A Silent Terror Read online

  But, first, Marianna had to make it through today. She’d chosen to go to work instead of sitting around thinking about the brutal loss of her friend, so she was expected to teach without falling apart. But how? My strength is in You, Lord. Please get me through this day.

  The day of the murder, Joseph, her eldest brother, had picked up her and Twister up from her small house and taken them to her childhood home, drilling her like a dentist for the entire ten-minute drive. When she’d said trouble had arrived, she should have said the Spanish Inquisition had been revived.

  She chalked it up to his being an FBI agent and the boredom of vacationing having set in. And the fact that someone had just killed his baby sister’s roommate. Concern came naturally for him, overprotectiveness his first instinct. One of the reasons her mother hadn’t told him about the murder when she’d ask him to pick her up.

  Joseph could handle just about any situation with a coolheaded professionalism except when it came to his baby sister.

  It drove her nuts.

  Throughout her entire childhood and most of her adult years she had fought to prove she could take care of herself and to get her family to stop hovering simply because she was deaf. She was just glad Joseph had agreed to go get her car yesterday afternoon. Being stuck without transportation made her feel trapped, like a bird with clipped wings.

  She’d snuck out this morning, avoiding her mother’s delicious-smelling breakfast. When she’d considered eating, her stomach had lurched in protest. The only thing she’d been able to force down yesterday had been soup and some fruit.

  As the school building came into view, she glanced across the street at the entrance to her neighborhood. Would it hurt to drive by? Just to see? A quick glance at the clock told her she’d be late if she did.

  Resisting the urge to spin the wheel to the right, she entered the campus. Waving to the guard at the entrance, she made her way down the road, cut a right into the first parking lot she came to and Whipped into an empty spot.

  The building where she taught sat up on a hill. A big hill. Unfortunately, some brilliant architect had designed the nice building but neglected to add a parking area anywhere near it. Hence the lower-level parking and the breath-stealing hike to her classroom.

  At least she got her exercise every day. Grabbing her ever-present backpack from the passenger seat of her car, she slammed the door and began the ascent. Other staff members were in the process of arriving and several waved.

  “Marianna!”

  She turned at the sound of her name. Julie had obviously been calling it a few times as the woman rushed up to her, panting, bending over to catch her breath. “I keep forgetting you can’t hear people yelling at you.”

  Marianna laughed for the first time since Suzanne’s death. Julie Thomas, friend and fellow teacher, could always be counted on to produce a smile. “Nope. You just have to hit the right pitch. How long have you been calling me?”

  Julie shot her a dark look. “Long enough.” A frown knitted her blond eyebrows together. Sucking in a deep breath, she said, “Okay, I can finally breathe again.”

  She waved toward the hill they still had to climb. Fortunately, some bright soul had taken pity on the Green Hall staff and had built steps into the side of the hill. Marianna headed for them, watching Julie’s lips and listening intently as her friend asked, “Are you all right? I mean, I can’t believe someone broke into your house and killed Suzanne. It’s just…”

  “Insane?” Marianna asked quietly.

  “Yes. That’s the only word for it.” Thankfully, while Julie had her funny side, she could be serious when the time called for it. Marianna felt Julie’s hand on her arm. She stopped walking and looked around into her friend’s green eyes, which held a sheen of compassion-induced tears. “Truly, are you all right?”

  Sighing, Marianna leaned over to give the concerned woman a hug. “No, I’m not all right yet, but with God’s help and by finding Suzanne’s killer, I will be,” she whispered. “I have to be.”

  They finished the walk to the two-story building in silence. Julie went to the bottom floor, which contained the middle school.

  Marianna went upstairs to the multi-handicapped school. The middle school students were on an academic track that would prepare them for college. The students in the multi-handicapped school were on the occupational track. They would find themselves with a job suited to their needs and live either with family or in a group home.

  And while their IQs might not be the highest, they still had a great love for socialization. In fact, most of her students were just like any other teenagers, discussing the current television programs and the newest dance, and using the latest technology to communicate with each other. The school was a great place and Marianna loved it.

  She greeted the secretary with a smile. “Hi, Jean.”

  “Oh, you poor girl.” All live feet two inches of Jean Witherspoon ejected from behind her desk, and she rushed over to give Marianna a maternal hug. “What on earth happened? Has there been any word on who…well, any more developments?”

  No one wanted to say the word killed or murdered. Marianna certainly didn’t want to either read the words on peoples’ lips or hear them with the help of her hearing aids. No, she’d rather avoid both words.

  She shook her head. “No, nothing. I’m hoping to hear something soon.”

  “Are you going to be okay? Do you think you can concentrate today?”

  Leave it to Jean to cut to the heart of the matter. “No, probably not, but I’m going to give it my best shot.”

  A pat on her arm pulled her attention to the boy standing next to her. Actually, the word boy wasn’t exactly accurate for this student, Josh Luck, who was six feet four inches tall and would normally be called a man if it weren’t for the fact that he had the mental capacity of about a five-year-old. At twenty-one years old, he would “age out” and graduate in five months. His handicapping label also read “autistic,” but he had a mild form of it, because he enjoyed hugs and physical touch.

