A Silent Terror (8 page)

In the classroom she flipped on the television so the kids could watch the morning news. It was filled with mostly political happenings owing to the upcoming election, and her students found it fascinating to be informed of the latest in the process. Oh, they didn’t understand it in detail, but they knew it was a big deal and therefore wanted to be involved. Marianna was happy to oblige. She and the other teachers had even arranged to have a mock election day for the entire school, with several voting booths loaned to the school by the local voter’s registration office. The workers had agreed to volunteer and run the day like a normal voting day, even having the students register to vote just like any other citizen. The only difference was no one had to meet the age requirement. Everyone was really excited about it, even the staff members.

Josh entered the room and handed over another computer part.

Marianna went to her desk, pulled open the drawer and realized she’d left his box in the other teacher’s classroom. Making a mental note to get it later, she dropped the part into the drawer and said, “Thanks, Josh.”

“Welcome,” he signed. Then looked at the television. His eyes went wide and he signed, “Daddy!”

“What?” Marianna glanced up at the screen and noticed a well-dressed man in his mid-forties speaking to the reporter to his right.

Josh jumped up and down, causing the room to shake, his large frame causing the effects of a small earthquake. Books tumbled from the shelves, and the desks danced across the floor. Marianna went to him and laid a hand on his arm. “Josh, calm down.” Josh stopped but didn’t take his eyes from the television.

“Daddy,” he signed again.

Sure enough, that was his father. Marianna had met the man only once at the beginning of the year. The campaign manager for one of the gubernatorial candidates, he would be campaigning from Charleston this week, only about three hours away. Marianna wondered if the man would try to make it down to visit Josh before heading off to the next city on the list. Hmm, probably not or she would have been notified by now. Closed captions played at the bottom, displaying the conversation taking place between the reporter and Josh’s father.

No wonder Josh lived with his grandparents. His father was a busy man, and his mother had died a few years ago.

“…overhead transparencies?”

The question came from the door, catching Marianna’s attention with the noise. Misty Williams, late twenties, tall, red hair, green eyes.

And a teacher with an attitude. Why the woman had taken a dislike for Marianna was beyond her.

“I’m sorry?”

Misty rolled her eyes, then stomped into the room to pull open a file cabinet.

Marianna felt her jaw drop but swallowed her desire to snap the woman’s head off. As if she didn’t have enough stress in her life right now without adding Misty’ s nastiness to it.

“Excuse me.” Marianna stepped forward and placed a hand on the drawer. The woman’s gall was unbelievable.

Misty stopped her search. “Transparencies. Jean said you have some.”

Marianna sighed. Perhaps if she kept her cool, one day Misty would reveal why she disliked Marianna so much. “Sure, Misty, how many do you need?”

“Four or live should be line.”

Handing them over, she tried to see beyond the anger – and saw nothing but the raw emotion directed solely at her. She shivered. Why did the woman display such malice toward her?

Misty snatched them and left without a word of thanks.

Shaking her head, Marianna welcomed the rest of her class as they filed in. Her assistant hurried through the door and tossed her lunch bag on her desk. “Sorry I’m late – my car wouldn’t start this morning, so I had to catch the bus.”

“No problem, I’m just glad you made it.” She placed a hand on the woman’s arm, glanced around to see that the students’ attention was on the news and asked, “Dawn, do you know why Misty is so hateful to me?”

Dawn’s eyes went wide, then her lips thinned. “No, but I’ve noticed her attitude toward you.”

“She seemed friendly enough initially, after she first started working here a couple of months ago, but something definitely happened to put her off of me, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t know, but I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for you.”

“Maybe I should just ask her.”

Dawn shrugged. “I guess you could. Or maybe it’s just a phase and she’s having a couple of bad weeks. Who knows?”

“Maybe.”

And then there was no more time to worry about the situation. Soon, Marianna found herself caught up in the business of teaching and the endless stack of paperwork that went with it.

Before she knew it, the day had passed and the final bell had rung.

