“Let her be,” Frank yelled, and when she didn’t obey, he went for her.
“No,” she remembered screaming, “not in front of the baby.”
Frank dragged her out of the room and beat her, and that was when Abby knew she had to leave—before he turned his attention to their daughter.
It took months to squirrel away enough money to make her escape, and she’d tried not to think about how she’d support Emily and herself after that. She had no skills—she’d been in her first semester of college when her parents died, and her grades slumped to Ds and Fs. With Frank’s encouragement, she’d dropped out.
“You don’t need a degree, Abigail,” he’d said. “I’ll take care of you. You’ll always belong to me.”
He’d reminded her of those words the night their divorce became final.
You’ll always belong to me, he’d said, and turned the statement into a promise with his fists.
That was when she’d known he was right, and she’d packed up, dressed Em, hustled her into the car and fled Oregon for good.
And all the time, all of it, she’d been sure if she’d turned around, she would see Frank coming after her.
Abby put the cloth and window cleaner away. As she bent down, she caught a glimpse of herself in one of the oval mirrors that were arranged along the countertops throughout the store.
What she saw was a woman who’d come a long way since she’d been foolish enough to fall for Frank Caldwell’s promises.
She stood up straight.
Her ex would hardly recognize her. Oh, he’d probably be able to look past the shorter hair, artfully applied makeup and sophisticated clothes—clothes she bought in a consignment shop in the city’s upscale Queen Anne Hill area—and find the girl he’d once known, but he’d never recognize her independence, her determination to make something of her life.
He’d surely not recognize her conviction that she’d never go back to him or the kind of life she’d been forced to lead as his wife.
And if she sometimes awoke in a sweaty panic in the middle of the night, or felt her heart climb into her throat because a man looked at her the way the man at the day care center had, if she overreacted just because an oversize jerk with cold eyes, a turned-down mouth and a surly disposition snarled . . . well, time was on her side.
Someday, she’d get beyond all of that. She’d learn not to let silly things spook her so she wouldn’t feel she was jumping at shadows, the way she did now.
The door to the street opened and the soft scent of rain drifted to Abby’s nostrils as a white-haired matron stepped inside the shop. Abby smiled pleasantly as the woman approached her counter.
“Good morning, Mrs. Halpern. How nice to see you again.”
The older woman’s face relaxed in a smile.
“Ms. Douglas. How have you been?”
“Very well, thank you. Is there something I can help you with this morning?”
Mrs. Halpern sank her teeth gently into her bottom lip. “Well,” she said, with the sort of coy smile that still looked good on her despite her years, “there might just be, yes. Our anniversary’s coming up and my husband wants to buy me a little gift.”
“That’s lovely,” Abby said. “Did you have something special in mind?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I was in last month, remember? And you showed me a charming little diamond and ruby pin . . . .”
“Of course.”
Abby unlocked a case, drew out the correct tray and reached for the pin.
A movement, a flash of color caught her eye. She straightened, turned her face to the window and saw the front door to the day care open. One of the teachers came down the steps, followed by six children, all holding hands so that they made a twelve-legged caterpillar.
Abby smiled.
Emily was one of the children in that chain. They appeared to be headed for the front yard. The rain had stopped, and the sun had peeped out. The kids were probably going to play outside for a little while.
Another movement. Another flash of color.
Abby caught her breath.
A man, his back to her, was trotting across the street toward the children.
He was big. Six one, six two. His long black hair was tied at the nape of his neck, and he was wearing jeans and a leather jacket this time, not a suit, but she recognized him in an instant.
The ruby and diamond pin fell from her hand and landed on top of the display case. Abby scooted around the edge of the counter and flung open the door.
“Ms. Douglas?” she heard her customer say, and the guard called her name, but Abby didn’t stop.
She was already flying toward Emily, her heart solidly lodged in her throat.
ABBY DARTED THROUGH A HOLE in the traffic, ignoring the blare of a horn.
Still, she wasn’t moving quickly enough to catch the man. He had a head start, and his longer stride ate up the distance at a startling rate.
The teacher paused at the foot of the steps and said something to the children. Abby could see them moving into a neat little two-abreast line; Emily and Lily clasped hands and grinned at each other.
“Emily,” Abby shouted, just as the man reached the gate and opened the latch. “Emily,” Abby yelled again, and all the children looked toward her. Emily’s face split in a joyful grin and Abby knew her daughter had spotted her.
“Mommy?” she said happily, and in that instant Abby realized she’d made an awful mistake. Emily suddenly let go of Lily’s hand and started running toward the gate, moving away from the relative safety of the teacher and the group of children.
“No! Em, stay where you are—”
Too late. The man swung the gate aside and stepped into the yard. Emily ran straight into him. She staggered and he caught hold of her, lifted her off the ground . . . .
Abby shouted, ran the last few feet and deliberately barreled into him as hard as she could.
It was like hitting a stone wall and bouncing off.
“Put her down!”
The man swung around, still holding Emily, and looked at Abby as if she were crazy.
“What’s the matter?” he said.
She stepped in close, her breath ratcheting in her lungs, the adrenaline pumping through her blood so hard that she could feel the surge of it in her muscles. The man towered over her, just as he had this morning.
This morning, she thought bitterly. What had he been doing then? Sizing up the situation?
She had to tilt her head back to make eye contact.
“Damn you, put her down!”
“Mommy?” Emily said, and began to cry.
“Put . . . my . . . daughter . . . down!” Abby demanded, punctuating each word with a fist to his shoulder.
Baffled, Luke lowered the little girl to her feet, then watched as she flung herself at her mother and clasped her skirt.
It was the same pair, the kid and the brunette from this morning.