A Silent Terror (9 page)

He glanced at the gymnasium and thought he saw something move. Lights dotted the campus at night, lighting the walkways and streets, but there were still spots that remained dark, places someone could hide.

The movement caught his eye again, and he moved toward it, hand on the butt of his gun.

Marianna lay against the floor, not daring to move. Her fingers gripped the object her attacker had shoved into her hand before releasing her.

Slowly her senses returned, and she felt warm wetness flowing from the throbbing gash on her cheek, absentmindedly wondering if she’d need stitches.

Every muscle tense, she concentrated on the floor. About a minute earlier, she’d felt the person move away from her, fleeing feet pounding across the surface, the vibrations under her prone body growing fainter with each step.

Dare she pray it was over? How long should she stay there? Should she try to leave and get help?

A light flickered in front of her. The terror returned full force, and she scrunched down into a little ball, not wanting to move and take the chance on making noise that would draw attention to her.

The light passed over her. More running feet, headed in her direction. She scrambled to her feet, adrenaline flowing, anger surging. This time she’d fight back and with fists still knotted, tightly clenched. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her cheek, she tried to remember every self-defense move Joseph had taught her.

Then she was staring into Ethan O’Hara’s worried face as he turned the light on himself to show her who was there.

Her muscles wilted, pulling her back to the floor she’d just risen from, and she burst into tears.

Ethan had never felt such murderous rage as he did at that very moment. Not even toward the two teens who had drag raced in the high school parking lot, their irresponsible actions leading to his sister’s tragic death. Ashley’s death had been an unintentional act.

This, though, this attack on Marianna had premeditation written all over it. He sat on the floor beside the sobbing woman and gathered her into his arms. More beams of light entered through the door held open by the officers Ethan had called when he realized the lights in the gym didn’t work.

Campus security arrived and everyone began talking at once.

The young man in his mid-thirties who held the title of head of campus security, Kevin Manning, sat on his haunches, pushed his cap back on his head and asked, “She all right?”

Through gritted teeth, Ethan muttered, “Does she look all right?”

Kevin’s expression didn’t change although his eyes sharpened. He ignored Ethan’s question. I ll need her to tell us what happened just as soon as she gets it together.”

Ethan thought about putting his fist together with the man’s nose, but reined in the impulse. The guy was just doing his job. He had the safety of all the residential students and staff on his shoulders. Of course he would need information as soon as possible.

Marianna pulled away from him, and his arms immediately missed her slight form. Using the heel of her palms to swipe the tears from her face, she squared her jaw and looked at him. He flinched when he saw the gash on her cheek, the blood on her face, smeared and still seeping. He made sure his face stayed illuminated by one of the flashlights. She said, “I want this person caught.”

“Do you remember anything about him? Did you see him?”

“No, it was pitch-black. But I felt him.” She shuddered and the tremble went straight to his heart. Then he felt guilty. Once again, someone he cared about had been hurt. If only he’d come to check on her earlier; if only…

His fault…his fault…

Shrugging those memories aside, he told himself to focus. “Did you notice anything about him? Did he have on a mask? Come on, Marianna, give me something to work with.”

Overhead lights came on, slowly brightening in intensity as they warmed up. Flashlights flicked off, and Ethan finally got a full look at her face, noticing the gash on her cheek looked worse in the glaring brightness.

“We need to get you to a doctor to check that out.” He reached out a hand as though to touch it, and she flinched away from him. His hand dropped.

“He…pushed me into the bleacher and…”

Ethan pulled out a clean handkerchief and pressed it to the wound. “I think it’s slowing down, but you may need a stitch.” He backed up a bit and turned to see paramedics coming through.

Ethan glanced at Kevin, who shrugged. “Didn’t figure it would hurt anything to call them.”

Respect for the man went up a notch. “Good move. Thanks.”

Marianna fought the idea of going to the hospital. “Just put a butterfly bandage on it and it’ll be fine.”

One of the paramedics said, “If you insist, but you still might want to have a doctor look at it. It may need a stitch or two. If you don’t get it taken care of, you might end up with a scar.”

