Break, page 8
“Ahh, well, he’s pretty royally fucked this one up.”
“What was the shit advice he gave her?” I’m growing more curious about this entire situation. Most of the victims we assist don’t have this much red tape surrounding it.
Coop’s face hardens, clearly pissed about this part. “Told her that in these types of situations, the best advice he can give her is to stay in the house until lawyers are involved if they aren’t able to work through their disagreements. Hinted that if she were to leave, she won’t be able to go back until the courts divide up monies, assets, and property, and it can take years for that to happen.”
He looks over at the window with a furrowed brow. “He said, and I quote, ‘Where do you expect you’ll be able to go with no money and no job? Your best option would be to look into counseling if you’re not able to get along with your spouse. They know how to handle these things.’ Fucker never mentioned that if she’s in a situation that involves physical violence and he’s a danger to her safety, that she should leave. Then handle the legalities after getting to a safe place.”
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, catching Ethan’s gaze.
“So, she listened to him,” Ethan says, not asking because we all know the answer.
“Of course she did. He’s a cop. He knows how these things work, according to her.” Coop is obviously pissed, and he has every right to be.
“So, what brought us here today? I saw her arm in a sling. I’m sure it’s safe to assume that shit hit the fan last night?” I’m eager to move past Olson’s blunder and get the information we need so we can get this woman situated today.
Leaning over the table, he opens the file in front of him. “Right. The victim came to the station yesterday to file yet another report, photos and journal in hand as proof, and was once again shut down by Olson. We don’t have all the evidence yet, but we’re fairly certain that Olson called her husband and informed him of this. He confronted her last night and their fight escalated quickly. She fled the house and was found walking down the road by a concerned driver, who drove her to the emergency room. There, she was treated for multiple bruises, a minor concussion, and a dislocated shoulder. This, along with a massive amount of documentation provided by her-”
“What documentation?” I cut in, taking notes as he lists out the details.
Growling softly, Coop clenches his jaw. “She brought an entire folder filled with detailed journal entries where she’s described every physical altercation between the two of them. Along with hundreds of photos depicting bruises, cuts, and fucking handprints all over her body. She’s been trying to get out of this situation for a while, and thankfully, built the case against him for herself.”
“Why didn’t she just leave?” Ethan asks. I know he’s asking out of curiosity, and in no way judging her, but it immediately pisses me off.
Snapping at him, I bite out, “Not everyone knows they can leave or how to do it. Rarely does this kind of abuse not include verbal and emotional with it. These types of men start with making a woman dependent on them both financially and emotionally, convincing them they can’t do better or can’t survive on their own. They’re completely stripped of their independence and self-worth. They’re pushed to their breaking point, and the abuser hooks them back in with a ‘good day’. They promise they’ll do better, showing them affection or love that seems to come with no strings attached, until the victim feels safe. Then the cycle begins again, each time escalating and pushing against that new line that’s been set.”
“Max,” Coop says, gently calling my attention to him, but I ignore it and keep my glare fixed on my friend.
Ethan holds his hands up in a placating manner. “I meant nothing by my question. I’m just trying to get the full picture here.”
“It’s a fair question, and Max’s explanation is basically what we’re looking at here. She’s never been allowed to be on her own, and her husband fostered a co-dependency on her. But her fear of him has her backing up against the wall. This man is fucking dangerous, guys. I’ve got some officers out looking for him, but right now we’ve got to get her someplace safe where he won’t be able to find her.”
Coop taps his fingers on the table, thinking, then adds, “You know the system takes forever and right now we’ve only got her written words against whatever his excuses are. The photos help a lot, but he doesn’t have much of a rap sheet, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s able to get out on bond instead of being held. I’ve been around long enough to know when we’re dealing with an individual who’s going to have a problem staying away and accepting that she’s leaving him.”
Jerking my head sharply down, I show him I hear what he’s saying. “Alright, let’s go meet her and see what we can do, yeah?”
Snatching the folder up from the table, Coop leads the two of us out into the hall, holding the door so we can step inside in front of him.
Ethan mutters “Fuck” at the same time as my eyes widen. The woman sitting before us is the same one that we ran into outside the precinct yesterday afternoon, and she looks like she’s been run over by a fucking truck.
Chapter 11
History
Ethan
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
Shock is emanating from Max in waves as he stares at the woman we stood in front of less than twenty-four hours ago. She’s battered, bruised, and fucking terrified as she looks back and forth between the two of us.
I know I can come across as intimidating with how I look, standing at 6’4”, bearded, tattooed, pierced, and rough around the edges. It probably played into how she reacted to having her path blocked by us yesterday, so I drop my shoulders slightly to look less… well, big.
Max steps forward, drawing her attention to him. Then stops when he sees how she sits up straighter in her chair, leaning her body backwards as far as the chair will allow her. Standing a couple inches shorter, and slightly leaner, I would have expected her to be more comfortable speaking with him rather than me. That doesn’t seem to be the case here. If anything, Max’s presence is more upsetting to her if the noise of her crunching water bottle indicates anything. She’s holding it between her right hand and the table, trembling fingers fighting to separate the label from the glue.
