The Man From Her Past Read Free

ready, trembling from head to toe.
    “Mommy?”
    “Hope.”
    Cassie turned, gathering herself as if she’d also been broken into pieces. She rubbed her arm across her eyes and her mouth, trying to erase any trace of the violence that had adrenaline bubbling in her veins.
    Gripping the office door, Hope pointed at Cassie’s shirt. A scream poured out of her throat.
    Cassie looked down. The blood snapped her straight back to reality.
    “I’m okay.” She tore the shirt off. “I’m all right, baby.”
    Hope rushed her. Cassie knelt and scooped her daughter into her arms. “The police,” she said to the nearest woman. She threw her shirt far away. In her bra and jeans, she was wearing more than some of the clients who’d shown up at their doors.
    She cuddled Hope, keeping her as safe as she could from scary things. “We’re all okay, baby.” To herself, she sounded calm while her heartbeat shook her whole body. In a few minutes, Hope’s crying faded to a whimper.
    “Wanna go home, Mommy. Bad, bad man.” As she pointed at him with a four-year-old’s contempt, sirens sounded.
    “Put this on.” Liza, one of Cassie’s partners, dropped a faded Tecumseh PD T-shirt over Cassie’s shoulder. Another woman must have worn it into the shelter. Cassie pulled it over her head, and Hope helped her yank it down.
    “You hurt that bad man, Mommy.”
    “I know.” She seriously wanted to bury her head. “It was scary.”
    “I’m glad you hurt him.”
    She didn’t know what to say. Normally, it’s not nice to hit people would do, but the man had come bent on hurting someone in the shelter. She couldn’t let that happen.
    Cassie cradled Hope’s chin. Violence had changed Cassie’s life forever, and she’d tried to make sure the past wasn’t part of her present with Hope. “I don’t like hurting anyone, baby, but that man wanted to be mean to someone here.” Of their own volition, her thoughts returned to that other bad man, and she hated the fear that whispered through her in a warning.
    Unconditional love looked out of Hope’s blue eyes.
    “I won’t ever scare you if I can help it,” Cassie said. Her daughter meant everything to her.
    “You didn’t look like my mommy.”
    Cassie hugged her tight. Someday she’d teach Hope the self-defense she’d made every shelter employee learn, but she didn’t want her daughter to think of her as a woman who beat people up.
    She went blank when she tried to think what else she should have done.
    Two policemen, guns drawn, barged through the splintered doorway and stopped in front of the unconscious man.
    Only then did Cassie realize one woman had picked up his battering ram and another stood over him with a raised chair.
    More concerned about the guns, she turned Hope’s face into her chest.
    “Danger’s over.” Liza pointed at his revolver. “You can put that away. We don’t like the children to see them.”
    The police both holstered their weapons. “What happened?” asked the one she’d spoken to.
    “He busted in with this.” She eased the battering ram out of the woman’s hand. “And my friend stopped him from getting any further.”
    “Which friend?” the second cop asked.
    Cassie stood, lifting Hope onto her hip. “He said someone’s name, but I didn’t catch it.” She searched the suspicious glances of the women and children around them. “Anyone know him?”
    “I do,” the second cop said. “He’s a fireman. I can’t remember his name, but we worked together last year when the county put on that disaster training.”
    No one else claimed him.
    The downed man began to stir and the first policeman cuffed him. He nodded at Cassie. “He wasn’t looking for you?”
    Shaking her head, she hugged Hope closer. “I work here.”
    “She’s a partner,” Liza said. “I’m Liza Crane. This is Cassie Warne. We have another partner, Kim Fontaine, but she works day hours.”
    So did Cassie, but Hope had been out of school for a teacher