The only potential witness to Trudy's abuse was the social worker who'd investigated their case. Manny had given me the name Deborah Higgs but according to him she hadn't worked for CPS for fifteen years. A little research of my own found her working as a therapist in an office off Newkirk.

But getting an audience with Deborah Higgs was harder than anticipated. I called her office only to get a disinterested receptionist who told me that Dr. Higgs' schedule didn't allow much room for issues that didn't involve her work.

And so early Monday morning I found myself sitting in one of those inhumanely hard plastic chairs they put in doctors' offices to punish those of us who were ass-challenged. The clock on the wall ticked down an eternity's worth of seconds as I adjusted myself in the chair to no avail. The lasting aroma of rubbing alcohol and plastic made me squirm all the more.

The door rasped open and Dr. Mehta waddled in. "Evelyn Harper," she said in that usual chipper tone. "Didn't I just see you a couple of months ago?"

"Yes. You did."

She looked down at the paper chart with a furrow of her brow as the door closed behind her. "Ah...I refilled your birth control. You're doing alright with the side effects?"

"Well...nothing too bad. A breakout and some mood swings once in a while...I'm not here for that."

She dropped herself down on a tan salon stool and pulled her glasses from the pocket of her white lab coat. "Then you came back because you missed me?"

"You are my favorite doctor." I looked over her enormous belly. "When you gonna have that baby?"

"Hopefully soon." She absently caressed her stomach and smiled to herself as she logged into the computer. "All my husband does is nag me about prenatal vitamins. You'd think he was pregnant."

"It's his baby too."

"And yet I'm the one doing all the work." She stopped fidgeting with the computer and wheeled herself around on the stool, "What can I do for you?"
I looked down at my hands. "Well...It's hard to talk about."

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I've heard it all, dear."

"I've been...sad a lot lately..."

"For how long?"

"Months." I did my best impression of what I think a sad person looked like. Which was pretty much a deep frown and sad doe eyes. "I think I may need to talk to someone."

"Have you been seen by a counselor before?"

"No."

She turned back to the computer and readied her fingers over the keyboard. "How would you describe your moods?"

"All over the place." She typed that into the chart and waited for more. "Sometimes I get angry for no reason. Sometimes I catch myself crying for no reason."

"Do you have people in your life you can talk to?"

"Sure, but it's not always easy to talk them."

More clacking on the keys. "Have you considered it may be the birth control."

"But I've felt like this for way longer than I've been on the birth control." The last thing I needed was to go through the tiresome process it would take to switch medications.

"Alright," she said after entering more data into the chart. "Let's see about getting you a referral."

"Oh, I already have a doctor in mind," I said with a coy smile. "And I already checked. She's in the network."

Dr. Mehta smiled. "Perfect. You're always so prepared."

"I want the appointment as soon as possible."

"I'll see what I can do," she said with a nod. "What's the name of the doctor?"

"Deborah Higgs."

I got back to Taste Teas in enough time to make my nine o' clock appointment. She sat across from my desk with her knees pressed tightly together and her hands folded in her lap like she was afraid to move.

"The position is part-time." I said. "The pay is eight ninety-five."

"That's great." She was way over dressed to be applying for the job but I appreciated the initiative either way.

"Your resume says you have retail experience."

She nodded and I swear I heard her joints creak in fear. "Yeah. My previous job was at the Dairy Queen on Wilton."

I nodded. "Are you familiar with POS terminal?"

"Yeah...I mean they had the electric kind at Dairy Queen but before that I worked at a Sprint store that had them."

I was about to ask her the first hypothetical customer service question on my list when a rapid pounding came at my door. And let me tell you, if Miss Barrett wasn't in here I would've cursed something nasty.

Who the hell is knocking at my door like they're the cops in the middle of a Monday?

I smiled apologetically and stood before opening the door with an aggravated frown. Jackson stood on the other side of the door with a frown about as deep as mine. Beside him was Rachel Blair.

"Evie," Jackson said with undisguised annoyance. "I told this...lady you were busy, but she ran back here anyway."

"I need to talk to you," Rachel said with that same frenzied persistence she'd had when I met her.

