Page 15 of Evidence of Deceit

No answer.

The house was silent, not giving up any secrets. She shookher head.Damn, Claire was gone.It didn’t take a genius to know that the woman had run. Sam checked all the rooms anyhow, calling Claire’s name. The bed in Claire’s bedroom was made up tighter than a drum. The place was spotless, as if she had never been there.

Sam walked into the kitchen and spotted a note on the table. She picked it up, already guessing what it said. Yup, Claire thanked her and Mark for their help and apologized for bringing trouble to their door. Disappointment surged through her veins. Why did Claire think she had to apologize? The situation wasn’t her fault. Put the blame where it should go—right on Keith’s shoulders. She called Mark.

“Claire’s gone,” she said when Mark answered.

Silence. “Damn it all to hell. Where? When?”

“Don’t know where she’s going. The note said she was visiting a friend in Miami, but I don’t believe it. As to when, I’m guessing just after you left for work.” She crumpled the note. “I don’t think she had much money left. How far could she have gotten? What do you want me to do?”

Silence. Finally, Mark said, “Find her and bring her back.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. I’ll get protection for her until she decides what to do.”

They hung up. Where to look was the next question. Black Pointe wasn’t a huge city, but it was large enough for someone to get lost in if they wanted to. Was she even still in town? She could only hope. It would make things easier if Claire were.

First things first. Sam called Phil, her IT guy at the firm, and asked him to check the bus station and then the taxi companies. She knew car rentals and airplane tickets were out. Claire would need a credit card for them, and she was smart enough not to use them even if she had them with her. Although Sam suspected she hadn’t, plus, she didn’t have much cash.

Phil promised to call when he had some information. She sat in the living room, waiting.Oh, Claire, why didn’t you trust us to keep you safe?Sam was furious with herself. She knew Claire would run. She should have stayed here last night, convinced Claire not to.

Claire staredinto the small mirror. She still had bags under her eyes. She didn’t need to see her breasts to know they were still tender, the bruises fading. However, she didn’t look so sad, and that was a positive first step. She washed her face, dried her hands and prepared herself to walk downstairs. Her stomach rumbled again, and she hoped there would be an early lunch.

Two women with a couple of small children were sitting at the dining room table. They looked up when she walked in. Each gave her a tentative smile. The little ones looked at her with big, wide eyes. No smiles. She was a stranger. Claire shuddered. The kids were probably traumatized. Time would help them get better and feel safe—she hoped.

“Hey, grab a sandwich from the kitchen and join us,” said one of the women.

Claire walked into the kitchen and found sandwich fixings, chips, and drinks. She made a sandwich, grabbed a water, walked back into the dining room and sat down.

The women introduced themselves as Joyce and Linda.

“Welcome. It’s a bit overwhelming, but you’ll get used to it,” said the one who had introduced herself as Linda.

Joyce chimed in, “There are a few rules and a”—she made air quotes with her hands—“‘chat session,’ aka therapy, every day.” She smiled.

They talked for a while about jobs and apartments as theyate and were joined by several more women. Penny came in with a sandwich and ate with them.

After cleaning up, Penny motioned to Claire to follow her. “Come into my office, and we can fill in some paperwork and discuss what kind of help you might need.”

Claire nodded.

An hour later, a weight had lifted from her shoulders. She could stay at the shelter until she got a job and was settled. She thanked Penny, picked up a magazine from the table and brought it to her room to read.

The chair was a little uneven, probably a thrift shop find, but she was safe. First things first, she would call Sheri.

Sam waitedat Mark’s for a half hour, hoping to hear from Phil before returning to the office. She took several deep breaths to ground herself. The waiting and wondering added to her stress. She was minutes away from leaving when her cell phone rang.

“Speak.”

Phil’s gravelly voice confirmed what she already knew. No planes, trains, or bus tickets were registered in Claire’s name. She did, however, call a taxi that dropped her off on Magnolia Street.

Magnolia? Sam thanked Phil and hung up. She went over to Mark’s computer and logged in.Oh, Claire. The woman didn’t know shit about covering her tracks. Sam noted what she googled. The domestic abuse hotline.

Bingo. Sam knew exactly where she went. The shelter was one she helped at a couple of times a month, from picking up women who needed a ride to assisting them in finding jobs. She or one of the men also gave the women self-defense classes. It was good for the women and kids to know that notall men were abusers, but most were honorable, good men. However, she would only send a man if all the women agreed they were comfortable with one being there. Sometimes they weren’t, and that was okay too. She was still happy to help.

It took her about twenty minutes to drive over to the shelter. She had already called Penny to tell her she was on her way over but not the reason why.

Sam found a parking spot in front, walked up the path and rang the doorbell. The peephole darkened for a second, and she heard the clicks of the opening of the locks.

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