Buch lesen: «Plain Retribution»

ONE

She hated this time of night.

Rebecca Miller stepped outside and shut the shop’s door behind her, taking care to lock it. The air was thick with the smell of wood smoke from the houses nearby. She rubbed her arms to ward off a chill—not all of it from the cool fall air. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Was she being watched? Holding the key out in front of her like a weapon, she peered into the darkness. Nothing. Her brother Levi would have cautioned her against letting her imagination run wild. Her Amish mother would chide her for her lack of faith in the Lord’s protection. Well, she had faith. But she had also learned the hard way that having faith did not prevent horrible things from happening. And she had the scars, mentally and physically, to prove it.

Her breathing quickened. She forced herself to breathe slowly. In. Out. In. Out. Better. Was she panting? Could anyone hear it? Levi had told her that hearing people could hear the sound of her rapid breaths when she was frightened. How accurate that was, she didn’t know. She’d never heard breathing, or any other sound, in her entire life. Rebecca had been profoundly deaf since she had been born into her large Amish family. They hadn’t put hearing aids on her. When she had left her Amish community instead of being baptized at seventeen, she had tried them, but didn’t notice any difference. Now at twenty-five, she had no interest in trying them again.

She rarely allowed her deafness to hold her back, having spent years striving for independence in the hearing world, but sometimes she felt the lack of hearing keenly. Like now, knowing if someone was stepping closer to her, she’d never hear them coming.

She wondered again what had possessed her to agree—for the first time since she’d taken the job—to close by herself the bookstore she worked in. Every other time she’d worked this late, she’d had someone else closing with her. Granted, it was only a little after eight thirty in the evening, but in October, it was so dark out that it might as well have been ten o’clock at night. She shivered. Whether from cold or apprehension, she wasn’t sure.

Sucking in a deep breath for fortification, she started across the empty alley to where her car was parked. Maybe she should have taken her best friend Jess’s offer to let her husband, Seth, drive her home when he had finished his work shift. She could have waited inside the locked store until he came, and they could have retrieved her car tomorrow. Not wanting to put them out, she’d refused. Now she wished she’d accepted.

No. She shook her head. It was time she took care of herself and got over her fear of the dark.

In her periphery, a shadow moved. She flinched. You’re being ridiculous, she signed in her head. No one was there.

Her heart continued to thud inside her chest. Memories of the past started to cloud her thoughts. What if someone was out there, like before? Only, this time, she was alone. Of course, having people with her hadn’t been enough to protect her back then.

Please, Lord, be my shield.

Holding her hand out, she pressed the key fob to unlock the car door. The headlights blinked, then remained on. In the sudden light, she saw her hand was shaking. She hated the fear that crawled inside her. The fear that kept her from going about her life like anyone else. Instead, she was constantly looking over her shoulder.

Just a few more feet, and she would be safe inside her car. She quickened her pace and practically threw herself into the car, then slammed the door behind her. Leaning back against the headrest, she let out a slow breath and felt her heart pounding inside her chest.

Remaining where she was, she flicked her gaze to the rearview mirror. And froze.

Cold, dark eyes glittered at her from beneath a dark ski mask. Someone was in her car!

Whipping around, she came face-to-face with a nightmare. The intruder shot forward and grabbed her by the neck and yanked her back against the headrest, trying to choke her. She couldn’t breathe! Lungs burning, the keys fell from her hand as she twisted and turned, trying to break her attacker’s hold. Both of her hands latched on to the arm around her throat. She tugged and pulled with all her might, but to no avail. Her eyes seemed hyperfocused, zooming in on every detail as adrenaline coursed through her system. She saw every hair on the arm that tightened around her throat, noted the sharp lines of the tattoo on his wrist. She struggled against her attacker’s grip, but he wouldn’t budge. Her knee banged against the steering wheel. She barely noticed it.

The alley was empty. There was no use hoping anyone would see her.

