Bewere the Night (19 page)

Grabbing her shower basket, she schlepped to the bathroom down the hall. Her choice of shower stalls remained the best thing about this time of day.
Ah, dorm life.

After a scalding-hot shower, Lexa returned to her room. She dressed in the dark—jeans, sneakers, and a shapeless navy Penn State hoodie. Twisting her long brown hair into a knot, she tucked it under a navy baseball cap before leaving.

An early November fog blanketed the silent campus. Street lights reflected off the white mist. No one around—the only time Penn State’s main campus was this quiet. It matched her gloomy mood.

She’d been in a funk since Lauren, her younger sister had been killed by a drunk driver over Memorial day weekend. It deepened when Jason, her boyfriend of three years dumped her in September. Now failing thermodynamics, Lexa thought she’d never see daylight again.

Lexa headed toward the Walker Building on the western edge of campus. At least she had her own key now. Last week Ben had forgotten his, and they had botched the forecast in their haste. A couple radio stations had complained.
What did they expect anyway? They were getting free weather forecasts from a bunch of student meteorologists after all.

When Lexa cut through West Halls, a strange icy feeling slipped down her spine. The campus was relatively safe, but her imagination conjured up all those horror movies that Jason had dragged her to see.

Perhaps she should have arranged for a security escort—some jock doing his good deed for the day, but she’d never felt unsafe on campus until now. She dismissed her anxiety as a product of her overdramatic imagination.

Just before she entered the short cut between Irvin Hall and Jordan Hall a low anguished growl emanated from the shadows. Logic urged her to run. But she savored the feeling of fear for a moment. Since Lauren’s death, she’d been going through the motions of living, trying to keep the painful storm of grief contained inside her. She felt nothing else.

Lexa lingered a moment too long. A black mass launched from the shadows. She fell back, banging her head on the cement as the heavy beast landed on her chest. In a flash, white pointy teeth dug into her neck. Burning pain squeezed her windpipe closed.

Black and white spots clouded her vision. Then the creature paused. It released her and bounded away as fast as it had appeared. She caught a glimpse of a four legged creature with gray fur stripped with black.
A big fucking dog.

Blood gushed from her throat, soaking the collar of her hoodie. Dizziness and nausea swelled as she explored the ragged skin. A strange concern over the location of her cap floated through her mind before she passed out.

Unfamiliar voices woke Lexa. She squinted into a bright whiteness. The antiseptic smell matched the room’s décor—curtains hanging from a U-shaped track on the ceiling, florescent lights, and cabinets with glass doors.

Lexa touched her neck. Bandages covered her throat. A sharp ache pulsed from underneath the dressing.

The curtains parted and a tall young man entered. He skidded to a stop in surprise. Large splatters of blood covered his ripped white Penn State T-shirt and dotted his white sweat pants. Lexa’s first thought—college student was followed by—jock.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Who . . . ” Her voice rasped painfully.

“Don’t talk . . . Wait.” He dashed away, calling to another.

A nurse bustled in and Lexa wondered if nurses ever just walked or sauntered. The student trailed after her. Concern creasing his forehead, he raked his fingers through his short spiky black hair.

“What—”

The nurse cut her off. She sent the student to the waiting room before asking Lexa questions. Lexa explained about the oversized dog. It didn’t take long.

“Was the dog foaming at the mouth?” she asked.

A vision of sharp teeth flashed in her mind. “No.”

“We’ll test for rabies just in case.” The nurse clicked her pen and wrote on her clipboard. “Miss Thomas, you’re in the Mount Nittany Medical Center’s emergency room. You have a mild concussion and four lacerations in your neck. We put in sixty sutures, administered a tetanus shot, and contacted your parents.”

She groaned.
Mom probably freaked
.

The nurse continued with a more scolding tone. “You’re extremely lucky. One of the lacerations
exposed
your jugular. If it had been torn, you’d be dead.”

Upset parents no longer seemed so bad. “How did I get here?” Lexa asked.

“A student found you and called an ambulance. He’s been here all morning.”

“Can you ask him to come back?”

“Sure. The doctor and the police will also be in to see you.” The nurse left.

