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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.”
EIGHT
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 off, 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 finger 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?”
Saluting the phone, he’d said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good, glad we got that straight.”
“I’m supposed to meet her after she gets out of school. Once again, I want to find out if she remembers anything else from any of the incidents, especially the one last night.”
“Let me know what she says. Listen, I’ve got class— gotta run. But call me if you need me, seriously.”
He knew she meant it. And she knew he’d call if he needed her. That’s what good friends and partners were for. And that’s all it was between them. Once upon a time, they’d tried for something more, but both had quickly realized they were only meant to be friends—period.
Ethan had been disappointed at first, then grateful. Now as he thought about Marianna, he wondered what God was doing in his heart and if, after all the craziness was done, God had something in mind for Ethan and Marianna. The thought made him a little…antsy.
Right now, he didn’t have time to explore that weird feeling. His phone buzzed as he pulled open the door to his car.
He glanced at the number and his heart chilled once again.
Six ten in the morning and Marianna was texting him.
Uh-oh, that couldn’t be good.
* * *
Marianna kept her eyes glued to the television, absorbing the news, the shock sending shivers through her body.
Josh’s father had been killed in a car wreck. The station went to a commercial. Her fingers flew over her Black-Berry keypad as she texted the message to Ethan that she wouldn’t be able to meet him today. Already she was making plans to be the one to drive Josh home to his grandparents. She knew they’d want him there, especially for the funeral. And she planned to be there for him, too.
When the station came back from the commercial, she read the captions unable to tear her eyes from the breaking news story. The reporter announced, “Roland Luck, campaign manager for Clayton Robertson, was killed in a car wreck early this morning. Roland apparently lost control of his car soon after leaving a private meeting at a secluded resort atop Breakaway Mountain, just twenty-five miles north of Asheville, North Carolina. His car swerved over the side and crashed into the wooded area below. His body has been recovered. For now, Steven Marshbanks, Roland’s assistant, will take over the campaign management until a replacement is named. Mr. Marshbanks is currently unavailable for a statement. We’ll have more details as they become known.”
With hands shaking, Marianna closed her eyes. Lord, what is going on? My world is spinning out of control, and the only thing I know to do is hold on to You and pray You make everything work out how it’s supposed to. And poor Josh, I don’t even know if he’ll understand what’s happened. Just…help me, Lord. Wrap us all in Your strength.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned. Her mother stood there, concern in her gentle brown eyes, her apron already tied around her ample waist. Maddelena signed, “What’s wrong, honey?”
Marianna hadn’t realized she been crying until her mother’s soft fingers reached up to wipe a few tears from Marianna’s cheeks. She flinched when the woman brushed the cut she’d incurred on the bleacher the night before. It throbbed a steady beat, encouraging her to find some aspirin soon. And hide it from Joseph. He’d been asleep when she’d gotten home, leaving her mother and Twister to greet her at the door, to smother her with care and questions Marianna had only partially answered.
“Oh,” she sniffed, “thanks. One of my students’ father was killed in a car accident this morning.”
Her mother’s eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry.” She gathered Marianna close for a tight squeeze, pulled back and signed, “I think we need extra prayer these days. I’m going to e-mail my ladies’ Bible study group if that’s all right with you.”
Marianna nodded and brought her hands up to say, “More than all right. Thank you.”
“Now, come eat.”
A watery chuckle escaped her lips. Of course, tragedy had struck and her mother’s solution was food. Right now, it worked for her. She’d need her strength in the coming few days. It was only Tuesday and already she felt as if she’d done enough, had enough happen, to fill the entire week.
Twister sat at her feet while she ate. Absentmindedly, she rubbed one of his ears and thought back to the incident of the night before. She’d purposely avoided thinking about it—one of the reasons she’d turned on the news— but now she needed to make sure it was all right for her to leave with the ongoing investigation. Most likely it would be fine as long as she left a contact number where she could be reached.
Swallowing the last of her eggs, she reached once again for her BlackBerry and typed a message to her principal, asking permission to be the one to drive Josh home and attend the funeral. Within minutes, she had a reply giving her permission. Relief flowed over her. Her principal promised to have a state car ready and waiting for her.
After explaining her plans to her mother, who promised to take care of Twister, Marianna headed to school. When she arrived at her classroom, her five homeroom students, Josh, Peter, Christopher, Lily and Sarah, were already there, seated at their desks. The two girls had their Sidekicks out, texting. A firm look from Marianna had them tossing her sheepish smiles and tucking the devices away.
Her assistant, Dawn, stepped into the classroom, mug of coffee in hand.
“Good morning, Dawn.”
“Heard you had quite an adventure last night.”
Marianna winced, reaching up to touch her cheek. “I suppose it’s all around the school.”
“Yep. Your activities are a hotbed of gossip.”
“So, is it accurate?”
Dawn shrugged. “I don’t know.” She gave a small grin. “Whatcha think I’ve been waiting to find out?”
Before she could answer, she got her usual greeting from Josh, since he couldn’t stand it anymore and leaped up out of his seat. He signed her name sign, fingers shaped in the letter M and pulled it down from scalp to shoulder, symbolizing her long hair.
“Hi, Josh.” She forced herself to smile through her sadness for him. He didn’t have a clue. But then his life probably wouldn’t change that much in the coming days, although he would probably wonder where his father was eventually. Possibly. Who knew what he would think, how this would affect him?
Marianna started to answer Dawn when Peter, one of her higher level, if extremely shy and sensitive students, with a rapt expression on his face, caught her attention and waved her toward the door.
She turned to find Ethan standing there, one shoulder leaning negligently against the doorjamb. Her heart caught her by surprise and did a little flip-flop before resuming its normal rhythm.
She stared. What brought him here? Biting her lip, she prayed it wasn’t more trouble.
Accurately reading her expression, he gave that little one-sided quirk of his lips that did funny things to her stomach. Then he said, “After you sent me that text this morning telling me about Josh’s father and that you were going to take him home, my boss thought you might need a little extra protection with everything that’s been going on. He asked me if I’d be willing to take on the job.”
The inscrutable expression in his blue eyes caught her attention, and she wondered at the meaning behind it. Instead of asking, she looked around the classroom with alarm churning through her. “Does he think I’m endangering the kids by being here?”
Ethan shook his head. “No, not really. We did discuss it, but his theory is that you have something this guy wants and he’s only going to come after you.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or scared.” A half laugh escaped.
“Well, the one sure way to stop all this madness is to find out what it is you have that he wants.”
Marianna sighed, then turned to her assistant. “Dawn, would you mind handling the class for me? I need to make sure everything is ready for Josh.”
“No problem.” Dawn shooed her out the door, taking over the class with skill.