I kept my voice low, "I'm only going to be another ten minutes."

"It can't wait."

I apologized to Miss Barrett again and walked into the hallway with my irritation in check. Once Jackson had left I addressed her as professionally as possible. "What is it?"

She looked at me with a quizzical tilt of the head and said, "Did you find Peter yet?"

"If I had I would've called."

"What's taking so long?"

"It's a process."

"Process?" she put her hands on her hips and huffed. "Everyday he's gone you're less likely to find him. I read that on the internet."

"Okay, but I can't just find him out of nowhere."

"Well, what have you done so far?"

I felt a deep sigh coming on but kept my composure. "I spoke with Leonard McBride a couple days ago."

"And?"

"And he hasn't seen him." She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. I guess I'm not surprised that didn't satisfy her. "I've got an appointment with the social worker who handled his case when he lived with Trudy this week."

She frowned. "What social worker?"

"While he lived with the Bergman's there were abuse claims."

Her eyes widened with shock. "He never told me that."

Whoops.

She leaned back, steadying herself against the wall as if she'd been struck. "He never liked to talk about his past." She swallowed so hard it was audible. "He and his mom were always so distant. I just never suspected..."

"I imagine it's not easy to talk about."

"Yeah, but I'm going to be his wife." She looked up at me with an earnest-like quality that made me see for the first time what someone could like about her. She looked almost sweet when she wasn't being a dictatorial shrew. "I can't believe he would keep this from me after all I gave up for him."

"All you gave up?"

"My parents...they're not fans."

"Why?"

"Back when we started dating he got arrested for assault. Judge made him take anger management classes. It was no big deal." She seemed to want to convince herself more than me, but I nodded anyway and let her continue. "My dad told me I could kiss him and his money goodbye if I stayed with him. He thought Peter might hurt me."

"Why did you stay?"

"I love him." Her shoulder slumped in a half-hearted shrug. "He can be a little cold I admit but he would never kill anyone let alone his own mother."

"I think Trudy's murder may be related to the abuse."

"Did Leonard know?"

"Leonard was abused too."

"Maybe he killed her."

"Maybe, but finding Peter is the goal here. Not catching a killer."

"Anyway, I remembered something else about Peter's biological mom." Her hair shifted around her like a brown halo. "A few years ago she got in contact with him. Wanted a relationship."

"How did that go?"

"He went to see her a few times I think."

"She might know something then."

"That's what I think."

"Is there anyone else he was close to?" This was information she should have told me upfront. In fact I was curious why she'd wait until now to mention it. "Anyone he would turn to in case of emergency?"

"His old AA sponsor."

"He's in AA?" More information she neglected to mention. Is she merely scatterbrained or is she withholding information for a reason?

"Was. Someone got him into it back when he had his...alcohol problems."

"I should talk to him too."

"I can't remember his name but I know where to get his contact info."

"Text it to me when you find it."

After she was gone I took a moment to collect my thoughts. If anyone had heard from Peter it may have been Karen Daugherty. She hadn't raised him but she was still his mother and that wasn't a bond easily broken.

I needed to find out all I could about her. Until then, I had an interview to wrap up.

****************

Later that night, Manny and I sat reclined on his sofa. The flat screen on the wall cheered as hockey players thrashed each other on the ice. Manny was enthralled with it. His eyes were practically glazed over. Not even the sight of me sitting there in nothing but a tee-shirt and panties distracted him. My pants lay discarded in the doorway. My bra draped the side of the coffee table where it dropped when he'd unhooked it.

He was in a similar state of undress. He wore nothing but his boxers and his socks. Not that I mind. As a connoisseur of the male form I more than appreciated the view. When I wasn't being a pervert my attention was taken entirely by Bertie, who'd decided to make herself comfortable by resting the underside of her furry muzzle on the top of my bare thigh. She stared up at me, compelling me with big brown eyes to play with her in the most well-behaved manner I'd ever seen from a dog her size. I longed to invite her to lay beside me on the sofa, but Manny had a strict no dog on the furniture policy. Typical.

"Why does she love you more than me? I'm the one who feeds her."

