Читать книгу A Silent Terror & A Silent Fury - Lynette Eason - Страница 15

As Marianna dressed for church in the morning, she studied the childhood room she’d shared with two of her sisters, Catherina and Alissa. She smiled when she thought of her twin, Alissa.

As children and even teens, they hadn’t wanted to be separated and had shared a room up until graduation from high school. They’d gone to different colleges, Marianna to Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C. and Alissa to the University of South Carolina in Columbia, just a couple of hours away.

Being the parents of six children, her mother and father had had to get creative when it came to sleeping arrangements. The house had four bedrooms and a basement that had been converted into a small apartment for Marianna’s grandmother, who’d lived with them until she died last year.

Marianna appreciated the fact that her mother still kept the double bed and bunk beds in here so that the sisters could have their “reunion” during holidays. Often all four sisters usually wound up in the one room, staying up all night catching up, then crashing wherever they found a spot.

She said a small prayer of thanks for her childhood, knowing she’d been blessed. Oh, not always with material things but with the things that mattered. And one more thing to be thankful for was the fact that the vet had sent a text message saying Twister would be able to come home Monday. Marianna missed her four-legged friend.

Attached to the pocket of her black dress pants, her BlackBerry buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She slipped it from the clip and checked the caller ID.

Curt Wentworth. Why he continued to bother her, she had yet to figure out. This was the man who’d wooed her, had her tumbling head over heels in love, then had turned around and emotionally stabbed her in the back. When he finally let her know she wasn’t good enough for him. Add his physical aggression into the mix and she just wanted him to leave her alone. She read, “Why aren’t you answering my messages? I want to see you, Marianna. It really makes me mad when you just ignore me. Rather rude, don’t you think? At least have the courtesy to answer me.”

She punched the reply button on the machine and typed, “Leave me alone, please, Curt. ALREADY TOLD YOU I’M NOT INTERESTED IN SEEING YOU ANYMORE. If you would stop texting me, I wouldn’t have to ignore you. You are the one being rude.”

He responded, “But I’ve apologized, what else can I do?”

“Honor my request to LEAVE ME ALONE.”

“I made a mistake, Marianna. As a Christian, aren’t you supposed to forgive me?”

This called for caps again. “I HAVE FORGIVEN YOU, JUST DON’T WANT TO BE WITH YOU. I wouldn’t mind trying to build a friendship with you, but it would go no further than that, and you and I both know that you’re unwilling to accept that right now. Late for church. Bye.”

She replaced the device back into the clip and grabbed her purse. When it vibrated once more, she pressed the ‘Ignore’ button, resolving not to respond to him anymore. Maybe that was the problem. She kept answering him intermittently instead of being consistent in just deleting his messages, and that encouraged him or gave him hope. Quite possibly if she just didn’t acknowledge his texts anymore, he would give up and go find someone more suitable.

Such as a hearing girl, one he wouldn’t be ashamed of. Absentmindedly, she smoothed her hair down over her ears, then stared at herself in the mirror above the dresser. In a fit of pique, she grabbed a hair tie and pulled the silky mass into a casual ponytail, exposing her hearing aids for the world to see. There. Eat your heart out, Curt Wentworth.

Marianna clamped the lid on the memories and the feelings they still invoked. Not feelings for him, just the feelings of not measuring up or being good enough.

He’d certainly fooled her for a long time. But she’d learned her lesson well. And while she’d been honest when she’d said she’d forgiven him, she sure hadn’t forgotten his behavior. Or his constant pushing for her to get a cochlear implant, a surgically implanted device that worked as a “mechanical ear.” It was great for some people, she just chose not to go that route right now. She shook her head at her stupidity. He could have asked her for almost anything that wasn’t illegal or immoral, and she would have done her best to oblige.

Anything but to get a cochlear implant. And he’d refused to listen to her or her reasons why she didn’t want one. She didn’t want to risk destroying the hearing she had left. She was also comfortable with her deafness and didn’t need to be “fixed.” It was a concept Curt couldn’t compute and refused to accept that she knew her own mind on this topic. Marianna grimaced. Okay, Lord, give me something more pleasant to think about this morning, please?