  And he loved to bring her gifts. Specific gifts.

  Just about every day Josh would bring her some new computer piece from his seemingly endless supply. She’d talked to his father about it and the man just laughed it off, told her to throw them out or whatever. Josh had so many computers and parts at home that there was no way to keep up with it all. If the boy wanted to give her something, he obviously didn’t think he’d need it. But each week she would send the parts home…just in case.

  Josh was also known as a savant. He knew how to take apart a computer down to the last screw and put it back together almost with his eyes closed.

  He was going to have a great career in computer repair…with a little help from the school-to-work transition team.

  Marianna said, “See you later, Jean. I need to see what Josh’s brought me today.”

  She led Josh down the hall to the third classroom on the right. He followed her and tapped her shoulder again. Marianna shook off her coat and hung it in the closet. Josh waited patiently.

  Then she turned and held out her hand, palm up.

  Josh placed a computer piece in the center of it, then clomped off to sit in his specially designed desk. His lumbering, bulky frame had decimated several regular student desks before the maintenance department workers finally took it upon themselves to build him an indestructible one. So far, so good.

  Several more students made their way into the classroom, stopping for their morning hug and encouraging word.

  The single wooden door to her classroom suddenly seemed to morph into a revolving one. One by one, other teachers and staff stopped by to express concern and condolences. Marianna kept a smile on her face and the tears at bay by sheer willpower.

  It wasn’t until she placed her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk that she realized something seemed…off. She turned to her assistant, Dawn Price, and said, “Did you move things around on my desk?”

  Forty-five years old and a
veteran assistant, Dawn looked up from where she’d been asking a student about his morning. “No, why?” Marianna looked at the small potted plant that normally sat on the back corner of her desk. It had been moved up closer to the edge above the drawer. Her stapler was on the left side instead of the right.

  Several papers she’d stacked neatly looked as if they’ d been rifled through.

  She shook her head. “Things just aren’t where I left them.” She shrugged. “Maybe the cleaning crew had to move my desk and things got shifted.”

  Soon, a student had her attention and she focused on getting through the morning.

  Praying the day would end soon, she did her best to concentrate on the students, pouring as much as she could into their eager minds.

  Ethan threw the pen down on the report and rested his head in his hands.

  “What’s wrong, partner?” Catelyn asked as she found a perch on the side of his desk.

  “This case,” he mumbled into his palm.

  “Yeah.” Confusion colored her voice. “I don’t understand the complete lack of evidence.”

  He snorted and looked up. “We’ve got evidence, such as the shoe print, it just isn’t leading us anywhere. The fact that there were no viable fingerprints leaves us cold. Not even a stray hair. I don’t get it. Suzanne put up a struggle – didn’t she? The room was torn apart.”

  “There’s no indication she fought back.” Catelyn dropped a sheaf of papers on his desk. “The M.E.’s report. Nothing under her fingernails, nothing on her clothing.”

  “Then she surprised him. The room’s not trashed, because she fought him, he trashed it before she got there.” Tapping his chin, he looked at the papers but didn’t pick them up. “He wasn’t expecting anyone to be there.”

  “Okay, so he broke in, started gathering his loot in the bedroom, was there maybe a couple of minutes when Suzanne walked in on him.”

  Nodding, Ethan said, “She startled him and he grabbed her, she probably would have pulled back, maybe stumbled and fell, hitting her head? Or maybe he pushed her trying to get out of the room. I don’t know, just speculation, but…” he said, shrugging.

  “But where was her car? The one in the driveway was registered to Marianna. And it was clean. No sign of a search or tampering.”

  His gaze snapped up to hers. “You’re right. There was only Marianna’s car. The garage was empty.”

  “Suzanne may not have owned one.”

  “One way to find out.” A few taps onto the computer keyboard brought up a number of Suzanne Millers in the Spartanburg area. He scrolled down to the right one listing her address and clicked.

  Suzanne’s pretty features as shown on her driver’s license filled the top right corner of the screen. Finding the area of the screen he wanted, he clicked again.

  She owned a black Honda Accord. Glancing up at Catelyn, he pointed to the monitor. “Look.”

  Catelyn looked at him. “So, what are you waiting for?” She glanced at the clock on the wall opposite his desk. “It’s twelve forty. I’ve got another appointment, but it’s plenty of time for you to be waiting on Marianna when she walks out of class. Actually, she’s probably at lunch. It’s Friday, so the buses start picking up the kids at one.” The residential school dismissed the students early on Friday because some of the kids had a four-to five-hour trip home. The drivers and attendants who staffed the buses stayed the weekend in whichever city was at the end of their route, then brought the students back on Sunday night.

  “Yeah, I know the schedule.” Without another word, Ethan grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

  Fifteen minutes later, he’d flashed his badge to the guard at the entrance and refused the offer of directions to the building called Governor’s Hall, the cafeteria where the students gathered each day to eat, then stand outside to wait for the buses. He knew the way.

