Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2) (9 page)

The Shore Thing Bar
and Grill was a recently opened restaurant housed in what had once been an old
bait shop on a pier overlooking the lake. The bait shop had been spruced up and
extended, and now featured lots of polished timber, vintage fishing
paraphernalia, and folding glass doors that let in the balmy summer evening air
and views of the water.

Emma spotted Stacey and Jackie sitting at a
table on the far side of the restaurant and waved at them.

“Hi, guys!” Emma said as she slid into a
chair at the table set for four. Stacey beamed at her, while Jackie gave her a
small nod. “Glad you could make it, Jackie.”

The woman ducked her head and mumbled,
“Thanks for inviting me.”

Jackie wore a plain, dark green shirt
tucked into jeans. As usual, her face was half-concealed by her abundant hair,
and she wore no makeup. In contrast, Stacey had on a cheerful sundress in pale
blue with tiny white flowers, a welcome change from the browns and grays she
usually wore.

“You look nice, Stacey,” Emma said. “New
dress?”

“Uh-huh.” Stacey pushed her spectacles up
her nose. “An impulse buy. Not something I normally do.”

“Speaking of things you don’t normally do…”
Emma rested her elbow on the table and leaned toward Stacey. “I’ve been
thinking about that break-in at your house, and I really think you should tell
the police.”

Stacey’s relaxed smile instantly
disappeared. “Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry you got caught up in that.”

“Never mind me. I’m worried about your
safety. Both of you.” She glanced at Jackie. The woman was staring at the glass
of water in front of her as if it held the meaning of life. “Jackie, aren’t you
worried, too?”

Slowly her head lifted. For the first time
Emma got a good look at Jackie’s face. High cheek bones, a long, straight nose,
a thin mouth, and eyes that seemed curiously blank and detached. An attractive
face, but there was a repressed look to her as if she kept most of her true
feelings buried beneath the surface. Hardly surprising, given the abusive
relationship she had escaped. Emma felt a twinge of regret. Maybe she shouldn’t
be reminding a woman who’d sought refuge in a women’s shelter that the world
was a dangerous place.

“I trust Stacey’s judgment,” Jackie said,
raising the glass of water to her lips.

“I really think we’re fine,” Stacey said to
Emma, though the pleat in her brow indicated otherwise. “Why are you bringing
this up again?”

“Because there’s been another break-in
nearby…” Emma started to reply before she exclaimed, “Oh!” as Jackie’s hand
jerked and water sloshed out of her glass, a few drops splashing onto Emma’s
sleeve.

“I—I’m so sorry!” Jackie stammered while Stacey
went into action, grabbing napkins to soak up the excess liquid.

“No, it’s fine,” Emma assured her. A waiter
hurried to help them, and a minute later order was restored.

“I’m such a klutz.” Jackie was still
flushed with embarrassment.

“You’re not,” Stacey murmured, squeezing
her hand on the table. “Everyone has accidents.” She turned her attention back
to Emma. “You were saying? Another break-in?”

“Attempted break-in, actually. At Faye’s
house last night. Someone sprayed graffiti over the front of the house, too.”

“Wait, what?” Stacey frowned. “Graffiti
and
an attempted break-in?”

A fresh voice broke in. “Seems like an odd
combination, doesn’t it?” Becky slung her purse over the back of the fourth
chair and sat at the table. “Hi, everyone!” She cast her benevolent smile at
the others. “Sorry I’m late. Hey, why are there no drinks here?”

“We were waiting for you.” Emma grinned,
glad to see Becky.

The waiter was at their table in a flash, a
common occurrence when Becky was around. Both Stacey and Jackie ordered iced
tea, while Becky and Emma decided to share a half-bottle of white.

“So poor Faye’s had a run of bad luck,” Becky
said as they perused their menus. “The fall, then the graffiti and the
break-in.”

“And you don’t think it could be the same
person behind both crimes?” Emma asked.

