The Eyewitness

by Nancy C. Weeks

  When another long, piercing blast from the car horn filled the apartment, Hanna turned and faced her friend, Calista.

  “They aren’t going to stop. You need to just leave.”

  Calista stood at the door, her arms overloaded with beach towels. Dropping the towels at her feet, she stormed into the small kitchen and yanked the rag out of Hanna’s hand. “This trip was your idea, Hanna. Please come with us. It won’t be any fun without you.”

  “I won’t leave without Sarah.” As angry as she was at her sister, Hanna would never deliberately hurt her. They weren’t just sisters but best friends, each the other’s lifeline.

  Calista took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes narrowing on the clock over the oven. “We rescheduled this trip for her. She should have been here an hour ago and she’s ignoring your calls. She has buried herself in another one of her projects, so just leave her and come with us.”

  “No. Sarah promised me she would be here.” Hanna slammed the door of the dishwasher hard enough the dishes rattled. She turned and glared at her friend. “When Sarah makes a promise, she never breaks it.”

  Hanna ran her hands through her waist-length black hair, yanked a band off her wrist and pulled it all into untidy ponytail. She, too, glanced at the clock and tried to keep her mind from spiraling into dangerous territory.

  What if something happened? She never remembers to charge her damn cell phone. What if she can’t call me?

  Panic slammed into her gut.

  Calista raised her arms then dropped them to her side, her shoulders sagging. “You’re not your sister’s keeper,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ve missed so much waiting for her. I hate how she ignores you; how she thinks everything she’s involved in is more important than you. She’s just like your dad.”

  “She’s nothing like our father. You’re pissed. I get that. But you know Sarah,” Hanna said, shaking her head. “She’s not self-centered but focused. She may tune out the world when she’s in her lab and lose track of time, but that’s devotion.”

  Hanna leaned against the door of the dishwasher and closed her arms around her middle. “If I leave without her, it will crush her. Go. We’ll catch up before you can sip your first mimosa at breakfast. She’s likely on her way and hasn’t called because her phone is dead.”

  Calista flung her heavy backpack over her shoulder and retrieved her pile of towels. Hanna read the disappointment in her friend’s eyes. Her own regret settled in the pit of her stomach.

  “You have the address to my aunt’s condo?” Calista asked.

  Hanna nodded.

  “You better show up, Hanna, or I’m going to be pissed. And Sarah’s going to know it.” Calista hugged her friend hard and left the apartment.

  Hanna leaned her shoulder against the doorframe and watched her friends pack the trunk. As they drove out of the parking lot, her chest grew tight and her eyes filled with tears. Stepping back inside, she locked the door. A tear escaped and streamed down her cheek. As she lifted a hand to wipe it away, the pungent smell of Aramis cologne hit her nostrils. Tiny needle pricks covered her skin and a shiver crept up her spine. She froze.

  Everything in her urged her to unlock the door and run, but instead she turned and came face to face with a man she barely recognized. He stood inches from her. Before she was able to scream, he shoved her up against the door, her body slamming hard on the metal frame. He jammed his arm over her throat and pressed a damp, sickening-sweet smelling cloth over her face. The smell made her gag. Out of pure instinct, she held her breath.

  A cold chill stabbed through her body as her heartbeat raced. She clamped her hands on his arm and tried to yank it away from her throat. She couldn’t breathe. But her struggle only made his chokehold tighter. He yanked her hard against him and then slammed her body into the wall, her head striking hard.

  An intense pain shot through the back of her head, followed by overwhelming nausea. Before she could catch her breath, he grabbed the front of her blouse and dragged her toward the living room. She tripped and stumbled to her knees.

  She gasped for a breath as she tried to form the word why. He wrenched her against him and yelled into her face. She could see his lips move, but the words made no sense. His eyes went cold, burning into hers as his nostrils flared. Each word spit out at her was angrier than the last, but the drumming of her heartbeat drowned out all sound, all reason. Nothing got through. As she slipped into a vortex of pain and darkness, she prayed one last prayer. Please, God, keep Sarah safe.

