Chapter 8

The detective chief inspector's eyes went wide. He cleared his throat. "If you are in this country using an alias, you will be asked to leave."

Though he had whispered, Ruth glanced at Constable Craig who watched them without expression. She looked back into the icy eyes. "Please wait and hear me out."

He didn't respond but he was still listening.

"Could we step into another room?"

He studied her face for a moment before nodding.

They stepped from the open living area to the hall where she could close the door. She kept her voice to a whisper. "The day after graduating high school, I married. I was pregnant with Annie and thought I was doing the right thing. And ... and it wasn't horrible in the beginning. Then when Annie was seven months old I noticed the bruises and took her to the doctor. There was a criminal investigation. My husband's family had connections with the county's visiting judge and my husband was found innocent of the sexual abuse the doctor discovered." She rubbed away hot tears. "I ran away to my parents' home, but he dragged us back, locked us in, began systematically beating me."

Trewe cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. "Mrs. Butler-"

"Let me finish. Please. I escaped. One night ... he was passed out drunk. A neighbor took us to a women's shelter. She believed me. From there, they hid us. By night we were shuttled between Texas towns and then sent to Houston. Months passed like this. I couldn't contact my own family in any way. He would have found us. He knows people, you see. The Women Helping Women organization helped me change my identity. He is a sexual predator of the worst kind, and he was not convicted. That made him free, and me in violation of the court order to allow him visitation."

She waited for Trewe to say something. She'd confessed, and now she was in his hands.

Trewe stood back, averting his eyes.

She pressed a hand out, touched his chest, briefly. "Please. I think my identity has the sanctity of the law, but I'm not sure. I have all the paperwork. It came at great sacrifice, you know. I haven't visited my mother in ten years."

"I assume you've told me this because ..."

"He's found us."

"... you believe he's found you."

"I do."

"This is quite serious."

"I realize that."

"What do you want me to do, Mrs. Butler? You've placed me in a hard place." The cold eyes again.

"Please."

"I'll be totally honest. I don't know what I need to do first: call out all the king's men to find this monster or call on immigration to find out what my culpability will be defined as if I don't report you."

She forced her hands to unclench. Her breath caught before she found sound again-loud enough to be carried into the next room. "I don't wish to get you in trouble, sir." She slammed her hands together. "I'm not the important thing. Finding my daughter is."

Trewe leaned away from her. His voice still low, he said, "She is my first priority, and as such, I will put out the word while protecting you, for the moment, from exposure. I need you to help me with a full name and description, and I must bring Constable Craig in on this. We will investigate your-is it ex-husband?"

"Yes."

"So, Mrs. Butler, I will need to find out more about him to check whether he has entered the country recently. I don't know how this will affect your status. We will try to keep you out of it. But then, rocks will fall where they will, won't they?"

Her racing thoughts stumbled over the misquote. "I understand."

Trewe went back out to the constable and carried on a brief conversation in low tones. He beckoned Ruth closer. "You'll share all the information you can about ... this man. I want a picture, age, last known address. Constable Craig shares your concern as deeply as anyone else in the force does. You can trust her. The information will be given out as to a possible person of interest only, not as Annie's father. But if this secret of yours comes down to me, I won't be pleased."

After relaying her new information to the WPC, Ruth stood with them at the door as they prepared to leave. Someone had pulled the plug on all her feelings. She rubbed away tears. "Take me with you. I'm useless here."

Trewe held up one hand. "We'll locate your daughter."

"Call me," Constable Craig said, handing her another card, "if there's anything you'd like to talk about. And my name's Allison, by the way."

"Thank you, Allison." Ruth clenched her arms around herself. Her teeth clattered.

"Wait for me, sir." Allison ran after Trewe as he climbed into his car.

Ruth turned as Sam bounded from the kitchen to rejoin her. He must have been sipping his tea with one ear at the door.

"Why have you come?" she demanded. She tucked both the officers' cards under her computer's keyboard.

"You may need me as a solicitor, and ... You know how I feel." Wandering around the room, he fussed and straightened furniture. As he moved, he moaned. It irritated her.

No, Ruth didn't really know how he felt. Not really. He was too closed up inside. She couldn't get through all the walls he put up. Good looking? Yes, he was a blond god. Ruth had been very attracted to him, so much so, something may have come of it but for his enshrouded core. Never mind that she hid something from him, as well.

She could not live with his inability to make a firm decision. He couldn't even decide what film to watch on the television. She had ended their relationship months ago. Why wouldn't he leave her alone?

Now, watching him putter around the room being useless with her, she wondered what she could possibly have seen in him. She would have told him she didn't want him there, but he had disappeared into the kitchen. Then he was in front of her with a bowl of something that smelled suspiciously of fish.

"Look what I made just for you. You should eat."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

He set the bowl down and sank to his knees. "I'm only doing what a friend would do. You should eat. What will happen when they find Abby and you're too weak to go to her?"

"Her name is Annie! Why can't you ever get her name right?" She shook her head. What was wrong with him? "Please leave."

Sally watched their exchange. When Sam left, she mimicked him. "I'm only doing what a friend would do. For Abby!"

The rain had passed. Bright sun filtered through the rain-dabbled window. Ruth could sense the spring freshness outdoors and instantly wished to walk, but the trouble it would take to don a jacket and wellies seemed exhausting. She found herself drifting in and out of the quiet sunlit room until exhaustion finally caught up. A stray chill kissed her neck and jerked her awake. She could see by the way the sun glowed from behind a mountain range of clouds that darkened the western sky that it was late afternoon. Was he feeding Annie? What was he feeding her? Was it enough? When would he make a move to give her back? She would admit to anything-plead guilty, do whatever it took-if he would only bring her back.

She called her mother in Texas. Someone had to tell her about Annie, but her mother must have gone to bed. She left a short message, the first she'd left in years. It was all she could choke out.

More people dropped by. Good people. They gave news about what the police were doing. The full force of the law with officers from all over Cornwall and Devon-and even Wales-had been and presently were still searching.

Evening brought more visitors, flowers, and teddy bears. Her daughter's school chums came in small waves. They tittered all the way to the front stoop where they morphed into a single, silent entity. Memorials sprang up across her front garden with flowers, candles, dolls, and letters.

The Women's Auxiliary dropped off two meals to heat up when Ruth wanted, and she found that her hunger became more insistent and gnawing with each passing hour. When pressed, she did eat. It didn't feel good. It didn't appease the monster in her gut, but she ate. Sally answered her phone for her. It grew dark, and still people brought flowers. None would come past the entry. "Don't want to impose." "Just know we're thinking of you." "Had to stop and let you know we care, must run."

There were three categories of people in Cornwall: the Cornish, the incomers and the foreigners. The Cornish had lived there for generations born and bred. Anyone visiting was a foreigner-including any other English. Incomers were people who had moved here as more-or-less permanent residents-incomers were incomers for twenty years or more.

Ruth and Annie had graduated from foreigners to incomers as soon as they purchased Riverside. Most of the villagers were slow to talk at first, but when they figured out she was friendly and interested in learning about Cornwall, those same villagers could become quite talkative. On the whole, the villagers were decent, hardworking people who were proud of their heritage, as well they should be. She and her daughter had loved living here.

It had felt safe.