A Silent Terror & A Silent Fury. Lynette Eason
rest of the family, including her father, who was finally looking a little better after his bout with whatever had laid him low the last couple of weeks, dispersed to their respective cars. Marianna rode with Gina, who planned to have lunch with friends after church. As they drove, Marianna couldn’t help thinking about the break-in from Friday night. As much as she didn’t want to, she remembered the terror she’d felt, the pure fear that had almost held her paralyzed.
Did the guy find what he was after? Did that incident have anything to do with Suzanne’s murder?
She shivered in spite of the heat blowing from the vents.
Would he be back? Would she feel safe staying there by herself now, unable to hear if danger came prowling again?
A nagging sense of unease kept her nerves on edge. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything much but the continued flashes of remembered terror.
Think of something else!
Her parents and Alonso led the way ahead of them. Marianna looked in the side mirror to watch the traffic behind them, mulling over her options: Stay in a house where she’d constantly be scared. Go stay with her parents. Move in with a friend from school.
None of the options really appealed to her. As she’d told her mother, it looked as if she would be moving back home temporarily.
A silver sedan with tinted windows cruised sedately behind her and Gina. At the traffic light, the man in the green SUV that pulled up next to her seemed to be watching her. She smiled, then kept her eyes straight ahead. The SUV turned right and she wilted. Paranoia is only a good thing when someone’s after you, she reminded herself. Otherwise they lock you up in the loony bin, okay? Relax.
By the time they reached the church, Marianna’s nerves were shot. And it didn’t help that the silver sedan that had been following them most of the way turned into the parking lot behind her.
* * *
Feeling refreshed from a good night’s sleep, yet antsy at the lack of progress in the case, Ethan determined to work on finding the man—or men—who’d broken into Marianna’s home. He needed to see her, to dig deeper into her past and Suzanne’s.
You’ve already done that, O’Hara. You’re just looking for an excuse to see her.
The thought taunted him. He blew out a sigh. Oh, all right, he admitted it. He wanted to see her. But he really did need to hash the case out with her, too. Sometimes the victim is so busy being the victim that he or she subconsciously refuses to bring memories to the surface until later, after the passage of time when once again the individual is feeling secure, safe.
Acting completely out of character, Ethan impulsively decided to meet her when she came out of church and see if she would have lunch with him. He’d almost gotten up to go, but had wimped out at the last minute. It had been a while since he’d been to the large church downtown that his parents had frequented. Since Ashley’s death, it just hurt to go back and be reminded of how much she’d loved being a part of the youth ministry, how much she’d loved giving to and serving others. But maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe if he’d have let people reach out to him…
Questioning his motives during the ten-minute drive to the church she’d mentioned attending, the one with a small deaf ministry, he pulled up outside of the sanctuary to sit and stare at the door. After a few minutes, his gaze wandered and the political poster in the window of the building across the street caught his attention.
It was election year and the campaigning was fast and furious, narrowing the candidates down one by one. Clayton Robertson seemed to be the favored one of the more conservative party, while Terrance Sloane ran a strong opposition.
Should be an interesting political year all the way up to the day in November when people would stand in line and vote in the next governor of South Carolina.
Ethan shook his head. He was all for democracy, but the money that went into these campaigns galled him. When he thought of the good those funds could do and how he always wondered if it was spent as it was supposed to be, he shook his head and sighed. Well, he voted; not much else he could do about politicians and their issues.
A movement from the doorway of the church pulled him back to the reason he was here.
Marianna Santino.
A whole herd of people stampeded toward their vehicles after shaking hands with the pastor standing at the sanctuary exit. Finally, Marianna came out signing animatedly with a young girl. Ethan didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he caught that Marianna was reminding the girl about basketball practice tomorrow afternoon. The girl agreed, then said something about being ready for the big game on Thursday.
Ethan opened his door and stepped out, intending to approach Marianna and ask her to lunch, but he stopped when a clean-cut man in his early thirties walked up to her and took her hand. Regret cut through him. Who was this? A boyfriend?
Relief followed the regret when he saw her expression change to one of annoyance as she yanked her hand away from the guy.
Unfortunately, Ethan was too far away to hear what she was saying. But when the man grabbed her upper arm and Marianna winced, that was enough for him.
* * *
Marianna thought about giving Curt a good kick in the shin but didn’t want to make a scene in the church parking lot. If he didn’t let go of her arm in the next two seconds, however, she’d toss aside her inhibitions and give her foot permission to do its worst.
Then she was free, her arm throbbing from the grip Curt had had on it. What? How?
“Ethan? What are you doing here?” The question came out before she could stop it. Surprise and relief held her captive.
Fury emanated from his blue eyes and if he lasered Curt any harder with them, the poor man would be incinerated on the spot. Through gritted teeth, Ethan said, “Touch her again and I’ll arrest you for assault.”
Curt’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Then he bravely stuck out his chest. Funny how it seemed thin and pitiful next to Ethan’s broad shoulders and muscular physique. Not that she had any business noticing that.
“Who are you?” Curt demanded.
Marianna stepped in. “This is Ethan, one of the detectives investigating Suzanne’s death.”
“Yeah,” Ethan growled, “so where were you a week and a half ago on Tuesday, around ten in the morning?”
Curt’s eyes shot wide and he stammered, “Um…uh…I… was at a conference…in…in New York.”
Marianna elbowed her protector. “All right, Ethan, that’s enough. Curt didn’t kill Suzanne.”
“What about breaking into your house?”
Curt looked ready for the ground beneath his feet to swallow him. “Look, I didn’t kill anyone, and I certainly didn’t break into Marianna’s house. I don’t have any reason to.”
Marianna took Ethan’s arm. “Come on. Walk with me to my mother’s car. She’s probably waiting on me.”
Ethan gave a final, hard look at Curt and said, “My pleasure.”
“Goodbye, Curt.”
Marianna and Ethan headed in the direction she led. He asked, “Why’d you tell him bye?”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “I don’t know. Because it was the polite thing to do?”
“When a man lays a hand on you like he did, the last thing he deserves is politeness. How’s your arm?”
It hurt. “It’s fine. Forget him and tell me why you’re here.”
Ethan spotted her parents and brother standing beside a white Suburban. “Why don’t you have lunch with me and tell your folks I’ll bring you home later?”
Nerves