The police?
Lexa searched for her phone. It was in a plastic bag under her bed along with her clothes. No baseball cap. Ignoring the fifteen text messages and three voice mails from Ben, she called her mother, and endured the hysterics. Calming her mother, Lexa noted the irony of how
she’d
been injured, but her mother needed to be soothe.

“No need to come, Mom,” Lexa said for the seventh time. “I’m fine. It’s a couple of scratches, and I’ll be home in two weeks for Thanksgiving.” Their first holiday without Lauren—hell with turkey and stuffing.

Finally, her mother agreed. Lexa read through Ben’s texts. He’d teased her, assuming she slept in, but when she missed classes, his texts became more frantic. Avoiding another phone call, she texted Ben. Two seconds after she hit send, her phone vibrated with another message from Mr. Lightning Thumbs.

I’m coming.

She didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, she’d need a ride home. Lexa tossed the phone on the table. There was no one else to call. Her roommate, Bubbles the aspiring freshman beauty queen, wouldn’t even notice her absence.

The curtain to her room parted, and the black-haired student entered. A wary concern lurked in his blue eyes as if he was afraid she would yell at him.

“Uh . . . the nurse said you . . . ”

“Thank you for helping me,” Lexa said. She gestured to the dried blood on his clothes. “Sorry about bleeding all over you. If the stains don’t come out, I can buy—”

“Don’t worry about it. I get blood on my clothes all the time.”

“Really?”

“Man, that sounded weird.” He crossed then uncrossed his arms as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I play hockey.”

Her first impression of jock had been right. Plus only an athlete would have biceps that defined. “Are you one of Penn State’s Ice Men?”

“Yeah, I’m—”

A police officer stepped into her room. “Miss Thomas?”

She nodded.

“I’m Officer Reed of the State College Police. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” The officer addressed the hockey player. “You can wait at the nurses’ station. I’ve questions for you, too.”

“Yes, sir.” He retreated.

“Are you sure it was a dog that attacked you?” Officer Reed asked.

“Yes. It was gray with black stripes. It was wide and solid, not tall. Big teeth.”

He wrote a few notes in a small book. “Do you know Aiden Deller?”

The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “No. Who’s he?”

The officer gave her a tight smile. “He called the ambulance.”

“Oh.” She made the connection. Aiden Deller was a senior forward, and one of the top scorers for the Ice Men. The nickname Ice Men came from the precise, emotionless way they played.

Officer Reed’s next set of questions focused on Aiden and his timely arrival.

“It was an animal,” Lexa repeated. “Ask the doctor who stitched me up.”

“No need to get upset. I’m just eliminating all the possibilities. Dog attacks of this magnitude are extremely rare.” He handed her a card. “Call me, if you remember anything else.” Officer Reed left.

After twenty minutes, Aiden returned. “I overheard the nurses.” He pointed at her neck. “They mentioned a dog?”

“You didn’t see it?”

“No. As I told Officer Reed, I found you lying on the ground. Alone.”

She shivered at the memory. “I don’t think they believe me.”

“What were you doing out that early?” he asked.

Lexa explained about her forecasting shift.

“Meteorology, that’s cool.”

“Most people think it’s geeky.” Including Jason. “What’s your major?”

“Architectural engineering.”

“Wow. I thought—”

“Jocks aren’t smart?”

“No.” She rushed to assure him. “I thought you’d be doing something sports related.”

“Odds of me being drafted in the NHL are slim.”

“But you score a hat trick every game, and last year, you had the best record in the league.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Hockey fan?”

“Sort of.”

Aiden waited.

Lexa felt self-conscience, but she couldn’t let him think she’d lost her mind. “My ex-boyfriend is a big fan. He dragged me to all the home games the last three years, but I haven’t gone this semester. Besides,” she added to avoid sounding pathetic, “it’s impossible to score tickets this season, and I don’t want to be one of those fair weather fans.”

He laughed at the weather pun, but paused as if surprised by his own response. “If you’ve sat through those three horrible seasons, then you’re not at all like those filling the stands now.”

A smile tugged. “It was painful to watch.”

“It was painful to play.”

“The new coach made a big difference.”

Aiden sobered. “Yeah, Coach Hakim . . . who’d of thought a guy from Indonesia would know so much about hockey.”

Lexa detected bitterness in his voice.

“If I sent you a ticket to tomorrow night’s game, would you come?” Aiden asked.

