“This is a Parsons table right?,” the officer asked.
“Huh?”
“The table; it’s a Parsons. My wife and I had one just like it.”
He looked around the gourmet kitchen. There wasn’t a thing missing, down to the matching stainless steel appliances. Officer Brunson couldn’t help but think that despite popular opinion, it wasn’t just those below the poverty line that were victims of the worst kind of abuse. He was sure that Damita was one of those women who believed the fairytale before it turned into horror.
Damita looked at the officer quizzically.
“You had some questions you wanted to ask me?” she asked.
“Mrs. Westman, can you please tell me what actually happened to your eye?”
“It was . . . There was . . . nothing. Nothing happened.”
He shook his head in dismay. “Mrs. Westman, he will not stop. Whatever happened here will continue and it will get worse, much worse, unless you stop it here and now. I can escort him out of here this morning. All you have to do is say the word.”
“But nothing happened. I’m not lying. Really, I’m not.”
He stared at her, realizing that it was a lost cause. She was too afraid to tell the truth so he could handle the situation properly.
• • •
Once Officer Brunson and Damita were finished talking, they joined Officer Blackwell and Neal in the living room. Eager to push Neal’s buttons, Officer Brunson touched Damita’s back as they entered the room. It was a simple gesture, akin to holding a door for someone, but Officer Brunson understood men like Neal. He was hoping it would be enough to fuel his possessive nature and cause him to strike out without thinking. As soon as he did, he would lock Neal up for as long as he could hold him.
Neal gave the officer a sidelong glance as he gritted his teeth.
Damita and Neal escorted the officers to the door. Before they left Officer Brunson addressed Neal. “My man, do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?”
Neil smirked. “Of course I don’t mind.”
Officer Brunson led Neal to the hallway, stopped, and held him in the grips of an unmistakably menacing stare.
“Is there a problem?” Neal finally asked.
“There most certainly is. Since I’ve been on the job, I’ve encountered what most people would consider the dregs of society; drug dealers, addicts, prostitutes, even pedophiles. Now, for most people, pedophiles are the worst. No self-respecting, decent human being can stomach a baby raper. But, I can think of something just as bad. It’s men like you that I can’t stomach; men who go about their daily routines, presenting this impeccable image to the world and then go home and beat their defenseless wives. I can’t stand a bully or a coward, and any man who beats his wife is a bully and a coward, plain and simple.”
“Now wait a minute!”
“Don’t you dare disrespect my intelligence by lying; we all know what happened here. You’re too good at being a bully for your wife to admit it; at least not yet. But let me tell you something. If I have to come back here again, it won’t matter what your wife will or will not admit to.”
Brunson glared at Neal and considered what repercussions he would suffer if he knocked the shit out of him. Instead of doing something he couldn’t take back, he hit the wall where Neal was standing. He positioned his face inches away from Neal’s.
“The next time I come back it won’t be just the wall I hit. You understand me, you punk?”
“What I understand is that maybe you should lay off those sugary donuts, officer. Something seems to have you all wound up,” Neal responded, toying with the officer.
Officer Brunson joined his partner at the door while Neal remained in the hall trying to maintain his composure. Before he left, he discreetly slipped Damita a card.
“Call me when you decide you’ve had enough.”
Damita looked at the officer and he knew it was fear he saw in her eyes. He had seen the look so many times before.
Once the door was closed, Officer Brunson shook his head and hoped she wouldn’t suffer the same fate his mother had when he was a boy. His aunt and uncle raised him and from the moment he decided to become a cop they were both convinced it was because of the trauma he suffered as the result of his mother being killed and his father going to prison for her murder. As he stood outside the door of yet another victim he was dispatched to save, he realized he became a police officer in order to be a voice for those incapable or unwilling to speak for themselves. When he was a kid watching his mother walk around the house on eggshells, fearful of upsetting his father, he often wondered why no one ever tried to save them. As an officer he was continually confronted with the reality of why. You could do your very best to save someone, but in the end the person has to want to be saved.