A Place Called Home
by Margaret Watson

CHAPTER 1

     The door of the coffee shop crashed open, startling Zoe as she took a sip from the paper cup.  Her hand jerked and coffee spilled on her messenger bag.

     “Darn it,” she muttered, grabbing a handful of napkins from the stack on the counter to wipe up the liquid.

     “Zoe.  I’ve been looking for you.”

     The voice was low and threatening, and Zoe looked up.  Wallace Tate stood in the doorway, his face mottled red.

     “Wallace.”   She shifted, bracing herself against the counter behind her.  “What can I do for you?” 

     “You know what you can do for me.”  He walked toward her, his hands clenched into fists.  “You tell Sally you were wrong.  You hear me?”

     The three customers waiting for their coffee froze, and the people filling the tables looked up from their computers and their newspapers.  The only sound in the coffee shop was the hiss of the espresso machine.  Zoe ignored everyone except Wallace.  “Why would I do that?  I wasn’t wrong, and we both know it.”

     Wallace leaned closer, his thin lips compressed and his faded blue eyes filled with rage.  He smelled musty and old.  “So help me God, you’re going to be sorry you crossed me.”

     “What are you going to do to me, Wallace?  Send me to jail?”  Zoe smiled at him.  “Been there, done that.”

     She heard a quick intake of breath from another customer.

     “You never were smart enough to back off, were you?”  He raised his fist.  “You’re interfering in my personal life.  I don’t allow anyone to do that.”

     She glanced at his fist.  “You want to hit me?  Go ahead.”  Her gaze bored into his.  “You’ll have lots of witnesses.  Or don’t you hit women in front of witnesses?”

     Wallace shoved his finger in her face.  “I’m going to tell you one more time, Zoe.  You tell Sally you were mistaken.  Or you’ll regret it.”

     Zoe grabbed his finger.  “Don’t point at me.”  She’d been trying to keep her composure, telling herself that Wallace Tate was a pathetic old man.  But now her temper sparked.  “We’re done with this conversation.  Get out of here, Wallace.”  She shoved his hand away from her face.

     The older man stumbled backward, his face red, murderous fury in his eyes.  He took a step toward her, then stopped.  He looked puzzled as he swayed, then staggered to the side.  As he started to crumple to the floor, Zoe dropped her coffee and grabbed him.  She managed to shield his head from a table, but she couldn’t stop him from hitting the floor.

     “Wallace?”  She unbuttoned his wool coat and put her hand on his chest, felt his heart beating way too fast.  He tried to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth.  His eyes were moving, but he didn’t seem to see her.  The coffee she’d dropped stained his coat and slacks, and the smell of it was sharp and bitter.

     Looking up at the shocked faces surrounding her, she said, “Someone call 911.”

     The light from the ambulance flashed steadily outside the window of the coffee shop, a red heartbeat of anxiety.  She closed her eyes to shut out the light.  But it wouldn’t go away.  It bounced off the walls and into her brain, a steady, continual reminder of the last time she’d called for an ambulance.

     She had to be dreaming.  This couldn’t be happening again.

     Another Tate removed on a gurney.

     Another police car stationed behind the ambulance.

     What had happened to Wallace?  She headed outside, intending to ask the paramedics.  Why had Wallace collapsed so suddenly?  Had he had a heart attack?

     A blast of fresh spring air washed over her as she opened the door, and she stopped abruptly.  Wallace Tate was on the gurney, parked directly behind the ambulance.  Two paramedics labored over him.  When they moved, she realized they’d been strapping him to the gurney.

     Unexpected pity stirred inside her for the man who lay helpless in front of her.  Wallace Tate, her nemesis for the past six years, reduced to a pathetic old man.  Wallace would hate that.  Her compassion would be unbearable to him.  With one last look at the ambulance, she turned back into the shop.

     “You watching the show, Zoe?  Getting a kick out of it?”

     Ray Dobbs, the chief of police, crowded behind her in the doorway.  His blue eyes were cold and his buzz-cut gray hair looked like a stiff brush.   His whole body bristled with indignation.

     “I was feeling sorry for Wallace Tate,” she said, holding his gaze.  “Don’t you think that’s ironic?”

     “I’m not finding much to laugh about.”

     “That’s your problem, Chief.  You don’t have a sense of humor.”

     Dobbs flushed.  “Watch your mouth, Zoe.  You’re already in enough trouble.”

     Zoe tried to hold onto her temper.  “What are you talking about?  I have no idea what happened to Wallace.”

     “He just fell over.”  Dobbs’ eyes glittered.  “For no reason.”

     “Exactly.”  Fear stirred, but Zoe kept an expression of polite interest on her face.  It was a talent she’d perfected during her marriage.  “We were talking, and he collapsed.”

     “Talking?”  Dobbs edged closer, his face hard with suspicion.  “Is that what you call it?”  He nodded to the other customers, milling around and murmuring to each other.  “Maybe we should ask them if you were ‘talking’.”

     “Wallace was angry.  That shouldn’t come as a shock to you.  Wallace Tate has been angry with me for six years.  He got a little loud.”     