  • • •

  Hanna awoke with the sound of a car door slamming and the sharp click of heels darting across the pavement and up a flight of stairs.

  Sarah. She’s here.

  Hanna’s thoughts swirled like black clouds, images bleeding one into another until they lost all comprehension.

  Her head rested on a soft pillow and cool sheets caressed her back and legs. She tried to shift and get a glimpse of her surroundings. A piercing, sharp pain shot from the front to the back of her head. She whimpered, but it came out like gurgling.

  Shit. Another migraine.

  She hadn’t had one in months. The blackness swept in from the corners. It comforted her and eased the pain to a dull ache. She attempted to move, but her limbs didn’t respond. Her body was completely numb. It felt like every muscle, every nerve was shot full of Novocain. But her sense of hearing was strong and clear. She was not only hearing her own heartbeat but Sarah’s, and it raced.

  How am I feeling two heartbeats?

  Hanna struggled to open her eyes. Her lids weighed a ton and the strain caused another sharp pain to shoot through her head.

  My God, what’s wrong with me?

  When the pain eased, a crystal clear image of Sarah flashed before her. Her sister stood on the last step of the breezeway before the second floor of Hanna’s apartment complex. She glanced out over the parking lot.

  Every thought that passed through Sarah’s head shot through Hanna’s mind. What Sarah felt—the guilt and disappointment in herself—were there for Hanna to feel. She tried to shake her sister’s voice from her head, but the excruciating pain returned, easing only when she stopped struggling.

  When Sarah searched for Hanna’s car and found it in its assigned slot, a moment of calm settled over her until she couldn’t find Calista’s CR-V. Hanna’s heart slammed hard against her ribs as Sarah’s regret moaned in her head.

  “She left with Calista,” Sarah’s voice quivered inside Hanna’s head. “I let her down, again.”

  Through Sarah’s despair, images began to form in Hanna’s head of where Sarah spent the last several hours. Sarah didn’t forget her or the trip. What kept her away was so much more important than a week at the beach.

  Hanna tried to stop the images from flooding her mind. She didn’t want this. It was too much, but the vision remained as vivid as a scene from a movie.

  Sarah darted around the collection of empty clay pots by the door. She lifted her hand and knocked. The sound vibrated through Hanna’s head. Sarah waited a few moments and knocked again.

  “Please open the door, Hanna. I’m so sorry I’m late.”

  When Sarah dug through her purse and pulled out her spare key, Hanna began to struggle against her invisible bonds. Sarah couldn’t come into her apartment. She had to stop her.

  “Come on, Hanna. I’m here now. Please open the door. I cleared my whole week. Henry told the guards at the gate not to allow me anywhere near Noran until next Monday. I’ll hand over my Blackberry. You can toss it in the freezer if you want. Just open the door and let me make this up to you.”

  No, Sarah. Run!

  Horrifying images of the last few hours crashed through her memory. That man . . . where was he? Was he still here?

  Excruciating pain ripped through every cell and she screamed out. Blessed darkness began to seep through her mind. She pushed back the void even though she welcomed it. She had to protect Sarah. She gazed in horror as Sarah placed the
key in the slot, turned the lock, and opened the door.

  “Well, now you’re being petty, little sister. You chained me out? Really, Hanna?”

  Hanna watched Sarah slam her shoulder against the door. A sympathetic pain shot up Hanna’s arm.

  Sarah. No. Stop!

  Then the smell hit both sisters at once. A coppery metallic stench wafted through the crack in the door. The overpowering scent of vomit and urine followed.

  Hanna could feel Sarah’s heart begin to drum in her chest. Sarah opened her mouth to scream, but no sound escaped her lips. She frantically yanked at the door then banged her shoulder against it, fighting the simple security chain that kept her from her sister. She stuck her face in the gap of the door as much as the chain would allow. Her gaze landed on a spot of red on the tile foyer.

  Hanna cringed at the sight of her own wet drops of blood and tried again to fight whatever kept her from reaching Sarah. The imagines in Hanna’s head grew clearer, brighter.

