Holding Out For A Hero

He sat down on the couch, one of his hands going out to pat Ryan’s foot. She checked her phone. A message from her service provider, but nothing from Larry. Could he get to her father, and what should she say to the front desk to warn them? One thing was for sure—she’d made the right choice returning. It wasn’t just herself and Ryan she had to consider. It was her father, too.

“So, Dad, did you hear that Abigail Simms’s son got a new job? He’s working at the car wash.”

Her dad wasn’t listening, but Ryan stirred, looked at her, turned over and went back to sleep.

Shelley kept talking, more to fill the silence than anything else. “When I picked up Ryan from preschool the other day, everyone was talking about whether or not all-day kindergarten would be offered next year at the elementary school. Guess I should be thinking about all that, huh, for the future?”

If she had a future...

Her dad started nodding at her every word—as she’d jabbered on about the weather, politics, TV shows—but he offered no response for over an hour. Just when she was about to say her goodbyes and figure out her next move, he spoke up. “I have a daughter named Shelley. She’s a little younger than you.”

She sat back down. “I am your daughter, Shelley. I’m here visiting you, Dad. I brought you some peppermints for your candy bowl.” At a convenience store halfway home, she’d spent money she didn’t have for candy he shouldn’t have. Because...because she might have to leave, disappear, figure out how to keep her children safe from their father.

And in the process she’d lose contact with her own father when he needed her most.

“Shelley’s in college. She’s studying finance,” Dad said.

“I graduated a few years ago, Dad. With a major in English and a minor in finance.” Those were happier days, when she believed everyone was a friend and the world was for the taking.

He continued, “She’ll finish school in a month.”

Shelley shook her head. She’d worked her way through college as a bank teller. Once she had her diploma in hand, she’d moved back to Sarasota Falls and intended to apply at the local branch. Her mother’s illness, followed by her father’s Alzheimer’s, had changed all that.

“We’re hoping she moves back home for a while,” her dad said. “I wonder where my wife is. Martha? Martha!” After a moment, he surmised, “She must have gone to the grocery store.”

Shelley smiled, playing along.

“You will stop by again?” her father asked. “When Martha’s here. She can probably answer your questions better than I can.”

Shelley wanted to tell him she’d be by again and soon. Instead, she bit back tears and patted his hand. She hadn’t asked any questions. Today she’d merely filled his candy dish, watched Ryan sleep peacefully on the living room couch, chattered aimlessly and stayed close to her father, wishing more than anything that he could put his arms around her and say, “We’ll get through this. Larry Wagner’s not gonna touch you. Somewhere out there, someone will see to it that justice is done.”

The baby kicked.

“Ow.” Shelley couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath.

“Martha, we need you,” her father called, waking Ryan up.

“Want Pooh,” Ryan wailed.

“If Martha were here, she’d give you Pooh,” Shelley’s dad said.

Shelley fled the room. Right now, all she wanted was someone to help her get from today to tomorrow.

But that person didn’t exist.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ua098f4e0-e42f-54eb-9214-a86f3408103c)

THREE CARS DOWN from the entrance, Oscar called Riley and told him Shelley was at the care center. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” Riley sputtered.

“I had the time, and we needed to find her. That’s what I did. I—”

“And now,” Riley said, his voice steel, “you’re going to wait for me.”

Oscar said, “Yes, sir,” and recorded the time and date on his report.

He’d barely finished when Shelley burst out the front door, ran to her car and began frantically scrounging through the trunk. Oscar practically fell off his motorcycle in his hurry to get to her side.

“Looking for something?”

She whipped around, and when he saw the tears shimmering in her eyes, his chest tightened. He hated that she’d been hurt. And he might very well hurt her more because he was a man with a mission—hunt down her ex and no way could she avoid being caught in the cross fire.

Then her lips pursed as her eyes went up and down his uniform, recognition immediate. “A cop?” she said. “It just figures.”

“One of Sarasota Falls’ finest,” he said. “So, what are you looking for?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“What if I told you that the only reason I’m here is you?”

Surprise flickered on her face for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “Then I’d tell you that you have too much free time.”

He didn’t hesitate before responding, “I wish that were true.”

She took a deep breath and then released it. Oscar waited. Finally she turned back to her trunk and said, “I’m looking for one of Ryan’s toys. He’s inside and upset.” As if to prove it, she grabbed a coloring book that had been squished in a corner and was wrinkled from its proximity to a suitcase.

Oscar nodded and slowly walked around the car, noting the fast-food wrappers on the floorboards as well as the toys in the backseat and the suitcases and such stashed in the trunk.

“Want to tell me why you’re all packed up? Going somewhere? Returning, maybe? Does it have something to do with what you saw in your neighbor’s living room?”

He watched expressions flitter across her face as she tried to compose a safe response.

“The truth always works best,” he advised.

“I heard about Candace. I’m so sorry. She seemed like a nice woman. But I’d already planned on having an adventure today with Ryan. We went to Santa Fe, the children’s museum there, and just got back. It’s been some time since we’ve seen my dad, so we stopped by.”

“You have a receipt from the museum?”

Riley would admonish him for interrogating without him or his permission, but Oscar didn’t care. He was in Sarasota Falls partly to investigate Shelley Wagner, and that was what he was doing.

“It’s none of your business.” She looked back at the care center as the wind picked up, billowing her oversize shirt and emphasizing her pregnancy. She tugged at a loose strand of hair, curling it behind her ear. He remained quiet for a moment. Her hair was limp against her head and needed combing. Not once in all the time he’d been watching her had she been anything less than put together. This was a woman on the edge, and she needed to talk to him.

“I promise,” he told her, “whatever you say, I will listen to and believe.” It was an awkward promise, because he intended to honor his declaration, but knew, just knew, she wouldn’t tell him what he really wanted to know.

She didn’t respond.

“Is someone after you?” He nodded toward her suitcases.

She looked at him with a serious expression. “Everyone’s after me. Because Larry Wagner was my ex-husband, I must know where he is.”