Safe Haven

She’d disappeared again, and in the car Kevin screamed and beat his fists against the wheel until they were bruised and swollen.

In the months that Erin had been gone, he felt the ache inside grow more poisonous and all-consuming, spreading like a cancer every day. He had returned to Philadelphia and questioned the drivers over the next few weeks, but it hadn’t amounted to much. He eventually learned that she’d gone on to New York, but from there, the trail went cold. Too many buses, too many drivers, too many passengers; too many days had passed since then. Too many options. She could be anywhere, and the thought that she was gone tormented him. He flew into rages and broke things; he cried himself to sleep. He was filled with despair and sometimes felt like he was losing his mind.

It wasn’t fair. He’d loved her since the first time they met in Atlantic City. And they’d been happy, hadn’t they? Early on in the marriage, she used to sing to herself as she put on her makeup. He used to bring her to the library and she would check out eight or ten books. Sometimes she would read him passages and he would hear her voice and watch the way she leaned against the counter and think to himself that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

He’d been a good husband. He bought her the house she wanted and the curtains she wanted and the furniture she wanted, even though he could barely afford it. After they were married, he often bought flowers from street vendors on the way home, and Erin would put them in a vase on the table along with candles, and the two of them would have romantic dinners. Sometimes, they ended up making love in the kitchen, her back pressed against the counter.

He never made her work, either, and she didn’t know how good she had it. She didn’t understand the sacrifices he made for her. She was spoiled and selfish and it used to make him so angry because she didn’t understand how easy her life was. Clean the house and make a meal and she could spend the rest of her days reading stupid books she checked out from the library and watching television and taking naps and never having to worry about a utility bill or mortgage payment or people who talked about him behind his back. She never had to see the faces of people who had been murdered. He kept that from her because he loved her, but it had made no difference. He never told her about the children who’d been burned with irons or tossed from the roofs of buildings or women stabbed in the alley and thrown in Dumpsters. He never told her that sometimes he had to scrape the blood from his shoes before he got in the car, and when he looked into the eyes of murderers he knew he was coming face-to-face with evil because the Bible says To kill a person is to kill a living being made in God’s image.

He loved her and she loved him and she had to come home because he couldn’t find her. She could have her happy life again and he wouldn’t hit or punch or slap or kick her if she walked in the door because he’d always been a good husband. He loved her and she loved him and he remembered that on the day he asked her to marry him, she reminded him of the night they’d met outside the casino when the men were following her. Dangerous men. He’d stopped them from hurting her that night, and in the morning they’d walked along the boardwalk and he took her for coffee. She told him that of course she would marry him. She loved him, she’d said. He made her feel safe.

Safe. That was the word she used. Safe.

25

The third week of June was a series of glorious high summer days. The temperature crept up over the course of the afternoon, bringing with it humidity heavy enough to thicken the air and blur the horizon. Heavy clouds would then form as if by magic, and violent thunderstorms would drop torrents of rain. The showers never lasted long, though, leaving behind only dripping leaves and a layer of ground mist.

Katie continued to work long evening shifts at the restaurant. She was tired when she rode home, and in the morning her legs and feet often ached. She put half the money she earned in tips in the coffee can, and it was almost filled to the brim. She had more money than she’d imagined she’d be able to save, more than enough to get away if she had to. For the first time, she wondered whether she needed to add more.

Lingering over her last few bites of breakfast, she stared out the window at Jo’s house. She hadn’t spoken with her since their encounter, and last night, after her shift, she’d seen lights burning in Jo’s kitchen and living room. Earlier this morning, she’d heard her car start up and listened to the crunching of dirt and gravel as it pulled away. She didn’t know what to say to Jo, or even whether she wanted to say anything at all. She couldn’t even decide whether she was angry with her. Jo cared about Alex and the kids; she was worried about them and had expressed her concerns to Katie. It was hard to find malice in anything she’d done.

Alex, she knew, would be by later today. His visits had settled into something of a routine, and when they were together, she was constantly reminded of all the reasons she’d fallen for him in the first place. He accepted her occasional silences and varying moods, and he treated her with a gentleness that astonished and touched her. But since her conversation with Jo, she wondered if she was being unfair to him. What would happen, after all, if Kevin showed up? How would Alex and the kids react if she disappeared, never to return? Was she willing to leave all of them behind and never talk to them again?

She hated the questions Jo had raised, because she wasn’t ready to face them. You have no idea what I’ve been through, she’d wanted to say afterward, once she had time to think about it. You have no idea what my husband is like. But even she knew that begged the question.

Leaving her breakfast dishes in the sink, she walked through the small cottage, thinking how much had changed in the last few months. She owned virtually nothing, but felt like she had more than ever. She felt loved for the first time in years. She’d never been a parent, but she found herself thinking and worrying about Kristen and Josh when she least expected it. She knew she couldn’t predict the future, and yet she was struck with the sudden certainty that leaving this new existence behind was inconceivable.

What had Jo once said to her? I just tell people what they already know but are afraid to admit to themselves.

Reflecting on her words, she knew exactly what she had to do.

* * *

“Sure,” Alex said to her, after she related her request. She could tell he was surprised, but he also seemed encouraged. “When do you want to start?”

“How about today?” she suggested. “If you have any time.”

He looked around the store. There was only one person eating in the grill area, and Roger was leaning against the counter, chatting with him.

“Hey, Roger? Do you think you could watch the register for an hour?”

“No problem, boss,” Roger said. He stayed where he was; Alex knew he wouldn’t come up front unless necessary. But on a weekday morning, after the initial rush, he didn’t expect many people in the store, so Alex didn’t mind. He moved out from behind the register.

“You ready?”

“Not really.” She hugged herself nervously. “But it’s something I should know how to do.”

They left the store, walking toward his jeep. Climbing in, she could feel his gaze on her.

“Why the sudden rush to learn how to drive?” he asked. “Is the bike not good enough?” he teased.

“The bike is all I need,” she said. “But I want to get a driver’s license.”

He reached for the car keys before pausing. He turned back to her again, and as he stared at her, she caught a glimpse of the investigator he used to be. He was alert and she sensed his caution. “Learning how to drive is only part of it. To get a license, the state requires identification. Birth certificate, social security card, things like that.”

“I know,” she said.

He chose his words carefully. “Information like that can be tracked,” he pointed out. “If you get a license, people might be able to find you.”