  Don’t look, Sarah. Shut the door.

  Sarah’s gaze followed the blood up the wall where a much larger blotch dripped down in streams. The terror that clamped hold of Sarah’s heart consumed Hanna. She could feel Sarah’s body tremble while her own body remained numb.

  Sarah slammed her shoulder against the door over and over again. Each time her shoulder hit the door, intense pain shot through Hanna. When that didn’t break the chain, she alternated kicking and banging the door with her fist until Sarah’s vision blurred and she clasped against the door sobbing and screaming Hanna’s name.

  Sarah, shut down. I’ve seen you do it so many times with Dad. Don’t feel.

  Wishing she could wash the vision from her mind, Hanna lay paralyzed, powerless.

  Sarah, stepping away from the door, squeezed her eyes tight and took a deep cleansing breath. Hanna could feel the strain of Sarah’s jaw as she clenched down hard. Her breathing grew shallow while her thoughts evaporated, void of emotion. Hanna had seen Sarah close off her emotions before, but she’d never felt it.

  Oh God, Sarah, I never knew what this did to you. I hate this feeling of emptiness.

  Sarah let out her breath, her heart slowed and she detached herself completely.

  Sarah reached into the side pocket of her purse and retrieved her cell phone. In an expressionless voice, she gave the operator Hanna’s address requesting police and ambulance assistance.

  As she completed the call, Hanna felt the walls around her sister’s emotions crack and a flood of despair crashed down on both of them, smothering them. With Sarah’s back up against the door, a tremor sliced through her body, and she slid to the hard concrete walkway.

  “Hanna, I’m so sorry. What have I done? I should have been here for you. It’s my job to keep you safe. Oh God, please let her be okay. Please God, let her be okay.”

  Sirens blared.

  This wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me, Sarah? The blackness spread through her mind, again easing her pain, and sent her back into the void.

  • • •

  The trauma center at Doctor’s Hospital was a concert of controlled chaos, and for the time being, it all centered on Hanna Tu. Doctors, nurses, lab techs scurried in and out of the first cubicle with one goal in mind, to stop the bleeding and keep her alive.

  The pillar in the middle of the trauma unit was a perfect support for Jason McNeil’s six-foot-three inch frame to rest as he observed the orderly mayhem. With a coffee cup in his left hand, he used his thumb to text an update to his oldest brother, Jared, the lead detective in charge of the violent crime unit.

  Jason’s gaze was glued on the petite woman lying motionless in the hospital bed. Tension and noise levels were high as one command after another flew between doctors to the nurses to the orderlies. A nurse frantically swabbed the blood from one of several gashes on Hanna Tu’s arm that continued to ooze. The gauze sucked up the blood like a sponge. When the pad was soaked through, she grabbed another from the stainless steel tray and repeated the process. With each breath Jason took, the pungent scent of antiseptic, blood, and other ominous odors assaulted his nostrils.

  He lifted his Styrofoam cup and gulped down the lukewarm, bitter brew. The coffee churned in the pit of his stomach. Shaking his head, he chucked the empty cup into the nearest trashcan and shoved his fisted hands into his pockets. Cold, raw hatred ate at his gut. As his gaze froze on the young woman’s face, the only area on her body untouched, he fought for an explanation. What drove someone to do something so horrific to another human being? Such brutality rocked Jason’s faith at its core.

  His body ached for some sort of action, a long hard run or a grueling weight-lifting session. Strenuous activity was his way of keeping the restlessness at bay. But something else held him in that spot. He waited, studied everyone who came anywhere near Hanna Tu, his protective instinct on high alert. She could identify a serial killer. She was the only victim the monster left alive, and maybe their only hope at stopping him.

  He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. The guilt from not stopping the bastard before he attacked again would live with him a long time.

  It’s not your fault.

  A woman’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. He twisted around, but the nurse he had seen moments earlier stood before him.

  Damn, what the hell was that?

  “Excuse me? What did you say?” Jason straightened his frame and took a step forward, his heartbeat hammering between his ears.

