Encountering Evil: Dark Horse Guardians Book Two Read Online Free PDF Page A

don't know where to begin with this…I suspect there is child abuse taking place next door to one of my renovation projects. Well, actually I know it is taking place, there are witnesses." Bettencourt always listened attentively to Lara, but at this moment his face took on an expression that was all business. "Exactly where and who, give me the details."
    He took notes as Lara ran through what she knew and told him what she had heard on more than one occasion, blood curdling screams from what sounded like a young woman. Bettencourt promised he'd look into it without being obvious. He also said he'd talk to Ralph Perkins to get a report for the record. For now this satisfied her and she touched his arm lightly, "Thanks, Bett." She got out of the cruiser and into her Fiat and drove in the general direction of Falmouth Foreside and Eliot Stone's property to check on the massive renovation of his Tudor mansion. As she drove Lara contemplated what Randall Bettencourt might do to save the young woman from the abuse she was suffering at the hands of her own father. She felt certain she had done the right thing telling Bettencourt. If anyone could get to the bottom of something terrible, she felt he could.
     
    ~ Bettencourt ~
    As he watched Lara drive away, Randall Bettencourt ran his hand over his short brunette haircut and put his hat and sunglasses back on. Having been in Iraq and Afghanistan, he was all too familiar with how men treated women in that part of the world, thus he was not too surprised when Lara recounted the details of the suspected abuse. He would check it out, but there probably wasn't much he could do about it. He wanted to tell Lara that straight up, but when he looked into her young animated face and listened to her idealistic words, he didn't want to dash her hopes. Not just yet. She looked up to him and he had to admit he wished he had the high ideals she assumed he had.
    Bettencourt respected Lara and had forged a strong friendship with her over the past months. It had been such a long time since he had any type of relationship with a woman. Sure, there were late nights out with the guys and plenty of catch and release action with the chicks that were bold enough to send him a drink at the bar, but there wasn't a relationship . For a moment he felt himself sinking into the self-pity he so despised in others. He hadn't been the same since he received the Dear John letter from Elizabeth while he was in Iraq. He pushed those feelings aside now, not wanting to experience the sting it could produce. He blamed himself for the break-up, but in reality it was impossible to maintain a relationship while in the teams working as a frogman.
    What hurt the most was the guy who stole Elizabeth away from him was his best friend from high school, Eddie Knowles. This was a guy he grew up with and held in high esteem. As young boys the two caught tadpoles in pickle jars, built army forts out of railroad ties, went fly fishing, and in high school played football. And, it had to be Eddie that ended up with Elizabeth. It was as if his heart was broken twice.
    Even though Bettencourt fantasized about beating Eddie to a pulp when he returned from his tour of duty, once he got home he realized how futile that would be. Elizabeth and Eddie had moved to a town sixty miles to the north, Augusta Maine, the capitol city. Eddie was a member of the Maine legislature and ran a small restaurant. Elizabeth was a school teacher now. They had moved on with their lives leaving him in the wake. Bettencourt knew he had to take steps to move on with his life. But it was difficult when he felt like he still had a knife plunged into his heart. One night in a drunken stupor, he threw away all of the photographs of Elizabeth. He had come to the conclusion that photographs of him with Elizabeth served as reminders of the loss and made the knife twist a little more when he looked at them.
    Bettencourt was fond of Lara and considered her a good friend.