Basketball practice wasn’t until after supper, so Marianna stayed late working on papers. Around five o’clock, she pulled a frozen dinner from her dorm-sized refrigerator and walked toward the teacher’s lounge to zap it in the microwave.

As she stepped from her well-lit classroom into the dark hall, she noticed how empty the building was.

Empty and spooky.

She didn’t need her imagination to fill in what could happen to a lone female in a deserted building. She paused, trying to decide whether to keep going or turn around, grab her purse and get out.

Which was silly, because she’d done this routine of staying late ever since basketball season started. Only now, with Suzanne’s death and the break-in…

Adrenaline kicked in as she relived the terror of seeing Suzanne lying lifeless on the floor, of being alone in her house, grief stricken and weary, then terrorized once again when the intruder climbed through her bedroom window.

Returning to the scene of the crime.

Fear seized her, cramped her stomach as a terrifying idea flashed through her mind.

What if Suzanne was not only in the wrong place at the wrong time, but also was the wrong person?

What if the killer originally thought Suzanne was Marianna, learned of his mistake, and Friday night was his idea of trying to finish the job?

Ethan sat at his desk, flipping through the case files, his mind about as alert as mush. He couldn’t keep his thoughts focused as he worried about Marianna. For some reason he couldn’t convince himself that this last break-in was unrelated to Suzanne’s murder.

He glanced at the clock. Almost five thirty. Catelyn had left forty-five minutes ago to meet up with Marianna’s sister Alissa.

Marianna had basketball practice with her team at six, but no doubt she would head over to the gym early to make sure everything was ready. Tapping his pen against his chin, he thought. Should he go over just to check on her? What if something happened to her while he sat here worrying about her?

She’s a big girl, O’Hara – she doesn’t need you checking up on her.

But his mind kept playing the “what if’ game. What if there was something behind her and she didn’t hear it? What if someone tried to warn her of the danger coming and…

Stop it!

Although…what would it hurt? Just run by, say hey, and then head home. To his empty apartment. Where he would grill chicken for one.

Fix one glass of iced tea. Set one place at the table. Growing up, he and Ashley had shared thousands of meals together, just the two of them, while their parents traveled the world, jet-setting with their country club friends.

Ah, Ashley, sweet sister, even after almost three years, I still miss you terribly at times.

He let his gaze slide to the picture on his desk, the last one he’d taken of Ashley. She had her long dark hair pulled up into a messy ponytail, had on sweats and a ball cap. Her grin pierced him as he remembered the last time he’d seen her, tried to warn her about the car speeding toward her.

She hadn’t heard him. Instead she’d hurried toward him, stepping into the path of the vehicle. And he’d been unable to do anything about it. To stop it. His fault…

Ethan slapped the picture facedown, stood and gathered his leather jacket. He’d just go by the school and see Marianna, make sure she was all right. But he sure wouldn’t tell her that was his reason for stopping by. She was certainly little Miss Independent.

And she was probably fine, but what could it hurt? Just to see. To reassure himself.

Marianna hurried up the walkway to the dark gym. Puzzlement made her frown. Where were the lights? Her assistant coaches and student helpers?

Granted, the players wouldn’t show up for another fifteen, twenty minutes, but everyone else should be here by now. Reaching the heavy glass doors, she saw a sign:

Basketball practice has been canceled.

“What?” She hadn’t canceled practice! Well, that explained why no one was here. Had someone decided to play a practical joke on her? It was too early in the year for an April Fool’s Day prank. They’ d gotten her good last year: every one of her starting players had texted her claiming to be sick and unable to attend the big play-off game. She still hadn’t come up with an appropriate retaliation.

She pulled on the door. Locked. Digging in her pocket for her key, she opened it and stepped inside.

Great, another dark hallway.

She slapped at the light switch on the wall. Nothing.

Weird.

Now she started to get that feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her something wasn’t right. The same feeling she’d had when she’d first seen her door standing wide open the day of Suzanne’s murder.