  Ethan now sat outside the building watching the end-of-day activity. Two high school boys tossed a football with one hand and signed back and forth with the other, talking in a language Ethan had done his best to forget, yet remembered with no trouble. Another young man stole a kiss from the girl he held hands with as they strolled up the hill toward the area where they would wait for the bus to pick them up. A group of elementary students crossed the street at the crosswalk, and a little girl about seven years old stooped to entice a cat to come to play until she was hurried on by the worker bringing up the rear.

  Nothing changes, he thought. When his sister had been a student here a little over three years ago, the same two boys played football, the same couple held hands – everything was the same. Then he shook himself. Of course everything wasn’t the same, but it sure did bring back memories.

  Memories that brought the pain of his sister’s death to the surface one more time, along with the resentment of his parents’ just moving on as if nothing had happened, as if his world hadn’t been ripped apart. A week after her funeral, his parents had left to tour Europe.

  Sure, they’ d asked him to go with them, but he’d been shocked at their plans, had thought they were crazy, insensitive, unfeeling.

  Forcing his thoughts from the past, he concentrated on watching for the one person he hadn’t been able to push from his mind.

  Marianna Santino.

  And then there she was. Coming out of the cafeteria, her heavy wool skirt swaying against her endless stretch of legs. The baby-blue, cable-knit sweater only enhanced her dark beauty. She had her raven-colored hair flowing around her shoulders and down her back, just as she had two days ago.

  His palms suddenly itched, curious to feel what it would be like to let that hair flow through his fingers. Curling his traitorous hands into fists, he told himself to focus. He was here on a case, not a date.

  And soon she would be gone from his sight. Where was she going? Climbing from his car, he followed her. She was on her BlackBerry, texting someone, her fingers flying over the keys. Totally focused on her task, she kept her head down, never looking left or right – not exactly the best defensive walk. But then she wasn’t the one who needed to be on the defensive; Suzanne was the one who’d been killed.

  He wondered how Suzanne had walked. Probably like Marianna, completely unaware of her surroundings. The thought chilled him.

  “Marianna!”

  She didn’t turn. Instead, she flipped her phone shut, pulled open the glass door and slipped inside the building. Closing in fast, Ethan saw her enter the third classroom on the right.

  Reaching the door, he entered after her. Her desk faced the door and she stood behind it, pulling a box from a drawer. “Marianna?” He moved farther into the room.

  Looking up, she gasped. “Oh, Detective O’Hara.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. And it’s Ethan.”

  “Ethan, then. And it’s all right.” She held up a shoebox. “I’d forgotten to give this to Josh to take home last Friday, and with all the craziness this week, I forgot to give it to him today. He loves to bring me computer parts each week. I believe in recycling, so I was just going to rush down to the bus pick-up area and give it to him.”

  “Come on, I’ll drive you. I’ve got a few questions to ask if you don’t mind.”

  She blew out a sigh, grief crossing her flawless features for a brief moment. She shut the drawer and walked around the side of the desk.

  “I don’t mind. I can’t think of anything I haven’t already told you, but maybe your questions will jar something.”

  Together, they walked back to his car, with Marianna greeting various staff and students along the way. When they reached his vehicle, he drove her around to the where the buses picked up the students and she hopped out. Ethan stayed put and watched her approach an on-duty staff member. She asked in sign language while voicing, “Cleo, has Josh already gone?”

  Cleo signed back, “Yes, his bus left about five minutes ago.”

  Marianna sighed, hands gracefully forming the words, “Oh well, it wasn’t anything major, just his b
ox. I guess I’ll save it for next week.”

  “You want me to keep it until Monday? I have to go back to my classroom anyway, so I don’t mind.”

  “Sure, thanks.” Marianna handed over the box of treasures with a dimpled smile, then walked back to climb in Ethan’s car. “Do you want go up the street to the coffee shop to talk?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The sooner he got this investigation out of the way, the sooner he could start thinking about asking Marianna Santino out on a date.

  Maybe. If he thought his heart could handle it.

  Ice Cream and Coffee Beans, home to tasty milk shakes and fresh-brewed coffee. Sandwiches could be ordered, too. Marianna chose a peanut butter shake with whipped cream. Ethan decided on a chocolate one, sans the white topping, and a club sandwich.

  A plain, no-frills kind of guy, she thought. Nice. He kept his beard trimmed close and his mustache neat. A well-shaped mouth with firm lips smiled at her through the facial hair. Sometimes it was hard to read the lips of people who hid them behind beards and mustaches, but not Ethan. He was an easy read. His lips anyway; his eyes were another story.

  He said, “I can’t believe you went to work today.”

  Taking a sip of her milk shake, she relished the sweet richness on her tongue for a minute before swallowing. “I had to.” She leaned back against the booth. “I love my parents, and my mom would like nothing better than for me to come home on a permanent basis, but one day was enough.” She gave a wry smile. “And Joseph was driving me nuts.”

  “Your brother?”

  She nodded, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the strength that he exuded. “He’s an FBI agent who works in New York. He works a lot of missing person cases. It’s the first time he’s been home in almost a year, and he gets confronted with this. I told him to stay out of it, but don’t be surprised if you get regular calls for updates from him.”