She nodded and Ethan vowed to see she took care of it.

Finally, after all the commotion calmed down, the statements had been taken and the gym closed off so crime scene staff could do their job, Ethan said to Marianna, “I’ll give you a ride to your parents’ house.”

“That’s all right. I have my car.”

“Then I’m following you home.”

At first he thought she would protest; then she gave a weary nod and headed for the exit.

Before she could place her hand on the door, it burst open and a young teenage boy exploded through. Spotting Marianna, he broke into a flurry of signs. Her face paled and she looked at Ethan. “Did you understand what he said? Someone vandalized my car!”

Grim, jaw tight, he nodded. “Let me call the police back.”

“Why would someone do this? What did I do? Who hates me so much? What is going on?”

Stunned, Marianna could only stare in disbelief. Every window in the little red Honda gaped as if it, too, were shocked at the violence perpetrated on it. Glass lay shattered on the ground around the perimeter of the vehicle. Sickness swirled in her stomach. The glass was on the outside. Someone had kicked the windows out…from the inside.

“Seems to me trouble keeps following you, little lady.”

Marianna read the policeman’s words, her brain on autopilot as it took in the shapes formed by his lips. Her hearing aids picked up some of the sounds and she processed his sentence.

“No kidding,” she muttered.

Grateful for Ethan’s supporting arm around her shoulders, she leaned into his embrace. It appeared that was going to be his job tonight, holding her upright.

The officer spoke again. “We’ll let the investigative team haul the car down to the lab, since you’re concerned this may be in connection with that other woman’s murder.”

Weariness like nothing she’d ever felt before made her light-headed. She must have sagged slightly, because Ethan’s arm tightened. He turned her to face him and said, “We need to get you home. There’s nothing more you can do here.”

With a grateful heart, she allowed him to lead her toward his car, then stopped abruptly when she remembered the paper.

“Oh, no!”

Ethan looked alarmed. “What? Are you okay?”

“No! He shoved something in my hand. What did I do with it?” She opened both hands, palms up, and there it was, still in her right hand crunched and crushed into a flat mess. Her fists had been clenched the entire time, she realized, even when she’d used the heel of her palms to wipe her tears and the blood from her face. Dried, dark streaks still stained her skin.

He sucked in a deep breath. “Hold on. Just…don’t do anything with it yet.” Turning, he hollered over his shoulder. “Hey, Henry, you got a pair of gloves and a plastic bag on you?”

Henry hurried over, a frown on his slightly pudgy face, which hadn’t seen a razor in a while. “Of course I do, I’m working a crime scene,” he said, holding the items out. “Why?”

Ethan took the gloves and pulled them on. To Henry he said, “Hold that open, okay?”

Still frowning, the man complied. With one gloved hand, Ethan reached for the paper in Marianna’s shaking hand. Gripping it with the edge of thumb and forefinger, he held it and, with his other hand, unfolded it.

Marianna looked over his shoulder and tried to see what it said, but it was too dark. Ethan moved about ten yards to his right and held it up to the light. She watched his lips as he read aloud, “Keep your mouth shut, or else.”

Exhausted, worried, frustrated by the lack of progress on the case, Ethan had fallen into bed after making sure Marianna was safely ensconced in her family’ s care. Her mother had seen Marianna’s cheek and immediately ushered her off to examine the wound. Now, he lay sleepless once again, staring at the ceiling. Slowly, his body relaxed and he drifted.

The bright sun pounded the asphalt, sending heat waves radiating over anyone brave enough to expose himself to it. May wasn’t supposed to be this hot, he remembered thinking.

Then he was in the huge, almost deserted parking lot, waiting for Ashley. Somewhere in his sleep-fogged brain, he knew he was dreaming, yet hope remained that this time the ending would be

different.

As he watched his Camaro pull under the lone tree providing the only shade in the entire parking lot, he told himself to park in a different spot. Suddenly, he was behind the wheel, watching, still waiting, clueless. He told himself to crank the car and drive of, move, park anywhere but there.

Instead, he just sat there.