Invisible fingers tickled the nape of her neck.

She whirled.

“Who’s there?” Because someone was there. She couldn’t hear anyone, but she could feel the presence of someone. A dark, sinister feeling that shot adrenaline double-time through her body.

Not again, God!

Her breath came in short, whispered pants as she slipped behind a display board for the moment. She had to make a decision, but her brain felt as if someone had used the remote to put it on pause.

What to do?

Think, Marianna, think!

Her BlackBerry. She slapped her side…and felt nothing. She’d left it charging in her classroom.

Although the darkness pressed in, she wondered if she could use it to her advantage. She knew the layout of the building. Hopefully, whoever was in here with her didn’t.

With what she prayed were silent steps, she slowly moved her sneaker-clad feet toward the inner door of the gym. If she could get inside the storage room, she could lock herself in.

Tears threatened as her fear mounted. But she kept her cool and took another step. And another. The door to the court lay just beyond her. One more step and her fingers brushed the cool metal. She knew it would clang loudly as soon as she pushed it inward. She’d have to move fast once inside the door.

With another prayer and a deep breath, she gave it a shove and rushed in, spinning to the left. Pure darkness pushed against her eyes. Silence thundered in her ears, even as her hearing aids picked up heavy footsteps behind her.

Trailing her fingers along the wall, she moved as quickly as she dared.

Almost there.

If memory served her right, she needed to go only a few more feet after she passed the bleachers. Praying the room would be unlocked when she got there, she kept moving. The wall ran out, her shin hit the lowest bleacher and she flinched but ignored it.

Then she felt him, her, it.

Breathing on her neck. Smelling of stale cigarette smoke. She turned to flee.

Pain ripped through her scalp and down her neck as a rough hand gripped her ponytail in a vise.

She screamed, tears leaking down her cheeks.

“I’m deaf! I can’t hear you if you’re talking!”

The hand shoved against the back of her head, and she went down, cracking her cheek against the edge of the wooden seat.

Marianna screamed again.

Hand on the gym door, Ethan paused. Darkness greeted him. He frowned, his gut shouting at him that something was wrong.

Had she canceled practice? The sign on the door said she had. He grabbed the handle and pulled. Locked.

Unclipping his phone from his belt, he sent a text to Marianna’s BlackBerry. “Are you having practice tonight? I’m at the gym and no one’s here. You okay?”

Anxiety caused sweat to bead on his brow. Should he call for backup?

But backup for what, canceled basketball practice?

The comfortable weight of his gun rested snugly under his left arm. He reached up and loosened the strap but didn’t pull the weapon out…yet.

Retracing his steps, he climbed back into his car and drove around to the girls’ dormitory, located within sight of the gym.

Several stood outside talking, signing fast, using a word every now and then that Ethan didn’t understand. Must be slang he wasn’t up to date on.

When they spotted him, the conversation ceased. Ethan looked around for a dorm parent and spotted her talking to one of the girls near the door to the building.

The girl she was talking to pointed to him and the woman turned, frowning. “May I help you?” she signed.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Marianna Santino. I thought she had basketball practice right now, but there’s no one in the gym. Do you know where I can find her?”

One of the teens signed, “Basketball practice was canceled.”

Ethan signed back, “Did Ms. Santino say why?”

“No, just that it was canceled.”

That still didn’t sit right with Ethan. “You talked to her?”

The girl nodded. “On the TTY.” The telephone device used by the deaf to type messages back and forth. Just like texting, but the TTY used a landline, and the person could read the message as it was being typed out.

“And you’re sure it was Marianna?” he asked.

A shrug. “That’s what the person typed.”

Ethan touched the tips of his lingers to his mouth and brought his hand down, palm up. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

Walking back to his car, he checked his phone. No response to his text to Marianna. His gut tightened. Not necessarily alarming, but unusual. And in light of recent events…

Should he check her classroom or go back to the gym once more? Should he call campus security and see if they’ d had any report of a disturbance?