The Beast

It was going to be fine.

Of course, she hadn’t banked on the fact that the clutch was like trying to put her foot through a brick wall every time she needed to shift. Or that the gears were so tightly calibrated that if you didn’t get the gas in at exactly the right time, all those horses under the hood went buck wild.

The good news? At least fighting with the transmission gave her something other than Bitty-linked anxiety to focus on as she made her way to Safe Place.

Plus Fritz was as good a mechanic as he was a butler.

When she finally arrived at the house, she parked in the driveway, got out, and hobbled around in the dark for a minute, kicking her left leg around until something popped and suddenly she didn’t feel as if she were walking like a flamingo anymore.

With a curse, she headed around to the door into the garage, entered a code and slipped inside. As the motion-sensitive lights came on, she put her hand up to shield her eyes, but she didn’t have to worry about tripping over anything. The two bays were empty but for lawn-mowing equipment and some old oil stains on the concrete slabs. There were three steps up to the door into the kitchen, and then she put a code in and waited for the dead bolts to begin their sequence of unlocking. She also turned and presented her face for recognition as well.

Moments later, she was in the mudroom, taking off her coat and hanging it up with her purse on the row of hooks above the boot bench. The new kitchen out the back was all busy-busy, stacks of pancakes being made at the stove, fruit getting cut up on the counters, bowls and plates being lined up on the longtable.

“Mary!”

“Hey, Mary!”

“Hi, Ms. Luce!”

Taking a deep breath, she returned the hellos, heading over to give a hug here and there, put her hand on a shoulder, greet a female, high-five a young. There were three staff members on duty, and she checked in with them.

“Where’s Rhym?” she asked.

“She’s been upstairs with Bitty,” the curly-haired one said softly.

“I’ll go there now.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“I’m sure there will be.” Mary shook her head. “I hate this for her.”

“We all do.”

Going to the front of the house, she rounded the base of the stairs and took the steps two at a time. She didn’t bother stopping to see if Marissa was in. Chances were good, given the scope of the attack, that the head of Safe Place was taking a little time off to be with her hellren.

Being mated to a Brother was not for the faint of heart.

Up on the third floor, she found Rhym asleep in a padded chair that had been pulled over next to Bitty’s door. As the floorboards creaked, the other social worker stirred.

“Oh, hey,” the female said as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

Rhym had always reminded Mary of herself to some degree. She was the sort of female who maybe wasn’t the first person you noticed in a room, but never failed to be there when you needed someone. She was on the tall end for height, a little on the thin side. Never wore make-up. Usually pulled her hair back. No male that anyone had ever heard about.

Her life was her work here.

“It’s six-thirty?” Mary stared at the closed door. “How’d we do during the day?”

Rhym just shook her head. “She wouldn’t talk about anything. She just packed her clothes into her suitcase, got her doll and her old toy tiger together, and sat at the end of her bed. Eventually, I came out here because I thought she was probably staying awake because I was in there with her.”

“I think I’ll put my head in and see what’s going on.”

“Please.” Rhym stretched her arms up and cracked her back. “And if it’s okay with you, I’ll head on home for some shut-eye myself?”

“Absolutely. I’ll take over from here. And thanks for looking after her.”

“Is it dark enough out for me to leave now?”

Mary glanced at the shutters that were still down for the day. “I think—” As if on command, the steel panels that protected the interior from sunlight began to go up. “Yup.”

Rhym got to her feet and drew her fingers through her blond-and-brown hair. “If you need anything, if she needs anything, just call and I can come back in. She’s a special little girl, and I just . . . I want to help.”

“I agree. And thanks again.”

As the other female started down the stairs, Mary spoke up. “One question.”

“Yes?”

Mary focused on the oculus window down at the far end of the hall, trying to find the right words. “Did she . . . I mean, she didn’t say anything about her mother? Or what happened at the clinic?”

Like something along the lines of My therapist made me feel as if I killed my mother?

“Nothing. The only thing she mentioned was that she was leaving as soon as she could. I didn’t have the heart to tell her there was nowhere for her to go. It seemed too cruel. Too soon.”

“So she talked about her uncle.”

Rhym frowned. “Uncle? No, she didn’t bring anything like that up. Does she have one?”

Mary looked back at the closed door. “Transference.”

“Ah.” The social worker cursed softly. “These are going to be long nights and days ahead for her. Long weeks and months, too. But we’ll all rally around her. She’ll do well if we can just get her through this part in one piece.”