Sucker Punch (29 page)

Richie folded his arms across his chest and scowled at all three of us. I could see the argument play out on his face—concern for his castmates at war with his instinct for survival. His fear of the potential danger at odds with his need to find some normalcy in his world again.

“Fine,” he said at last. “We’ll just tell them the prompt script was missing. That should explain why we’ve been back here so long.”

“What should explain?”

I think Alexander’s voice startled us all, but maybe me most of all. I whipped around and found Vonetta and Geoffrey a few feet behind him. Luckily, the rest of the cast had stayed in the rehearsal hall so we could still avoid mass panic, but I wondered how long they’d been standing there, and how much they’d overheard. And, of course, I wondered which of them had thumped Colleen on the back of the head.

Four hours later, I collapsed onto a folding metal chair with a groan. Colleen sat next to me and stuck her feet out in front of her as the last few cast members straggled out the doors.

“How are you feeling?” I asked when we were finally alone. It had been a grueling read-through, thanks to Alexander’s foul mood. He’d been anything but patient as we ran through the script, snapping at every mistake, yelling at every missed cue. He’d stormed back and forth along the length of the table, peering over shoulders and making us all so nervous half of the cast members could barely get through their lines.

When we finally reached the last scene of the second act, the cast evacuated so quickly it might have been comical if the whole situation hadn’t been so frustrating. Empty soda bottles lay abandoned on the table, along with wrappers from fast food and snacks people had brought in with them. The room looked as if someone had thrown a party for a bunch of five-year-olds.

“I’m fine,” Colleen assured me. “Really. I have a slight headache, but it’s nothing that a few Tylenol can’t handle. I’ll just tidy up a bit and head home. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

Exhausted from the week I’d had, I stuffed the notes I’d made into my script and picked up Max’s leash. “You’re not seriously going to clean up after those people. They’re all adults. Make them do it when they come in tomorrow.”

Colleen laughed and got to her feet. “I’m not going to leave this mess for Vonetta to find in the morning. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

I thought she was being optimistic, but I made myself get up so I could help her. “Fine, but I draw the line at doing windows. If I stay much later, I’ll fall asleep standing up.”

Colleen waved me back toward the chair. “You don’t have to help.”

“Oh, yes I do. My mother raised me better than to sit here while you do all the work. I’ll grab a garbage bag out of the supply closet.”

“OK,” she called after me, “and then I’ll give you a lift home.”

Old habits die hard, and one of mine is resisting any offer of help. “It’s only a few blocks.”

Colleen cut me off before I could even finish. “Don’t be silly. It’s nearly eleven, and it’s probably ten below zero out. There’s no reason for you to walk, and
my
mother raised me better than to send a friend off into the night when I have a perfectly good car.”

We worked quickly, gathering trash, wiping away crumbs, and straightening chairs. Fifteen minutes later, Colleen stepped back and surveyed our handiwork. “Perfect. I’ll just grab my purse and keys, and we’ll get out of here.”

The Playhouse seemed deserted as we hurried through the shop area to Colleen’s workstation, but my imagination was out in full force. I thought I saw movement in every shadow and heard scuffling sounds every time one of us took a step. After making sure the lights were out in the back of the house, we cut through the auditorium to the box office, unchained Max, and stepped out into the bitter cold.

Colleen paused to lock the door behind us, and I shivered in a brutal gust of wind that subtracted at least ten degrees from the temperature. I huddled into my coat as I followed Colleen down the sidewalk. She turned down a narrow alley, deeply shadowed and much longer than I remembered it being. Way down at the other end, it opened into a parking lot that served a handful of businesses, including the Playhouse and a new coffee shop that appeared to be closed for the evening.

Colleen and I walked quickly, barely speaking except to mutter about the wind and the cold. As we reached the end of the alley, the dimly lit parking lot stretched out in front of us. It was nearly empty except for Colleen’s 4Runner in the far corner and a couple of other cars that had been sitting long enough to have thick frost on their windows.

We took only a few steps toward the 4Runner when Max stopped walking and growled low in his throat. His ears perked straight up, which is never a good sign. Instantly alert, I glanced at the deserted buildings that surrounded us and, more importantly, at all the unlit spaces between them. All that empty space suddenly felt ominous and Max’s agitation made my nerves twitch.

The dog’s hackles rose. He strained at his leash, and I argued with myself about the wisdom of letting him go. If someone was out there and meant us harm, Max might protect us. On the other hand, he might just take off at a dead run, the way he sometimes did. I was in no mood to chase him through town.

“What is it, boy?” I asked softly. “Is somebody out there?”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Colleen whispered. The panic on her face was as clear as my own must have been. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I tugged on Max’s leash and we ran toward her car. She’d parked at the far end of the small parking lot, in a corner swathed in menacing shadows. Tonight, the gloom wasn’t half as threatening as whatever had Max upset. I ran as fast as I dared, nearly losing my footing twice on icy patches I couldn’t see. The parking lot wasn’t big, but my lungs burned even before I reached the end of the row. The result of sucking in so much cold air, I guess. And a serious lack of running on a regular—or even an irregular—basis.

Colleen aimed her key chain at the 4Runner and the lights flashed as the locks switched. While Colleen raced for the driver’s side, I urged Max into the backseat, shut the door, and reached for the front door. As my fingers brushed the door handle, something hard and heavy slammed into the back of my head and neck. Pain shot up the back of my head and down my spine. My knees buckled, and I staggered beneath the impact.

