Out of the Storm (3 page)

Old signs of abuse?
Fractures and bruising?
This kept getting worse. Eric didn’t want to think what the next revelation might bring.

“I tried to talk to Ashley, but she was pretty groggy,” the social worker continued. “What she said didn’t make much sense. Mumbled something about a bag? I thought maybe you could help.”

“Ms. Walsh, I really don’t know anything about her. I told you. And I have no idea what she’s talking about.” Eric sighed and stared at the woman across the table. His frustration mounted. “Can you answer a question for me?”

“I can try,” she agreed with a non-committal smile.

“This alleged abuse.” He paused, mustering his courage. “You said it looks old?”

She looked down at her report and nodded. “According to what the report says. Hard for them to tell without more tests and input from Ashley.”

Eric sighed deeply.

“Honestly, Mr. Montgomery. Without something from the potential victim—from Ashley, we may never know.”

He’d let this poor girl and her little band into his life. Despite the fact that no one accused him of anything, somehow, Eric felt responsible. “She showed up tonight,” Eric repeated defensively, picturing her standing in that downpour when he opened the door. “In that storm. All the way from Norfolk. Damn tough travel for a couple of girls and a little dog.” Eric swallowed and shook his head.

“I’ll speak to Ashley tomorrow about what may have happened.” Rebecca twisted her lips and found Eric’s eyes again. “The other reason I have to get involved is that she’s an adult with a child apparently in her care and has no place to stay when she’s released. She’s got no evidence of insurance and no means of support for her or the child, whatever their relationship. From what you’ve told me she went to a lot of trouble to find you. That and the potential abuse almost guarantee she’s not going back to Virginia. I’ll have to talk to DCF—the Division of Children and Families. They handle cases like Ashley’s.”

Eric heard the words. They took a moment to register. He knew nothing about the Social Service system but had the gnawing feeling that unless he took these girls and their dog into his home they were going to be thrown under the bus—into more chaos. Maybe a shelter or a foster home for the little girl.

“What if they came to live with me? If I assumed responsibility for them?” The words spilled out too quickly. But when a smile brightened Rebecca’s face he knew it was what she wanted to hear. Easier for her and better for the girls.

“That’s between you and Ashley. She’s an adult. We’ll have to determine the relationship with the younger girl before making a determination. If she’s related to Ashley, a sister or daughter”—Rebecca put on a pleasant face—“I think that would work, but we’d have to get approval, of course. I still need to follow up and make out a report on what the doctors found. But with your background and reputation it
should
be just a formality.”

“About the insurance?” Eric began. He wasn’t sure how to handle the second issue. If he agreed to take them into his house the burden of payment would fall on him. He had memories of the bill from Elaine’s hospital visit on the night of her accident. Well into the five figures.

“You’ll have to address that with the billing department.” Rebecca shrugged and held up her hands. “Sorry.” Her eyes showed she felt his anxiety.

Eric had his own insurance, but that wouldn’t cover a stranger of legal age. He had the $100,000 from Elaine’s life insurance sitting in an account at the Cape Cod Five. Would it be a violation of trust to use some of that to pay for Ashley? Was he ready to take responsibility for her, the child, and their pet? If he agreed to take them in, Eric knew he had to pay.

“If you want to talk to my brother, the man she lived with, I’ll give you the last phone number I have for him. The last time I saw him was ten years ago when Ashley was a kid. Ralph and I were never close,” he added. “What do you do to someone who…who mistreats a girl?” Eric asked.

“In Massachusetts we take domestic violence very seriously. If Ashley swears out a complaint, we’d call Virginia and get the police involved but…” Her words trailed off again. Eric thought she was hoping he’d take them under his wing and avoid that. “She’s an adult. If you take her in and she doesn’t pursue a complaint, our hands are tied. So we may not need that number. I’ll let you know.” They exchanged glances. Eric wasn’t sure how to feel about that. If Ralph had anything to do with this, he wanted the SOB punished. He’d try to find out from Ashley when she was better.

“Are we through here?” Eric asked. Exhaustion was overtaking him.

