Page 49 of Clara's Secure Hideaway

As time passed, she could see it for what it really was. Using his mom to subtly manipulate her. Using his relationship with his dad to make her feel sorry for him. Mitch convinced her that he wanted to do better than his father. That he’d learned from his parents’ marriage, and he’d hoped showing them a loving relationship could benefit them as well.

She’d realized too late that he’d learned a lot from his father. How to be a bully, an abuser, a grade-A asshole.

Hope stood in the doorway, her feet firmly planted in the kitchen as she stared into the garage. She watched them with wary eyes.

Clara fought the urge to shake the woman and demand more information, but she doubted Hope knew more than she’d already divulged. “Did Mitch have a bag or anything with him while he was here?”

Hope shrugged. “I don’t know. He came to the back door last night and asked to stay for a few nights. Fred said he’d handle it and told me to keep my mouth shut, so I did. I gave Mitch a hug then left them alone. I didn’t ask questions or pay attention to if he had anything. I assume if he did, he’d have taken it with him when he left.”

Heath circled the cot. He dropped to the ground and glanced under the small space then stood and walked the perimeter of the room. “I don’t see anything.” He made his way to the workbench and picked up discarded tools as if something lurked under them.

Hopelessness swelled inside Clara like a tsunami, pushing away the pain and leaving her a shell of herself. Tears blurred her vision. “He’s had them for too long. He could be anywhere, and we have no clue where to look.”

“I gave you a few minutes, and there’s nothing here.” Hope glanced over her shoulder as she spoke. “You need to leave now.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Clara screeched and the volume made her head pound. “How can you not be more upset? How are you okay with all of this? Do you know what he’s capable of? What he’d do to them just to hurt me?”

Rage shot through her veins, and she grabbed the crumpled blankets and yanked them off the temporary bed. She didn’t care if she looked like a tantruming toddler. The urge to destroy something, to lash out, was too strong to ignore and her body was too broken to actually hit anything.

Something skittered across the floor and slid under the four-wheeler.

“Hold on a second,” Heath said and hurried across the room and reached under the vehicle.

“What is it?” Clara asked.

He stood, his face pinched and palm outstretched.

A gasp caught in Clara’s throat. “The flash drive. Do you think it’s the one that he hid in Avery’s stuffed dog?”

Finally stepping into the garage, Hope frowned. “I don’t understand. What’s the big deal?”

Something inside Clara snapped. No longer would she keep her mouth shut. Would she not speak the truth because of fear or to avoid conflict. Hope might not need to know everything Mitch was up to, but she should know she’d raised a monster.

“The big deal is your son is more than an abuser,” Clara said. “He not only gets off on inflicting as much pain on me as possible but gets his twisted kicks watching others being tortured in ways I can’t even begin to explain. To innocent children.”

Hope shook her head and stumbled backward. “That’s a lie. You’re lying. You’ve made him do these horrible things. If you’d been a better wife or a better mother, no?—”

“Enough,” Clara yelled, refusing to hear another word. “I know the hell you live with and I’m sorry you’ve never found a way out. I’m sorry you’re stuck in this house with a man who doesn’t know your worth or treat you with the love and respect you deserve. But you need to open your eyes, open your mind and your heart, and see what’s really going on.”

Her limited energy leaked from her system, and she reached out a hand for Heath.

He rushed to her side, linking his fingers with hers and gently cupping his free palm under her elbow. “We should take this into Owen. The FBI will be there, and they’ll want to see this if it’s evidence.”

“The FBI?” Hope’s voice quivered. “I don’t understand any of this. Mitch was always a good boy. All he wanted was for things to go back to the way they were—back to normal. This doesn’t make any sense.”

As they passed Hope, Clara gripped her shoulder. “I hope one day you realize you deserve better. Better from your husband and better from your son.”

They continued walking toward the front door, leaving the sound of Hope’s desperate cries behind them.

* * *

Heath seta bottle of water and a protein bar in front of Clara then took a seat beside her at the conference table at the sheriff’s station. He hadn’t convinced her to eat anything on the brief drive to the station, and the ashy pallor of her skin alarmed him.

She unscrewed the cap and took a sip before placing the bottle back on the table. “Thanks.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I don’t think I can handle anything in my stomach right now, but I’ll keep drinking the water. I promise.”

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