Max went crazy inside the car, barking, growling, and clawing at the door and window. I tried to grab the door, but whatever it was hit me again. I felt the air leave my lungs, and felt myself drop like a sack of sugar to the ground. My forehead hit the pavement, and pain splintered into a million pieces. Clouds filled my vision. The shadowy figures of feet and legs moved away, but I couldn’t tell whether my attacker was heading toward Colleen or away from us both.

Desperate to warn Colleen, I tried to shout, but the words caught in my throat. I willed myself to stand, but my arms wouldn’t work, and my legs felt useless.

The sound of a scuffle reached me a few seconds later. A cry; the clatter of something heavy being thrown away; the sound of footsteps running in the opposite direction. He was gone, and I was alive.

But what about Colleen?

I lay there for a long time, trying to regain my equilibrium. When I could speak again, I called out for Colleen but she didn’t answer. Twice, I tried to sit up, but my stomach lurched and I broke out in a cold sweat each time I lifted my head. Spots danced in front of my eyes, and I knew that the slightest exertion would make me pass out. In this cold, losing consciousness could be deadly, so I lay down on the icy ground and closed my eyes, hoping the dizziness would go away soon.

Max was still going crazy inside the 4Runner. His claws raking across the glass and his high-pitched whine were the only things I could hear. At least he’d stopped growling. I took that as a good sign.

At last, the dizziness began to pass and I dragged myself upright. Even then, I had to sit very still for a minute or two before I dared move again.

Standing was still more than I could handle, so I inched on all fours across the frozen ground and prayed that Colleen wasn’t dead. I found her unconscious and bleeding from the nose and a long scratch on her face, but her heartbeat felt strong, and her breathing seemed steady.

Weak with relief, I leaned against the 4Runner and thanked anyone who might be listening that we’d both survived the attack. In that moment, it was enough.

 

 

Shivering in the cold, I cranked up the heater and held my hands over the defrost vents. A few minutes earlier, Colleen had pulled the 4Runner into the middle of the parking lot. From there we could see anyone approaching us long before they reached us. Maybe the attacker wouldn’t come back, but I hadn’t expected him to strike Colleen twice in one night, either.

I rubbed my hands together and huddled in my seat, keeping one eye on Colleen for signs of shock while we waited for the police to arrive. She hadn’t argued with me about reporting this attack, but I knew she was dreading explaining what happened to Doyle. I sympathized, but this guy was becoming bolder all the time. Ignoring him wasn’t going to make him go away.

Nate Svboda showed up about five minutes after the first officers arrived on the scene. He got out of his SUV, planted his fists on his hips, and looked around while a uniformed officer caught him up on the case. After a few minutes, he swaggered toward us, his face cold and hard and disapproving.

He opened my door and ran a look over first Colleen, then me. Neither that look nor the first words out of his mouth make me feel better. “So . . . you just can’t keep your nose where it belongs, I see.”

Every muscle in my body ached, and a whole lot of other parts as well. I wanted to give my statement and go home, not necessarily in that order. But my head was pounding too hard to give much attitude in return. “Maybe it’s escaped your notice,” I said, wincing with every word, “but we’re the victims here. We were attacked, probably by the same person who killed Laurence Nichols.”

Nate leaned against the door and shook his head. “So I hear. What’d you do to make him come after you?”

“We walked out of the building,” I said. “I know, I know. I should have known better. Now will you please take our statements so we can go home?”

“Sure.” He pulled a toothpick from his pocket, shoved it into his mouth, and spent some time getting it situated just right. “Jackson’ll take your statements in just a minute,” he said when he was comfortable again. “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what happened.”

I told him the whole story, from the minute we left the Playhouse until we dialed 9-1-1. His scowl grew deeper with every new development, until I swear, the corners of his mouth were touching his chin.

“You get a look at the person who did this?” he asked when I finished talking.

“Unfortunately, no.”

He glanced at Colleen, and she shook her head. “I didn’t see a thing. He was so quick, I didn’t even hear him coming.”

“Male or female? Can you tell me that?”

“Male,” I said, surprised at my certainty.

“That’s what I think, too,” Colleen put in. “He was strong. Really strong.”

“Maybe, but whoever it was also had the element of surprise.” Nate rubbed his chin and glanced at the narrow space between the Playhouse and the coffee shop. A couple of uniformed officers were going over the area with flashlights, but I didn’t expect them to turn up much in the way of evidence. “You think that’s where he came from?”

“It has to be,” I said. “It’s the only way he could have reached us without us noticing him. The parking lot was empty except for a couple of other cars.”

Nate nodded thoughtfully. “Anything happen tonight that might have prompted the attack?”

I made eye contact with Colleen and silently urged her to tell him about the first attack. If she didn’t, I would. I think she knew that. Reluctantly, she nodded. “I think the same person attacked me before the cast read-through.”

Nate’s eyebrows winged upward in surprise. “Twice in one night?”

“It looks that way,” I said.

“Sounds like you’re lucky to be alive. Got any idea why this guy’s after you?”

A shudder shook her. “No. It doesn’t make any sense at all. I have no idea why anyone would want to hurt me.”

Nate shifted the toothpick in his mouth and fixed on me next. “What about you, Abby? You got any ideas?”

“No, but there has to be
some
connection. What other plays have you worked on with Laurence?” I asked Colleen.

She looked surprised by the question. “I don’t know. A few.”

“Start with the most recent,” Nate suggested.

It was my turn to be surprised. I think it was the first time in history he’s acted as if any of my ideas had merit.