The Best Man in Texas. Kelsey Roberts

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      “She’s lovely.”

      Kathy nodded and her hand slipped into David’s. “She was. She was beaten to death by her boyfriend ten years ago.”

      “I’m s-sorry.”

      David’s smile was haunted now. “We do understand your situation. Dorothy is the reason we started this shelter. We know how important it is for women to have someplace safe to hide.”

      “Hiding isn’t living,” Sara sighed.

      “It’s better than the alternative,” Kathy said.

      Sara felt guilty for voicing her thoughts in light of what the Harrisons had just told her. “I don’t think my ex-husband followed me,” she said.

      “What happened?”

      Sara shrugged and ran her fingertip around the rim of her coffee mug. “He wasn’t exactly proud of my graduation from college.”

      “When was this?”

      A lifetime ago. “Two days ago,” Sara answered. “I went back to college after my divorce. I worked hard and managed to finish midyear.”

      “Congratulations,” David offered.

      Amazingly, it was the first she had heard those words from anyone other than herself.

      “Can we get you some medical attention as a graduation gift?”

      Sara smiled at David’s offer. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “A few bruised ribs. I’ve had worse.”

      “Let us call Justin anyway,” Kathy suggested.

      “I’m on a limited budget,” Sara countered.

      “Justin doesn’t charge anything,” Kathy explained. “He’s a good old-fashioned country doctor. Still makes house calls and is happy to accept a fresh-baked pie for his trouble.”

      “Thank you anyway,” Sara insisted.

      “You’re as stubborn as the other one,” David commented.

      “The other one?”

      “Came in just before dinner,” David said. “Looks like the devil chewed her up and spit her out. I’m hoping she’ll rethink things by morning.”

      “She’s Jane Doe number one,” Kathy explained. “It’s going to be hard what with two Jane Does staying with us.”

      “I’m not staying,” Sara said. “I’m sorry the state trooper insisted on bringing me here. He said it was either this or jail. Apparently I was trespassing.”

      “My guess is he knew you’d be safe here.” Kathy took Sara’s coffee mug to the sink. “Why don’t you get some sleep? We’ll see how things look to you in the light of day.”

      She was tired, Sara admitted, and she didn’t have any alternative plan worked out. Not yet at least.

      Kathy led her from the house to the adjacent bunkhouse. It had been outfitted with beds, dressers, sofas and chairs. There was a fireplace and someone—David probably—had gone to the trouble to enclose two nice bathrooms in the rectangular space.

      The rows of single beds reminded Sara of her days in the orphanage. They were bittersweet memories. She had grieved for her parents but was loved by the staff.

      Kathy showed her where the telephone was and told her she was free to call anyone, anywhere, anytime. Then she was led to a bed next to one occupied by a sleeping woman. In hushed tones, Kathy wished her good-night and left her to prepare for bed.

      Sara washed up and quietly returned to her assigned bed. She had slipped beneath the covers when she heard the soft sobs.

      “Are you okay?”

      There was no answer.

      Sara lay still for several minutes, listening to the cries, before tossing off the blankets and padding over to the bedside of her only roommate.

      Gently, she touched her on the shoulder. The wo-man was trembling and gulping air between sobs.

      “I’m Sara,” she said as she brushed the woman’s hair away from her face. Sara didn’t flinch when she saw the deep lacerations and dark bruises. It was difficult to get a true picture of the woman’s face in its current condition. All Sara could tell was that they shared similar coloring and were probably close in age. “Let me help you. Do you want me to call Kathy?”

      “No!” the woman answered in a panic. “I just want it to be over.”

      “It is,” Sara assured her. “You’re safe here.”

      “I’ll never be safe,” she replied, defeated. “Jeb will find me. He always does.”

      “You can’t think that way,” Sara insisted. “All you need is a plan.”

      The woman’s sobs slowed and she turned to peer up at Sara with reddened, puffy eyes. “Did you have a plan?”

      Sara nodded.

      “Did you a lot of good, didn’t it?”

      Sara shrugged. “So I had a flawed plan. I won’t make that mistake again. Look, um—”

      “Molly,” the woman provided in a near whisper.

      “Look, Molly, you can’t give up. You just have to think of a way to rebuild your life.”

      “I don’t have a life.”

      “But you can,” Sara insisted. “You can go someplace fresh, start a new life.”

      “I tried that.”

      “Then try again,” Sara urged. “Don’t let him win.”

      Molly was quiet for some time before she turned away and whispered, “He already has.”

      * * *

      SARA WOKE a few hours later and didn’t feel much better for the effort. Her brain was shrouded in a fog of exhaustion but she found sleep elusive. She needed a plan. She needed a new identity, one that Hank Allen couldn’t track.

      She recalled a TV movie where the character had gone to a cemetery and stolen the name and birthdate of a deceased person around the same age. Then, using that information, she had gotten a birth certificate. Sara could do the same. With a birth certificate, she could get a Social Security card, then a driver’s license. The only problem would be where to hide and how to support herself while she was creating her new self. She supposed she could stay with the Harrisons, though that could be problematic. The trooper had probably filled out a report. If Hank Allen knew she took the bus from Louisiana to Texas, he would eventually find the report and put two and two together. No, Sara needed a clean break. No trail to cover, no loose ends.

      She glanced over and saw that Molly was sleeping. Quietly, Sara crept from СКАЧАТЬ