She looked at him. “I think so.” The social worker held out her hand. “We’ll be talking to confirm this conversation when Ashley’s back on her feet. She may have other ideas.”

She gave him a weak smile.

I’d like to have a talk with Ralph myself,
Eric thought as he stood to leave.

A long and painful one.

Chapter Four

By the time he pulled the Jeep into the crushed stone driveway it was after one. Eric parked in front of his garage and trudged across the gravel. Lonely raindrops chased him as he made his way to the kitchen door, but the nor’easter had spent its fury. He couldn’t remember feeling this drained. Not since the fire-fights in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Now, as his adrenaline faded, anger and frustration mixed with fatigue. He thought his head would explode. These girls needed someone. Eric didn’t doubt that. A picture of young Ashley—the sweet, innocent girl he’d met ten years ago—stuck in his mind. What happened to turn her into the solitary, desperate creature he’d left at the hospital?

In four hours I’ve inherited a family.
But not the family he’d envisioned. Eric’s dreams were filled with Elaine and the beautiful little girl he expected to watch grow in her image, not this sad, broken young woman and her followers.
Fucking Ralph
. If he really had thrown them out, Eric would put his brother in the hospital for a month.

Before he arrived at the door, Louise opened it quietly and put her fingers to her lips. “Shhh. They’re both asleep. The girl’s in the second bedroom down the hall. I did the best I could to clean them up and gave them something to eat. They were both exhausted,” she whispered, smiling as she nodded at the small spaniel, eyes closed and snoring on a makeshift bed in the corner. “I figured I’d keep an eye on them and give the little girl a bath in the morning. I have the day off. The dog is your job,” she added.

“Thanks for everything,” he said, pulling her to him and giving her a generous hug. “You’re always there when I need someone.”

“I always will be.” She nodded and blushed. “You know that.” Lu cleared her throat. “What happened with Ashley?”

“A miscarriage,” he said quietly, shaking his head and flushing as he studied the floor.

“I figured that.” She patted his shoulder.

“They’re going to keep her for a couple of days. Make sure she’s all right and the cut on her face heals. A social worker showed up. Rebecca Walsh. Said she knows you.”

Louise nodded.

“Ashley was...” Eric hesitated, wanting to spare Angie the details. The thought that Ralph might have hurt Ashley sickened him.

His mother-in-law seemed to sense his discomfort. “It’s okay. Tell me the rest tomorrow. If you want.” She picked up the overnight bag she’d brought. “I threw some things in when you called. Figured I could stay for a couple of days if you needed me to. It may take you a while to figure out your next move.”

Next move?
Eric tried to get his mind around it. Suddenly, something nagged at him as he looked at Lu’s bag. “They had nothing? Right? No suitcase, knapsack, a plastic bag with clothes, a toothbrush—nothing?” he asked, remembering Ashley had mentioned a bag to the social worker.

Louise stopped and looked at him curiously. “No. Funny. Now that you mention it, they didn’t.”

Eric tiptoed to the kitchen door and stuck his head outside. He flipped on the spotlight and looked around the garage area where the little girl and the puppy were huddling when Ashley rang the bell. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “Think about this,” he began. “They were leaving for the rest of their lives. They had no money and packed
nothing?
” He raised his eyebrows. “Unless my brother just kicked them out of the house with no warning. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I guess not,” she whispered, watching him. “Eric, what are you trying to say? Do you think that something isn’t…?”

“I don’t know what to think,” he interrupted. “This doesn’t add up. Norfolk is 600 miles from here. And it’s been pouring for a week. These girls travel all that way and suddenly appear on my doorstep as if by GPS. All they had was Ashley’s wallet, a few bucks, and a Virginia driver’s license.”

“I guess I see your point.” Her words trailed off as she sighed. “But it’s been a long night.”

Maybe it was exhaustion, anger, or the residual alcohol in his system. All could fertilize the seeds of suspicion. Eric needed a good night’s sleep. He wanted to ask about the little girl and the dog, but he was dead on his feet. He yawned and gave Angie a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for everything,” he repeated and dragged himself up the stairs to his bedroom. “I’ve got no idea where this is going. We can talk about it tomorrow,” he called back softly.