The familiar blue hatchback pulled in and parked about forty yards away. The occupants couldn’t see him positioned as he was behind the tree.

Drive over there! he tried to order himself.

His dream self didn’t hear.

Now, the events started clicking, one after the other, only now he was a spectator watching a movie. One he’d seen before and didn’t like, didn’t want to watch again, not if he couldn’t rewrite the ending.

Ashley stepped from the car and looked around. Two other girls clambered from the backseat. One headed for the building; the other walked backward, signing, talking to Ashley. Ashley finally spotted him under the tree.

She waved to him and he waved back. She turned to say goodbye to her friend.

Engines revved.

The sound caught his attention because it seemed close.

But he kept his eyes on his sister, still walking backward, talking, signing, laughing. Grabbing a few last words.

Tires screeched as the black, low-slung Mustang hurled into the parking lot through the open gate. Its white twin followed seconds behind.

The dream seemed to slow, the camera panning back and forth between him and Ashley and the racing cars. Back to Ashley.

Laughing, waving, long hair swinging around her face as she turned to run toward Ethan.

Fresh horror, remembered agony of what was to come screamed at him.

Ashley! Stop!

Still laughing, running toward her rock, the one person she could count on. Her stability in a silent world.

No! Look out! The words echoed in his mind even as he saw himself screaming at her, his shout falling on her deaf ears, sliding away.

Desperately, he tried to wake up.

Screeching tires, burning rubber.

The thud.

Ashley!

He ran to her, grabbed her, looked into her face. But it wasn’t Ashley this time. Marianna’s features mocked him, her eyes fixed on his but empty of the vibrant life that so defined her.

Terror and grief had him screaming out his denial. Once again, he’d failed. It was his fault…his fault….

Gasping, he sat up in bed, panting, his chest aching, the tears falling, great heaving sobs escaping. And he let them. Even after three years, the dream made the loss fresh, brought back the crushing pain of Ashley’ s death…and the guilt that plagued him.

If only…

Only this time, he’d failed Marianna, too.

He rolled off the bed, knelt on the floor, ignored the sweat dripping from his brow and leaned his head against the mattress.

Father, please, help me keep my focus on You. I know You don’t blame me for what happened to Ashley, but no matter what I do, I can’t forgive myself I also know I’ve been a little slack in coming to You with my problems lately. For that I’m sorry. Forgive me, God.

Help me deal with what’s going on in my crazy head and mixed-up job. And Marianna…God, that’s a tough call. I’m not even sure what to pray here, except to ask that You watch over her. And please don’t ask that I be the tool You use to do it. I failed Ashley, God. I failed that poor woman who died on my watch….I can’t go through that again….Please don’t ask me to.

He didn’t bother adding an Amen to the end of his prayer. He had a feeling the conversation was far from over. The clock read five fifteen. Should he call Mac, the man who’d gotten him through the worst time of his life and kept him from destroying himself and his career? Mac was overseas, working as a missionary now.

Ethan wondered what time zone Mac was in, then sighed. No, no sense in both of them being awake. No need to bother Mac when he couldn’t do anything but worry about Ethan. It would drive the man nuts knowing that Ethan might need his help and be unable to provide it. No, he’d have to deal with this one on his own.

Unfortunately, there’d be no more sleep tonight; might as well work on the case…cases. Suzanne’s murder, Marianna’s attack, the car vandalism, everything. Somehow, when he connected all the dots, he was going to come up with the big picture of how all these separate incidents were related.

Before Ethan had gone to bed last night, he’d called and filled Catelyn in on the night’s events. Her comment had been, “How is it I’m never with you when all this stuff keeps happening?”

“Because it keeps happening after we’re off the clock.”

“So, why do you keep clocking back in?” Her voice had been low, knowing. She’d always been good at reading people.

“Lay off, Cate, she needs help.”

“Hey, I’m not fussing.”

His mind’s eye pictured her pointing a linger at his nose as she said, “But you’d better call if you find yourself in trouble. I don’t care what time it is, on the clock, off the clock, whatever. You hear me?”