Cindy walked up the front pathway trying to sense what it would be like to work here and why Shelly had chosen to do this kind of work. As soon as she entered, Cindy was greeted by a lovely young woman, who came over to her, shook her hand and smiled. The young woman seemed to have been on the lookout for Cindy, expecting her.
“I’m Barbara Harris, coordinator,” the young woman said. “You must be Cindy Blaine. We’re honored to have you here.”
“Thank you,” said Cindy, touched by her genuineness.
“We all loved Shelly,” Barbara continued quickly. “Thank you so much for coming to meet with us. We’re so disturbed that nobody else spent much time investigating here.”
“I heard that Shelly’s supervisor identified the body and spoke to the police,” said Cindy, jarred.
“That’s right,” said Barbara, “that was routine. But we hoped for more attention than that. After all, Shelly worked here for over three years. Anyway, thank you.”
Cindy took a deep breath. “It’s my pleasure,” she said, looking around.
The place was spacious, clean, filled with art work on the walls. There were paintings in bold colors of hearts, of blood, anger, harm - and also of healing, sunshine and flowers. The art work was clearly done by the residents -some by children, perhaps.
“We’re very proud of our Shelter,” Barbara spoke rapidly, “especially the art work,” she motioned towards the walls. “These are done both by the women and children who live here.”
“Wonderful,” said Cindy. Her heart clenched as she realized that this place was home not only to women but also to children who were seeking protection, had no other place to go.
“Thank goodness that you can provide a place like this,” Cindy murmured.
“We’ll take you on the tour tomorrow,” said Barbara. “Right now it’s important to go to the orientation about battering and domestic violence. Have you been to one before?”
“No,” Cindy was ashamed to admit she hadn’t.
“Most people have no idea what’s involved. We offer this lecture every month and fortunately you’re here right on time.”
It was fortunate, thought Cindy, as she walked along quickly at Barbara’s side. There was a whole world inside here that she knew nothing of. She was glad for the opportunity to find out now, wanted to learn as much as she could. How could this not have a bearing on the case?
As they were walking, Barbara stopped for a moment, smiled, turned and took a long look at Cindy.
“It’s strange,” she said, smiling, “I don’t know if anyone has told you - but you look a lot like Shelly.”
Cindy shivered. Nobody had actually said that, but Cindy’d thought so herself when she saw Shelly’s photos.
“You could have been sisters,” Barbara went on. “You have the same color hair, the light freckles, even the same sparkling look in your eye. She was terrific. Did you know her?”
“No, I didn’t,” said Cindy, “and nobody has said I look like her.”
“They probably will,” said Barbara. “If you spend some time with us, the residents and staff will tell you all kinds of things. The place will never be the same without her.”
“I’m sorry,” said Cindy, “I really am.”
“Me, too,” said Barbara, “it’s a tremendous loss.”
*
Barbara led Cindy into a large auditorium, which was filled with an assortment of people who’d come for the monthly lecture.
“We recommend that the residents come every month,” said Barbara. “It takes time to really understand what abuse really is, to get the whole picture. It’s so confusing and so horrific, it can take a long time to sink in.”
“Who else is here?” Cindy was fascinated.
“There are people here from all over South Florida - lawyers, pastors, doctors, nurses, social workers. We’re a model Shelter. We keep on top of all the research, offer all kinds of counseling, groups, re-training.”
Cindy was impressed. It changed her view of Shelly as well, to think that she worked here for so long, and was so respected. At that moment Cindy realized that Mattheus had actually told Cindy very little about her. When he’d talked about her, it was always about him, and his craving to find the killer. How much had he actually known about her, anyway? Cindy suddenly wondered.
Barbara led Cindy to a seat that had been reserved for them in the front row. “It’s always special to us when law enforcement attends the orientation,” Barbara said. “Everyone needs to be really educated about domestic violence. So many things are overlooked, especially by the police. They think they know what it is, and they don’t. Not really. It’s easy to minimize things.”
“I can only imagine,” Cindy said.
“It’s especially wonderful to have a woman detective with us,” Barbara added, smiling at Cindy again. “It’s quite a journey you must have been on to decide to take a job like this.”
Cindy had never thought of it that way. She hadn’t considered how her journey might be of help to those who were abused, living here in hiding. She was pleased to be valued and recognized and to feel that somehow, she could make a difference.