Sunrise on Half Moon Bay - Robyn Carr Page 0,113

this lucky, to be humiliated by a wayward husband only to find a delightful man to fill in the empty spots in her life.

“Absolutely not,” he said. But he didn’t laugh. “When are you off work?”

“No one has late appointments today so we’ll close up shop at five.” She would take some work home, of course. She always did. She didn’t always get to it, but she was diligent in her effort.

“I’ll plan to be there by five thirty. Take your time.”

Because she smelled an ill wind, she didn’t waste any time. She phoned her girls to tell them she’d be home to cook dinner but first she was meeting Logan for a glass of wine. She promised not to be late and hoped she’d be able to keep the promise. Something in his voice seemed ominous.

He was already at the pub when she got there, sitting at a small table in the corner. The place boasted a good crowd at five thirty and would probably be packed by seven. This little pub and a number of quaint little eateries and shops were in the newer section of town, closer to the ocean. When she approached him, he stood and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me how I am. What’s up? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Sit. Would you like a glass of wine?”

The waiter was at their table before she could even answer. When he left, she just looked at Logan with her eyes full of questions.

“I’d like you to understand, I wasn’t actively searching for more information on your ex or his new partner. It’s pretty routine for us to go through police calls and reports to see if any clients or their problems appear there. A few days ago there was a call for paramedics at your ex’s house. The police were called. Your... Scott was hurt, and though he insisted he’d had a little too much to drink and took a header down the stairs, he also had some scratches on his neck and so medical contacted the police before transporting him. He now has a line of stitches across his forehead. And it was a suspicious setting.”

She was stunned. This drama of Scott and his woman was growing by the day. “Suspicious?” Justine repeated.

“There was evidence of a fight. Things were messed up in their house. The sofa was slashed and the stuffing was popping out.”

“The sofa? Why on earth...?”

“My opinion? Someone had a temper tantrum. And I don’t think it was Scott. He was transported and admitted. I read the police report—the officer suggested to Scott that he not allow his girlfriend to visit. They couldn’t press any charges because they didn’t see any battery, and neither of them would admit to it.”

“You said he had stitches...”

“Split his head open and had to have a CT scan to make sure he’s okay. They kept him overnight for observation. He had a mild concussion. He’s been released. He’ll be fine—this time. But I think his problems are ongoing.”

“Oh God, this is terrible. I wished so many horrible things on him, but I didn’t really mean it. I just wanted him to be sorry. I wouldn’t go back in time a day, that’s impossible. But I don’t want him to be beat up!”

“Well, I’m going to have a talk with him,” Logan said. “I don’t think you should. That might send the wrong message. But I’ll base a visit on what we saw in the parking lot that night. I’ll round up a list of support groups. This is more common than you think. Some statistics put it at one in three domestics involve the man as the victim. I already knew a few things about battered husbands—”

“They’re not married, are they?”

“Not to my knowledge, but they are a couple. I know a few things. Men as victims suffer a lot of shame—they’re very embarrassed. The women who abuse them sometimes beat them up while they sleep, destroy their property, get insanely jealous, carry out vindictive plots. Maybe throw a hissy fit

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