Sinful Purity (Sinful Series) (38 page)

Friday night after class, Zack surprised me with a night out. I could tell that the week had taken a toll on him, so I was more than willing to accompany him anywhere he wanted to go. When we climbed in his truck, I was pretty sure we were heading down to the Tripping Donkey to meet up with Caleb and Lucy. I desperately wanted time alone with Zack, but I figured that a night out with friends would be fine too. Maybe if we were lucky, Taylor’s band would be playing. A few minutes into the drive, I watched out the window as the Tripping Donkey passed. Zack never slowed down.

“Where are we going?” I asked, intrigued.

“I thought I’d take you to our place,” Zack replied, smiling.

I smiled back at the thought of the little retro diner on First Street. I was so very happy that we were going to have a chance to be alone, just Zack and I, together at “our place.” I could feel my body vibrate with excitement. This was exactly what I’d wanted.

Zack pulled up and parallel parked across the street from the diner. Ever the gentleman, he came around and opened my door for me, gently lifting me down from the oversized truck. He took my hand as we walked across the street. Just as we stepped off the curb, a black Town Car sped past, practically taking our toes off.

“Hey, watch out!” Zack hollered. “What an idiot.” He turned to me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Zack and I continued our perilous journey across the street. By the time we walked through the diner entrance, our laughing and upbeat mood had returned. We didn’t give our close call a second thought. We grabbed a booth near the back and took the menus from their holder on the table. The
clumsy waitress we had watched on our last visit came over to take our order. In the few weeks since we’d been there, her skating skills had improved dramatically. She glided up to us gracefully.

“What can I get you two?” she asked confidently.

“Two cheeseburgers and two chocolate shakes,” Zack responded.

“Great. It’ll be just a couple of minutes.” She skated away.

Zack and I returned to chatting. Then a friendly, familiar voice interrupted our conversation.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Lizzie.”

It was Brett. His voice was as strong and seductive as ever, matching his devastating and enduring good looks and debonair moxie. I hadn’t seen him in so long. My memories of his ruggedly rebellious masculine features and mischievous smile didn’t do him justice.

“You sure don’t look like Mary Ann anymore,” he commented, looking me up and down as if I were on sale.

While it was true that my physical appearance had changed, matured, it was all the new experiences and my passionate love for Zack that had made the most difference. My stature was more erect, my posture more confident, drawing more attention to me than before. My internal happiness and vitality beckoned for everyone to notice me. My thick, dark hair had grown long and luxurious. Like it was when I was child, when I first arrived on the steps of Mary Immaculate Queen, before my vivacity and beauty had been systematically drilled out of me. My rich, creamy skin was once again luminous with life. Even my crystal-blue eyes held more sparkle away from my iron cage.

I smirked. “Everyone likes to be Ginger once in a while.”

“Liz, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Zack interrupted jealously, disturbing my wild trip down memory lane.

“Absolutely,” I replied, embarrassed by my mental indiscretions. “Zack, this is Brett. He’s an old friend,” I added casually as I introduced my past to my present. “I grew up with his sister. You know, Kelly.”

“Oh, you’re Kelly’s brother. It’s nice to meet you,” Zack responded genteelly. I knew he was secretly a little relieved.

“Did you want to join us, Brett?” I offered.

“No, that’s okay. Maybe another time. I was just going.” Brett excused himself.

“Wait,” I called. “What are you doing in town?”

“I’m only here for a week or so. I had some things to take care of. Then I’ll be flying back to California.”

Some things to take care of.

“Is everything okay? Is Kelly okay?” I asked, worried.

“Yeah, Liz. Absolutely. I just had some estate matters to tie up with our attorney. No big deal.”

“Oh, okay. Good.” I breathed in relief.

“Anyway, I think my order’s up. I’m just picking up something to go.”

“Oh, well, it was nice seeing you. Tell Kelly I said hi, all right?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Brett said nonchalantly as he turned and walked up to the takeout window.

A minute later our waitress arrived with our food. She was apparently less proficient than I’d previously given her credit for. She stumbled directly in front of our table, spilling a chocolate shake all down the front of Zack’s shirt. He tried to blot it up with the two napkins she had left us at the table, but it was no use. His lap was full of chocolate ice cream and whipped cream.

