Page 22 of Clara's Secure Hideaway

“Take this,” she said, handing Laura the computer. With her hands free, she found her phone in her pocket and pulled up the camera. She marched into the middle of the street, pointed her phone in Mitch’s direction, and snapped his photo.

If he wanted to keep playing games, she’d no longer be another pawn for him to move around an invisible board he created. She’d make the next move, and this time, she’d do anything to take him down.

9

The dull ache that had attached itself to Heath’s forehead threatened to explode into a migraine. He sat at his desk and stared at the computer screen. The bright light and jumble of letters only intensified the pain.

Owen and his brother—and fellow sheriff’s deputy—Tommy walked over from the coffee station at the back of the room. Tommy had the same light hair and hazel eyes as his brother, but his clean-shaven face made it clear who was the younger of the two.

“Looks like you need this more than I do.” Tommy set a paper cup filled with black liquid on the edge of Heath’s desk.

“Thanks. I swear, my body is telling me it has to be close to quitting time.” Heath sipped the hot drink and sent up a silent prayer that the caffeine would hit his blood stream in record time.

“Not too far off. Only about an hour,” Owen said, taking a sip from his cup. “You’re not on call tonight. Rest up. Take a break from whatever’s eating you up.”

Slashes of red splashed against Tommy’s cheeks. “Is it Mitch Parson? I heard you delivered the emergency order earlier. I’d love nothing more than to see that smug sonofabitch tossed away for the rest of his miserable life.”

Although Tommy was often the more carefree of the Wells brothers, Heath understood his anger. Tommy had gotten a front row seat to Mitch’s abuse and horrific behavior toward Clara and her kids. His quick thinking, along with his now wife’s, had led to Mitch’s first visit to jail and shown Clara she needed to leave her husband.

Unfortunately, like most domestic violence situations, the cycle hadn’t ended there.

Slouching into his seat, he propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and dropped his head to his hand. “It was hard to keep my cool. He’s not done with Clara, and he made that clear without actually saying anything that would get him in trouble.”

“Did you speak with his probation officer?” Owen asked.

“Yeah,” Heath said. “She shared his place of employment and the address where he’s living. I gave her a rundown on things, and she agrees the guy’s not trustworthy. He has a lot of people breathing down his neck right now. It will either keep him on the straight and narrow or push him to do something reckless.”

Tommy frowned. “You think he’ll make a move on Clara? Even knowing it’ll put him right back in jail?”

Heath mulled over the question and took another hit of coffee. “Hard to say. I don’t think he’ll walk away, and I have to believe Clara won’t go back to him. I think he’s gone too far.”

He gave a brief overview of what happened at the house earlier, the reminder of Clara’s frustration with his lack of motivation to figure out what Mitch had been hiding souring the liquid sloshing in his stomach.

“Shit,” Owen muttered. “That’s messed up. But I agree with how you handled the situation. Not much else you could have done, and getting the restraining order in place was priority number one.”

Restlessness tapped his booted toe on the ground. “It’s just a waiting game now, and I hate that.”

Owen clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I get it, but sometimes watching and waiting is the only thing we can do. Any luck with her vehicle?”

He cringed, Clara’s broken-down car all but forgotten in his driveway. “I haven’t even gotten a chance to look at it. I’ll make sure to check it out when I get home.”

“Offer still stands to help if you need it,” Owen said.

When the brothers walked away, he circled his hand around the paper cup and stared into the black coffee. Normally he’d spend the end of his shift at Lulu’s Diner, hoping for a quick conversation with Clara and to keep an ear open for anything of interest happening around town. But he wasn’t really up to it tonight.

Especially knowing the person he really wanted to see wouldn’t be there.

He should visit his mom and check on her, but that held little appeal. She’d insist they discuss whatever was sitting so heavy on his shoulders. Something he’d rather not dive into.

What he really needed was to get out of his head, and the best way to do that was to keep his hands busy. Might as well go home and see to Clara’s car. That way he could kill two birds with one stone. Plan made, he tossed on his jacket and walked outside. Once behind the wheel, he shot off a quick text to his mom before shifting into Drive and heading home.

Guilt battled with his conscience. His mom would be delighted for a little freedom, but he hated the idea of her alone. Maybe he should contact Mila and ask for an update. She’d be more forthcoming than his mom. At the stoplight, he grabbed his phone to make the call when a text buzzed through. He didn’t recognize the number but hurried to open the text before the light switched to green.

It’s Clara. Mitch was parked by my house earlier. I sent a picture. Just thought you should know.

The light changed before he could view the picture, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He wasn’t surprised Mitch would do something careless, throw his weight around and prove to Clara he wouldn’t slink quietly away.

But he’d acted quicker than Heath anticipated. He must have left work and immediately tracked down Clara. That didn’t bode well for anybody. With any luck, the photo waiting on his phone would prove he was closer than was legally allowed and he could take it straight to a judge. But something told him Mitch was too smart to be so careless.

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