A Silent Terror (2 page)

Ethan waited while Marianna sent a text message to her parents that she would be coming to stay for a couple of nights. He was glad texting was such an in thing these days, since it made communication so much easier for the deaf. His sister would have loved the technology. Instead of dwelling on the past, however, he focused on what the crime scene investigator was saying.

“The medical examiner ruled out suicide. Ms. Miller was killed when she cracked her head on the corner of the bedside table. Blunt force trauma, if you want the official term. The M.E. said she’d do an autopsy to be sure, but she doubted she’d find anything else.”

“I’ll talk to her later. Thanks for the help and let me know if you find anything else, will you?”

“You bet, Ethan.”

Marianna walked toward him, her beauty not one bit diminished by her puffy eyes, red nose and blotchy cheeks. The grief stamped on her face pierced him. Why was it always the good ones? The ones who didn’t deserve to have their lives shattered this way? Not that anyone deserved to come face-to-face with murder, but…

Melancholy thoughts would haunt his after-hours work tonight. He smirked at that thought. What after-hours? As a homicide detective, he lived his job twenty-four/ seven. Maybe if he had a family, someone to go home to at night, he’d make more of an effort to work less and spend time at home.

He smiled at her and noted the well-trained Twister at her side. Ethan commented, “He reminds me of the dogs on the K-9 squad.”

Tilting her head, she grinned. His heart slammed against his chest, and his breath whooshed from suddenly constricted lungs. Wow.

Twin dimples flashed at him as her eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Twister is a special dog, specially trained to be my ears. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Then the dimples disappeared, the brief moment of levity gone. It shocked him to realize how much he wanted her to smile again. “Do you need a ride to your parents’ house?”

“No, but thank you. My brother, Joseph, is on the way to pick me up. He’s home, visiting. My mother let him know I needed a ride, but she didn’t tell him why.” Her hands clasped in front of her, she kept her eyes on his face. She looked lost, shell-shocked.

The urge to gather her in his arms singed him. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Why didn’t she tell him?”

Well-shaped shoulders lifted in a shrug. “A lot of reasons. The main one being the safety of the other drivers on the road between her house and mine.”

“Right. Okay, well, there’s nothing else we can do here.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, felt a tremble run through her.

Don’t do something dumb, O’Hara, like hug her.

He pulled her to him for a brief moment, patted her back, then stepped back. The surprise on her face matched the disbelief he felt.

He’d hugged her. Now why did he go and do that? What was it about her that had him tossing his professional detachment to the wind?

She offered him a small smile filled with gratitude.

Swallowing his rampant thoughts and emotions, he realized he’d only just met the woman and was getting in deep, reacting with his heart, instead of his head. Clearing his throat, he said, “Hey, it’ll be all right. Everything will work out, okay?”

Unblinking identical vats of chocolate stared up at him.

Her eyes made him think of Hershey’s – and kisses…and not necessarily the candy kind. She asked, “Will I see you again?”

“Oh, yeah, I think that’s definitely going to happen.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken the words aloud until he watched the flush rise from her neck to her cheeks.

Oops.

Catelyn stomped the mud off her shoes, diverting his attention from the woman in front of him. When he looked to the door, Marianna did likewise.

His partner said, “I’ve questioned all the neighbors I could find.” Her lips twisted in disgust. “Nobody saw anything. Her next-door neighbor was home from work with the flu. Said he heard a crashing sound sometime this morning but felt too bad to get up to see what it was.”

Ethan’s eyes sharpened, “Probably that trash can that was overturned. Check that out to make sure he didn’t dump anything.”

A car turned into the drive. He turned back to Marianna. “I think your ride has arrived.”

Marianna winced. “You mean trouble has arrived.”

How was she supposed to go back to a normal life? Marianna had taken off yesterday and the day before, calling in sick and staying at her parents’ house, she and Twister fortunate enough to be wrapped up in her mother’s love and concern. Now it was Friday morning and she was on her way to the school. According to Suzanne’s mother, the autopsy had been finished and her funeral was tomorrow.

