Free The Cold Nowhere by Brian Freeman Page B

laughed more often. He liked to see the sadness lift from her face, even briefly. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but he found it impossible not to stare at her. She had dark chocolate eyes. Her nose was rounded and small. For her young age – she was only twenty-six – she already carried the weight of her past, like a smoke ring that never cleared. He could see the lingering effects of the ferocious beatings she’d endured. The scar on her forehead. The dent in her jaw where it had been broken. The wince of pain tightening her lips when she moved.
    Her laughter melted, and she gripped the wobbly wooden railing of the porch. ‘Marty is convinced you and I are having an affair,’ she said. ‘I talked to his cousin Bill.’
    ‘What did you tell him?’
    ‘I told him no, of course, but Marty won’t believe anything I say. Sooner or later, he’ll get drunk and come back for me. You know that.’
    ‘If it would be better, I don’t have to come here myself. I could send someone else to check in on you.’
    ‘It wouldn’t matter. He thinks he owns me. Besides, I look forward to seeing you. So does Catalina.’
    ‘She’s a sweetheart.’
    Michaela beamed, watching her child in the snow. The girl was dancing now, like a ballerina around the outline of her angel. ‘Sometimes I can’t believe God gave her to me after all my mistakes. I led such a stupid life after I lost my parents. All the parties, all the drugs, all the bad boys. Back then, I thought I deserved the things that Marty did to me.’
    ‘You didn’t.’
    ‘Girls can be blind, Jonathan. I loved him. He was tough and hard. That was what I thought I wanted. When we had Catalina, I hoped he would grow up, and I guess he did, a little. He’s good to her. It’s me that he hates.’
    Stride said nothing. He saw no goodness at all in Marty Gamble. The man’s chiseled face was emblazoned on his brain: a tattooed skinhead skull, square chin, thin, flattened nose. His eyes were blue marbles. He had scars on his knuckles. He wasn’t tall, but he was buff from lifting weights and boxing at the Y. When he was drunk, his temper was like rocket fuel.
    ‘Dory tells me I’m a fool,’ Michaela went on. ‘She knew he was a monster from the beginning. She would scream at him to stay away from me, and Marty just laughed at her. It’s pretty sad when your drug-addict little sister has better judgment in men than you do. I wish I’d listened.’
    ‘This isn’t your fault.’
    ‘Oh, some of it is my fault. We make our choices, and Marty was my choice. I have to live with that.’ Her face grew worried, and she added,‘Dory sounded frantic when I talked to her yesterday. Worse than usual. I think Marty went to see her. He’s probably not stupid enough to harm her, but I’m worried.’
    ‘I’ll have Maggie talk to her.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    Michaela took his arm. It was a simple, warm gesture, but her closeness made him draw back. She knew she’d crossed a line, but before she could remove her hand, her fingers tightened into a vise around his coat. Her whole body stiffened like a wire.
    ‘Jonathan,’ she said sharply.
    He followed her eyes to the road. At the end of her rural lot, he saw the twin gleam of headlights in the darkness. The car lights shot toward the house, illuminating the two of them like escaped prisoners. Catalina, in the snow below the porch, stared curiously at the bright eyes.
    ‘Get inside,’ Stride told Michaela.
    Michaela ran down the porch steps and scooped the little girl into her arms. Catalina squealed in protest, but Michaela carried her inside, slamming the door of the little house behind her. Stride was alone. He marched down the long driveway, shielding his eyes. He drew his gun into his hand. Whoever was in the car let Stride get within twenty yards before lurching backward between the trees. The wheels roared and spun on the dirt. The driver leaned into the horn, blaring noise through the quiet night like a victory