"But I'm the one that gives her all the hugs and kisses. Isn't that right Bertie?" The truth was, one of his other rules was that Bertie was only allowed premium dog chow-a rule I'd fast ignored by sneaking her steady bites of chicken from the takeout we'd gotten. Her loyalty belonged to me now.

"Traitor," he said to her.

I rubbed behind her ears and laughed. "Bertie's such an unusual name for a dog."

"It's short for Roberta."

"Well, that's even more silly. Isn't it Bertie?" When I said her name her tail wagged and she cozied up closer to my leg. "Where did you get it?"

"Hmm?"

"The name 'Bertie'?"

I could see the gears of his mind turning. Was he trying to remember, or was he trying to lie? "It just came to me."

Liar...interesting. "I like it."

"Yeah, me too."

Something happened on the tv and he jumped forward and cursed so loud Bertie jumped with him.

After he settled back into his seat I said, "Can you stop being so mean to Jackson?"

His eyes shot to me but otherwise he remained completely still. "'Being mean'? Is this middle school?"

"He said you keep looking at him funny."

He sighed. "Yep. This is middle school."

"I'm serious."

"What do you want from me? You want me to hold his hand and tell him all is forgiven."

"Shouldn't it be? He was punished enough."

"One person not liking him is not punishment." He turned back to the tv to avoid looking at me with that very nasty scowl that had appeared on his face. "I'm tired of hearing about this."

"And you think I'm not? You think I'm happy my boyfriend can't visit me at work without almost coming to blows with a member of my family?"

"I wouldn't hit him."

"Sometimes I don't know."

This time he looked at me not in anger but tenderness. "Do you know what he did?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"He was a pimp, Evie."

"I know that."

"Do you?" He held my gaze. "Did you know he's put women in the hospital?"

"I never really thought about it..."

"Yeah. He hit one of them so hard he broke her jaw."

"Oh-"

"Another time he broke into some old lady's house to rob her and when she fought back, he pushed her down the stairs."

"I didn't kno-"

"He stuck a gun in a teenage girl face because she was the cashier at the McDonald's he was robbing."

"Wh-"

"He broke a man's leg because he owed him thirty dollars."

"Okay-"

"He threw a brick through some woman's window at three AM because he had beef with her boyfriend."

"Okay-"

"Assault. Battery. Assault. Battery. Assault-"

"Okay. I get it."

"I'm not sure if you do. And I'm not sure why I can go my whole life without even thinking of putting my hands on a woman but still get lectured when I just look at someone funny. That's bullshit."

"You're right," I said with a sigh. "You're both right. Jackson should be allowed to put the past behind him. But you have a right not to like people who've done terrible things."

"That's all I'm saying."

"I know."

"And if he has a problem with me he should say it and stop hiding behind a girl."

I flashed him a mischievous smile. "I'll keep my nosy ass out of it from now on then."

His mouth curved upward. His posture relaxed. He'd found that too cute to stay angry with. We'd fallen back into our regular laid-back groove when my phone clattered against the glass top of his coffee table.

I grabbed it, brushing past Bertie's ear as she'd turned to investigate the foreign noise. I sighed when I read it even though I had been waiting for it all day.

Randy Watkins.

The name of Peter's former sponsor. And someone who was close enough to him to maybe shed a little light on the situation.

"What's wrong?" I must have been frowning. Manny looked over at me cautiously.

The word 'nothing' pushed against my lips as easily as the air I exhaled. I resisted. I said I'd be honest with him. But for some reason that was hard for me. And a lie of omission was still a lie, right?

"Long day at work." I stumbled over the truth like it would burn me if I said it.

But he was shrewd when it came to deciphering my thoughts. He gave me another opening. "You want to talk about it?"

My impulse was to pretend everything was fine, but I'd promised I'd be more open with him. "It was a text from Rachel Blair."

"Who?"

"Peter Daugherty's fiancé."

"What did she want?"

"She text me the name of someone who might know where Peter is."

"Okay."

"And I did some research on Peter's bio mom." To my surprise he kept his reaction neutral. "She lives over in West Lake so I thought I'd stop by tomorrow to talk to her."

