Page 85 of Maid in Heaven

Carla’sbattered face flashedred with anger. “You… will never… see us…again,”she growled.

Barrett turned his face up toward Carla with a sly grin, “You want a free shot? I’ll hold him down for you.”

She shook her head. “No.” Carla spit on the back of Frank’s head, and he thrashed in anger.

Carla and the kids made their way out of the busted front door. They scuttled through the snow and piled in Will’s truck.

Frank tugged his arm free and swung wild, landinga punch right across Barrett’s jaw. Barrett reeled back, grimacing inpain, ears ringing.

“Barrett, you okay?” Will asked, whipping Frank’s arm back at a wrong angle until the man cried out.

“You done fucked up throwin’the first punch.” Barrett laughed. “Now it’smyturn.” He looked at Will. “Let him go. Get to the truck. Get the wife and kids out of here. I’ll handlehim.”

“I’m not just going toleave.”

Barrett laughed casually as if they weren’t all in the middle of a shit-storm. “Go. I got this all day.”

Will thought for a moment, debating his options, and then fled fast back to the truck. Barrett released Frank’s hands, and the second the abuser got to his feet, Barrett plowed his fist into the man’s nose with a satisfying crunch. Frank wailed through the blood, clutching his face.

“Yeah, you may be onto something here. Itisfun hitting littlebitches, Frankie!”

Barrett raised a booted foot and kicked the living shit out of Frank. The older man tumbled back, skidding across the glass on the floor toward the kitchen.

Barrett lumbered over to Frank as the man tried to push himself up out of the blood-smeared debris. Barrett slammed a boot against his back, shoved Frank’s chest to the floor, and yanked hiswallet out of the man’s slacks. He slapped the back of Frank’s balding head with it.

“Asshole tax.”

Not wasting any time, Barrett waved, and Will stopped the truck in the middle of the street. Barrett clomped over to it. Carla rolled down the window.

“Here. Y’all are married, right?”

Carla nodded solemnly, tears streaming.

“Good.Community property.” Barrett walked back toward his Jeep and waved cheerfully.

Will sped off, not stopping until Carla and the kids were somewhere safe.

35

Ava stared long andhard at the colored creme paint in its little lidded cup,the same cobalt blue of Will Jessup’s eyes. She dipped her paintbrush in and swirled it, disturbing the unwelcome hold it had over her. The television quietly displayed CCTV footage of the last time a victim had been seen alive before his brutal slaying in 2006. The lead detective spoke in a recent interview, his voice grabbing her attention like a vice. It sounded just like Will. She glanced up, but the man’s face was weathered and mustached. Ava’s brush hesitated over the numbered shape on her piece.

How can someone be out of your life and yet still seem like they’re everywhere?

She returned her focus to the paint-by-number of a churning ocean wave and sighed loudly. Kuda perked up from his dog bed to look at her.

“Ugh. I’m too distracted to paint, Kuda.”

She snapped her paint cup closed to seal the air out and took the rinse mug filled with mocha-colored water to the kitchen. Kuda trottedclosely behind. She put the cup in the sink and scanned the room for something worth doing.

Days had passed without a word from Will. Notext. Nocall. Noknock at the door.

Just annoying silence.

Suddenly, the dryer buzzed.

Thank God. Something to do.

Too stubborn to find a hamper, she carried the laundry to her bedroom in her arms, dropping stray items like breadcrumbs from the hefty heap. Kuda snatched up a red, lacy push-up bra and followed behind, ever the helper.

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