nights it’s been the doorbell instead. The first couple of times, one of the girls answered and nobody was there. God, I was scared when I realized—” She broke off. “What’s horrible is that he must have been watching somewhere. The second time it was Steph, and she was scared to death. She had the sense to slam the door quick and lock it, but when I came running she was shaking. He must have seen.” Beth searched her friend’s face. “How could he do it to her, Maria?”
“God, I don’t know.” Maria took her hand and squeezed. “The son of a… Well, you know what I think of him. And we’re not talking about ‘whoever’ here, are we.” It wasn’t a question.
“I don’t know,” Beth said desperately. “It’s hard to believe Ray could be so cruel.”
“A woman scorned is nothing on a man. You know, he may not let himself realize that Steph and Lauren are scared, too.”
“It’s getting so I hate him.” Until she heard herself say the words, she hadn’t known her feelings were so caustic. “And what if it wasn’t him?”
The question was unanswerable. Maria made a helpless gesture. “Have you called the police?”
“What can they do?” Beth asked. “I’ve tried hiding by the window where I can see the front door, but then no one comes. If he’s able to figure out when I’m watching, do you think he’s going to come striding up on the front porch with a police car in my driveway?”
“I think they can be more subtle than that.”
“Maria, I can’t.” All Beth’s misery poured out. “This is Stephanie and Lauren’s father we’re talking about. What if I’m wrong?”
Maria’s dark eyes were compassionate. “You’d still have a problem. Maybe a worse one.”
She hadn’t thought about it that way. Was it scarier to think of a stranger persecuting them this way, or Ray?
The question wasn’t one she could shake. It stayed with her long after Maria had bustled out.
Usually Beth snatched a quick lunch in the back room, but she’d been so tired this morning she’d given the girls lunch money instead of sandwiches, and now she had to go out herself. The Bluebird Café three blocks away had good daily specials and the booths offered more privacy than the tiny tables at the deli around the corner, so she chose to go there. The walk would do her good.
She’d barely taken a forkful of flaky crust from her turkey pot pie when she saw Sheriff Jack Murray enter, a big, broad man in another of those beautifully cut gray suits that hid the gun he undoubtedly carried. She should have sat with her back to the door, Beth thought belatedly, although she had no idea why she was so reluctant to face him again.
Because he’d heard her screaming at her ex-husband?
Six or seven booths were occupied, but his gaze went straight to her and he waved off the waitress, coming directly to Beth. “May I join you?”
What could she say but “Of course.”
The waitress followed, but he didn’t take the menu. “A cup of coffee and apple pie,” he told her, before he scrutinized Beth as directly as Maria had. “Your clerk said you were here.”
Surprised, she said, “You came looking for me?”
Justifiably, he ignored the question. “How are things going with your ex-husband?”
Beth opened her mouth to say a bright “Just fine!” and found she couldn’t get the lie out. She closed her mouth, opened it again and finally sighed. “Well, we’ve had no repeat of the infamous temper tantrum. I guess I can deal with everything else.”
That was a lie, too, of course; even at this moment, even when she was distracted by this blunt-featured man who knew too much about her life, her stomach churned and her chest was crowded with anxiety. What would tonight bring? A ringing telephone, with no caller on the other end? The chime of the doorbell, with no one standing on the doorstep? Or would something scarier yet happen?
She met the sheriff’s eyes and had the unnerving feeling that he had read her mind. More roughly than her remark called for, he said, “You shouldn’t have to deal with anything. If he’s trespassing or violating his visitation rights—”
“I should have him arrested?” How she wished she could! “I don’t think that would solve our problems.”
“It might wake him up.” He stopped when a newcomer slapped him on the back and wanted to talk about a speech he’d apparently given the night before.
Beth took the opportunity to eat, watching Murray respond with the easy geniality of a born politician. He had a reputation as a tough cop—too tough, according to his opponent in the last election. Beth had voted for him, anyway, liking the job he’d done as chief of the smaller Elk Springs city police force before he ran for sheriff.
At the same time the waitress brought his coffee and pie, the other man moved on with apologies for interrupting their lunch, and Murray’s expression became grave. “Are you aware that your ex-husband was arrested for assault and battery over a week ago?”
“Assault?” Staggered, Beth shook her head dumbly. The fork dropped from nerveless fingers. “No. No, I wasn’t.”
“Got in a fight at the tavern. Not all his fault, apparently, but he broke the other man’s nose, really worked him over. According to the bartender, the fight was over you.”
“Dear God.” Beth bent her head and pushed her plate away, struggling with her nausea. A fight in a tavern. For the thousandth time, she asked herself how it had come to this. She and Ray had been high school sweethearts. She had thought he was so strong, someone she could lean on forever.
When she raised her head again, she had regained control. Almost steadily, she asked, “What do you mean, over me?”
Murray surprised her by covering her clenched fist with his large hand. “It would appear that Mr. Sommers was insulting you. The other man took exception to what he was saying. They’d both had a few too many.”
“Is he…is he in jail?”
“He was held overnight. My guess is he’ll plea-bargain and end up with no more than probation and a promise to attend AA or go into alcohol treatment.”
“I wouldn’t have said he had a drinking problem.” Beth sighed. “But then, he’s doing a lot of things I never thought he would.”
“Does he drink when the girls are with him?”
“Oh, God.” She’d never asked. Wouldn’t Steph, at least, have said? “I don’t know. In the past when he was mad, like the night you saw him, he didn’t seem drunk.”
“No, he didn’t,” Murray conceded.
Neither said anything. The silence began to feel awkward. Beth looked at her half-eaten lunch and decided she wasn’t hungry. The sheriff hadn’t even picked up his fork to start the pie the waitress had brought.
“Ms. Sommers…” He growled something under his breath and rubbed the back of his neck as though the muscles were stiff. “This is probably unprofessional
