Bargaining: An agreement between two or more people or groups as to what each will do for the other. [Oxford Dictionary]
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19 years ago
Working with Pete was boring, plain and simple. He literally used Danny as his chauffeur, and on their patrols told him to drive him from one snack point to the other. Not much happened during three or four days, and Danny started to doubt his career choice.
It was Sunday morning, and they had been called again because of a noise complaint to the Gardners though (and yes, Danny had memorized the name because in the precinct the officers already started to groan whenever a noise complaint with that name on it was reported. Some had even thrown dices to prevent from getting send there), and of course there was "no reason for that, officers, really, it was just a mishap, my clumsy wife dropped the sauce bowl".
Pete entered the house and Danny once again was stuck outside with the glowering Ray Gardner who tried to look innocent and surprised, but this time Danny caught a glimpse of Brooke, Ray's allegedly "clumsy" wife. She seemed just a year or two older than Danny, with long honey-colored hair that flowed over her face, and blue eyes cast down to avoid looking at Pete when he pushed past Ray into the house to pose Brooke the same question as officers had done the last five or six times.
She obviously gave him the same answer as always, and Pete rolled his eyes when the door had closed behind the couple. "This is really getting annoying," Pete grumbled and dragged his heavy body into the car, only to announce to Danny: "Next time, boy, you go in. Perhaps your pretty face can convince her that not all men are assholes she has to be afraid of. Now get that car to Joey's, I wanna have a pizza."
When their shift was over a few hours later and Danny sat down at the table in his parents' house — Clara Williams insisted that all her children had to appear for sunday's family lunch, he sighed frustrated. "I don't understand her," Danny said while watching his mother set up the table. He had wanted to help her, but she batted his hands away from her precious china that only was allowed to leave the cupboard on sundays.
"How often do we have to come until she finally opens her mouth? I mean, it's obvious that he's beating the shit out of her. She can't be so stupid and continue to protect him. I really don't get it, Mom, how can a person have such a lack of self-esteem? It's, uh, I don't even want to go there anymore when we get a complaint reported. And I, I can't even sleep properly anymore, whenever I close my eyes, my thoughts won't stop turning and turning and thinking about: how could I help her?!"
Clara hummed with Danny's words and folded the napkins, placing them neatly next to the plates. She tilted her head a bit to control the position of the napkin next to Danny's plate, rearranged it, and then nodded satisfied. "Mom, do you even listen to what I'm saying?" Danny's frustration was palpable.
"My dear son, of course I listen to you. I have raised four kids, I am capable of multitasking." She gave her oldest son a radiant smile, but it deflagrated under his gloomy gaze. "Oh, come on, honey, don't give me that look! It's sunday, your work for today is done, relax!"
Danny made a face but forced out a smile at his mother's expectantly raised eyebrows. "Yeah, Ma, but..."
"No buts." Clara pointed a finger at Danny. "I don't want gloomy faces at my table. You know the rule. And I do not want you to judge the poor woman before you know all the circumstances. Perhaps you and Stella should have a little talk about this, later."
Danny frowned. "Stella? Uh, Mom, I don't think she's eager to talk to me these days." His mother knew about what Eric had done, so he thought she would understand, but:
"Danny, you and Stella will talk after the dessert." And when Ma Williams had set her mind on something, no one could steer her away from her resolve. Danny sighed and gave in. Clara's expression softened again and she went over to him, cupping his face with her hands. "Daniel Williams, even when you were just a little boy I knew one day you would grow up into an observant, caring man with a heart of gold. I think this fine young man is standing in front of me right now. You are going to be a great dad one day. Okay? And now, go get the rest of the family so we can have lunch. There is a time for helping people, and there is a time for eating."
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Today
Steve returned from the kitchen and held another bottle of beer out for Danny. His partner grabbed it; watching drops of condensed water slowly roll down the slender neck of the bottle and over his fingers.
