Daniel ushered her into the truck and then checked his phone. “There’s a café a couple miles away according to GPS. Let’s get out of suburbia and talk.”
Clara’s mind was racing. Her thoughts retracing steps to figure this new puzzle piece into the equation.
Ten minutes later, Daniel pulled into a bustling parking lot, parked and held open her door for her. She climbed out of the cab and her mind was practically numb from overthinking.
Inside the café, she kept quiet after they’d ordered while waiting for the barista to make their drinks. Her thoughts raced and she clicked through every conversation in the past couple of months to see if any hints had been dropped by her sister or her niece. Her brother-in-law had kept quiet, too.
The coffees were handed out and Clara sat at a two-top away from the other tables. She hated secrets. She hated keeping them. She hated them being kept from her.
“What if my niece did run away?” She twisted her hands before clasping them and putting them in her lap.
“Is that what you really think?” he asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, she loves her father. But he works long hours. He’s not around enough to keep an eye on her. Plus, a teenage girl needs a female role model. Ashlyn has been through a lot and it’s already hard enough to be thirteen.”
“I’d like to pay him a visit.” Daniel thumped the table.
“I have a few words for Andy.” She set the cup down between them. “Ashlyn didn’t even give me a clue to what was about to happen.”
“Teenagers like to keep secrets.” Daniel took a sip of coffee.
“Shouldn’t I have known something was up with her?” She glanced up at him. “You have kids?”
Daniel looked out the window at the parking lot and unfocused his gaze. Something about the way he stared made her question her judgment in asking something so personal.
This was the second time she’d asked without receiving an answer. She’d seen similar reactions from patients when they recalled something painful. Her heart twisted and she thought about the emotion in that kiss from last night, which also made it a bad idea to spend too much time around this guy.
He was broken and it was probably the broken parts of her that were drawn to him. Emotional involvement with anyone was a stretch and someone similarly damaged would logically never work. Her traitorous heart wanted to remind her that the passion in that one kiss was more than she’d experienced in her entire life. Clara had always held back, protected herself. And she would this time too.
Besides, up to now she’d been holding onto a thin thread of hope that Ashlyn would be found. That thread tethered her to sanity, kept her focused when everyone else seemed to be giving up. Without that thread…
Clara couldn’t even go there, not even hypothetically. She’d seen the aftermath of losing a child in the couples that she’d counseled. Most marriages couldn’t be saved following the devastation, like a town that couldn’t be rebuilt after an earthquake.
“How long has Timothy been abusing your sister?” His question shocked her out of her revelry.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s eighty-one degrees in the morning. It’s Texas in August. She had on a long sleeve hoodie,” he said.
“But—”
“I caught her arm when I was helping her stand and she winced. I must’ve grabbed her on a bruise,” he continued before taking a sip.
Clara sat there, mute, for seconds that stretched into minutes. Daniel didn’t speak, either.
So many puzzle pieces clicked together. And then she said, “That bastard.”
“No argument here.” He clenched and released his fingers a few times before drumming them on the table.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” She pushed against the table, scooting her chair back. She folded her arms. “What kind of therapist am I if I can’t see what’s going on in my own family? Underneath my own nose?”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not good at your job,” he argued. “Isn’t there a saying about the cobbler’s son never having shoes?”
“And an accountant who doesn’t balance her own checkbook but that doesn’t excuse me from realizing that my sister is being abused.” Clara heard the defensiveness and frustration in her own voice. She hated sounding weak but it felt like she’d taken a hit, recounting all those times her sister wore long-sleeves on hot summer days.
What if that man hurt her niece?
“I can almost hear what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. He was nowhere near Jamaica when Ashlyn was kidnapped according to your own statement. You were his alibi as was your sister,” he argued.
“I’m starting to wonder if I had anything right,” she admitted, a well of tears sprang to her eyes.
And then she slapped her palm against the round table.
“Dammit. I should’ve realized what was going on. It makes even more sense why Ashlyn couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Timothy. He was forcing her out of her home, hurting her mother. She never mentioned a word of what was going on. All she ever said was that home was getting rough,” Clara said.
“What was your sister referring to back then when she said you know the rules?” His gaze was locked onto her and his head tilted to the side.
“I’m not supposed to ‘shrink’ her as she puts it. Basically, I’m not allowed to voice an opinion.” Clara drummed her fingers against the table.
He gave her a look like he didn’t want to add insult to injury.
“Go on,” she said. “Spit it out.”
“How long has your sister been drinking before ten a.m.?”
“I noticed that,” she admitted. The alcohol hadn’t gotten past her. Thinking back, her sister had been off since before the vacation. “She’s been acting different ever since marrying him, to be honest but the past couple of months have been worse. She stopped spending time with me and Ashlyn. No more girls’ lunches or shopping trips. I figured that, being a relative newlywed, she wanted space so that’s when Ashlyn started
