Package Deal (68 page)

“Is sh
e
still
having nightmar
e
s?”
He
brush
ed her
cheeks
with his
thumbs
.

“Not for a
whil
e
. Th
e
day
,
that night
, after
E
van put his hands on h
e
r should
e
rs, sh
e
wouldn’t sl
ee
p in h
e
r own b
e
d
—insist
e
d
on
snuggling with m
e
, even after I told her she couldn’t let Skipper onto my bed
.
Th
e
n
e
xt day sh
e
told m
e
sh
e
didn’t lik
e
f
ee
ling
that
sh
e
couldn’t g
e
t
away from
him
.
I told h
e
r h
e
was
just
trying to b
e
fri
e
ndly and didn’t know his own str
e
ngth. Sh
e
s
ee
m
e
d
to acc
e
pt that. By th
e
n
e
xt day, sh
e
acte
d
like she’
d forgotten
all about it.”

“Has h
e
tri
e
d
anything sinc
e
the
n?
”
He nibbled her earlobe.
“
His offic
e
is just down th
e
hall from yours.”
His lips
grazed her cheek, then her lips,
once, twice
.

“No. I mad
e
it v
e
ry cl
e
ar h
e
was n
e
v
e
r to touch h
e
r and not to com
e
into my offic
e
if sh
e
was th
e
r
e
alon
e
. And,
Beatrice
is good about inviting C
e
c
e
to stay with h
e
r if sh
e
com
e
s ov
e
r wh
e
n I’m still in class.
Cece
lov
e
s to watch h
e
r
using
that big
printer in her office
.”

“I’m glad that’s working out.” H
e
deepened his kiss and she responded with a tiny catch of her breath
.
“I miss not b
e
ing abl
e
to do th
is
. I want to kiss you
e
v
e
ry day,
e
v
e
ry hour of th
e
day, all night long,
”
he murmured.

“Marcus, w
e
b
e
tt
e
r not or you know wh
e
r
e
it will l
e
ad.”

“That’s
e
xactly why I’m doing it, hon
.
”
H
e grinned.

Sh
e
r
e
ach
e
d
ov
e
r and turn
e
d
out th
e
light b
e
for
e
pulling him toward h
e
r. Sh
e
b
e
gan to unbutton his shirt,
on
e
button at a tim
e
, her pulse climbing each time he kissed her
. “Will you stay
with m
e
tonight?”

“I
f you want m
e
to.”

“I do.” Th
e
y walk
e
d
up th
e
stairs tog
e
th
e
r
. She smiled at the
irony of h
e
r r
e
spons
e
.

Chapter 1
8

Amanda entered t
he office
, so
quiet
on
a
Saturday
afternoon
. No one else had come in
to work
over
the
Columbus
Day
holiday
.
M
ost
student
s
were enjoying
the three-day weekend, and several departments were
holding
faculty retreats off campus.
She glanced at her calendar
…
a year since
the big
October
storm
when
Marcus had
sheltered
her and Cecelia
at
his house
. She sighed. So much had happened since then.

She
stacked the papers on her desk, eager to organi
ze what had become a jumble of to-do
lists and half-finished magazine articles. She had
a bit more than
four
hours to create order out of the chaos
on her desk
,
four
hours of quiet time before Sam’s mother brought Cecelia back
after
lunch and their
extra
soccer practice
th
at
afternoon
.
The message light on her phone
was blinking. She picked it up,
dialed in,
and
beam
ed when she heard
Marcus’
s
voice.

“I just got some good news. Give me a call
at my office
when you
have a minute
.”

She returned the call,
but he didn’t pick up
. He was probably talking with
Troy about that class they were doing
,
or maybe his brother
. T
alk
ing
Husker
football, perhaps?

She sat back for a moment
, her chair squeaking in protest
.
I’ll ask him to come over for dinner
tonight
.
So
they could
talk to Cecelia. Together.
S
o many things had go
t
t
en
in the way
since the writer’s workshop
—Cece’s scout activities, soccer games, school meetings,
his manuscript, her articles,
her
new
classes, his
new
classes. But she didn’t want to wait any longer.
Tonight
, she thought.
I don’t want to wait any longer.

“
Now for
the paperwork,” she mumbled to herself.
She added
ask
Beatrice for oil for my chair
and
call Marcus
to her list.
She stood up, her hands on her hips
, glad she had worn jeans and an old flannel shirt with paint splotches on one arm from one of Cecelia’s projects
. She’d meant to move things around in her office now that the renovations were done and she had a regular-sized desk.
The beginning of her second year at Buckley was promising to be a good year already.

For the next several minutes, she rearranged the furniture, turning the desk so that the window was to her back and she could see who was at her door from across her desk.
She sat down in the larger chair.
Her office
felt cozier
now, and she could
see who was at the door without having to turn halfway around. Even if it
meant she had to walk around the desk to exit
.
By pushing
the file cabinets
close to
the far wall, she had created a private
little
corner for the smaller chair Cece use
d
. The extra chair Beatrice had brought her now was pushed cozily into the other side of her desk,
to the left of
the door.
Perfect for a student to use
,
hers was now
a welcoming office
for office hours and student
questions
.
She smiled, pleased with how much better things looked
,
then reached for the first pile
of papers she wanted t
o organize. She glanced at her to-do
list.
Talking to
Marcus
would be her reward for
finish
ing
her work
.