The man’s grip tightened. Rebecca clawed at his arm as hard as she could, feeling several fingernails break off. Lifting one hand, she shoved it back into the attacker’s face, stabbing her thumb into one dark eye.

The black-masked figure reared back and rubbed his injured eye.

She was free! But she wasn’t safe. Not yet.

Before the villain could recover, Rebecca fumbled for the door latch and tumbled out of the car. Gaining her feet, she bolted.

Out into the alley and toward Main Street, she ran as fast as her long legs would carry her.

As she approached the end of the alley, the glow from the streetlights cast shadows on the buildings she raced past. The attacker’s shadow loomed too close. And it was getting closer. Her attacker was only a few feet behind her! Leaning forward, she pushed herself harder.

A hand slid down her hair. She felt a few strands catch, rip out of her scalp. The pain was instant, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. She kept running, even as her eyes watered.

She opened her mouth. She screamed. Whether it was loud enough for anyone to hear, she had no idea. But her throat was raw. And her energy was waning.

Almost there.

Her attacker grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground. Rebecca skidded onto the ground. Gravel scraped across her palms, and she ripped her skirt.

She flipped herself over to a sitting position so she could see her assailant. As he rushed toward her again, she scooped up a handful of dirt and gravel and flung it at the disguised figure with all her might. Her aim was true.

There was a brief moment of satisfaction as he covered his eyes with his gloved hands. But she knew this wouldn’t hold him off for long, so she didn’t hang around to gloat. She jumped to her feet and ran out into the street.

And right into the path of a moving car.

The car veered slightly to the side and came to a sudden halt inches from hitting her.

Praise the Lord. She sent up an earnest prayer. It was a police car. She had almost been run down by one of LaMar Pond’s finest. And now she had an officer to protect her from the attacker, who had to be closing in on her by now.

Shooting a panicked glance over her shoulder, she exhaled in relief when she saw her attacker had fled.

The police car door opened and a tall officer jumped from the vehicle and rushed to her side. He pulled her off the street and onto the sidewalk, under a streetlight. For the first time, she took note of his familiar features. Warm blue eyes, blond hair that tended to get shaggy. Miles Olsen. She sighed in relief. She had met the young officer last spring when Jess had been in danger. Not only was he a policeman, but he was also the only one in LaMar Pond who could sign.

“Rebecca! I almost hit you. What’s wrong?” Miles signed to her in fluent ASL.

“You didn’t see him?” she signed back.

He immediately straightened and peered into the alley she had just exited. “Was someone bothering you?”

“He attacked me. He was waiting in my car. I didn’t notice until I’d already gotten in...”

She couldn’t go on. The trembling started inside and worked itself outward until she was shaking so hard she could barely stand up.

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder and led her back to the police car. Miles ushered her into the passenger side of the car then reached past her to flip on the hazard lights and grab a flashlight. He switched on the light and shone it back down the alley. Which, as far as she could see, was empty.

Activating the radio hooked to his shoulder, he said something into it. “I called for backup. It should be here soon,” he signed to her when he finished. “You stay here. I’m going to lock the car and have a look around.”

Rebecca started to protest. She didn’t want to be a sitting duck all by herself if her attacker came back. Plus, the idea of being alone was terrifying right now. She wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about going into shock. It was hard to wrap her mind around what was happening.

Miles squatted, putting them on the same level with each other. Switching the flashlight to his left hand, he continued to sign with his right. “Don’t worry. I will wait to canvas your car until help arrives. But I need to make sure he isn’t hiding out nearby. I’ll stay in sight. Okay?”

It made sense. As long as she could see him, there was no reason to panic.

She nodded. Miles swung the door closed. Placing her hand on the door panel, she felt the vibration of the locking mechanism sliding into place. Only then did she relax. Craning her neck, she watched Miles cautiously approach the alley and inspect it for hidden threats.