Immediately, Ethan’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. She grabbed her jacket as she allowed herself to think about the good-looking cop. She’d been surprised he’d fit in so well with her family—and to find out he’d had a deaf sister…well…

The lamp on her bedside table flashed. All of the bedrooms were wired with a flashing light to alert the occupant that someone was “knocking” on the door. There was actually a small button to push, similar to an indoor doorbell that activated the light.

She opened her door to find Gina standing on the other side. Her sister signed, “You ready?”

“Yes, I guess. Curt’s bugging me again this morning.”

Her sister sighed and shook her head. “I hope you told him to leave you alone.”

They started the walk down the hall to the stairs. Gina turned and walked backward down the steps, gripping the rail with her left hand as she signed with her right. Marianna smiled at the leftover childhood behavior and answered, “I did, but it doesn’t seem to faze him much.”

Gina, dark hair, dark eyes and slightly overweight, still had all the features of the Santinos. Full lips and slightly slanted eyes gave her an exotic look, showing off her Italian heritage, but somewhere down the line the family had some Japanese blood, too. Her sister wore it well.

“Want me to get rid of him for you? I know a guy or two.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to get Mario in trouble before you guys even get married.” Her sister’s fiancé was an army ranger. “I’ll handle Curt. Now, let’s get to church.”

The rest of the family, including her father, who was finally looking a little better after his bout with whatever had laid him low the last couple of weeks, dispersed to their respective cars. Marianna rode with Gina, who planned to have lunch with friends after church. As they drove, Marianna couldn’t help thinking about the break-in from Friday night. As much as she didn’t want to, she remembered the terror she’d felt, the pure fear that had almost held her paralyzed.

Did the guy find what he was after? Did that incident have anything to do with Suzanne’s murder?

She shivered in spite of the heat blowing from the vents.

Would he be back? Would she feel safe staying there by herself now, unable to hear if danger came prowling again?

A nagging sense of unease kept her nerves on edge. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything much but the continued flashes of remembered terror.

Think of something else!

Her parents and Alonso led the way ahead of them. Marianna looked in the side mirror to watch the traffic behind them, mulling over her options: Stay in a house where she’d constantly be scared. Go stay with her parents. Move in with a friend from school.

None of the options really appealed to her. As she’d told her mother, it looked as if she would be moving back home temporarily.

A silver sedan with tinted windows cruised sedately behind her and Gina. At the traffic light, the man in the green SUV that pulled up next to her seemed to be watching her. She smiled, then kept her eyes straight ahead. The SUV turned right and she wilted. Paranoia is only a good thing when someone’s after you, she reminded herself. Otherwise they lock you up in the loony bin, okay? Relax.

By the time they reached the church, Marianna’s nerves were shot. And it didn’t help that the silver sedan that had been following them most of the way turned into the parking lot behind her.

* * *

Feeling refreshed from a good night’s sleep, yet antsy at the lack of progress in the case, Ethan determined to work on finding the man—or men—who’d broken into Marianna’s home. He needed to see her, to dig deeper into her past and Suzanne’s.

You’ve already done that, O’Hara. You’re just looking for an excuse to see her.

The thought taunted him. He blew out a sigh. Oh, all right, he admitted it. He wanted to see her. But he really did need to hash the case out with her, too. Sometimes the victim is so busy being the victim that he or she subconsciously refuses to bring memories to the surface until later, after the passage of time when once again the individual is feeling secure, safe.

Acting completely out of character, Ethan impulsively decided to meet her when she came out of church and see if she would have lunch with him. He’d almost gotten up to go, but had wimped out at the last minute. It had been a while since he’d been to the large church downtown that his parents had frequented. Since Ashley’s death, it just hurt to go back and be reminded of how much she’d loved being a part of the youth ministry, how much she’d loved giving to and serving others. But maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe if he’d have let people reach out to him…

Questioning his motives during the ten-minute drive to the church she’d mentioned attending, the one with a small deaf ministry, he pulled up outside of the sanctuary to sit and stare at the door. After a few minutes, his gaze wandered and the political poster in the window of the building across the street caught his attention.

