ONE
The slam of a car door grabbed Jessica Taylor’s attention.
She dropped the clothes in her hand and rushed to the window to scan the front of the house. An unfamiliar silver sedan was parked at the curb. That hadn’t been there when Jessica arrived to help Sarah Young escape her abusive husband.
Sarah’s face was pale against the blue bruises that shadowed her eye and cheeks and the red swollen lip. But it was the fear in her wide, green eyes that spoke volumes. “It’s Robert. He’s home,” she said, her voice a choked, fearful whisper.
The thought of a confrontation with this man—or any man who believed he had the right to beat his wife—swept a wave of bitterly familiar emotions through Jessica. Fear, desperation, hopelessness. For a moment, she was swept back into the past to another confrontation.
The pounding on the door...the despair...the chilling voice on the other side of the door.
You’re mine, Jess.
No matter how many times she’d confronted such evil, she’d never grown accustomed to it.
But she’d also learned to push through her fears until the singe of righteous anger strengthened her and she would never bow to them. She ignored the shakiness in her knees as she pulled her long blond hair into a ponytail. She only wished she were more dressed down. High-heeled shoes were not the ideal for running if she needed to, but she’d come straight from court and she liked the added height they gave her five-foot-six frame.
She draped on an air of calmness as she turned to Sarah. “Grab your suitcase. We need to go now. He won’t find you. You’ll be safe, I promise.”
Sarah’s chin quivered and tears pooled in her eyes. “He’s going to be so mad.”
Jessica knew this was a pivotal moment. The attack on Sarah was damaging enough to keep her husband in jail overnight, but they’d lost precious escape time while she’d tried to convince Sarah to leave. Even now, she saw the question of whether or not to go on Sarah’s battered face.
Jessica understood her feelings. This was Sarah’s home and she didn’t want to leave it, but she also knew the statistics of intimate partner violence. Robert’s violence was escalating, and Sarah might not survive another attack.
Jessica touched her arm, trying to pull the young woman’s focus back to the plan. “Sarah, we have to leave. Robert doesn’t know about Dean’s Den. You’ll be safe there, but we have to go now.”
The domestic violence shelter Jessica ran in Jackson had safeguards for women in Sarah’s position. But those security measures would be futile if Robert had an opportunity to follow them there.
Sarah nodded then stuffed the handful of clothing she held into the suitcase and closed it. “I’m ready.”
The back door slammed shut and a man’s voice reverberated through the house shouting Sarah’s name. Jessica sucked in a breath. Were they already too late?
But relief flooded Sarah’s face. “Andrew!” She ran to the bedroom door and called out to him. “Andrew, we’re here.”
He rushed into the room, grabbed Sarah and hugged her tightly. Jessica could see the relief on his face and the affection for the woman now in his arms. But she was shocked to realize she also knew him—Assistant District Attorney Andrew Jennings.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he told Sarah. “I was drowning in legal briefs and my phone battery died. I didn’t see your messages until this morning. Are you okay?” He touched her face, then her arms, as if checking for himself to make certain she wasn’t seriously injured.
“I’m fine. Jessica, this is my brother. Andrew, this is Jessica Taylor. She runs a shelter for women like me.”
He turned his eyes from his sister long enough to acknowledge her presence. “We’ve met.”
Yes, they knew one another. They’d worked together in the past and she’d tried with little success to encourage Andrew and the District Attorney’s Office to help other victims of domestic violence through stronger charges and higher sentences for batterers.
Andrew Jennings possessed a wide, disarming smile and a charm that put people at ease when he chose to use it. Juries responded to him. The press revered him. And most women swooned at the sight of his sea-green eyes fixed upon her.
But Jessica was not most women.
This man understood high-priced suits and expensive cars. He’d worked his way up the ladder of success in the D.A.’s office by winning cases...and domestic violence cases were hardly ever winnable. He had no clue about what the women in her care endured and no desire to learn. All he cared about was getting his handsome face in the newspaper.
Or so she’d thought until she’d watched him pull Sarah into his strong embrace.
“I won’t let him hurt you again. I promise I won’t.”
