A Silent Terror & A Silent Fury. Lynette Eason

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.

      SEVEN

      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 fingers 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?

      He glanced at the gymnasium and thought he saw something move. Lights dotted the campus at night, lighting the walkways and streets, but there were still spots that remained dark, places someone could hide.

      The movement caught his eye again, and he moved toward it, hand on the butt of his gun.

      * * *

      Marianna lay against the floor, not daring to move. Her fingers gripped the object her attacker had shoved into her hand before releasing her.

      Slowly her senses returned, and she felt warm wetness flowing from the throbbing gash on her cheek, absentmindedly wondering if she’d need stitches.

      Every muscle tense, she concentrated on the floor. About a minute earlier, she’d felt the person move away from her, fleeing feet pounding across the surface, the vibrations under her prone body growing fainter with each step.

      Dare she pray it was over? How long should she stay there? Should she try to leave and get help?

      A light flickered in front of her. The terror returned full force, and she scrunched down into a little ball, not wanting to move and take the chance on making noise that would draw attention to her.

      The light passed over her. More running feet, headed in her direction. She scrambled to her feet, adrenaline flowing, anger surging. This time she’d fight back and with fists still knotted, tightly clenched. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her cheek, she tried to remember every self-defense move Joseph had taught her.

      Then she was staring into Ethan O’Hara’s worried face as he turned the light on himself to show her who was there.

      Her muscles wilted, pulling her back to the floor she’d just risen from, and she burst into tears.

      * * *

      Ethan had never felt such murderous rage as he did at that very moment. Not even toward the two teens who had drag raced in the high school parking lot, their irresponsible actions leading to his sister’s tragic death. Ashley’s death had been an unintentional act.

      This, though, this attack on Marianna had premeditation written all over it. He sat on the floor beside the sobbing woman and gathered her into his arms. More beams of light entered