Several cars passed them. The flashing lights inside the dark car made her imagine shadows that weren’t there. Hurry, please, she thought.

Five minutes later, he jogged back to the car and let himself in.

“I didn’t see anything suspicious. I still need to examine your car. But I don’t want to leave you here by yourself. Let me check on the status of our backup, and we can get this sorted out.”

She nodded to show she understood.

Using the button on the dashboard, he placed the call. “They’ll be here in a minute,” he assured her, then turned off the hazard lights and moved his vehicle over to the side of the street. “I also called for the paramedics. Your throat looks bruised.”

She grimaced, but didn’t argue. Her throat was hurting.

He reached down for a notebook and a pen. “Okay,” he signed. “I need you to tell me everything you can remember. Start at the beginning.”

Sitting forward, she closed her eyes as she racked her brain to figure out the sequence of events. It was easier to focus on what had occurred if she wasn’t looking at him.

“I work at A Novel Idea. I had agreed to close alone tonight. We stay open late on Wednesday nights. My boss, April Long, was going to visit her parents for a few days, or she would have closed with me, the way she usually does. I walked to my car, got in, looked into the rearview mirror—”

Abruptly, she stopped. The memory of those cold eyes glaring back at her had icy fingers running up and down her spine. She dropped her head into her trembling hands.

A hand tapping her left shoulder jolted her out of her fear. Moving her head so her cheek rested on her clasped hands, she glanced over at the cop.

“It’s okay,” he signed. “I know this is hard, but we’ll figure this out.”

Breaking eye contact, he sent a cursory glance down at the notes he had made. “So, did anyone else know what time you were leaving tonight?”

Tilting her head, Rebecca sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it.

“I don’t know. It’s been on the schedule all week. Oh, I did tell one person—I was emailing Jess yesterday about something else, and mentioned that I’d be closing. She offered to have Seth drive me, but I told her I’d be okay.” She pushed back her hair and plowed through the rest. “He was waiting for me inside my car. Tried to choke me. I stabbed him in the eye and tried to escape. But he caught me again.”

Forcing herself to sign slowly and precisely, she described the attack.

“If you hadn’t shown up when you did, he would have gotten me.”

* * *

She could have died. Been kidnapped. Robbed. Beaten. Any number of horrible things could have happened to her.

Miles shoved away the anger that was burning in his gut, tamping it down so it wouldn’t show on his face. She’d been through a traumatic experience and he didn’t want to scare her.

He didn’t know the woman sitting next to him that well. She was close to Jess McGrath, now Jess Travis, and he knew that she and her family had helped Jess and Miles’s friend Seth when they’d been in danger last spring. Thankfully, the ordeal had had a happy ending, with Jess and Seth managing to unmask their attackers—while falling in love with each other in the process.

They’d gotten married not long ago, and Rebecca had been at the wedding, as had Miles. He had even been asked to interpret for her and several other guests who were deaf or hard of hearing, like Rebecca and Jess. He’d assumed, since her brother was Amish, that Rebecca must have been at one time. But he had never tried to find out more. He’d ignored the initial spark of attraction he had experienced when he’d first met her, when Jess had been under attack. It hadn’t been the appropriate time or place. Plus, he couldn’t afford to mess up another case with his rash actions.

By the time the case had been closed, he’d convinced himself it was best to keep his distance. Sure, he could have found where she lived, or asked Jess for a way to contact her. But he had let the opportunity slip away. And anyway, she hadn’t shown any interest in him.

No, he didn’t know her well, but it bothered him when a young woman was victimized. He needed to be careful. He’d let himself act upon his anger once before when involved in a case, and it had almost ruined his career. Even though that time it was personal. Very personal. Couldn’t fall into that trap again. He was still trying to get back into his chief’s good graces.

He asked her a few more questions, trying to get most of the details down while they were waiting.