"Stella was 17, almost 18 when she became pregnant with Eric," he started and took a sip. "She was so in love with that guy, and none of us could understand that. Dad outright hated him, saying there was nothing good in the boy, and forbade her to ever see him again. Mom was a little bit more sensitive and tried to make her see what a scumbag he was and that it would end in a broken heart. But of course Stella didn't listen. She's a Williams, after all. And when she became pregnant, she moved out and married him on her 18th birthday."
Danny sighed, and Steve could see how the wrinkles on his forehead deepened. "Surprisingly, that marriage went well for about 10 years. Then Stella found out that he had a throng of girlfriends next to her and was neck-deep in some Italian mobster thing. They had a big fight, and he beat the living daylights out of her. Eric called us, and we succeeded to get them both out of his clutches. Stella filed for divorce and moved back into our neighborhood. The scumbag decided to show up one day to get her back, but my father and some of his firefighter colleagues made it clear to him that this was not a good idea. He never came back then." Danny's grip on the bottle tightened, his knuckles went white.
"I had no idea why Mom insisted that I should talk to Stella about Brooke, until Stella started to tell what had happened between her and Eric's father, way before he beat her up. It had not been the first time that he had raised his hand against her, and Mom had tried to get her to leave him for some time already. Stella said that it started subtle; first simply shouts and throwing around some stuff. Then he began to make her feel guilty about him getting angry, claiming it was her fault that he had to shout at her. And one day his hand slipped and he beat her. Stella said that it was like a maelstrom that at first pulls you into its current slowly, lazily, but when you notice that you get pulled under, it is too late. Almost too late for Stella. She emphasized that if she wouldn't have had us at that time, her family for support, she wouldn't have had the strength to leave him. And still it was almost too late for her."
Steve cleared his throat. In all those years he had known Danny, he had never talked about that. And Steve had to admit that this could be an explanation why Eric was, well, the way Eric was. And why Danny was so proud that his nephew had gotten his life back together. "So you checked out Brooke's background?" he finally asked when the silence started to stretch out.
Danny nodded, pursing his lips. "She only had one sister left; her parents had died when she was a teenager. She had been to a foster family, and although there was nothing bad in the files about that part of her life, I guess it shaped her into the perfect victim for Ray Gardner. Having no support from a family, she probably thought there was no way out. After the talk with Stella I knew I had to change that."
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19 years ago
Although the woman at the desk was bent forward and her long hair veiled her face, Danny knew instantly that it was Brooke. It hadn't been too hard to find out that she was working at the district library, and since it was a pretty small library, there hadn't been many options where she was seated. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans — he was off duty and in plain clothes; and stepped up to her desk under the big red "information" sign. "Do you have books on the weather?" he asked and smiled when she looked up and froze.
Her eyes darted left and right and the tip of her tongue peeked out when she moistened her obviously suddenly dry lips. "Officer Williams, you shouldn't be here," she said in a hushed voice and took another look past him, clearly nervous.
Danny arched his eyebrows. "Well, this is a public library and I want to borrow a book." He emphasized his words with a firm nod of his head, and Brooke seemed to relax a little bit. "I have found something interesting in your catalogue and wanted to take a look at it, but with the signatures on the books," he shrugged, "I don't get along. So if you could please tell me where its location is?" He held out a piece of paper to her, and after a moment of hesitation she took it. She unfolded it and frowned, looked at him, back at the paper again.
"It's — I'll show you." She slowly rose from the seat, rubbing the palm of her free hand nervously up and down her grey cotton slacks. Another look over Danny's shoulder, and then she scurried around a corner, setting a fast pace through a labyrinth of shelves so that Danny had to step up to follow her. She led him around another corner and another again, then suddenly stopped in front of some higher shelves and put her hand on a book, without really looking at it. "That's it."
"Thanks." Danny took the book and noticed that although her back was almost against the wall, she could still see the whole floor of the library through the loosely exhibited books in the shelf. Clever girl.