“I’ll go get you some more napkins,” I said hastily.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to go clean up in the restroom.” Zack slid out of the booth, shaking off the dripping chocolate sludge all over the ground.

Our table, booth, and the adjacent floor looked like a toxic spill, with the mutant’s footprints leaving a trail from the slop to the refuge of the lavatory. I ran up to the front to grab some more napkins and possibly a towel. Brett was still at the takeout counter.

“Excuse me,” I said politely, squeezing by him to the napkin dispenser.

“Hey, Liz.” Brett grabbed my attention.

“Sorry, there was a spill,” I laughed, looking over at the syrupy calamity.

“I’ve got something for you.” He held up his fingers and revealed a little folded piece of paper.

My hands were full with what seemed like a couple hundred wadded-up paper towels. Before I could say anything, Brett grabbed me around the waist, turning my body to face him. He slid the origami-like note deep into my front pocket. My mind was thrown back to the last time he had done the same exact thing, the day he left.

“Liz, please call me. If you ever need anything, call. Okay?” His words were firm yet tender at the same time.

Astonished, I couldn’t say anything. I just nodded.

“Goodbye, Liz. It was good to see you,” Brett said as he walked out the door and out of my life again.

I hurried back to the sticky mess of the booth and frantically began trying to clean up the mess. Our waitress was apparently too embarrassed to help, since she was nowhere to be found. Zack came back from the restroom and insisted that we sit in a different booth. One that was at least dry was his stipulation.

After a syrupy and chaotic meal, the manager did come to our table and apologize. Zack was calm now and pleased that we had gotten a free meal out of the deal. I’m sure he hadn’t planned on staying in his sugar-covered, crusty clothes much longer anyway. We got up to leave, hand in hand, and began to walk out the door.

“Oh, Zack, I forgot my purse back at the table. I have to go get it. I’ll be right back,” I told him.

“That’s okay. I’m going to go get the truck. I’ll meet you out front.”

I ran back inside the diner to the booth. There was my purse sitting right where I’d left it. I grabbed it. Before I had a chance to turn around, I heard the squealing of tires and brakes locking up. The deafening commotion was followed by a long chorus of screams. I spun around to see the mayhem. A large crowd of people had gathered in the street around something that looked like a body lying on the pavement.

Oh my God.
I didn’t see Zack anywhere. I ran to the front of the diner just as the crowd parted.

“Noooo!” I screamed frantically, seeing the bloodied face of my love.

I shoved my way through the crowd, falling to the ground next to Zack. He was unconscious. “Someone call nine-one-one!” I shrieked, and then the tears came. Hysterical screams and sobs melted together in a wailing cry. “Oh my God! No! Oh God! No!”

When the police and paramedics arrived, they had to pull me off him. My face was stained with tears. My clothes were red with his blood. Everything around me was an incomprehensible blur. I watched as they loaded Zack into the ambulance. I tried to climb in with him, but a police officer grabbed me from behind and pulled me back down. “I’m sorry, ma’am, family only.”

“I’m his fiancée,” I insisted.

“You can see him at the hospital. I’m sorry.” I collapsed to the ground, wailing wildly. “Is there someone I can call for you?” the policeman offered.

I composed myself just long enough to give him Caleb’s number. Then I broke down completely. My sanity and bodily control left with the ambulance that held Zack’s wounded body. The policeman sat me on the curb. “Please wait here, ma’am. Your ride is on his way.”

I sat there dazed, rocking back and forth, futilely trying to comfort myself. Somewhere in the chaos of my brain, I could hear voices. They sounded distant, like they were inside a room behind a closed door or perhaps down a tunnel. The officer was taking witness statements from the crowd.

“Can you tell me what you saw?” he asked.

“It was a black car,” I heard a faint, elderly voice say.

“What kind of car?”

“A sedan,” the old lady’s voice answered.

“Was it full-size? Compact?” pressed the officer.

“Full-size,” she answered clearly.

“Good. Did you see the driver? What did they look like?”

“I saw him. I can’t tell you what he looked like though,” she admitted weakly.

“Well, you saw it was a man.”