It was election year and the campaigning was fast and furious, narrowing the candidates down one by one. Clayton Robertson seemed to be the favored one of the more conservative party, while Terrance Sloane ran a strong opposition.

Should be an interesting political year all the way up to the day in November when people would stand in line and vote in the next governor of South Carolina.

Ethan shook his head. He was all for democracy, but the money that went into these campaigns galled him. When he thought of the good those funds could do and how he always wondered if it was spent as it was supposed to be, he shook his head and sighed. Well, he voted; not much else he could do about politicians and their issues.

A movement from the doorway of the church pulled him back to the reason he was here.

Marianna Santino.

A whole herd of people stampeded toward their vehicles after shaking hands with the pastor standing at the sanctuary exit. Finally, Marianna came out signing animatedly with a young girl. Ethan didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he caught that Marianna was reminding the girl about basketball practice tomorrow afternoon. The girl agreed, then said something about being ready for the big game on Thursday.

Ethan opened his door and stepped out, intending to approach Marianna and ask her to lunch, but he stopped when a clean-cut man in his early thirties walked up to her and took her hand. Regret cut through him. Who was this? A boyfriend?

Relief followed the regret when he saw her expression change to one of annoyance as she yanked her hand away from the guy.

Unfortunately, Ethan was too far away to hear what she was saying. But when the man grabbed her upper arm and Marianna winced, that was enough for him.

* * *

Marianna thought about giving Curt a good kick in the shin but didn’t want to make a scene in the church parking lot. If he didn’t let go of her arm in the next two seconds, however, she’d toss aside her inhibitions and give her foot permission to do its worst.

Then she was free, her arm throbbing from the grip Curt had had on it. What? How?

“Ethan? What are you doing here?” The question came out before she could stop it. Surprise and relief held her captive.

Fury emanated from his blue eyes and if he lasered Curt any harder with them, the poor man would be incinerated on the spot. Through gritted teeth, Ethan said, “Touch her again and I’ll arrest you for assault.”

Curt’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Then he bravely stuck out his chest. Funny how it seemed thin and pitiful next to Ethan’s broad shoulders and muscular physique. Not that she had any business noticing that.

“Who are you?” Curt demanded.

Marianna stepped in. “This is Ethan, one of the detectives investigating Suzanne’s death.”

“Yeah,” Ethan growled, “so where were you a week and a half ago on Tuesday, around ten in the morning?”

Curt’s eyes shot wide and he stammered, “Um…uh…I… was at a conference…in…in New York.”

Marianna elbowed her protector. “All right, Ethan, that’s enough. Curt didn’t kill Suzanne.”

“What about breaking into your house?”

Curt looked ready for the ground beneath his feet to swallow him. “Look, I didn’t kill anyone, and I certainly didn’t break into Marianna’s house. I don’t have any reason to.”

Marianna took Ethan’s arm. “Come on. Walk with me to my mother’s car. She’s probably waiting on me.”

Ethan gave a final, hard look at Curt and said, “My pleasure.”

“Goodbye, Curt.”

Marianna and Ethan headed in the direction she led. He asked, “Why’d you tell him bye?”

She blew out an exasperated breath. “I don’t know. Because it was the polite thing to do?”

“When a man lays a hand on you like he did, the last thing he deserves is politeness. How’s your arm?”

It hurt. “It’s fine. Forget him and tell me why you’re here.”

Ethan spotted her parents and brother standing beside a white Suburban. “Why don’t you have lunch with me and tell your folks I’ll bring you home later?”

Nerves suddenly swirled in her stomach. What kind of lunch was he talking about? A date lunch? Or a business, let’s-talk-about-the-case lunch? She bit her lip and he gave her a knowing smile.

“Please?”

