Free Safely Home by Ruth Logan Herne

those last years. Her fingers tapped the earpiece of the phone, restive. “I’ll think about it. I’ve got to go now. Goodbye.”
    She cradled the phone and let the wall hold her up for a few moments, grateful the pervading silence meant Gran was most likely napping.
    Carl. The thought of big, tough Carl Ingstrom seeking mental health therapy made her feel like pond scum. Carl had a sweet wife and three great kids. He was an usher at the historic Catholic Church, a man whose faith and strength had been a steadying force in her life.
    James was correct on one thing. She needed to straighten this out with Carl, and she needed to do it face to face, not over the phone. But it would have to wait until after Gran’s treatment began. In the meantime she’d zip him off a reassuring e-mail, letting him know her progress, help ease his concern. He’d know right off that if she was really doing better, she’d call. He could read her voice like no one else. He was the big brother she never had, the sling-an-arm-around-your-shoulders kind of guy who inspired trust and confidence.
    Knowing she’d compromised that because of her inaction made her feel like a loser. Cops took care of cops. It’s what they did. The fact that she’d let him down weighed heavy.
    The soft thud of Gran’s footfall meant naptime was over. Cress took a breath, planted a smile on her face and headed toward the living room, determined to be strong for Gran the next few days, then sort things out. If nothing else, the bullet bought her time enough for that.
     

 
    Chapter Six
     
    Back-breaking, mindless endeavors. If that’s what Alex needed to get Cress Dietrich out of his head, digging post holes for the rustic fencing slated for his nearly complete home fit the bill. Only it didn’t work. Images of her seeped into his brain despite the muscle-aching job.
    Determined, he shoved them aside and turned the sports radio network up louder. The sound of Cruz’s vintage engine made him pause on hole number sixteen, and his brother’s expression when he climbed out of the classic Pontiac pushed Alex to set the post-hole digger aside and stride his way. “What’s wrong?”
    “Lindi left.” Disgust thickened Cruz’s voice.
    “She what?” Alex pictured their best friend “Mac” McHenry, the back-to-basics one of the three, strong, easy-going except around a football field, as straight and honest as the day is long. He sank onto a nearby rock, rubbing his jaw, fairly dumbstruck, an unusual feeling. “You mean like gone, gone? Forever? They’ve got two kids.”
    “Yeah.”
    Alex scowled at the heavens, desperately wanting to hit something. Anything. He’d lived the broken marriage circuit with his parents. Not fun. “When did this happen?”
    “Yesterday,” Cruz growled . “Mac finished football practice, picked up the kids at his mother’s, and found the house empty, all her stuff moved out and no small share of the furniture, either.”
    “She planned it.”
    “Yup. Seems she started setting things in motion when Reggie Grazzo got traded to Tampa Bay.”
    “She ran off with Grazzo, a second-rate tight end?”
    “So it would seem.”
    There were names for women like that. Alex knew them all, but bit his tongue. He was godfather to their oldest boy, a great little kid with good hands and a quick mind, strong potential on the gridiron and the classroom. “How’s Mac?”
    “Shell-shocked.”
    “I’ll bet.” Alex paced toward the nearly complete prairie-style house, then back, pushing a hand through his hair. How could Lindi just up and leave her family? What kind of woman did such a thing?
    Cruz must have read his mind. “Her note said she married too young and made the wrong choices. That while Mac was a great father, she wasn’t cut out to be a mother.”
    “A little late for that.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    “How’ll he do it all?” Alex asked, thinking out loud. “The kids, his job, his coaching. Football season is on top