Becky lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. Usually
it’s bored teenagers who do graffiti. I suppose they might have tried to break
in, but if they were caught, that would be a felony. And besides, why draw
attention to the crime?”

“So the person who tried to break into Faye’s
house could be someone other than just a bored teenager.” Emma tried to catch Stacey’s
eyes. She didn’t want to discuss Stacey’s break-in in front of Becky, but she
did want to warn her about the possible dangers.

Stacey nodded solemnly. “We should all make
sure our doors are locked until the police catch the criminal. I’m sure it
won’t take long. Greenville is a safe place, and this attempted break-in seems
like an isolated case.” She set down her menu. “I think I’m going to order the
pulled pork. What are you guys having?”

As the others talked about food, Emma
couldn’t help wondering if Stacey had brushed over the incident to reassure Jackie.
Emma decided to wait until she and Stacey were alone before she brought up the
subject of going to the police again.

The evening flew by. Emma forgot about the
troubling events and relaxed with her friends. Becky and Stacey were very
different personalities, but they got on well together. Becky, always a
soothing presence, drew Stacey out of her shell, so much so that she shared a
few memories of her childhood growing up in rural Pennsylvania.

“We were very poor. I never owned more than
two pairs of shoes at a time until I got my first job at fourteen,” Stacey said
with a faint smile.

Remembering the lack of family photos in Stacey’s
house, Emma couldn’t help asking, “Do you ever go back to visit your family?”

Stacey bit her lip and pleated her napkin.
“Uh, not really. My mom died when I was young, and my dad remarried soon after.
My stepmom and half-brothers are fine, but we’re not that close, and my dad’s
always working.” She hesitated, looking a little sad, before adding, “I know it
sounds awful, but, well, it is what it is.”

A brief silence ensued after her pensive
words.

“Family can be complicated,” Becky said, as
tactful as ever.

“I do think about them.” Stacey stared off
into the distance. “Maybe one day I might get the chance to see them again.”

Emma frowned at the odd choice of words. It
almost sounded like something prevented Stacey from seeing her family, but what
could that be? A sudden bout of coughing from Jackie broke the silence. With a
hand clenched to her lips, she rose and gestured toward the restrooms.

Emma and Becky started to discuss the
country music festival. Five minutes later, Jackie returned to the table, her
face screwed up, her shoulders tense.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but something’s turned up
and I gotta go.” She turned to Stacey. “Could I possibly borrow your car? I,
uh, need to see someone urgently.”

“Is everything okay?” Stacey clutched Jackie’s
arm, concern etched in her face.

“Yeah, sure. It’s, um, I can’t talk about
it now.” Jackie dipped her head so that her hair obscured her face once again.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to lend me your car—”

“No, no, take it,” Stacey insisted, digging
her car keys out of her purse. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Thanks. I’ll just leave some money for my
meal…”

Jackie fumbled in her purse for her wallet,
but Stacey pressed her hand, stilling the motion. “Don’t worry about the bill.
I’ll cover your share.”

The other woman blinked at her, then
nodded. “I’ll pay you back later.” She murmured goodbyes to Emma and Becky, and
slipped out of the restaurant.

Stacey gazed after her. “I sure hope she’s
okay. It’s so difficult for women coming out of an abusive relationship to
change their mindset.” She glanced at the others. “Some of them end up
returning to the very men who abused them.”

“Yeah, it’s sad,” Becky said. “But I guess
after years of having your self-respect eroded away, it’s hard being on your
own and believing in yourself.”

“Exactly.” Stacey nodded vigorously.
“That’s why I’m determined to provide Jackie with a safe environment so she
doesn’t feel the need to return to that brute of her husband. Not that she
talks about him much, but I can read between the lines.”

“You’re so good to her.” Emma touched her
arm. “And don’t worry about getting home; I’ll give you a lift.”

“Thanks. And thanks for inviting me and Jackie
tonight. I’ve enjoyed it.”