She couldn’t resist. “Okay.” Catching her father’s attention, she signed that she was going with Ethan and would be home later. He frowned but nodded.

Ethan took her hand and led her to his car.

That’s when she noticed the silver car parked four spots down. Earlier, when it had turned in behind her and her sister, she’d tried to get a look at the driver, but it had gone on past them and around the side of the building. She’d given up trying to figure out if someone was following her and if the occupants of the car had been members of the church arriving at the same time as she.

Seeing the car still parked there, and her sister long gone, along with her parents, she decided she was definitely being paranoid—not that she didn’t have good reason to be, but obviously the silver car belonged to a member of the congregation. Relief replaced her momentary anxiety.

Ethan tapped her shoulder to get her attention. “So, what are you in the mood for?” His touch lingered, causing her stomach to do a series of flip-flops.

Pushing her attraction aside for now, she thought. “Something…relaxing.”

“Huh?”

“You know, relaxing food. Fruit, ice cream, soup.”

“I never knew food could be relaxing.”

Marianna reached up and took his hand in hers, feeling the calluses of a man used to hard work, yet one who used his hands for gentle comport, too. Somehow, Marianna knew Ethan would never raise a fist against her—ever.

“Well, you’re about to learn something new. How about we go to Panera?”

“The one on East Main?”

She laughed. “Yes, since it’s the only one in Spartanburg.”

“Right.” He pulled his hand from her grasp and cranked the car to head across town. Once there, Ethan ordered while she got a table. From her seat, she watched him smile at the young girl who flirted outrageously with him while punching in the order.

Marianna was impressed that while Ethan smiled in a friendly way, there was nothing encouraging or flirtatious about him. Curt would have…nope, not going there.

Soon, Ethan brought their food to the table, and Marianna enjoyed her salad while he sampled the soup.

After a few minutes, Marianna placed her fork on the table and looked at her companion. “So, let’s get to the point. You have something else you want to discuss with me, don’t you?”

Startled bemusement flickered briefly, then, turning serious, he said, “I don’t think you’re safe staying at your house.”

“I’ve already thought about that.”

“And?”

Marianna sat back, munching the last bite of salad. She swallowed, took a sip of water, then said, “I hate to admit it, but you’re probably right. I don’t want to, but I guess I’ll be staying at my parents’ longer than I thought.”

“What’s your hesitation?”

“I’ve fought so hard to be…” Did she really want to share this with him? A man she’d known for only a little over a week and met under extreme circumstances? Yet, there was something about him that pulled her, drew her to him.

He finished the sentence for her. “…independent?”

She nodded, guilt hitting her hard. Her family was so wonderful, yet they had a way of being a little smothering sometimes.

“They just want to make sure nothing happens to you.”

Marianna straightened, agitation making her words sharp. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need someone watching to make sure nothing happens to me.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Hurt, anger, grief? She couldn’t place the emotion she saw but wondered at the cause.

Abruptly, he said, “Okay, so this guy that broke in. His shoe print is different than the one we found from the murder.”

Marianna blinked but allowed the topic shift. “Does that mean it was two different people?”

“No, not necessarily. He could have just worn a different pair of shoes this time. We did rule out Suzanne’s ex-boyfriend, Bryson James. He had an alibi, plus his shoe size is about a size and a half too small for the print we found. That’s too much of a difference to suspect him.”

“What about the two prints from the different incidents. Are they the same size?” Marianna wondered.

“No, but there’s only about a half size difference. Which, again, doesn’t mean much. Some people buy their shoes according to fit and feel, not size. But the difference is small enough that we can’t rule out it’s the same person.”

“So, basically, we know nothing.”

“That’s it in a nutshell.”

“And there wasn’t any DNA or anything found either time?”

“Still waiting on that. And you can’t think of anything you might have that this guy could be after?”

Marianna threw her hands up. “No. I can’t think of a thing.”

“Well, my guess is that he didn’t get whatever he was looking for Friday night.”

She looked up at him, fear flowing freely. “So, I guess that means he’ll be back, huh?”