Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (Hannah Swensen #1)(78)

Danielle took another sip of her tea and then held the improvised ice pack back up to her cheek. “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you, Hannah?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Hannah promised, evading a direct answer. She certainly wouldn’t gossip about it, and that was really what Danielle had meant. “If you ever want to talk to anyone about it, I’m here. All you have to do is call me or jump in the car and come over. I’ve got a guest room and you can use it anytime you need to get away.”

“Thank you, Hannah.”

There would never be a better opportunity and Hannah seized it. “There’s something else, Danielle. If you want to press charges, I’ll help you.”

“No, I could never do that!”

It was the answer that Hannah had expected. She knew that most battered women mistakenly protected their abusers, at least until the problem got so severe that someone else noticed. Unless Danielle pressed charges, or someone actually saw Coach Watson hitting Danielle, there was nothing that the authorities could do. Hannah decided she’d give it one more try and then move on. “If you press charges, Boyd will get some help.”

“What kind of help?”

“Counseling, anger-management workshops, that sort of thing.” Hannah hoped the disdain she felt didn’t show in her voice or on her face. To her way of thinking, mandatory sessions with a counselor were merely a slap on the wrist for chronic abusers. Anyone who caused the physical damage that Coach Watson had meted out to Danielle should have to suffer the full consequences of the law.

“Boyd’s already getting counseling.”

“He is?” Hannah wanted to make a crack about what a poor counselor Boyd must have, but she didn’t.

“It’s really a lot better now. Boyd’s only hit me once since school started.”

“Counting today?” Hannah couldn’t resist asking.

“No, but he’s under a lot of pressure with his football team. They’ve lost three straight.”

So what does Boyd say to his team? Hannah wondered. If you boys don’t make those touchdowns, I’m going to go home and smack my wife?

“He’s always sorry, after. Really, he is. He actually broke down in tears when he saw what he did to my face. And then he went straight to the phone to put in an emergency call to his counselor. That’s where he is now. I didn’t want to tell you before, so I made up that excuse about football practice. Boyd drove all the way down to St. Paul because he felt so guilty.”

Hannah’s ears perked up. Boyd had rented the Compacts Unlimited car in St. Paul. “Does Boyd see a counselor in St. Paul?”

“He goes to The Holland Center,” Danielle pronounced the name with reverence. She looked as proud as anyone could with one black eye covered by a package of frozen peas. “It’s the best in the state and he sees Dr. Frederick Holland, the head counselor and founder. You’ve probably seen his name in the papers. He’s done some wonderful work with serial rapists.”

Nothing Hannah wanted to say seemed appropriate but it didn’t seem to matter. The dam had broken and Danielle wanted to talk.

“We almost got a divorce last spring. Boyd just couldn’t seem to control himself, and Dr. Holland thought we’d have to split up. But Boyd said he’d just try harder, and it’s worked.”

Hannah glanced at Danielle’s face again. If this was trying harder, she was glad she hadn’t seen the results of Boyd’s former abuses. Danielle was going to have a shiner the size of the Grand Canyon. “Isn’t that kind of therapy expensive?”

“Yes, but Boyd’s medical insurance covers eighty percent. It’s the one through the teachers’ union and they’re very good about that. Dr. Holland bills it as occupation-related stress counseling. It would be too embarrassing for Boyd otherwise.”

“I guess it would.” Hannah did her best to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. God forbid that the wife beater should be embarrassed!

“When you rang the doorbell, you said you wanted to talk to me. Is it about Ron’s murder again? Or what happened to Max Turner?”

Hannah assumed that Danielle wanted to change the subject, and that was fine with her. As a matter of fact, it was perfect. She needed to know more about Boyd’s rental car. “I’m just clearing up some loose ends. Has Boyd rented a car lately?”

“Yes.” Danielle looked surprised. “How did you know about that?”

Hannah thought fast. “You told me that you drove out to the casino in Boyd’s Jeep Cherokee and I just assumed that he rented a car for the trip.”

“But that’s not exactly what happened, Hannah. Boyd rode to Minneapolis with another coach, but when he decided to stay over to see Dr. Holland, he rented a compact for a day. He had an appointment on Wednesday morning and he couldn’t ask Maryann to drive him. Boyd doesn’t want her to know anything about his problem.”

“Of course not.” Hannah gave the appropriate response.

“It was an early appointment, seven in the morning,” Danielle went on. “That was the only time Dr. Holland could work him into his schedule. Boyd had to leave his mother’s house at six to get there on time.”

“Didn’t Maryann notice that he was gone when she got up?”