“Our first speaker will be Grace.”
A collective gasp rose up and the chief pounded his gavel against the podium until everyone quieted down.
Grace squeezed Tabitha’s and Allison’s hands before she stood.
“Want a drink?” Tabitha held out her purse.
“Tabitha,” Allison warned.
They both gave her encouraging smiles as she made the long walk to the podium.
The heavy stares made her chest tighten. She stepped up to the podium, and the chief of police gave her a nod.
“I suppose if you’re going to judge me, then you should have all the facts.” She looked out onto the crowd trying to see if Sloan had made it. Her heart dropped when she didn’t see his face.
“My name is Jennifer Montclair and I used to dance for the New York Ballet Company. It was a dream of mine as a little girl and when it came true I could hardly believe it.” She tried to swallow, but her mouth was like sand paper.
“During that time, I met a man whom I thought was everything he seemed to be. He was smart, handsome, charming and wealthy. We were quickly engaged.” She cleared her throat, thankful that Sloan was not in the crowd. She needed to tell him this alone. Maybe then he’d understand.
“I thought he was perfect, until the first time he hit me.”
A gasp echoed in the silence and Grace looked at Allison. Her eyes were wide with shock.
“He broke my leg because I refused to stop dancing in the ballet.” She looked out at the crowed. They all sat in silence, their attention focused on her.
“I wasn’t raised in an abusive home. My mother died when I was young and my father was very loving.” She looked down at her shaking hands and placed them on the podium. “I was so ashamed about what had happened that I didn’t tell anyone. I was also afraid. He’d told me if I ever tried to leave he would find me and kill me. My abuser wanted me to stop dancing so I could stay home and he could control everything I did. Abusers are like that.” Her gaze drifted through the crowd. She sucked in a breath when she saw Melanie sitting near the back with Chris at her side.
“I finally got up my courage and called my father. He told me to leave, and while I was packing, my abuser came home.”
She glanced over at her friends. A tear slid down Allison’s face while Tabitha pressed her lips together to contain her emotions.
“I stood up to him that day and told him I was leaving. He told me the only way I was leaving him was in a casket. That was the worst beating I’d ever gotten. After I fell to the floor from him punching me in the face, he started kicking me.” She narrowed her eyes on Chris. He looked away and slid his arm around Melanie.
“He beat me until I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was dying.” She took a deep breath. “I woke up in the hospital on a ventilator. He punctured my lung and cracked half my ribs and broke my nose. I had also learned that my father had died in a car accident. The police said he was hit by a drunk driver and killed instantly.
“I was in the hospital for weeks. My doctor began asking questions about how I ended up in that condition.”
She licked her dry lips. “He didn’t believe the story Michael had given him about me falling while horseback riding. So he continued to press me until one day I finally told him everything. I told him that Michael would kill me if I tried to leave again. I also told my doctor he couldn’t go to the police because it would make everything worse. Every day I was in ICU, I waited for the cops to walk through that glass door. They never did.
“A week later, my doctor came in and closed the door and shut the curtain. He said he wanted to help me. He also said a year earlier another girl had come into ICU with similar injuries and he’d discovered Michael had been her boyfriend. That girl had headed to the police as soon as she was well enough to leave the hospital. She never made it and her body was discovered in an alley with her throat cut.”
Everyone gasped.
“I knew that I had to fake my death in order to save my life. I wanted to find a safe place to start over again, a place I could call home. I thought I had found it here in Cloverton.”
Everyone went quiet. She glanced over the crowd. Some were silently crying while dabbing at their eyes with a tissue, while others looked away, clearly uncomfortable with what she was telling them.
The police chief stepped up to the podium and smiled. “Thank you, Grace, for explaining.”
She blew out a breath and looked around. The chief patted her hand and smiled.
“Does anyone have questions for Grace?”
“Her name is not Grace,” Felicia called out.
“Shut up. No one is talking to you.” Tabitha stood up and eyed Felicia.
“Now, ladies, calm down.” The police chief held his palms up.
Tabitha shot Felicia a glare and plopped back down in the pew.
From the back, Melanie raised her hand.
“Yes, Melanie?” The police chief nodded. “Do you have something to ask?”