He couldn't keep holding his tongue at the mention of West Lake. "West Lake trailer park?" he said with a pointed look.

"It said 'mobile home park' on the internet."

"You can't go to West Lake. Somebody gets robbed out there every other day."

I shrugged. "I'll be careful."

"Careful?" He mimicked my shrug. "Peter's 'bio' mom?"

"Yeah. She lost custody when he was younger."

"Doesn't sound like someone you should associate with."

"You're being incredibly classist right now."

"I'm being a realist. This woman is so inept the state had to interfere and take her child."

"That was twenty years ago."

"People don't change that much in my experience."

"She could know something."

"She could." He reached out unexpectedly and stroked the back of my hand. "I'm not trying to control you, Evie. I'm just trying to look out for you."

I smiled. "I know. And I appreciate that. But you can't protect me twenty-four-seven."

"I could go with you."

"...Huh?"

There was a twinkle of cunning in his eye as he said, "Yeah. You said you're going tomorrow. Tomorrow's a work day so you'll probably go during lunch."

"...Uh huh..."

"I also have a lunch hour."

"So...you're asking to come with me?"

"Yeah."

"Okay...cool." Damn. I wasn't prepared for someone to hijack my time the way I did to everybody else. It was weird when the shoe was on the other foot.

"That reminds me. I got you something." He jumped up and ran up the stairs two at a time with Bertie happily running along behind him.

The thrill of excitement began to flutter in my stomach. I sat up excitedly and tapped my fingers against the edge of the couch as I wondered what it was. My mind saw the delicate owl necklace I'd been eyeing in the mall. Had he gone back and gotten it? It was sooo cute. And I had so many clothes I could pair it with!

He came back down the stairs with a plastic bag that was far fuller than one necklace could suggest. Maybe he got me earrings too!

Okay, when he gives it to me I should act surprised yet modest. In my head I practiced the perfect reaction to the new pieces of my jewelry collection. You got me the necklace! Why, this is so unexpected! Oh, of course I love it! I'd love anything you gave me...

By the time he sat next to me on the couch my smile was two miles wide. He dug through the bag before he pulled out a little palm-sized black box made of hard, smooth plastic.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a taser," he beamed.

He slid it into my hand and my fingers gripped the glossy covering. "...Oh, okay. What am I supposed to do with it?"

"You tase someone. Preferably if they attack you."

"...Thank you."

"There's more!" He went digging through the plastic bag until he came out with a small silver canister.

"Pepper spray?" I guessed.

He nodded. "And this." Dear Lord, what would he pull out of that Mary Poppins carpet bag next? I kept my poker face as he materialized a small retractable blade and placed it into my hand as easily as he would if they were flowers or something.

"A knife!" Does he expect me to just start shanking people?

"Now when you stab someone you need to really dig in there if you want to do any real damage."

"Oh boy."

"The neck is a great place to attack."

"Oh boy."

"I prefer guns of course but I know how you feel about them since..." The words hung in the air between us. His corpse flashed before my eyes so fast I almost gasped. Blood dripping from the wound, his eyes wide and accusing...They'd called it self-defense but-

I shook the memories away and focused on Manny, who had continued schooling me on the fine art of melee weaponry, "But anyway, there are major arteries in the neck and thighs."

"Uh huh."

"And remember if you go for the stomach try to slash."

He was so damn proud of himself. And even though I thought he was being a little intense it is a dangerous world out there for a single woman after all.

"Thank you. This was very...practical-and thoughtful." I rewarded his thoughtfulness with a kiss. "You know I'm going to end up pepper spraying myself in the face, right?"

"Yeah, but at least it's non-lethal."

I smirked. "You've thought of everything. So pragmatic."

"Maybe I should teach you some self-defense moves too."

"Can you teach me how to break someone's spinal cord with my pinky?"

"Mmmmm...nope."

"Can you teach me the five-point palm exploding heart technique? I wanna kill Bill."

"No," he laughed. "But I can raise your chance of getting away if someone attacks you."

"That's not a bad idea," I replied.

And you know what? It wasn't.