Cindy arrived at the Shelter early the next morning. She wore comfortable linen green slacks, a lemon shirt, and tied her hair back gently. It was important for the women to feel comfortable in her presence. She didn’t want to look too professional, or different from anyone here. Instead of carrying her usual briefcase, she slung a large bag over her shoulder in which she’d packed notebooks and pens. It was hard being here alone, without Mattheus to come back to, go over the day with. She knew she could call Alex, but that was entirely different.
Cindy milled around in the front entranceway, waiting for Barbara. The place was totally active and buzzing, women were on their way to different rooms for counseling and groups. Flyers on the walls announced training sessions to develop new skills in the workplace. The seeming normalcy of the routine here was jarring. There was a sense of purposefulness , aliveness, and above all, safety.
Cindy watched the women walking up and down the hallways and wondered what it would take in anyone’s life to cross that thin line and end up here, hiding from danger. What did they not notice? What was it they weren’t able to stop doing, or hoping for? When did they hit that crucial point where they knew they had to call for help?
As Cindy stood there watching, Barbara appeared from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. Cindy jumped.
“Oh my goodness,” Cindy said, “I didn’t see you coming.
Barbara laughed. “You got here early, that’s so great. You’re excited, you’re eager.
They smiled at one another.
“There’s a lot of ground to cover today,” Barbara said, as she started to walk down the hall with Cindy, “let’s go.”
Cindy let Barbara lead her around the bend to a medium size, well lit room with a table in the center and wooden chairs around it. The windows looked out over the back of the Shelter, where birds perched in the large bushes, unaware of what was going on inside.
“This is our interview room,” said Barbara, “Today, I’d like you to start by talking to Angie. She was Shelly’s co-counselor, they worked closely together, talked everything over and liked each other very much. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Great,” said Cindy, and sat down at the table, once again impressed by Barbara’s professionalism. “How did you get the job to oversee the investigation?” Cindy was curious.
Barbara pushed her hair off her forehead. It was warm for so early in the morning, and she was perspiring. “I assigned myself,” she said lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “If you don’t take something on, it doesn’t get done. Someone has to step up. This is important to me.”
“It’s inspiring,” said Cindy.
Barbara sat down next to Cindy then. “My mother was battered by my father,” Barbara continued. “I couldn’t do anything to help her, but I can help others in the same situation. And I will.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Cindy, moved by the unexpected revelation.
“My mother ultimately died of her wounds,” Barbara continued.
“Murdered?” Cindy was horrified.
“Basically, yes, murdered, though no one thought of it that way in those days.”
Cindy realized that everyone who worked here had to have some kind of story about what drove them to this work. She wondered again about Shelly, and the journey she’d been on.
At that moment, a tall, wiry, very attractive, youngish woman with dark brown hair and large eyes walked into the room.
Barbara got up to greet her. “Angie, this is Cindy,” she said.
Angie came over and held out her hand to Cindy. “I’m hearing wonderful things about you,” she said.
Cindy was surprised. “About me?”
“The women you’ve spoken to really like you.”
“Thank you so much,” Cindy felt touched.
Angie sat down opposite her.
“What can I do to help?” Angie began. “Shelly’s death has been a nightmare. She didn’t deserve something like this.”
“No one deserves it,” said Barbara, sitting back down as well.
“Of course, no one deserves it,” Angie agreed. “But especially not Shelly.”
“You liked her a lot?” Cindy echoed.
“It’s not just that I liked her,” Angie exclaimed, “Shelly was a worthwhile person. She did a wonderful job and we were good friends.” A look of pain crossed her face.
Cindy was relieved to be talking to Angie, someone who knew Shelly so well.
“Tell me more about her,” Cindy said, taking a notebook out of her bag. She didn’t want to miss a thing, wanted to write everything down.
“Shelly never missed a day at work,” Angie started,”everyone here could count on her.”
That surprised Cindy. Her basic image of Shelly hadn’t been that she was so dependable.
“In fact, the Shelter became like a home to her,” Angie continued, “she told me that more than one time.”
Cindy could understand that. Shelly had come from a rough childhood and this obviously became a haven for her.
“Do you know why she left the life she’d been living and came to Key West to start again?” Cindy asked carefully.
To Cindy’s surprise the question sent a ripple of unease into the room.