Free Ellen McKenzie 04-Murder Half-Baked by Kathleen Delaney

with wild eyes; Nathan was lugging the duffel bag toward the kitchen door, saying they had to go. The child’s cries got louder and more hysterical, and the boy’s face was crumbling as well. Any second there would be two hysterical children, and the way I felt, an adult just might join them.
    Leona walked over to Janice and reached out for the child. “Your poor mom’s back’s gonna give out. Want me to hold you for a while?”
    The child buried her face deeper in her mother’s shoulder and cried harder.
    “Not now, Leona.” Anne sounded as if she were barely holding on. “For God’s sake, the child is under enough stress. Let’s concentrate on getting them out of here. Doesn’t anyone know where that damned cat is?”
    “Look.” Marilee stood in the doorway, holding a white, fluffy, stuffed cat in one hand. The other held the small of her back. “You left him on the coffee table.” She handed the toy to the child, who grabbed it with one hand, never loosening her grip on her mother’s neck. She buried her face in the soft fur, let loose another couple of sobs, and quieted. Her brother edged a little closer and patted his sister on the leg, still cl i ng ing tightly to his mother’s arm. The frantic look that had been building eased, but the worry in his eyes didn’t.
    My cell phone rang.
    “Hello?” Anne answered on the second ring. “Yes, she’s right here.” She handed it to me.
    “Ida?” Talk about timing. “Gary’s got him stopped? Yeah, I bet he is furious. They’re checking his taillights? How long will that take? Well, stretch it out as long as you can. Where is he? Okay, got it. Tell Gary he’s wonderful, and Ida, thanks.”
    I handed Anne the slip of paper where I’d written the location of the traffic stop.
    “Oh, Lord, he’s only a couple of blocks from here.” Anne’s face was pinched and white. So was Janice’s.
    “Yeah.” Somehow that fact, even more than seeing him from the porch, gave me the shivers.
    “Lets move, everybody. Janice, get your kids into the car. Nathan, is their stuff in?”
    Nathan nodded and opened the kitchen door, practically pushing Janice and the kids through. “Get into the backseat, all of you. Kids, you’re on the floor. Janice, duck down on the seat as soon as we’re clear of the garage. Just in case.”
    They obeyed. Nathan slid into the front seat and hit the clicker. The door groaned again and started its slow ascent. The engine started.
    “Wish us luck.” Nathan’s window slid up.
    The rest of us were crammed into the kitchen, waiting as the door finally made it up all the way. No one waved as the car backed out, hit the end of the driveway, and turned left. We stepped out into the garage and watched until it turned the corner and was gone. As we returned to the kitchen, Anne paused, reached back and pushed the button. The door protested again and started its slow slide down.
     

 
    Chapter Six
     
    I drove home slowly, trying to make sense out of what had happened. I’d felt a little uneasy at first, meeting those women whose lives were in so much turmoil. It hadn’t been so long since mine had also been turned upside down. Maybe that was why I was uneasy. Their problems made me remember that time — the pain, humiliation, and confusion of being rejected by my husband. I didn’t want to be reminded.
    Our marriage had effectively been over years before Brian had asked—demanded — a divorce. I’d known that, known I had to do something, but had let it go on, had avoided making those painful decisions until they were thrust on me. U nlike the women at Grace House, I got lucky. Brenda Ferrell was the best attorney a woman could have. She looked like a Newport Beach trophy wife with her designer suits, perfect makeup, thin to the point of emaciation figure, but she had a tongue made out of razor blades and a passion for going after men who tire of their families and no longer want to pay the bills for them after they’ve found a