     “What were you talking about?” Dobbs asked.

     Zoe’s nails dug into her palms.  “We were having a personal conversation.  It’s no one else’s business.”

     “You don’t think so?”  Dobbs moved so close she felt his breath on her face.  “You better lose the attitude, or I’ll toss your ass in a cell while we sort out what happened to Wallace.”  

     “Don’t think you can intimidate me, Chief.  It’s not going to work.  Better men than you have tried, starting with Wallace Tate.”  Instead of moving away from him, she held her ground.  She kept her gaze steady on him, concentrating on breathing evenly.  “You can’t arrest me because a man got sick in front of me.”

     “Wallace was angry and you had a fight.”  Dobbs’ mouth thinned.

     “I didn’t say that.”

     “He got in your face.  Did you shove him?  Is that why he fell down?”

     “Of course not!  I didn’t touch him.”  But she had, she remembered with a burst of fear.  She’d pushed his hand away. 

     Dobbs scanned the room.  “Lots of witnesses here.  Let’s see what they have to say.”  He pointed to a chair.  “Sit down.  And stay there.”

     “I’m not going to sit down.  You can’t keep me here.”

     The Chief of Police turned red.  “You’re a pain in the ass.   You know that, Zoe?”

     “I get that a lot,” Zoe said, refusing to look away from him.  “Mostly when men are trying to bully me to get at a woman in the shelter.”  She took a deep breath.  She knew better than to let Dobbs push her buttons. 

     “Chief, Will Cooper, the paramedic, has a question for you.”  Jamie Evans, the patrol officer who’d responded to the 911 call, stepped into the shop.  “He’s outside.”

     Dobbs hitched up his navy blue uniform pants, then turned and walked out the door.  As soon as he was gone, Zoe dropped onto one of the old-fashioned wooden chairs.  This wasn’t like six years ago, she told herself.  Tate wasn’t dead, and she hadn’t done anything.  There was nothing to worry about.

     Except that Wallace Tate was involved.  That changed everything.

     She pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket, watching Dobbs return to the shop and begin questioning the other customers.  When her attorney answered, she said, “Helen, I have a problem.  Wallace Tate collapsed while he was talking to me, and Dobbs is making noises about arresting me.”

     “What?”  Her attorney’s voice rose.  “You got into a fight with Tate?”

     “No!”  Zoe reached down and picked up the coffee cup she’d dropped earlier.  No one had mopped up the coffee.  “He came into Joe’s yelling at me, shook his finger in my face, then dropped to the floor.  That’s it.”

     “Don’t say a word, and don’t lose your temper,” Helen said sharply.

     “Too late.”  Zoe watched the paramedics loading Wallace into the ambulance.

     “Zoe, haven’t you learned…”  Helen bit off the words.  “Sorry.  Don’t say anything else.  If all you were doing is talking, Dobbs can’t arrest you.”

     “That wouldn’t stop him.  Wallace is on his way to the hospital and Dobbs is scared.  Who knows what he’ll do?”  Zoe swallowed.  “I need you here, Helen.”

     “I’m thirty minutes away in Green Bay, taking a deposition.”  Zoe heard her attorney shuffling papers.  “It’ll take me a couple of hours to finish up, but I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

     “Hurry, Helen.”  As she spoke, Dobbs swung away from a table and headed toward her, his face full of triumph.  “I’m getting a bad feeling here.”

     “I’ll call the office and see if anyone else is available.  Hang on, Zoe.  I won’t let you sit in a cell.”

     “Okay,” Zoe said, shuddering as she imagined the walls of a cell pressing in on her.

     “Stay calm, Zoe.”

     “I’ll try.”

     “Do better than try.  Don’t give Dobbs any more ammunition.”  Helen’s voice was grim as she hung up.

     Zoe closed the phone, took a deep breath and sat up straight as Dobbs reached her.

     His eyes gleamed with malicious delight.  “You said you didn’t touch Wallace,” he said.  “You want to rethink that statement?”

     “I didn’t push him down.”

     “That’s not the story I’m hearing.”  He jerked his head toward two women who’d gone to high school with Zoe.  They wouldn’t meet her eyes.  “Mary Ellen and Tina said you pushed him.”

     “They’re wrong,” Zoe said.  She tried to control the growing panic.

     “Witnesses say otherwise.”  He reached behind him and silver handcuffs flashed in the light.  “Zoe McInnes, you’re under arrest…”

     The scene with Wallace flashed in front of her again, and she swallowed.  “He was shaking his finger in my face and I pushed it away.  That’s all.”

     “That’s battery.  And you’re under arrest.  Turn around.”  He dangled the handcuffs in front of her.

     “Then you’re going to have to arrest Wallace, too.”

     “Don’t tell me my job, McInnes.”

     “Someone has to do it.  No judge will let you get away with this.”

