Page 12 of Clara's Secure Hideaway

Avery beamed and held out her arms to be picked up.

She scooped Avery into her arms and was careful of her footing as she walked down the stairs. Not planning on being outside long, she skipped the coats and stepped into the cool, morning air.

“Mama, look.” Avery pointed at a charred mound of material at the top of the steps.

She set Avery down. “Stay there, baby.” She took tentative steps toward the mystery item until she recognized the burnt and tattered fabric, the familiar blue and white spots of Davey’s beloved blanket making a gasp catch in her throat.

Mitch didn’t need to track her down. Apparently, he’d already found her.

5

Heath smoothed down his well-pressed uniform shirt then ran his hand over his beard. He shook his head, mentally berating himself for acting like an idiot.

His appearance shouldn’t matter. Not when he’d been called to the shelter because of the ruined blanket that he’d stepped over on his way to the door.

The tattered piece of fabric was a physical reminder of what Mitch wanted to do to Clara and her children. When the sheriff’s department received her frantic call, he’d jumped up and insisted he’d handle the case. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. He was too close to the situation, his personal experience reflected in the eyes of those innocent children.

Not to mention the way his heart beat a little more erratically every time he was near Clara.

But nothing could have kept him away. Because since he had first-hand knowledge of what Clara was going through, he also understood how hard it’d be to keep her safe.

Before he could get out of his head and ring the bell on the yellow siding, the door swung open and he found himself staring into the angry eyes of Mrs. Collins. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”

“Of course.” He wouldn’t mention how he’d nearly dropped his hot coffee in his lap as he’d rushed out of the station.

She opened the door wider. “Come on in. Clara’s in the library.”

He followed her inside then waited for her to escort him to the library that stood on the other side of the winding wooden staircase. He’d been in the shelter a few times, but he always stayed on the perimeter. Always wanted to show respect for the women who may be there.

The dark green walls ran into the cherry wood built-in shelves along the back wall of the room. Red brick surrounded the fireplace, and a tan leather couch faced the mantle. A burst of deep hues on a cozy rug anchored the space. The Smoky Mountains loomed large outside the lone window on the far side of the room where an antique desk sat in front of it.

Clara sat on the sofa with her hands clasped on her lap. The rigid set of her shoulders and the way she tapped her foot against the floor announced her apprehension.

“Would you like me to stay with you?” Mrs. Collins asked. She moved behind Clara and rested a palm on her shoulder. “Elsie’s overseeing breakfast. If I hang here long enough, maybe she’ll clean up my mess.”

The side of Heath’s mouth ticked up at Mrs. Collins’ attempt at humor.

Clara squeezed the older woman’s hand and offered her a weak smile. “I’m okay. I’ll come find you when I’m done here.”

“Sounds good, honey.” Mrs. Collins crossed the room, hesitating on her way past him. “Get me if you need me. She’s shaken. More so than she’s letting on. Be gentle.”

He waited for Mrs. Collins to leave before approaching the couch. He opted to sit on the chair next to the sofa, as far from Clara as possible. Standing seemed awkward, as if he were trying to intimidate her with his stature. Sitting closer meant he might do something stupid like tucking the loose strand of hair behind her hair or offering comfort that wasn’t wanted—and definitely wouldn’t be appropriate.

“Morning,” he said, taking out a small notepad for notes. “I’m sorry to hear you had issues. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

She exhaled a long breath and replayed the moment she’d found her son’s destroyed blanket on the front porch. He struggled to keep his expression from pinching in anger. He focused on her words and the facts as he jotted in his notebook.

“Mrs. Collins looked at the video footage from the security camera,” Clara continued. “It clearly shows a man tossing the blanket on the porch. You can’t see his face, but it has to be him. I know it. I was stupid to come here. I should have known he’d chase us. I don’t know what to do now.”

The desperation in her voice tightened his chest. He coughed to clear his throat before speaking. “You could file an emergency protection order. The court would probably grant it rather quickly based on what landed him in jail in the first place. That would help keep him at a distance from you and the kids. If he violated the terms, he’d end up right back in jail.”

“You think a piece of paper will keep him away? He wants to make me pay for leaving him. Nothing can keep me safe.”

Needing to be a bit closer to her, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. The smell of lavender invaded his senses. “I can’t sit here and promise that Mitch won’t try to hurt you again, but I can promise you have a lot of people around who can help you. Who want to rally around you and those kids in there and do everything possible to keep you safe. All you have to do is let us. I’m just giving you an option, a few ways that will allow the sheriff’s department to step in and take action. To step in and do whatever we can before he takes it to a dangerous level.”

Crossing one arm over her middle, she bit her thumbnail. “He’s already so angry. Maybe if I just stay low and out of his way things will calm down. Taking this to court might just ignite his temper even more.”

He bit back his frustration. Patience was key, and Clara needed to make her own decisions. “There’s no pressure. Just think about it. I’m going outside to collect the evidence, even though we already know what happened.”

---