hand, and surrounded by beautiful women, smiling for the cameras. As Lucas studied picture after picture, he discovered the same woman was in each one. The captions underneath identified her as Christine Abbott, heiress to her family’s hotel chain.
Was it coincidence that Christine was in all the photos? He doubted it, but that was something Lucas could pursue later.
He scrolled to the next page of the file. His eyes grew wide as a police report came into view. Lucas leaned closer to the computer screen and read, his stomach churning as he realized what he was looking at. A report of Kyle Lockhart’s arrest, six months before his death, for domestic abuse.
Lucas’s fingers shook as he read the account. Teenagers having a party on the shore of the lake near Mia’s house had called the police to report hearing screams. The police had arrived to find Mia Lockhart severely injured. She had been transported to a hospital where it was determined she had a broken arm and several broken ribs, along with cuts and bruises over most of her face.
Lucas scrolled down further and gasped aloud when a picture of a bruised and battered Mia appeared on the screen. He clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from crying out as he read that Mia had refused to press charges.
Before he knew what he was doing, he had dialed Scottie’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“Scottie, did you see the picture of Lockhart’s wife?”
“Yeah, man. I saw it. But that’s just one of many.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The investigating cop is a guy I know, so I called him and asked him about Lockhart. He said that everybody at the precinct knew Mia Lockhart was a victim of repeated domestic abuse. They tried to get her to press charges every time he put her in the hospital, but she never would. My friend said that’s the way victims are. Their abuser convinces them that they deserve what they’re getting. Most of them have nowhere else to go, so they stay. It’s sad, isn’t it?”
Lucas’s breath hitched in his throat. “Yeah. Real sad. Thanks, Scottie.”
For a few minutes after disconnecting the call Lucas sat still and thought about what he’d discovered. No wonder Mia had no one to turn to. She’d been the victim of the one person who was supposed to take care of her.
He stood and walked back into the living room where she still lay sleeping. She moaned and clenched her fingers around the top of the afghan as she pulled it tighter around her neck. “No,” she murmured as her body twitched. “I’m sorry.”
He had no idea what she was dreaming, but he knew for a certainty now that her life had been a nightmare. And when her husband was killed, she’d ended up in a new nightmare, threatened and eventually assaulted by the man who’d murdered Kyle. She had come to him for help, and he would do everything he could to find the man who’d terrorized her for the past few weeks.
As for Kyle Lockhart, there was nothing Lucas could do about him now. But just maybe he could bring some closure to Mia for what she had experienced at her husband’s hands. If he could do that, maybe he, too, could at last put some closure to the most painful period of his life.
* * *
Mia slowly opened her eyes and stretched her arms over her head. She didn’t know when she’d slept so soundly. Her fingers brushed against the soft yarn at her neck, and she looked down at the afghan covering her from her shoulders to her toes. She trailed her fingers down the crocheted diagonal lines of muted shades of green, brown and gray that blended in with the earthy tones of Lucas’s house. Her eyes flew open wide at the thought of his name.
Lucas! She was in his house. Asleep on his sofa.
“Are you finally awake?”
His voice came from the direction to her left. She bolted upright on the sofa and jerked her head around to stare at him. The sun shone through the window behind him and cast shadows across the chair where he sat. He had his ankle propped on the opposite leg and sat there staring at her, the expression on his face unreadable.
She clutched the afghan tighter around her neck and swallowed. “Lucas. You scared me.”
His hands clenched around the arms of the chair, but he didn’t rise. “Did I? I’m sorry. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up.”
She swiveled her body around until her feet were on the floor, and she sat facing him. “I guess I was more tired than I thought. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you by sleeping here. What time is it?”
“It’s close to three o’clock. You must have been really tired.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry, Lucas. I hope I didn’t keep you from going to work.”
“I have an office here. I had some paperwork I took care of, so it was no problem.”
She pushed to her feet and busied herself folding the afghan. “I’ll get out of here. Thank you for everything today. I’ll give you my cell phone number so you can contact me when you have any news about Tony Chapman.”
She reached to put the afghan on the back of the sofa, but she froze at the sharp words he uttered. “And where are you going?”
His voice had a hoarse rasp to it. Was that anger she heard? Or was she so used to hearing Kyle’s harsh tone that she looked for it in everyone she encountered? She bit her lip and laid the afghan down before she turned to face him. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll let you know when I get settled, maybe in a hotel.”
“I thought you didn’t have any money.”
She frowned. What was with the interrogation? She swallowed hard and tried to remain calm. “I have a little. I think I can afford a cheap motel.”
He pushed to his feet and took a step toward her. He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at her without blinking. “I have a few questions before you leave.”
“Okay.”
He advanced, and she inched backward until her legs bumped the sofa, and she sank onto it. Lucas took a deep breath as he towered over her. “I need to know more about Kyle, so I can figure out what might have made someone want to kill him. You said he isolated you from friends, he wouldn’t let you work, and in the past few years, he never took you with him to business events. Other than that, how did he treat you?”
Her fingers shook, and she laced them together to hold them still. “H-he was my husband. H-he treated me like I was his wife.”
Lucas’s steel blue eyes bored into hers, and she dropped her gaze. “And what does that mean? Was he kind? Did he make you happy? Did he love you?”
Her face burned from his intense gaze, and she cast a furtive glance down at her hands. “Lucas, I don’t see what this has to do with finding the man who killed him.”
With a sigh, he sat on the sofa next to her. When she peeked over at him, she saw him staring down at his feet for a moment before he reached over, pulled one of her hands loose from the other and wrapped his fingers around hers. She started to draw away from him, but he tightened his grip. She opened her mouth to protest, but the sad look in his eyes stopped her. “It’s all right, Mia,” he said, his gentle tone piercing the barricades
