne. He hadn’t smelled like that on the trip in. Why had he doused himself for a quick trip to the office? His secretary’s call snapped into Julia’s thoughts. The person waiting for Stephen was a woman, the one involved in the merger. Julia slid a sidelong glance at his profile. Was he harboring secrets too?

  She kept her tone level. “Did your meeting go well?”

  “Just the usual barrage of questions about a contract that’s been negotiated to death. But we have investors from all over the world clamoring for stock in Dorsey International, so I don’t mind holding some hands.”

  “Yes, I would imagine being in the energy and power business would make your stock an attractive investment.”

  The air immediately thickened with Stephen’s anger. He pulled to the curb and turned to face her, his features rigid and menacing.

  “You’ve been poking through my desk, haven’t you? Haven’t you!”

  Julia stuttered, startled by his outburst. “No, I just saw that file you asked me to get the other day. I didn’t read it, but I did notice the mention of energy.” She faced his scowl, composing her expression into one of sincerity. “Stephen, I would never go through your things.”

  He relaxed a bit. “My work is very important. I need to know that any sensitive information is secure.” He pulled away from the curb. “How was your meeting?”

  She silently exhaled her relief. “Boring. Summer is the slowest time of the year, and a couple of board members are on vacation, so we really couldn’t vote on anything.”

  “Was he there?”

  Julia gulped. “No. He doesn’t always attend.”

  Stephen said nothing and Julia resisted the urge to comment further. She’d only get herself into more trouble. She’d save trouble for when she really needed it.

  Chapter 6

  Julia sat on the back steps, the phone pressed to her ear as she focused on a dandelion in the lush green grass.

  “The Refuge, Helen speaking.”

  The woman’s voice was soft and motherly, and Julia hesitated. What exactly did she want to talk about? She gazed across the pasture behind the house. The expanse of green calmed her thumping pulse.

  “Uh, I, um…could I talk to someone about your services?”

  “Of course. But first, are you able to talk freely?”

  “Yes, I’m alone.”

  “Is this concerning yourself, or a child?”

  Julia’s throat tightened painfully. “No child, just me.”

  “Hold on, dear, and I’ll put you through to a counselor.”

  A slow, melancholy tune drifted through the phone, filling Julia with a deep sense of sadness. She was on the brink of something, but she didn’t even know what. She only knew that her current life must change.

  “Hello, this is Freda. Who am I speaking to?”

  Julia gulped, caught off guard. “Uh, Carrie.”

  “What’s your situation, Carrie?”

  “My…oh. I really just want to know how this works, your services and how to use them.”

  The counselor’s tone became a little guarded, but still soft and reassuring. “We deal with women who fear for their lives, and for the safety of their children. We need the protection of anonymity against the men who would do these women harm.”

  Julia closed her eyes. Protection.

  “Let’s back up a little, Carrie, and talk about your situation. Are you in immediate danger?”

  It was an interesting question. With Stephen, one never knew.

  “No.”

  “Do you have a place to go if you need to get away from your abuser? Family? A trusted friend?”

  Julia’s eyes filled with tears. How could she possibly have come to a point in her life where the answer to those questions was “no”?

  Her silence prompted the counselor to continue. “If a woman has no place to go, and we have a room available, we can bring her in. If we are fully occupied, then we call in the Violent Crimes Division of the Police Department and an officer picks her up and takes her to one of our partner hotels.”

  “How do you keep your location a secret? How would a woman find you for help?”

  “We never provide an address, only a toll-free number. When a victim is ready, a counselor meets her somewhere and drives her to the shelter.”

  Julia closed her eyes. She could only do this as a last resort. Surely she could hang on a while longer.

  “Thank you, Freda. I’m not quite ready to take that step.”

  “Call any time, Carrie. And please—if you think you are in danger, call the police immediately. If you think you might leave in the future, start preparing now by collecting your birth certificate, driver’s license, Social Security card, passport, and any other important identification. Be sure you have enough cash for at least one month.” Freda’s voice took on a hint of sadness. “These situations never get better.”

  Julia thanked her and ended the call. Not only was what she contemplated horrific to her, personally, the scandal of such an action would send Stephen into a rage from which she would never be safe.

  For the next few weeks, Julia’s life seemed to calm down. Stephen was immersed in a new business venture which consumed all his time and attention, and Julia focused on preparing herself for the Morgan Grand National and Championship Show in October.

  On a hot, dusty Thursday morning the week before her planned departure for Oklahoma, Julia rode her mare around the practice ring behind the barn. Coquette was being uncooperative and Julia was becoming frustrated. The instructor waved her over to the fence.

  “I think your mare’s in heat. She’s obviously not interested in this.”

  Julia blinked. “Oh my gosh, yes. It’s about that time.” Sh
e frowned. “What can I do about it? Will this mess up my chances of a good showing next week?”

  He grinned. “Nah, she’ll be over her snit by then. But you need the time together every day if you want to be tuned up. Go out again and try keeping a little tighter rein. Remind her who’s boss.”

  Coquette picked up a nice even pleasure trot, and Julia’s mind wandered. Stephen had been asking when the mare would be bred again, but Julia had been evasive, saying the timing wasn’t right, that the trip to Oklahoma was 2,000 miles and she didn’t want to take a chance on another miscarriage. Not exactly truthful, but he’d bought it. Coquette gave a little buck and broke stride.

  “You’re not focusing.” The instructor’s tone sounded disgusted. “Call it a day. We’ll work at it again on Saturday.”

  Julia dismounted and led the mare toward the barn. “You are being a bad girl—no treats today.”

  Coquette tossed her head, yanking the reins from Julia’s hands, then dropped her head and snatched a mouthful of thick green grass next to the barn.

  “Dammit!” Julia scooped up the reins and glanced back at the instructor.

  He shook his head. “Looks like you both have other things on your minds.”

  A Week Later

  Julia pushed through the door into the wonderfully cool room and dropped her suitcase on the floor. She flicked on the light, headed straight for the bed, and flopped down on the smooth bedspread. She’d been on the go since early morning, and this had been one of those trips from hell. Plane delays, lost luggage, and no lunch. She stared at the ceiling. Riding in the truck for two thousand miles would have been easier. Of course, Stephen wouldn’t hear of it—his paranoia had increased over the past few months. At least she’d had some time to think about a number of things. Stephen would take the company plane and arrive this evening, rested and unruffled. She glanced at her watch. In about two hours.

  She closed her eyes. Just a few minutes’ sleep and she’d be good as new. She drifted, her dreams filled with visions of riding Coquette across a field of Shasta daisies.