Red and blue flashing lights caught his attention. A second police cruiser pulled up in front of his, then shifted back to parallel-park against the curb. Good. Jackson was here. And he hadn’t come in hot. Lights, but no siren. If the attacker was still hanging around, there was nothing to cue him that backup had arrived.

“Okay. Sergeant Jackson is here. I’ll have him start looking at your car while we finish this.”

Miles opened his door and stepped out. Turning to Rebecca, he paused and took in her wide blue eyes and troubled face. At least her cheeks seemed to have some color, and her trembling had ceased. She looked calmer. Actually, she looked beautiful. If he hadn’t met her previously, he would not have guessed her background, growing up Amish. Her skirt was long, but it was rust-colored with gold, brown and orange leaves on it. It was pretty on her. He pressed his lips together when his gaze fell on the rip at her knee. Her gold sweater was simple but elegant. Her pale hair was shorter than he remembered, ending just an inch or two below her shoulders. It made him think of summer, the way it shimmered gold.

What? That kind of thinking would get him nowhere.

“Olsen, what do ya know?” Gavin Jackson sauntered toward him. His voice was casual, friendly, but his gaze was in constant motion, sweeping the area for any threats. Keeping it concise, Miles brought him up to speed.

“Rebecca Miller? Hey, I remember her from Travis’s wedding. Cute little thing.” Jackson ducked down to wave at the girl sitting in the car. Miles frowned, not sure why it bothered him to see Jackson smiling at her. But it did.

“Okay, Casanova. Let’s process the scene.”

Jackson’s brows rose, but he made no comment about Miles telling a higher ranking officer what to do. Instead, the man shrugged and shifted back into cop mode.

Between the two of them, they managed to get the scene processed in a relatively short time. Miles kept a close eye on Rebecca. She had refused to sit in the car by herself. To be honest, he preferred having her where he could keep an eye on her. By herself, she wouldn’t be able to hear the attacker return. And even though having her accompany them meant she was out in the open, exposed to another attack, it was hardly likely that her assailant would come back with two officers so close.

When the paramedics arrived, Miles jogged over to interpret for her briefly. He knew the paramedic in charge, a serious blonde woman named Sydney.

Not surprisingly, Rebecca refused to go to the hospital. Sydney didn’t push the issue.

“There’s no bulging around the area. And your color looks good,” Sydney told her as Miles interpreted. “If you have any trouble breathing or opening your mouth, or if swallowing becomes painful, you need to go to the ER. Immediately.”

Rebecca nodded and thanked the woman.

Miles returned to Jackson.

Now they just needed to finish looking over the car, checking to be sure it hadn’t been sabotaged. It was a possibility. Even in the light of day, the alley behind the store was empty. Only businesses. And most of the businesses closed at five. Chances were good that anyone could damage the car without fear of getting caught.

Inside the car, there were no prints, no clues left behind. The attacker had been careful. Except that the back locks had been jimmied. Something was lying on the floorboard. Flashing a light in that direction, he saw Rebecca’s purse. It had been knocked over, the contents spilled everywhere. Why didn’t women use bags that zipped? Seeing her phone, he snatched it up and brought it to her.

“Do you have anyone you can call tonight? Someone to stay with you?”

She nodded. It bothered him to see her so pale and worn. Even her signs were lackluster. “My roommate will be home later. She works until ten. She usually arrives home around eleven.”

“Maybe send her a text. Let her know what happened so she’ll know to come straight home.” He handed her the phone, then left her while she composed the text.

“Pop the hood,” Jackson called, scooting out from his position under the car.

Miles jogged around to the driver’s side and leaned in to pull the lever. The hood released with a small click.

Jackson whistled.

“What?” Miles stepped up beside his colleague.

“Wow.”

The engine had been incapacitated, the spark plugs nowhere to be found. One thing was clear—whoever had attacked Rebecca had wanted to be sure she couldn’t get away.

“Do you think she was specifically targeted?” He took out his cell phone and snapped pictures of the engine. “Could this be random?”