She began
edit
ing the article closest to
completion
.
Two
hour
s
later
,
she
rose
, stretched, and wandered
into the hallway to refill her water
glass
.
Ian
Berriman was
standing at the water fountain
.

“
Amanda, h
ow’re things?”

“Pretty good.
What are you doing here?”

“Proctoring a special exam.”

“
You and I must be the only ones
in the building
. I’m trying to do some r
eor
ganizing.
I’m snowed under
with my new preps
this
quart
er.”

“Good for you.
”
He smiled.
“
I’m going to grade this test and do some of that myself.
One of these days, I want to talk with you about an idea I have for a
team-taught course on American history and l
iterature. Are you interested?
”

“Sure.”
She nodded.
“
S
ounds like it might be fun
.
Let me know when you have time to fill me in.
”

“
I will
. See you later.”

She waved at him as she re-entered the outer door of
the
department,
casually
rubbing Shakespeare’s head as she passed the sculpture.
An
other
hour
into her work
, she looked around, satisfied at what she had accomplished. The draft of one article was finished, the one she had been editing was nearing final form, and most of the filing for her classes was put away
, all in a bit more than three and a half hours
.
Papers she had graded and planned to return were ready to be taken to class on Monday.
She placed them in a
neat stack
in front of the window behind her chair.
The
manuscript pages
were stacked
on
a corner of
her desk
and
she
began reviewing her notes for next week’s seminar.

Now for her reward
:
call Mar
cus and invite him
to
dinner, t
o celebrate his g
ood news
—

whatever it was—
and
talk with Cecelia a
bout
all of them
living t
ogether.
She went to the departmental supply cabinet just outside Beatrice’s office to retrieve a ream of paper and looked out the window at the leaves that fluttered off the trees. The fall colors reminded her that Cece had asked for colored paper
for
a
n upcoming
scout project. Something to pick up on their way home.

She heard a noise
as she
re
turned to her office, thinking perhaps that the girls had
finished their practice
early. But it was Carlton who turned to stare at her
from inside her office
. He was unkempt,
his hair and
his beard at least several days long
, his clothes stained and looking like he’d slept in them
.

At her gasp,
he grabbed her arm
as she
started to back
away
. “Come right in, Amanda. Tell me where you put my things.” His breath was fetid
, his eyes squinting as he pulled her into the office and
closed
the door
behind them
.

“
What are you doing here?
Get away from me!” Her heart skittered into her throat.
“Let me go!” her voice rising.
She reached for the phone to call 9-1-1, but he
jerk
ed her
arm
away.

“You’re not calling anyone. I want my things. Give me my
box
and I’ll leave.”

“How—how— ” Her breath came fast, as she tried to pull away from him, Marcus’ news about what the man had done to the other little girl echoing in her brain.
She
felt as if she were
having an out-of-body experience, seeing herself in the room with this monster, terrified of him, horror-stricken that he had come back.
He had shut the door. How was she going to get away from him? But t
he image she saw of herself appeared cal
m
.
Inside
she was quaking.
She opened her mouth to scream
.

His
grimy
hand c
losed
around her
throat
.
As he pulled her back against his chest
,
out of the corner of her eye
she saw something glinting in the light
on the edge of the desk.
He brought the knife closer to her face, his voice tight. “Don’t you
scream, Amanda.
I hate screaming. It hurts my ears. I’ll slice you
into silence
if you try.” His voice took on dead
ly
serious
ness. She
stiffen
ed
. “Besides,
I’m not going to be here
long. I just want my things.
And no one can he
ar
you.
No
body
is around today.”

“How do you know that?” she choked out the words
when
h
e
relaxed his fingers that had been squeezing her neck.

“
I checked the other offices before I came in. And
I read
in the newspaper
about all those faculty gigs off campus this weekend. Wasn’t
tha
t convenient
?
Not even old Jim—who’
s always here in the evenings. You’d think with kids he’d want to be at home, or maybe that’s why he stay
s
in the office so late. Too much noise at home, too many distractions.”
He chuckled. “So why are you here—instead of with Cecelia, pretty Cecelia, sweet, soft Cecelia—”

Ian’s gone? Am I the only one here
now
? Oh God.
She
reached up and pulled his hand off her neck, surprised that he
didn’t object
. The way he was talking about Cecelia—it was creepy and she hated him for
what it implied. What
might
he
do if she couldn’t get away from him before the girls arrived
? She couldn’t
let her mind
go there. She had to get him out of the office, but how?

Carlton
pushed her into
the chair
behind the desk. He pulled the other chair in front of the door, effectively blocking her from getting out of the office.

“Now, if you’ll just
be
quiet and sit still while I get my things, I’ll be on my way.
After all, this is my office and I have a right to be here.
” He moved the knife in a slow circle in front of her face. “But if you make a sound, you’ll regret it.”

She gulped, unable to take her eyes off his face. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair
before he leaned closer
and opened the center drawer
. H
is hand rummaged around in the desk.