Her face is mottled with bruising, one of her eyes partially swollen shut, a deep purple bruise changing the color of her lower lip. I wince when she bites down on it, flinches, then licks away the pain. She’s dressed in puke-green hospital scrubs, which leaves the arm she has wrapped up in a sling, bare. Giving us a front-row seat to finger-length bruising spanning from wrist to upper arm. The bruises disappear under the hem of her sleeve, but I know if she were to pull it up, they would continue winding their way around her arm.
Max holds his hands out to show that he’s not going to surprise her with anything and slides into the seat on the opposite side of the table. The screeching of the feet as he adjusts his chair is grating, but only lasts for a moment. “It’s nice to see you again, ma’am, although I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m Max and this-”
Coop clears his throat and interrupts him, ignoring Max’s scowl. “This is Max Bennett, owner of a company called Breaking Barriers, and his co-worker, Ethan Riley. They’re the ones we told you about,” he says to the woman who still hasn’t taken her eyes off Max. “Guys, this is-”
“Is this a joke?” Her voice is soft, lower than I had expected, and filled with a wavering tremor and brimming with accusation. She turns her face toward Trina, who’s sitting next to her with a look of confusion and a hint of betrayal.
“Mi-” Trina starts to ask, but we’re all shocked when this battered woman slams her hand down on the tabletop to stop her.
“NO! No… I thought-” Her voice cracks, and she audibly swallows her emotions down. “Why are they here? Were you all just messing with me?”
Coop squats down on the other side of her to speak to her at eye-level. “Of course we aren’t. We’re doing everything we can to help and get you into a place where you’ll be safe and protected,” he explains to her, but it’s clear that she doesn’t believe him.
Shoving herself away from the table, her chair clatters backwards and she cries out when she unintentionally uses her injured arm. Gripping her shoulder, she stands away from everyone and squeezes her eyes shut. “It’s a joke. It’s all just a terribly mean and twisted joke, right?” Snapping her eyes open, she focuses on Coop, who’s standing back up at his full height, clearly uneasy with her reaction.
“There’s no joke going on here, sweetheart. I swear to you. Will you sit down so we can try to work through this?” he begs her.
Shaking my head at Coop, I fight back an eyeroll. This woman has clearly been traumatized by the events of last night and whatever the hell she’s been going through for God knows how long. He should have brought in a counselor to help ease her through the transition of bringing in new people hours after she left the hospital.
“Are you all still friends with him? Is that why you called them?” she asks Coop, then looks to Trina, wanting an answer from both of them.
Okay, now I’m confused. I catch Max’s attention and he simply raises a brow like he’s just as lost as I am.
“Please, Mi-” Trina begins again, but the woman is not having it.
“Stop trying to placate me!” she cries out.
Jesus Christ! She’s about to fall headfirst into a panic attack, and I’m not equipped with how to handle it. I step back until I find myself pressed up against the wall on the opposite side of the room from her. My arms hang at my sides, and I slide down into a squat so I’m lower than her. It’s the only thing I can do to show her I’m not a threat.
“Okay, we all need to take a minute to calm down. There are no ulterior motives; we’re only here to help where we can.” Coop tries to take control of the unraveling this woman standing in front of him is experiencing as the rest of us just stand back as helpless spectators.
She’s not having it, though. Looking briefly at me, then back at Max, she asks, “What did he do, call you and ask you to come deal with me? Give you his side of things so you can reassure me he didn’t mean it and he was just having a bad night?”
“Honey,” Max says, his jaw clenching when he sees how she visibly recoils to the endearment. “I haven’t talked to anyone except Jenny when she called me this morning to ask for our assistance. I don’t even know who your husband is.”
I expect her to bite back at him, but her body completely deflates and every emotion that has been flickering through eyes; fear, betrayal, suspicion, anger, pain. They’re all gone.
Just blank. She’s shutting down right in front of us and my stomach twists because I don’t like the way it makes my conscience feel. We shouldn’t have come in here. We’ve only caused this woman more pain. Whether or not it’s intentional, it’s still on us.
“I will not play this game anymore. I c… can’t take it anymore. Not from him…” she whispers the ending. “And not from you.” She directs that to Max and then includes me with another quick glance in my direction.
A fucking vise grips my throat and I know we’re missing something. Guilt over something unknown wiggles its way into my brain, but I can’t connect it with all the facts I’ve been given.
Who is this woman, and why do I feel like I should already know?
A name starts to swim into my memory when I watch her grab a piece of paper with her free hand and gently use the injured one to tear it in half, then creasing it once, twice, three times.
Heavy knocking on the door loosens the reins on the answer I almost had, and it slips away from me. Coop sighs before walking over to stick his head out the door.
Vincent’s urgent voice pulls Max to the door to stand next to him, but I’m only watching from my peripheral. I can’t take my eyes off the woman as she hangs her head down. Her hair cascades over her shoulders to hide her face as she works the paper into an intricate array of folds and angles and sharp edges.
“Ethan,” Max clips out. He gives me a head nod to follow him outside.
