'His night off. But it's still his beat. He heard about it the next morning. I've been out of touch the last couple of days, so he didn't reach me till late last night. I called the hospital this morning and was told they were releasing you.'
'Don't you have to work today?'
'I called in sick.'
They rode in silence for a time, then she said, 'Did you go after Roger?'
'I wanted to. Still do. I'd like to kill him.' His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel the skin had turned white. 'But I won't.'
She said nothing, waiting for him to finish.
Finally he braked for another traffic light and turned his head. 'The only reason I haven't killed him is because you begged me not to. That means more to me than the promise I made him the night I beat him up.'
Nothing more was said until they reached her house. He assisted her up the front walkway to the door. She went in. He followed. A broken vase and dying roses were lying on the living room floor. The water had left a damp stain on the carpet. A picture on the wall was hanging askew. A floor lamp had been overturned, the lampshade was dented.
These mute testimonies of Roger's violence no longer embarrassed her. They made her furious. But she was just as furious with herself for excusing his abuse for as long as she had, which had been way too long. Feeling in defiance of it now, she removed her sunglasses, exposing her eyes to Dodge.
He clenched his jaw and rocked slowly back and forth on the balls of his feet as though he could barely contain the wrath that surged through him. 'I might change my mind about killing him.'
'Don't. He's not worth it.' He seemed on the verge of saying something but didn't. She said, 'I appreciate the ride home. Thank you.'
'You're welcome. I'll wait while you throw some things together.'
'What things?'
'Your things. Whatever you want to take. You're staying at my place for a while. It's no palace, but--'
'What are you talking about? I can't stay with you.'
'Can and will.'
'Forget it.'
'Get your stuff.'
'What entitles you to order me around?' she asked angrily. 'Your policeman's badge? Being right about Roger's true spots? You accused me of staying with him out of stubbornness. Well,
She drew herself up to her full height, which was still far beneath his. 'I've been bullied for the last time, Dodge. I won't be pushed around again, emotionally or physically or any other way.'
He expelled a short breath. 'Look, when it comes to expressing myself, I'm crap. I always sound like I'm bullying even when I'm not. And I'm not. I swear. I'm trying to be nice ... a friend. You need a hand, I'm offering one. But no matter how I put it, or how deep you dig your heels in, the fact is that I'm not leaving you here alone. End of discussion.'
'That sounds like bullying.'
'Sue me.'
She smiled, but it wavered after a moment. 'I'll be perfectly safe. Roger's in jail.'
'He got out. Last night. His family posted bail.'
'He won't be coming back to me.'
'How do you know?'
'He told me so. He was livid. He said he was done with me.'
'He'll change his mind, and I don't want you here when he does. In fact, you should relocate. You're a realtor. Put this house on the market. Find a new place.'
She laughed without humor. 'That would be poetic justice.'
'What do you mean?'
'That's what set him off. I was excited over a pending contract. If it closes, it will be my largest sale to date. I was babbling on about it, then Roger said he hoped for me that it would close before I had to quit.
'I thought I'd misunderstood, but when I asked him what he meant by that, he stated unequivocally that I would no longer be 'a working girl' when I became Mrs. Roger Campton. It just wouldn't do for us to be a two-income family. What would people think? That he couldn't support his wife? I would have plenty to do, he said, taking care of him. He promised to keep me busy.
'I actually laughed. I told him that he'd taken leave of his senses if he thought for one moment that I planned to quit my job, forfeit my career, just because I was getting married.' She raised her hands at her sides, adding sarcastically, 'That didn't sit too well.'
'The son of a bitch nearly knocked your eye out.'
It had felt as though he had. The ophthalmologist who was summoned to the emergency room told her later that she was lucky her vision hadn't been impaired by one vicious blow.
Dodge said, 'Gonzales told me the cops who responded to your call said you couldn't even stand upright.'
'Roger hit me in the ribs, too. I thought some were cracked. They turned out not to be, but the bruise was very painful. Still is when I move too quickly or take a deep breath.'
'Jesus,' Dodge whispered. 'That guy...' He placed his hands on his hips and walked a tight circle in the center of the room, again looking like a man who wanted to throttle somebody. When he came back around to her, he said shortly, 'Pack your things.'
'All right. I'll pack. You can drive me somewhere. But be reasonable, Dodge. I can't stay with you.'
'How come?'
'We barely know each other.'
He dismissed that. 'We'll get to know each other. If you're afraid I'll cross a line--'
'I'm not.'
'Well, good. But if you are, you can always call Jimmy Gonzales. If I laid a hand on you, he'd have my ass.'
'I could go to ... to ... a friend's house.'
'Doesn't Roger know who your friends are? You don't think he'll look for you among them? I'll bet you haven't shared with them that he hits. You'd have to explain your bruises. Besides, you know the downside of that plan or you would have already called a friend, and you wouldn't have stammered when you suggested it.'
'An extended-stay motel then.'
He folded his arms across his chest, considering it. 'I've made plenty of arrests at those places. They're for shiftless transients. Whores. Drug dealers. Fences.'
'Not all of them are disreputable. Some are actually very nice.'
'Okay. Say you got into a good one with a decent clientele. It would require a lot of wear and tear.'
'Wear and tear?'
'On me. I'd be going back and forth, checking on you several times a day, making sure you were all right.'
'I wouldn't require that.'