  The woman backed away from him. “Detective McNeil, I was saying you don’t need to wait. It’s going to be awhile. As soon as an operating room opens, they’ll deal with the deeper cuts and then she’ll be sent to the ICU. It’s going to be hours before we know anything.”

  He shook his head and his gaze darted around the unit until they landed on Hanna. “Am I in the way here?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m staying.”

  The nurse shrugged and strolled back into the cubicle. Jason drew his attention back to the young woman lying motionless on the bed. A lingering unease settled in his gut. Where in the hell did that voice come from? He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and leaned back against the pillar.

  According to the coroner’s report, the three other victims had more than fifty thin slashes, placed in the exact spot on each woman. All three women bled out. The same thing probably would have happened to Hanna if her sister hadn’t found her when she did.

  How much blood could one person lose and still live? The floor, bedding, every surface was covered with deep red-soaked gauze pads. How is she still alive?

  He thinks I’m dead. Sarah’s coming. Help her!

  The voice quivered inside Jason’s head. He pushed away from the pillar and froze. No one was there. His gaze fell back to the woman in the bed. His eyes narrowed and he clenched his jaw, biting down so hard, pain shot up his inner ear.

  The next instant, a petite woman with long, straight, raven hair and the most beautiful, hazel eyes he had ever seen charged through the trauma unit. A security officer followed close behind and grabbed her arm, stopping her from moving any farther into the restricted area.

  Jason stared at the woman in the bed and back to the woman by the door. He knew, without a doubt, her name was Sarah. His mind raced for an explanation.

  “Ma’am, you can’t be back here.” The guard tried to pull Sarah back through the doors.

  Sarah yanked out of his hold. The expression on her face was intense, unyielding. “Like hell I can’t. My sister is here. She needs me.”

  The charge nurse moved from behind a counter of the nurse’s station and stood next to the security officer. “How can I help you?”

  The nurse’s low, gentle voice seemed to have a soothing effect on Sarah. “Hanna Tu.” Her voice shuddered.

  Jason couldn’t take his eyes off Hanna’s sister. In an instant, she transformed from a stiletto wearing, ice-dragon on the warpath—just the kind of woman he disliked—into a frightened, desper
ate woman whose vulnerabilities brought out his protective instinct.

  As her eyes wildly searched the trauma unit, the nurse reached for Sarah’s arm and guided her toward the doors.

  “We’re still assessing your sister’s condition. I’ll have one of the doctors come talk to you in the waiting room as soon as they can. She’s in good hands, I promise you.”

  “I need to see her. I need to know she’s okay. The police wouldn’t allow me into her apartment. No one has told me anything. There was so much blood.” She sucked in a deep breath as tears clouded her eyes. “Please let me see her for a moment.”

  Her eyes narrowed on the cubicle surrounded by a curtain. One of the nurses moved the fabric aside and left carrying a tray of vials. Sarah’s gaze fell on her sister. “Oh God! Hanna!”

  She took a step toward her sister, but her body began to tremble and her knees buckled. Jason rushed forward and caught her as her body collapsed. With one arm wrapped around her waist, he used his other hand to lift the badge that hung around his neck and flashed it at the nurse. “She’s with me.”

  He then found an empty chair away from a direct view of the cubicle and lowered Sarah into it. He knelt, keeping his arm around her. Her body shook violently and she gasped for air. The charge nurse brought over a cup of water and handed it to Jason. He brought it to Sarah’s lips.

  “Drink, Sarah, it will help.”

  She sipped the water and closed her eyes, taking in several deep breaths. “W-who hurt her? W-why?”

  “We don’t know, but we’ll find out. He’ll pay for this.”

  Sarah finally glanced up at him and pulled away. “Who are you?”

  And the ice-dragon’s back. Jason clenched his jaw to keep a smile from spreading across his face. He couldn’t put his finger on the why, but this woman intrigued him. “Detective Jason McNeil.”

  “Why are you here and not out finding the person who hurt my sister?”

  Don’t let her push you away. She needs you, we need you.