The slam of a car door grabbed Jessica Taylor’s attention.
She dropped the clothes in her hand and rushed to the window to scan the front of the house. An unfamiliar silver sedan was parked at the curb. That hadn’t been there when Jessica arrived to help Sarah Young escape her abusive husband.
Sarah’s face was pale against the blue bruises that shadowed her eye and cheeks and the red swollen lip. But it was the fear in her wide, green eyes that spoke volumes. “It’s Robert. He’s home,” she said, her voice a choked, fearful whisper.
The thought of a confrontation with this man—or any man who believed he had the right to beat his wife—swept a wave of bitterly familiar emotions through Jessica. Fear, desperation, hopelessness. For a moment, she was swept back into the past to another confrontation.
The pounding on the door...the despair...the chilling voice on the other side of the door.
You’re mine, Jess.
No matter how many times she’d confronted such evil, she’d never grown accustomed to it.
But she’d also learned to push through her fears until the singe of righteous anger strengthened her and she would never bow to them. She ignored the shakiness in her knees as she pulled her long blond hair into a ponytail. She only wished she were more dressed down. High-heeled shoes were not the ideal for running if she needed to, but she’d come straight from court and she liked the added height they gave her five-foot-six frame.
She draped on an air of calmness as she turned to Sarah. “Grab your suitcase. We need to go now. He won’t find you. You’ll be safe, I promise.”
Sarah’s chin quivered and tears pooled in her eyes. “He’s going to be so mad.”
Jessica knew this was a pivotal moment. The attack on Sarah was damaging enough to keep her husband in jail overnight, but they’d lost precious escape time while she’d tried to convince Sarah to leave. Even now, she saw the question of whether or not to go on Sarah’s battered face.
Jessica understood her feelings. This was Sarah’s home and she didn’t want to leave it, but she also knew the statistics of intimate partner violence. Robert’s violence was escalating, and Sarah might not survive another attack.
Jessica touched her arm, trying to pull the young woman’s focus back to the plan. “Sarah, we have to leave. Robert doesn’t know about Dean’s Den. You’ll be safe there, but we have to go now.”
The domestic violence shelter Jessica ran in Jackson had safeguards for women in Sarah’s position. But those security measures would be futile if Robert had an opportunity to follow them there.
Sarah nodded then stuffed the handful of clothing she held into the suitcase and closed it. “I’m ready.”
The back door slammed shut and a man’s voice reverberated through the house shouting Sarah’s name. Jessica sucked in a breath. Were they already too late?
But relief flooded Sarah’s face. “Andrew!” She ran to the bedroom door and called out to him. “Andrew, we’re here.”
He rushed into the room, grabbed Sarah and hugged her tightly. Jessica could see the relief on his face and the affection for the woman now in his arms. But she was shocked to realize she also knew him—Assistant District Attorney Andrew Jennings.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he told Sarah. “I was drowning in legal briefs and my phone battery died. I didn’t see your messages until this morning. Are you okay?” He touched her face, then her arms, as if checking for himself to make certain she wasn’t seriously injured.
“I’m fine. Jessica, this is my brother. Andrew, this is Jessica Taylor. She runs a shelter for women like me.”
He turned his eyes from his sister long enough to acknowledge her presence. “We’ve met.”
Yes, they knew one another. They’d worked together in the past and she’d tried with little success to encourage Andrew and the District Attorney’s Office to help other victims of domestic violence through stronger charges and higher sentences for batterers.
Andrew Jennings possessed a wide, disarming smile and a charm that put people at ease when he chose to use it. Juries responded to him. The press revered him. And most women swooned at the sight of his sea-green eyes fixed upon her.
But Jessica was not most women.
This man understood high-priced suits and expensive cars. He’d worked his way up the ladder of success in the D.A.’s office by winning cases...and domestic violence cases were hardly ever winnable. He had no clue about what the women in her care endured and no desire to learn. All he cared about was getting his handsome face in the newspaper.
Or so she’d thought until she’d watched him pull Sarah into his strong embrace.
“I won’t let him hurt you again. I promise I won’t.” He looked at Jessica as if to drive home his determination.
He needn’t have bothered. The angry flush on his cheeks and the fire in his eyes only confirmed what she already knew. This case was too personal for him to be objective. An altercation between him and Robert would make an already dangerous situation much worse.
After all the cases they’d worked together, why hadn’t he come to her when he realized his sister needed help? Did he disdain her so much that he wouldn’t even acknowledge she was good at what she did?
“We have to leave. I called the courthouse after I got your messages. Robert posted bail. He’s on his way here now. Let’s go. My car is parked out front.”
Andrew grabbed Sarah’s suitcase from the bed then led her toward the living room. Jessica followed behind them, noticing the protective way Andrew’s arm never left Sarah’s shoulder. This was a side of his nature she’d never seen before.
As he opened the front door, a large white pickup roared into the driveway and a man leaped from the cab. Andrew slammed the door and turned to her. “It’s Robert. Now what?”
“While I’m talking to him, you get Sarah to the car. Don’t stop moving, even for me.” She directed her next command back to Sarah. “Don’t speak to him. Don’t even look at him. Let your brother lead you out.”
The young woman quivered with fear. “What if he comes after me?”
“He’ll have to get through me first. And believe me, I won’t make it easy for him.”
Andrew stepped forward. “Maybe I should be the one to confront him.”
“I imagine that would only make things worse.” She didn’t