     “Doesn’t matter.”  Dobbs leaned closer and lowered his voice.  “Maybe I can’t hold you for more than a few hours, but that’s enough to get your name in the paper.  ‘Zoe McInnes, head of Safe Harbor Women’s Shelter, arrested for battery’.  How’s that sound?  I think Wallace will like it.”

     Zoe stared at the police chief.  “I know you’re Wallace’s main butt kisser because you want him to give you a job at the college, but isn’t this going a little too far, even for you, Chief?  That shelter does a lot of good.  It’s where your police officers bring domestic violence victims.”

     “You should have thought of that before you hit Wallace.”

     Why did Helen have to be in Green Bay today of all days? Zoe thought frantically as Dobbs grabbed her shoulder.  He spun her around harder than necessary, and she stumbled.  As she caught herself on the wall, Dobbs yanked her other hand behind her back.

     “Chief?  What’s going on?”  Jamie Evans, his dark blond hair ruffled by the wind, looked from her to Dobbs.

     “What the hell does it look like?”  He slammed the handcuff on one of her wrists and pulled it tight.  The cold metal sent a chill through her.  “I’m arresting her for battery.  She shoved Wallace Tate and that’s why he fell.”

     “That’s not true,” Zoe said hotly.  “I did not push him down.”

     Jamie put his hand on Dobb’s arm.  “I know Wallace is a friend of yours,” he said.  “Why don’t you calm down?”

     “She’s mouthing off to me,” Dobbs said.”

     “I’m sure she is, but you can’t put her in handcuffs just because she’s giving you attitude,” Evans said.  He frowned at Zoe.  “And, you, stop with the attitude.”

     She and Jamie had been friends since third grade.  But she wasn’t going to meekly submit, even for him.  “Tell your boss to back off.”

     Jamie shifted so his body was between her and Dobbs.  “There were no marks on Wallace, Chief.  No sign that she did anything to him.  Maybe we should talk to the ER doc before this gets out of hand.”

     “You telling me how to do my job, Evans?” Dobbs said.  His low voice carried an unmistakable threat.

     “I’m trying to save you from yourself.”

     “I don’t need anybody saving me.  She’s going to cool her ass off in a cell for a while.”

     “Chief, her lawyer is Helen Cherney.  You know what kind of hell she can raise.  Are you sure you want to do this?”

     “Hell, yes, I’m sure.”  The chief glared at his subordinate.  “Cherney may have you buffaloed, but she doesn’t scare me.”

     “She should,” Evans muttered as he turned away.  Zoe glanced at Jamie.   He and Helen had been dancing around each other for months.  Apparently they hadn’t gotten any further than exchanging barbs.

     Dobbs yanked her other hand behind her back and secured it in the handcuffs.  He tightened them until they bit into her skin, then turned her around and marched her out the door.  She stared at the people watching with avid interest in the coffee shop.  She knew almost everyone.  Most of them suddenly became busy with their coffee cup or their newspaper.

     An hour later, she paced a holding cell in the Spruce Lake police station, her breath whistling in and out of her constricted throat.  Her skin was two sizes too small, and she wrapped her arms around herself to stop the shaking.  If she’d known she was going to end up in jail, she thought wildly, she’d have worn something warmer than the silk blouse and lightweight pants.

     The walls of the cell closed in more each time around, and she glanced at the clock on the wall again.  The second hand had barely moved.

     Where was Helen?  Or another attorney from her office?  It had been more than two hours.  She reached for her cell phone, then remembered they’d taken it away from her.  Along with her watch, her messenger bag, her necklace and her earrings.

     Slapping the metal bars with frustration, she sat down on the thin mattress of the bed and drew her legs up beneath her chin.  She closed her eyes to block out the too-bright lights and willed herself somewhere far away from Spruce Lake.

     The sound of a door opening made her raise her head.  A tall, dark-haired man stepped into the corridor.  He wore a suit and carried a briefcase.  Zoe jumped off the cot.

     “Thank goodness,” she said, hurrying over to him.  “Did you get this straightened out?  Were you able to talk some sense into Ray Dobbs?”  She rattled the bars.  “I need to get out of this cage.”

     One of the young police officers she barely knew stepped into the corridor behind the man and opened the cell door.  The man stepped inside, the police officer locked the door behind him and disappeared again.

     The attorney’s gaze moved slowly over her, from head to toe.  “You’re Zoe McInnes?”  His deep voice sounded almost accusing.

     “Of course I am.”  She swept her hand around the empty cell block.  “There’s no one else back here, is there?”

     “You want to tell me what happened with Wallace?”

     “I’ll tell you whatever you want.  Just get me out of here.”

     “Why would I want to do that?”

     Zoe stared at him.  “Because that’s your job!   Helen sent you over, didn’t she?”

     “Helen who?”

     Zoe’s stomach lurched.  “You’re not an attorney?”

     “I am, but I don’t know anyone named Helen.”

     Zoe drew in a deep breath, then looked at the man again.  He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him.  “Who are you?”

     He studied her for a moment longer.  Finally he said, “I’m Gideon Tate.  Wallace’s other son.”  His hand clenched on his briefcase.  “The one you didn’t kill.”

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