But, first, Marianna had to make it through today. She’d chosen to go to work instead of sitting around thinking about the brutal loss of her friend, so she was expected to teach without falling apart. But how? My strength is in You, Lord. Please get me through this day.

The day of the murder, Joseph, her eldest brother, had picked up her and Twister up from her small house and taken them to her childhood home, drilling her like a dentist for the entire ten-minute drive. When she’d said trouble had arrived, she should have said the Spanish Inquisition had been revived.

She chalked it up to his being an FBI agent and the boredom of vacationing having set in. And the fact that someone had just killed his baby sister’s roommate. Concern came naturally for him, overprotectiveness his first instinct. One of the reasons her mother hadn’t told him about the murder when she’d ask him to pick her up.

Joseph could handle just about any situation with a coolheaded professionalism except when it came to his baby sister.

It drove her nuts.

Throughout her entire childhood and most of her adult years she had fought to prove she could take care of herself and to get her family to stop hovering simply because she was deaf. She was just glad Joseph had agreed to go get her car yesterday afternoon. Being stuck without transportation made her feel trapped, like a bird with clipped wings.

She’d snuck out this morning, avoiding her mother’s delicious-smelling breakfast. When she’d considered eating, her stomach had lurched in protest. The only thing she’d been able to force down yesterday had been soup and some fruit.

As the school building came into view, she glanced across the street at the entrance to her neighborhood. Would it hurt to drive by? Just to see? A quick glance at the clock told her she’d be late if she did.

Resisting the urge to spin the wheel to the right, she entered the campus. Waving to the guard at the entrance, she made her way down the road, cut a right into the first parking lot she came to and Whipped into an empty spot.

The building where she taught sat up on a hill. A big hill. Unfortunately, some brilliant architect had designed the nice building but neglected to add a parking area anywhere near it. Hence the lower-level parking and the breath-stealing hike to her classroom.

At least she got her exercise every day. Grabbing her ever-present backpack from the passenger seat of her car, she slammed the door and began the ascent. Other staff members were in the process of arriving and several waved.

“Marianna!”

She turned at the sound of her name. Julie had obviously been calling it a few times as the woman rushed up to her, panting, bending over to catch her breath. “I keep forgetting you can’t hear people yelling at you.”

Marianna laughed for the first time since Suzanne’s death. Julie Thomas, friend and fellow teacher, could always be counted on to produce a smile. “Nope. You just have to hit the right pitch. How long have you been calling me?”

Julie shot her a dark look. “Long enough.” A frown knitted her blond eyebrows together. Sucking in a deep breath, she said, “Okay, I can finally breathe again.”

She waved toward the hill they still had to climb. Fortunately, some bright soul had taken pity on the Green Hall staff and had built steps into the side of the hill. Marianna headed for them, watching Julie’s lips and listening intently as her friend asked, “Are you all right? I mean, I can’t believe someone broke into your house and killed Suzanne. It’s just…”

“Insane?” Marianna asked quietly.

“Yes. That’s the only word for it.” Thankfully, while Julie had her funny side, she could be serious when the time called for it. Marianna felt Julie’s hand on her arm. She stopped walking and looked around into her friend’s green eyes, which held a sheen of compassion-induced tears. “Truly, are you all right?”

Sighing, Marianna leaned over to give the concerned woman a hug. “No, I’m not all right yet, but with God’s help and by finding Suzanne’s killer, I will be,” she whispered. “I have to be.”

They finished the walk to the two-story building in silence. Julie went to the bottom floor, which contained the middle school.

Marianna went upstairs to the multi-handicapped school. The middle school students were on an academic track that would prepare them for college. The students in the multi-handicapped school were on the occupational track. They would find themselves with a job suited to their needs and live either with family or in a group home.

And while their IQs might not be the highest, they still had a great love for socialization. In fact, most of her students were just like any other teenagers, discussing the current television programs and the newest dance, and using the latest technology to communicate with each other. The school was a great place and Marianna loved it.