A short time later, they paid the bill,
splitting it three ways, and left the restaurant. On the drive to Stacey’s
house, Emma took the opportunity to bring up the break-in again.

“I know you don’t want Jackie spooked, but
I really think you should tell the police.” She hesitated, wondering how to
bring up the subject of Stacey’s past. “I know they didn’t help you when you
needed to escape your husband, but this is Greenville. I’m sure the police here
would take you seriously.”

Stacey didn’t answer, and for a moment Emma
thought she’d offended her. But then Stacey spoke in a subdued voice. “I suppose
I should tell you what happened to me in the past.”

Emma shifted uneasily. “You don’t have to.”

“Actually, I think I do.” Stacey gazed out
the windshield at the road ahead. “I was married to a brute. He used to hit me when
he thought I was looking at another man. When I finally plucked up enough
courage to go to the police, it turned out my husband had some good friends
working at our local PD. My complaint was never recorded, and when he heard
about it, he beat me so badly I couldn’t get out of bed for three days. I
learned my lesson. After that, I never went near another cop again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Emma murmured, feeling hopelessly
inadequate.

Stacey was such a gentle, soft-natured
woman, small in stature and completely non-threatening. How could anyone, let
alone someone who had promised to love and protect her, raise a hand to her?
Anger rose in Emma at the same time as her heart filled with sympathy. She
couldn’t begin to understand what someone like Stacey had gone through. Was still
going through.

“It’s not your fault.” Stacey glanced at
her. “So, I can sense you want to ask me some questions.”

“Well…” She did have questions, though she
hated prying into Stacey’s personal pain.

“Go on.” Stacey nodded encouragingly. “It’s
good for me to talk about it.”

“Okay. Well, how long ago did you divorce
him?”

 “Years ago. A lifetime ago,” Stacey said
firmly.

“Were you young when you married him?”

“Yes. Too young.” She shook her head. “I
was desperate to leave home. My dad was always busy, and my stepmom had young
boys to take care of. At eighteen I quit the farm and moved to the city,
against my father’s wishes. I was lonely and a bit lost when I met…him. At
first I thought he was wonderful, the way he cared of me and wanted to know
everything I was doing every minute of the day. It took me a while to see the
dark side of him.” Stacey pushed a hand through her hair. “But it’s all in the
past. I’ve moved on now. I’ve made a new life for myself here in Greenville,
and I like it.”

“And what about Greg Foster?” The question
came out of Emma before she could stop herself.

“Greg Foster? What about him?”

“He likes you. Why won’t you go out with
him?”

Stacey flapped a hand and made a ‘tch’
sound of exasperation. “I like Greg, but that doesn’t mean I have to date him.”

True, but when Emma had overheard her and
Greg at the retirement party, she’d got the distinct impression that Stacey
nurtured a soft spot for Greg. The mild-mannered engineer would be a good match
for Stacey. But given the terrible tragedy in Stacey’s past, Greg would have to
move very slowly and gently with her.

“My car’s not here.” Stacey sat up as they
pulled up outside her house, its driveway empty. “I hope Jackie’s all right.”

Emma got out and walked Stacey to her door.
With all this talk of break-ins, she wanted to make sure her friend was safely
inside.

The porch light was on, illuminating a
bunch of flowers lying on the doormat.

“Hey, those are pretty,” Emma said. She
glanced at Stacey, who was hanging back, her mouth slightly agape. “Aren’t you
going to pick them up?”

Stacey shook her head, so Emma scooped up
the bunch of red and yellow zinnias. She held them out to Stacey, but her
friend backed away, fumbling her key into the door.

“It must be a mistake. Those aren’t for
me.”

Emma transferred her puzzled glance from Stacey
to the flowers. “Maybe they’re for Jackie. You can ask her when she gets home.”

But still Stacey refused to touch the
flowers. She edged into her house and turned back, holding the door. “Please,
can you take them with you?”

“Well, sure, but—”