His gut told him no. This kind of attention to detail took forethought and planning.

Jackson was already shaking his head, frowning.

“I don’t think so.”

“I don’t, either.” Miles shoved his hands in his pockets, watching Rebecca as she sat on the cement curb. She looked tuckered out. No wonder. “How does this play for you? I think the perp has been watching her for some time. Maybe a few days, maybe longer. It’s possible he picked her because she was deaf. Thought she’d be an easy mark. He knows where she leaves her car, and what hours she works. Chances are he waited here for her.”

“But if April hadn’t left early, he would have had to contend with two women.”

Jackson had a point. He went to Rebecca and posed the question. A minute later he was back.

“Not necessarily. Rebecca said April usually parked in the parking garage across the street. All he would have needed to do was stay down until she was out of sight.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

The quiet was broken with a ridiculously raucous ringtone coming from his watch. Jackson’s brows rose in amusement. Miles brought up his wrist and fumbled with the buttons, mumbling an apology. He’d left his earpiece in the car, so he moved slightly away from Jackson. It was the chief.

“Olsen here.”

“Report, Officer Olsen,” the chief of police ordered.

“Sir, the perp is gone and has left no traces we could find. He disabled the car, though. It needs to be towed. Jackson and I think he’s been watching Rebecca for a while.”

“Rebecca?” There wasn’t any censure in the chief’s tone, just mild curiosity.

“Sorry, sir. Miss Miller. I know her. Anyhow, we don’t yet know why she was targeted.”

“Ahh.” He could picture the chief nodding as he leaned back in his swivel chair. “Even if the perp was watching her, it might have still been a random attack. Maybe he noticed she drove alone and parked in the alley and thought she looked like an easy mark.”

“Sir, I’m going to drive Miss Miller home, and then come in and file paperwork.”

“Very well. Does she have someone she could stay with?”

Miles cast a concerned glance toward her. Her arms were crossed on the top of her knees, and her head was down.

“Miles?”

Huh? Oh, right.

“Yes. She has a roommate. I had her text the woman and let her know what was going on.”

“Good. I’m glad she’ll have someone there for her,” the chief responded in a smooth drawl.

Miles thought for a second, deciding his next move. “I also think we should try to get the visual artist in as soon as she’s available to see if she can remember any details that might get some hits on the database. Oh, and see if the interpreter is available.”

“If not, you could interpret if she waives her right to a certified interpreter.”

Miles frowned. “Yes, sir. Although I think it would be better to have someone certified.”

People didn’t always understand that managing direct communication in sign language and interpreting at a professional level were two totally different skills. Just because someone could speak the language didn’t mean they could expertly translate it into English.

“I agree. But interpreters are very hard to come by.”

“Yes, sir. I will try to get all that scheduled ASAP.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” A pause. “Miles, I’m going to put you in charge of this case.”

“Sir?” His heart thumped in his chest.

“You’ve been doing good work since you came back. I want to find this perp. And I think you’ve proven you can handle the responsibility. Plus, you can communicate directly with our victim, so that makes you the natural candidate.”

“Thank you. I will do my best.”

He tapped the face of the watch, disconnecting the call, joy bursting through his body. His first case as the lead. The chief trusted him again—he could finally put his past mistakes behind him. This had been a long time coming.

Then he looked at Rebecca, and some of the joy faded. As proud as he was to be lead in the case, he hated the idea that his victory came with the price of her horrible attack.

She was so vulnerable. Just like his stepsister, Sylvie, had been. Suppose this wasn’t a one-time attack? Suppose the perp was a stalker, fixated on Rebecca? He would have his work cut out for him, finding the perp before he struck again. Oh, he’d been in on tough investigations before. Chief Paul Kennedy had been slowly giving him more and more responsibility as he had shown he could be relied on.

For some reason, though, this responsibility seemed heavier. Because it was quite likely that the beautiful young woman sitting a few feet away was still in danger.