"Why are you really here?" Brooke suddenly asked and took out another book, clutching it against her chest like a shield, a physical barrier between her and him. Her shoulders were hunched, her whole body seemed as tense as a bowstring, and he could clearly see the nervous and scared flicker in her eyes.
Remembering the rules about how to deal with a frightened person, Danny took a half-step backward to give her more space and held his own book with both hands to show her he couldn't reach for a weapon without her noticing it. His smile stayed in place, although it frayed a little bit at the edges. "I think you know very well why I am here," he said in a low, calm yet determined voice. "You've called me several times, but always hung up before we could talk. I can help you, Brooke. And Ray won't turn up here; I dropped by the construction site he is currently working at and saw that he was there. My partner is still there and will warn me if Ray makes a move. Okay? It's safe here, Brooke."
She shook her head, pressing the book even further against her chest. "I threw your card away as soon as you left the house." She lied, and knew that he knew it was a lie. "I don't know who called you, Officer, but it wasn't me. Everything is fine at home, and Ray, Ray loves me." Her lower lip trembled when she raised her head now high, and Danny wasn't so sure if she tried to convince him or herself of her words.
Danny sucked in his cheeks and nodded slowly, then eased one hand off the book he was holding and pulled his cell phone out. He pressed some buttons and showed the display to her. "No, you didn't throw my card away. Or if you did, you first memorized the number. Come on, Brooke. I want to help you. You don't have to endure this. You really don't have to."
"You don't understand," she blurted out, obviously louder than intended as one hand flew to her mouth, covering it, not even pretending anymore she hadn't called him. She stared through the hole in the shelf, and after she seemed sure no one had noticed a thing, she continued in a lower voice. "You don't understand. Ray did everything for me. He loves me. He helped me get this job… Yes, maybe he gets angry sometimes, but that's my own fault then. I should know better by now what agitates him and still I'm too clumsy. It's my own fault," she repeated and lowered her eyes again, stared at an invisible point between the tip of her shoes.
Danny slowly shook his head, thinking of a way to tell Brooke to show her his point of view. "There are things we have to endure, and things we do not have to endure. Things we have to endure are traffic jams, or the train being late. The fact that we had to put our dog down on my tenth birthday. The tenth! The one where you turn into a two-digit-person." He smiled a little bit sad about that memory, of the sorrow that had threatened to suffocate him that day, besides the feeling of all this being unfair to him on his great day. "My mom asked me if I wanted the dog to suffer, only to have one happy day and if we should put her down the next day. When I hesitated, she said that we have to endure some things we cannot change or only for a very high price."
Brooke had lifted her head while he spoke, and now looked into his eyes for the first time for real. Tears had formed in her eyes, and when he continued to speak, one silently slipped over her cheek. "This here, your situation — this is not one of these you have to endure, Brooke. No one should get beaten over a broken plate. Or a burned dinner. Or just because Ray is in a bad mood. Let me help you, Brooke. I can take care that Ray won't be able to lay a finger on you again."
"No, you can't." Her voice was barely audible now, and another tear rolled over her cheek when she averted her eyes once again. "No one can help me. I can't go anywhere. Ray will find me. He will kill me if I leave him. He said I owe him too much. I owe him everything. He won't just let me go. And I don't know where I could go to anyways…"
Despite all her desperation, her fear, her sorrow, Danny still saw the chink in the armor she had built around her mind. "But I do know," he simply said, and by the way her eyes flicked up at him for a second with something like a flash of hope before she looked away again told him everything he needed to know. "There's this women's shelter at the other side of the town — they have a big fence around the building and the door is guarded by a security guy around the clock. You will not be registered under your official name but with an alias, and even if Ray should find out where you went, they will deny your presence to keep you safe."
Brooke blinked, the information Danny had given her slowly sinking in. The book she had pressed against her chest slowly went lower as she visibly relaxed. She processed everything Danny had said, then: "He won't find me?" she finally asked, her eyes darting nervously over to the hole in the shelf and the library behind it. "He won't know where I am?"
"Nope." Danny smiled at her, something like satisfaction spreading through him. "He won't."