“Yes, I think so.”

“You mean it might have been a woman?”

“I don’t really know. I couldn’t see the driver’s face.” She spoke tentatively, fearfully.

“And why is that?” the policeman asked, growing impatient.

“He didn’t have one,” the elderly lady declared.

My consciousness broke through. I threw my head up to look at the little lady. She was extremely old. Her body was frail and hunched over with age. She wore the thickest Coke-bottle glasses I had ever seen.

“Excuse me?” the officer replied. “Can you clarify that?”

She spoke clearly. “The driver didn’t have a face.”

“Yeah, she’s right.” A big, muscular, well-tanned man spoke up. “He was wearing a hood or something.”

“What?” The policeman turned his attention to the new, very vocal witness.

“The driver. He was wearing a hood. Couldn’t see a damned thing,” the man said.

I broke back in to hysterics at the news. My shadow stalker had just run down my boyfriend in cold blood. But why? The emotional distress was too much. I mentally checked out.

I awoke hours later in my room. “Zack!” I screamed in panic.

“Relax, Liz. Lie back down.” Caleb’s voice was clear, coming from the floor next to my bed where he sat huddled with his arms clasping his bent knees.

“Caleb,” I cried.

“I know,” he said sorrowfully.

“We have to get to the hospital!” I jumped up with frantic, sporadic movements.

Caleb grabbed me and pushed me back down on the bed. My heart seized at the sensation of his grip. I knew what Caleb was trying to tell me. Zack was dead. I screamed violently expecting I would pass out from the lack of breath. I wished I would pass out, never to wake. I wished I would die. How could I go on without Zack?

For four days Caleb never left my side. I never left my room. I never left my bed, for that matter. The university doctors came and went with a steady stream of tranquilizers. There was no semblance of a sane person. I was lost, drowning in grief.

Wednesday Caleb leaned over me and pulled me to my feet. I fought him with all my might, but thanks to the sedatives, I wasn’t much of a match.

“Liz, you have to snap out of this.” Caleb’s voice was strong in its encouragement. “Come on.” He pulled me to a standing position and braced me against the wall.

“No!” I shouted like a child in mid-tantrum.

“Liz, today’s the memorial. And you’re going!”

Then the tears came again, along with the unending wailing and sobs.

“That’s okay, you can cry at the service. But I’m not letting you miss this. You won’t forgive me when you recover.”

Somewhere inside me, I knew this was torture for him too. After all, he had lost his best friend and became warden to a mental patient all in one fell swoop.

I stood lifeless, fightless, as Caleb and Lucy dressed me. Lucy even tried to fix my hair. She knew that it was hopeless to try for makeup. My incessant tears would never have given it a chance. Lucy and Caleb propped me
up between them and hauled me to the service that St. Paul’s had thrown together to honor the memory of Zack Bartlett, my Zack. I watched, unresponsive, like I was having an out-of-body experience as cheerleaders and teammates all came up to the podium and gave their last words for Zack. Students danced and cheered. The choir sang songs. It was like some kind of pep rally. There I sat, broken and lost without my other half. No one at that farce of a memorial knew the depths of my pain. No one except Caleb and Lucy even knew what Zack and I had meant to each other. Even they didn’t know the plans we had made, the plans for our family. Everything that life had promised me was destroyed, leaving me pathless, futureless.

I looked around the service and saw all the standard popularity- and attention-mongers who flocked to events like these. Then I saw a face I did not expect to see among the rest. There at the edge of the crowd sat Sister Christine, alone. She had come by herself, without Monsignor or any of the other sisters. Her solidarity spoke volumes. She was not here as a representative of MIQ or St. Matthew’s. She was there for another reason. She was there for me. But why? She had never been the motherly type. Most of the time she was barely even human.

After the service she approached me. “Elizabeth, I am sorry for your loss. I know how important he was to you.”

I could barely muster the obligatory thank you.

“I know that your heart is broken, that your whole body aches with grief. Just remember that this too shall pass, my child.” Sister Christine spoke earnestly and out of character.

I nodded weakly, fighting the urge to break down again, collapse into an unending, cataclysmic, emotional implosion, never to resurface again.