She greeted the secretary with a smile. “Hi, Jean.”

“Oh, you poor girl.” All live feet two inches of Jean Witherspoon ejected from behind her desk, and she rushed over to give Marianna a maternal hug. “What on earth happened? Has there been any word on who…well, any more developments?”

No one wanted to say the word killed or murdered. Marianna certainly didn’t want to either read the words on peoples’ lips or hear them with the help of her hearing aids. No, she’d rather avoid both words.

She shook her head. “No, nothing. I’m hoping to hear something soon.”

“Are you going to be okay? Do you think you can concentrate today?”

Leave it to Jean to cut to the heart of the matter. “No, probably not, but I’m going to give it my best shot.”

A pat on her arm pulled her attention to the boy standing next to her. Actually, the word boy wasn’t exactly accurate for this student, Josh Luck, who was six feet four inches tall and would normally be called a man if it weren’t for the fact that he had the mental capacity of about a five-year-old. At twenty-one years old, he would “age out” and graduate in five months. His handicapping label also read “autistic,” but he had a mild form of it, because he enjoyed hugs and physical touch.

And he loved to bring her gifts. Specific gifts.

Just about every day Josh would bring her some new computer piece from his seemingly endless supply. She’d talked to his father about it and the man just laughed it off, told her to throw them out or whatever. Josh had so many computers and parts at home that there was no way to keep up with it all. If the boy wanted to give her something, he obviously didn’t think he’d need it. But each week she would send the parts home…just in case.

Josh was also known as a savant. He knew how to take apart a computer down to the last screw and put it back together almost with his eyes closed.

He was going to have a great career in computer repair…with a little help from the school-to-work transition team.

Marianna said, “See you later, Jean. I need to see what Josh’s brought me today.”

She led Josh down the hall to the third classroom on the right. He followed her and tapped her shoulder again. Marianna shook off her coat and hung it in the closet. Josh waited patiently.

Then she turned and held out her hand, palm up.

Josh placed a computer piece in the center of it, then clomped off to sit in his specially designed desk. His lumbering, bulky frame had decimated several regular student desks before the maintenance department workers finally took it upon themselves to build him an indestructible one. So far, so good.

Several more students made their way into the classroom, stopping for their morning hug and encouraging word.

The single wooden door to her classroom suddenly seemed to morph into a revolving one. One by one, other teachers and staff stopped by to express concern and condolences. Marianna kept a smile on her face and the tears at bay by sheer willpower.

It wasn’t until she placed her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk that she realized something seemed…off. She turned to her assistant, Dawn Price, and said, “Did you move things around on my desk?”

Forty-five years old and a veteran assistant, Dawn looked up from where she’d been asking a student about his morning. “No, why?” Marianna looked at the small potted plant that normally sat on the back corner of her desk. It had been moved up closer to the edge above the drawer. Her stapler was on the left side instead of the right.

Several papers she’d stacked neatly looked as if they’ d been rifled through.

She shook her head. “Things just aren’t where I left them.” She shrugged. “Maybe the cleaning crew had to move my desk and things got shifted.”

Soon, a student had her attention and she focused on getting through the morning.

Praying the day would end soon, she did her best to concentrate on the students, pouring as much as she could into their eager minds.

Ethan threw the pen down on the report and rested his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong, partner?” Catelyn asked as she found a perch on the side of his desk.

“This case,” he mumbled into his palm.

“Yeah.” Confusion colored her voice. “I don’t understand the complete lack of evidence.”

He snorted and looked up. “We’ve got evidence, such as the shoe print, it just isn’t leading us anywhere. The fact that there were no viable fingerprints leaves us cold. Not even a stray hair. I don’t get it. Suzanne put up a struggle – didn’t she? The room was torn apart.”

“There’s no indication she fought back.” Catelyn dropped a sheaf of papers on his desk. “The M.E.’s report. Nothing under her fingernails, nothing on her clothing.”