One last glance at the table, I blow out a frustrated breath and walk into the empty hallway. Vincent is practically bouncing on his feet, but not in excitement. He looks fucking wrecked.
“What the hell is going on?” Max hisses, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at our ex-football-God-turned-cop friend.
Coop is exasperated when he adds, “I’d like to know the same thing. Do you all know that woman in there?”
“No,” Max answers at the same time I do.
“Nope.”
Vincent shakes his head. “Yes, you fucking do.”
My head jerks back, and Max drops his arms. “What are you talking about? I’ve never met that woman before in my life. Well, unless you count yesterday outside the station.”
Narrowing his eyes at Max, he asks his question through gritted teeth. “Do you know where I’ve been this morning?”
“Yeah, you went to pick up her piece of shit abusive husband.”
“That’s right. So, guess where I picked him up at?” he asks. He’s being evasive, and it’s pissing me off.
Hiding no irritation from my voice, I snap. “Don’t play fucking games. Just tell us who that is and what the fuck you know.”
Vincent stands up straighter. I can tell that he hasn’t been playing any games with us. Not one. He’s about to slam us with some news that I suspect is going to turn our world upside down.
“I just fucking arrested Danny Reed. That woman in there?” He points to the door behind me. “That’s Mina Bardot, his fucking wife.”
Chapter 12
Just Doing my Job
Vincent
~ 1 hour earlier ~
Tony Singh, my partner and one of the few friends I have outside of Ethan and Max, pulls up in front of a house I haven’t visited in the last four or five years.
Danny Reed has a warrant out for his arrest, and I can’t make heads or tails of what the hell is going on. Our friendship has fizzled out ever since we graduated high school, like so many of those types of relationships do. But I truly never expected to find myself in the position of having to cuff him and read him his rights.
I informed Lieutenant Cooper immediately of our history when we were assigned to pick him up, but Cooper felt confident that I could lay that to the side and do my job. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll do what I have to, even though it makes me feel uneasy.
“You good to do this, man?” Tony has the car parked at the end of Danny’s driveway, the car idling, giving me a moment to collect myself.
Clearing away the knot in my throat, I nod, and then answer. “Yep, super good. It’s just really fucking weird to me.”
“Yeah, I know, but you saw the report. People change, ya know?” he reminds me.
People do change, but many don’t. Sometimes they’ve always been exactly who they are, only to fool those closest to them. I feel like that’s what Danny did to us. I’ve known this guy for decades, and although he’s always been an ass, I wouldn’t have pegged him for a wife beater.
And Wilhelmina Bardot? No. Wilhelmina Reed? From what I remember of her, she was always a quiet girl. Shy, mousey, but incredibly polite no matter the way we treated her, which flares up in my subconscious from time to time. The girl was just a little thing when we were growing up, always looking a couple of years younger than her actual age. I still struggle with understanding why she ever married Danny.
Shrugging off my thoughts, I punch Tony’s arm before hopping out of the squad car. “Come on. Let’s get this shit over with.”
My partner follows me to the front door, quietly stating, “We got three cars in the driveway. I’ll stand back and monitor the side door in case he tries to slip out.”
I snort at him and give him an incredulous look. “He’s not going to run, Singh.”
Jerking his shoulders up, he waves me off. “Look, you never know what someone’s gonna do when they’re cornered. You know this.”
Choosing to ignore him, I press the doorbell and then rap my knuckles on the solid oak door three times in quick succession. Taking a step back, I inhale deeply and then let it out slowly, shaking my hands out by my side to settle the nerves wrapping around my chest. I love my job, but altercations with people I consider friends or family have never been something that I’ve been comfortable with.
It’s not long before Danny cracks the door open and peers through the small gap, his eyes slitted from the early morning sun. He’s confused for a moment when he sees that it’s me standing outside, then flashes me a quick smile and opens the door fully. His smile falls when he steps outside and sees my partner standing at the foot of the stairs, hip leaning against the rail.
There’s no greeting from him, just questions. “What’s going on? What are you doing here with him?” He jerks his head toward Tony.
“Hey, buddy. So, we’ve got ourselves a situation this morning. We’ve been assigned to bring you in.”
I watch for his reaction, and my heart sinks when he looks unsurprised.
“That fucking bitch. Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Danny is seething mad. The best I can do is ignore his question and continue doing my job.
“I’ve got a warrant here for you if you need to read it. Do you want to take a minute to get dressed?” Tony grunts his disapproval, but I give him a small shake of my head, urging him to let it go.
Danny’s face flushes a deep red, and he glares at me. “This is all a massive misunderstanding, and you guys gotta know that she’s feeding you a bunch of bullshit. I’m not going to let her embarrass me with whatever insane story she’s telling you. And they sent you? You of all people to arrest me? Bet you think this is all just a fucking joke and that I can’t keep a handle on my own goddamn wife, huh?”
Tensing my muscles, I straighten up and prepare for a fight I wasn’t expecting to get from him. “Danny, I don’t think anything. I’m just here to do my job. It’ll get worked out down at the station, but we do have to bring you down there.”
