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The wordclosedseemed to have no meaning in Safehaven.

No sooner had Clark departed in a cloud of ostentatious aftershave and depression than the front door opened and Ruthanne Wolf called, “Andy? You in here?”

“In the stockroom,” Andy called back. He was loading a box with deliveries for four customers who had left messages on the shop’s answering machine.

Ruthanne appeared in the stockroom doorway. Snowflakes festively dotted the shoulders of her black uniform jacket, and her cheeks were pink with the cold.

“How’s Cutty?”

“No change.”

Her gaze was sympathetic. “The old guy’s a fighter. He’ll pull through. You’ll see.”

Andy nodded, not trusting his voice.

Ruthanne briskly moved on to her real reason for dropping by. “I heard you had some excitement here last night.”

Andy set a protectively wrapped set of Hall Silhouette nesting bowls destined for Miriam Labelle in the box. “It’s been an action-packed visit, that’s for sure.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to press charges?” Ruthanne’s brown gaze was troubled, which meant she’d likely heard the whole sordid story from Chief Millard. Only to be expected, but still embarrassing.

He said apologetically, “I think filing charges might make things worse. I’m going to start by getting a restraining order.”

“I understand your hesitation. The thing is, if you file charges, it helps establish a pattern of abuse that could be useful later on.”

“I realize that. But.”

But he knew Marcus, and he knew that Marcus would not be in jail long on a breaking and entering charge that would probably be reduced to a misdemeanor trespassing. And when he got out, he would be that much angrier and more self-righteous. And vindictive.

Nobody did vindictive better than Marcus.

“I know it can be difficult for men to admit they’re the victim of domestic violence. There’s no shame. It can happen to anyone in both heterosexual and same-sex relationships, irregardless of age, race, education, or economic standing. Statistics indicate one in every three victims of domestic violence is male.”

“I know. I really do know all this.”

Ruthanne wasn’t about to give up that easily. “It doesn’t make you weak or any less of a man to admit you need help. If you’re afraid you won’t be believed by the authorities, or that your abuse will be minimized because you’re male, or that the resources aren’t there to provide the aid you need, I assure you it’s not the case.”

“And I assureyouthat’s not what’s going on here.”

“One of the most common excuses men give for not taking action against their abuser is the fear their partner will take revenge. But the abuse won’t stop.” She pointedly studied the bruises on his face. “Andy, I’ve been a cop a long time. I know a battered spouse when I see one.”

“Okay, Ruthanne, listen,” Andy interrupted. “I understand. And I appreciate every single thing you’ve said. Truly.” He touched his brow bone. “This was a first and last time. I’ve already left Marcus. I’m not staying in the relationship, and I’m not going to put up with further abuse. Iwillfile charges if and when I have to, but if and when I have to, itwillescalate things. I know him, and I also know how thesystem works, how…cumbersome it is. As does Marcus because he was a police officer.”

Ruthanne looked startled. “Bok’s a cop?”

“He was. He was fired from Philly PD. But when he was still working in law enforcement, I heard more than once about a victim of domestic abuse who wound up dead because the system failed them.”

Ruthanne winced. “That can happen, yes, but in some ways a small-town force has leeway a big-city department doesn’t.”

“That could be true, but you’ve also got limited resources. And what happens when I leave Safehaven? I’m only here until Uncle C. is back on his feet or…” Andy swallowed. “So then what?”

Ruthanne’s gaze wavered. She sighed. “It’s complicated. I do know that. Will you at least promise me that if Bok—”

“Yes.I’m not kidding myself about anything. If Marcus comes back, if he continues to harass me, if he violates the restraining order once it’s in place, I’ll absolutely file charges. Sooner or later, it’s going to come to that, I know. But the longer I can postpone supersizing the threat, the better.”

“All right.” Ruthanne said a little wearily, “I hear you, kiddo.”

Kiddo? Andy was thirty-two. And for the record, Ruthanne had never beenhisbabysitter. Still, she genuinely cared. He appreciated her kindness.