CHAPTER TWENTY

 

“She was badly beaten,” Selene told the social worker over the phone, only then realizing how hard she was clutching it. “He broke her nose, knocked out two front teeth, and literally turned her skin black and blue.”

The victim’s name was Ruth Glade. She was a twenty-eight-year-old housewife who was brought to S.A.W. House last night by her sister, after Ruth’s abusive husband fell asleep in a drunken stupor. She’d refused to go to the emergency room for fear that her husband would awaken and come after her.

“Why on earth do these women put up with this?” the social worker asked with exasperation.

“There are more reasons than I have time to tell you,” Selene responded tersely. “What’s important is that she’s safe—at least for now.”

“Maybe it would have been better if she’d just gotten a gun and shot the bastard before he eventually kills her.” The social worker quickly retracted her statement. “Forget I said that. Guess I’m just feeling the frustration of repeatedly having to deal with this, which I know you must be going through, too. What we really need is a way for women to identify these abusive men before they become their victims so they can avoid them at all costs.”

Selene sighed. “Unfortunately, there’s no surefire way to identify batterers in advance.”

She had read her fair share of books on intimate violence and abuse. It was true that most abusers had certain characteristics women could look for in potential mates and avoid them. But there were just as many men with the same characteristics who did not beat up the women they were supposed to love and respect.

Selene believed it all came down to choice, and too many males were making the wrong choice in becoming abusers and recidivists.

Ashley Leighton came to mind. She wondered if the policewoman had sought any professional help for what was obviously a difficult and precarious personal situation. Or had her attorney husband prevented her from doing so?

Selene set up an appointment for the social worker to meet Ruth Glade and hoped it would lead to Ruth getting all the help she needed to get on with her life. Selene knew it would be an uphill battle, but worth the effort it took to save women like Ruth from self-destruction.

Selene hung up, and looked at her desk. What a mess! There was neglected paperwork everywhere, which had taken a back seat to dealing directly with those who sought refuge at the shelter. At times, it seemed like an impossible task with no end in sight. But Selene felt certain that her mission in life was to help others just as she had been helped.

She stood up and went to the lone window in her office. Peering through the blinds, she took in the sunshine, but not much else. The view was partially obscured by the back of a taller building, and a large oak tree that had begun to lean somewhat in the last few years.

There was a knock on the office door. Selene turned and saw Harriet enter with a big smile on her face. She was holding a long, narrow, white box.

“Someone is very lucky today,” Harriet gushed.

“Oh...” Selene met her halfway. “Is that for me?”

She nodded. “Just delivered. Must be your man is trying to get back on your good side.”

Selene blushed. “My man is always on my good side.” She took the box and lifted the lid. Inside, were three long-stemmed red roses and a card.

“What’s it say?” Harriet asked impatiently.

“Just a minute,” Selene said with a chuckle, setting the box on her desk. She opened the card and read it to herself.

 

Hello, baby.

Sorry about everything that went wrong between us. Give me a second chance and I can make it right. You’ll see.

Love, forever.

Your husband, Michel

 

* * *

“What is it?” Harriet asked with alarm as she saw the strain on Selene’s face.

Selene stared at her. “The roses aren’t from Quinn.”

“Who are they from?”

Selene could barely utter the words. “My ex-husband—” Feeling wobbly, she leaned against her desk for support.

Harriet frowned. “You mean the one who—”

“Yes, that one,” Selene said tonelessly. “He’s back in town and apparently plans to make my life a living hell—again.”

“Oh, honey. We’re not about to let that happen.” Harriet hugged her sympathetically. “That man will never hurt you again. Why if he so much as shows his face around here—”

“We’ll call the police.” Selene pulled away, tears burning her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was for Harriet, battle scarred as she was, to inherit her problems. Especially when there were plenty of other abused women at S.A.W. House they had to focus on. “It’s not a big deal, really. I mean, what harm can the roses do?”

Harriet pursed her lips and planted a hand firmly on her hip. “Selene, you’re talking to me, remember? The roses show he still wants to own and control you and doesn’t seem to be prepared to take no for an answer.”

Selene knew Harriet was right. She had been down this road too many times as both a victim and counselor. Michel wanted to dominate her and make her live in fear of him again, and seemed to be daring her to do something about it.

The phone rang, startling both women. Selene took a breath and tried to relax, remembering that as director of S.A.W. House there was more going on demanding her attention than Michel Giovanni.

“I’d better get that,” she said.

“Are you going to be all right?” Harriet asked.

“I’ll be fine.” Selene put up a brave front, though she was still shaking inside. “The other women in here are in more immediate need.”

“Okay, but if you want to talk...or whatever, you know where to find me,” Harriet said.

Selene nodded and picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Selene...”

“Hope you liked the flowers, baby.” Michel’s deep, acerbic voice was unmistakable.

Selene seethed. A man she thought was out of her life completely had suddenly resurfaced, bringing back all the dark days and fearful nights.

“What do you think you’re doing, Michel?” she asked bluntly, trying to keep it together.

“It should be obvious. I’m trying to win you back as a gentleman. Is that so bad?” he asked sweetly.

“When are you going to get it through that thick head of yours we are NOT getting back together now or EVER! Some roses and sweet talk aren’t going to change that. I have a new life now—one that you’re not part of. I intend to keep it that way.”

“Is that so?” Michel snorted. “So what other ideas has this dude who took you away from me been putting in your head?”

Selene switched the phone to her other ear. “This has nothing to do with Quinn,” she snapped. “It’s about you and me and what was over a long time ago. And no one took me from you, Michel. You did that all by yourself. Now will you please stop this! You’re just going to get yourself arrested and thrown in jail for harassment—or worse. Is that what you want?”

“Going to the cops wasn’t your smartest move,” he said. “They can’t protect you from me any more than the punk who got into our business in that grocery store parking lot. No one can.”

Selene started to perspire. She thought about the flowers being delivered and Michel phoning right on cue—as if he were on the premises. She forced her legs to move toward the window and froze when she saw Michel standing across the street with a cell phone to his ear.

“I can get to you any time I want,” he said smugly. “Think about it, Selene.”

“There’s nothing to think about.” She backed away from the window. “You need help!”

“Oh, you’ve got that right, baby. Getting my hands on that reward money is all the help I need—along with getting back what belongs to me.”

Selene felt like she had stepped into a nightmare. Only she was wide awake and the danger was very real.

“I’ve got a few leads I’m working on regarding this Woods Strangler...” Michel continued mysteriously. “Too bad he had to strangle another broad at the park. Wonder if that means you and your rich neighbors will up the ante? Half a million sounds pretty damned good to get rid of your killer headache once and for all—”

“What do you know about The Woods Strangler case?” Selene asked.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he said sarcastically.

“Did you kill those women?”

Michel’s wry laugh crackled into the phone. “So now I’m a murderer too, huh? Don’t even think of trying to pin that on me. Maybe you need to look in another direction...”

“What direction?” Her head was beginning to pound. Was he being deliberately cryptic?

“All I’m saying is that I’m looking for a little respect, not accusations,” he said evasively. “As for this killer, don’t worry, he’s gonna get what’s coming to him—”

Selene thought Michel was speaking as though he knew more than he was letting on. Or was that only what he wanted her to think?

“How do you know?” she pressed.

“Isn’t that usually the case for killers?” He breathed loudly into the phone. “Look, I’ve gotta go take care of some business. I’ll be in touch...”

Before Selene could utter another word, she heard a dial tone. When she looked out the window, Michel was gone.