When he slipped between the sheets at 1:20 he should have fallen asleep in seconds. It had been a tense evening. Elaine had been brilliant, the person with the twenty-five-dollar vocabulary. “Surreal” was one of her favorites and the word that kept coming to mind as he thought about the past four hours. When he closed his eyes all he could see was an image of Ashley standing cold and wet in his doorway. How had the sweet, precocious fourteen-year-old he’d met at Ralph’s become the hungry, broken young woman who’d knocked at his door? And more importantly how did she, the little girl, and their ragamuffin dog manage to get from Norfolk to Cape Cod with three dollars, no baggage, and no car? He needed answers.

Two questions kept him awake: If everything Ashley said was true, why him? They’d met once—for ten days a decade earlier. Yes, she
had
followed him around like a puppy. Maybe even developed a crush on him. But this leaving home when she was pregnant and making a pilgrimage with a child and a dog to find him—why? What was she running from—an abusive boyfriend, the child’s father, something criminal, Ralph? Could he have made that much of an impression? Would he be the one she ran to when her life fell apart? There had to be someone else—a friend, lover, the father of her child, certainly somebody closer and easier to find. Someone more connected to their lives. Could Ashley really be so desperate and alone she had nowhere else to go? Were the bruises another clue, a more sinister reason she might come looking for him? Her mother was dead. Was she afraid to be alone with Ralph?

And then there was his brother. They’d never been close. Eric’s father had remarried and Ralph was a teenager when Eric was born. He was always in trouble. Eric had been the model son. But lying there, despite the urge to find his brother and kick his ass, Eric had to admit that Ralph had never been violent. He’d never abused anyone or done some of the other sick things that lurked in the recesses of Eric’s mind. His brother was smooth and slick, a good-looking schmoozer who charmed his way into women’s hearts and men’s wallets. Had he changed or was Eric’s dislike for Ralph coloring his judgment? Was there another explanation? Had he thrown Ashley out
because
of her condition or something that had happened? But that raised a more sinister question. If he
had
thrown her out what did that say about Ashley? At two o’clock Eric got up. He didn’t want to think anymore. He couldn’t. He went to the bathroom, took one of the prescription sleeping pills his Army shrink had given him. In ten minutes he passed into a deep, dreamless sleep.

****

Nine a.m. Sounds filtered in through his open bedroom window. Eric jumped up. He never slept this late. Seagulls called their comrades and the sound of a distant outboard hummed somewhere. More sounds—working gently up the stairway from the kitchen mingled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee as Eric rubbed his eyes and stretched. He wanted to curl up and pull the quilt back over his head. He thought he’d heard the sound of the phone earlier but couldn’t be sure. He searched the bedroom, realizing he’d left his cell in the kitchen.

He’d awakened at 4:30, sleeping in restless fits after that. Images of Ashley’s large, desperate eyes haunted him. Now, he sat up and rubbed his own, still hoping the whole thing had been a bad dream. The hoarse sound of barking from the kitchen told him otherwise.

Pulling on his jeans from last night and a clean sweatshirt Eric headed downstairs. When he arrived in the kitchen he saw the cause of the barking. Louise had placed a fresh bowl of dog food on the floor by the door and the little spaniel was gobbling it up. She must have gone shopping as soon as the stores opened. While he was still asleep.
An amazing woman
, he thought as he had so often in the months since the accident. Sadness washed over him. Elaine had been the kindest, most caring woman Eric had ever known. Louise had been her role model.

“Hi,” she said, smiling at him. “How’d you sleep?”

“How do you think?”

She laughed softly. “The little girl’s still in bed. Poor kid was exhausted. Bobby called from the marina. I told him you had an emergency. Said you’d get back to him by ten.”

Eric nodded. Bobby was his head mechanic, foreman, and best friend. Had been since their days in Afghanistan. A genius with gasoline engines, diesels, generators—anything. Bobby was the best on the Cape’s south shore and he worked for Eric. They had good men for the mechanical side of the business. What the marina needed was someone to run the office. Eric liked being where the action was—on the water or the dock, meeting the customers, tending to the boats, not spending his days at the computer or processing payables.