“Of course, but—”

Ben arrived with two security guards in tow. “Can you please tell these goons that I’m allowed in here? I’m practically next of kin!”

Lexa grinned at Ben’s disheveled appearance—mussed brown hair in need of a cut, flannel shirt untucked and two days of stubble. They’d been best friends since freshman physics. He was the first person she’d called when Lauren had died. “It’s okay. He’s my ride home.”

He sputtered, but couldn’t complain since the guards left. “What happened? Your text—” Ben noticed Aiden standing on the other side of her bed.

The two men sized each other like warriors preparing to battle. Stocky but not fat, Ben was shorter than Aiden, who was all lean muscles.

Lexa introduced them. “Aiden, this is my
friend
, Ben Bernstein. Ben, this is Aiden Deller.” She explained Aiden’s rescue.

“What were you doing out that early?” Ben asked him.

“Running.”

“At four thirty a.m.?”

“Ben,” Lexa admonished.

“I better go. Coach has a fit if we’re late for practice,” Aiden said. “Where should I send the ticket? Or should I send you two?” He glanced at Ben.

“One’s fine. Ben hates hockey. I’m in 233 Runkle Hall.”

Ben huffed. “I thought you hated hockey. too.”

Lexa wished Ben would shut up. “You’re thinking of horror movies.”

“Uh-uh.” Ben looked unconvinced.

Aiden said good-bye. Lexa felt suddenly fragile as if he had taken a part of her with him. Silly nonsense. She touched the bandages. What would have happened if Aiden hadn’t shown up? Would the dog have killed her? At least she wasn’t disappointed about surviving.

Ben kept her company until the doctor discharged her. With instructions and prescriptions in hand, she followed Ben to his Ford Ranger pick-up.

He slid behind the wheel and started the engine. “You shouldn’t be alone. You can stay at my apartment tonight.”

“And listen to the he-man women haters club while I try to get comfortable on your cushionless couch? Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Hey, you’re member, too, and haven’t missed a meeting at the G-man.” He pulled into traffic.

“I’m not passing up free beer and hot wings.”

He gasped. “I should have suspected. You swore off dating women too easily.”

Lexa laughed, but stopped as pain ringed her neck.

Ben glanced over. “Wow. That’s the first time you’ve laughed in . . . months.”

“Don’t start.”

“Fine. Humor me and stay tonight. You can have my bed.”

“Bubbles is going home, and I have the room to myself.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you’re hoping Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor delivers that ticket himself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Just don’t go all Florence Nightingale over him.”

“You have that backwards.
I’m
the patient.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, Ben, I don’t know.”

“He probably has a dozen girls drooling over him. I don’t want you becoming Depressed Girl again.”

“You’re worse than my mother. It’s just a ticket to a hockey game.”

Yet the next day, a thrill of excitement rolled through her when she found an envelope under her door. Inside was one ticket to the game.

Lexa gawked at the packed stands. The Ice Pavilion’s bleachers stretched along one side of the rink. It appeared as if every seat was filled.

She glanced at her ticket. Section C. Row 5. Just as she suspected, the seat was one of the best in the pavilion. Dead center and high enough to see over the Plexiglas.

Sitting next to a beautiful blonde, Lexa scanned the small roped-off area. Many of the seats remained unoccupied, but a few pretty girls and two older couples sat around her.
Ah, the girlfriend and parent section
.

The blonde gave her the once over. Lexa tucked a hair behind her ear, feeling inadequate in her navy turtleneck and jeans. Wearing Ugg boots, a pink Eddie Bauer sweater, and a sorority pin, the blonde was probably the homecoming queen.

“Who are you here for?” the blonde asked.

“Aiden Deller.”

The blonde’s thin eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s surprising.”

“Why?” Lexa demanded.

“Oh, no offense. He just never invites anyone. Even his parents stopped coming.”

“Really?”

She gestured to the empty seats. “Most don’t. Ever since the guys have been winning, they’ve ignored everyone. Hockey is all they care about.”

Lexa watched the team warm up. A dead serious expression covered all their faces as they passed the puck with precise motions. She had heard the rumors, and the nickname, but to see them in action sent a chill along her spine. Aiden matched the other’s mechanical movements, but when they circled to return to the bench, he met her gaze and winked.