Obsessed by Darkness

by Autumn Jordon

  If she hadn’t been drowning in silent hysteria, his double take might’ve made her laugh.

  He hunched down to eye level with her. “What’s wrong? You look pale.” He grasped her by the shoulders. “What is it?”

  Low in her belly, quivers gathered strength, becoming quakes, and threatened her resolve to remain calm. She held the phone out to him. “I called my apartment. I recognize the voice. It’s Detective Johnson. He’s there…”

  In a split second, Chase snatched the cell from her with one hand and laced the other supportively around her waist. He held her close, keeping her from sliding to the ground. How had she come to trust this man so quickly, enough to rely on him in this emergency?

  “Detective Johnson,” Chase said. “Chase Hunter. I’m with Emma Lewis. We’re outside. What happened?”

  Emma watched his face for any signs of bad news, but none showed. The lines of his face remained relaxed. She pulled away from the security of Chase’s frame. Maybe something happened next door and Nanette offered the officers the use of their apartment as an overflow. She didn’t want to see anyone hurt, but she couldn’t help hoping her wish would come true and her beloved friend was safe.

  When Chase handed the phone to the officer who’d stopped them, Emma’s hope faded. Without being told, she suddenly knew Nanette was the victim.

  The officer listened for a moment and then replied into the speaker, “Yes, sir.” He handed her cell to Chase and pointed them in the direction of the front entrance. “Tell Officer Diglino—my partner—that I sent you over. Johnson wants you both inside, now.”

  Chase slid her bag from her shoulder and carried it for her. An encouraging smile lifted the corners of his lips as he entwined his fingers with hers. A few moments earlier holding his hand had been her greatest wish. Now…

  Once again, Emma felt the stares of the student body on her as they hurried toward the building. Her boots only had one-inch heels, yet she felt like she stumbled across the uneven payment in stilettos.

  Chase squeezed her hand. The supportive gesture did little to suppress the tremors shaking her from inside, but his words did. “Johnson said she’s alive.”

  Alive. The possibilities in those few words were endless. Nanette could be holding an ice pack against her head—she had taken several self-defense classes in the past—or she could be barely alive, holding on with each tenuous breath as if it were her last. If that was the case, Emma needed to be strong for her friend. Hell, she had to be strong for her friend either way, now and possibly in the weeks to come. “How bad is it?”

  “Johnson didn’t say,” Chase responded.

  She believed him.

  “What the hell is happening to this campus? Denise, now Nanette.” She felt the quaver in her voice and swallowed. “Do they think Nanette’s attack and Denise’s death could be connected?”

  “I’m sure they’re going to look at all possibilities.”

  Officer Diglino faced them as they approached. He was another giant with wide shoulders. She looked up at him.

  Again she felt grateful when Chase stepped ahead of her and took control of the situation. He explained to the officer the attack had happened to her roommate and they had just been summoned inside by Detective Johnson.

  She didn’t want to cry—for Nanette’s sake. Pushing everything from her mind so she wouldn’t break down, Emma kept her eyes focused on the officer’s wide shoulders as they followed him up the stairs to the second-floor landing.

  When the state officer pulled the main hall door open, she noted the heavy door and frame were in the same condition they always were, perfect, which meant the attacker had gained access by other means. Perhaps he had been invited into the building by someone.

  Their apartment was on the second floor. The stairwell funneled the voices of the emergency response personnel to them. She caught bits of conversation: ”There was so much blood…” “No I didn’t see anyone.” “I came home around the time the other officer said the attack happened.”

  Emma’s throat became scratchy with dryness and her apprehension grew.

  Atop the stairs, Diglino pointed out her apartment as if she didn’t already know where she lived. Then, with a military turn, he returned to his post outside.

  Chase gripped her hand tighter as they maneuvered their way through the dozens of people crowding the hall. Officers talked to her neighbors, who looked at her with such sad eyes before casting them downward.

  Each lowered gaze made the knot in Emma’s stomach grow larger, like a ball of bread dough on a hot summer’s day.

  She inhaled stale air, tinged with human sweat as they made the long trek down the vanilla-colored tile hallway. She willed her spine to remain straight as if that straightness made her stronger—to handle what was to come.

  Someone had dropped a gum wrapper on the floor nearby, and neglected to pick it up.

  She’d noticed that the front door and frame of their apartment were intact. Without damage.

  Chase squeezed her fingers with his rougher ones, prompting her to connect with his gaze. She caught his tentative smile of encouragement and nodded, signaling she was ready to enter the apartment. However, nothing could’ve prepared her for the expanse of emotions which accosted her once she stepped inside. The damage was inconceivable.

  Their living room had become an investigative triage area. Two men and one woman, dressed in blue jump suits with C. S. I. on the back, tiptoed around the room. Their shoes were covered with white disposable booties. Their gloved hands handled items gingerly. Even items they believed unimportant to solving the case were photographed anyway and dismissed. They were careful not to disturb the area to be viewed by other officers.

  Evidence which needed expert analysis, like Nanette’s torn shirt, was clearly marked and photographed where they lay before being bagged for analysis at the lab.

  Emma shook her hand to stop her nervously twitching fingers and she swallowed her anguish over broken items and her sense of lost security. Most of all, she concentrated on the most important factor—Nanette.

  “Where’s Nanette?” With wide eyes, she questioned Detective Johnson as he approached them.

  “She’s in the bedroom. Hers I believe.” His eyes darted toward the hallway.

  He stepped in front of her, blocking her path before she’d time to blink. “You can’t go in there right now.”

  “Why?” Her mouth dried, felt more parched than a milkweed in August. She fought the urge to push by him.

  “They’re preparing to take Ms. Yves to the hospital.”

  “How bad is she?” Chase asked the question before she could.

  Johnson’s gaze drew a line, warning Chase not to cross it. “Why are you here? I told the officers to allow Ms. Lewis in.”

  “I wanted him with me. He’s a friend,” she said, latching onto Chase’s hand. He shifted the weight of her bag on his shoulder, allowing the space between them to narrow as if doing so was natural for them.

  She peeked up at him and noted the warmth and compassion in his blue eyes. Then she turned back to the detective. Surely the man remembered seeing Chase at the chemistry lab yesterday afternoon. He should believe her.

  Silence filled the air around the trio as Johnson studied them.

  “Please,” she pleaded, grasping his arm. “Can I see Nanette?”

  She saw the compassion in the depths of the detective’s brown eyes but by the way his lips rolled tight, she knew his answer before he spoke, because he was a cop first and a human being second.

  “Not now. She’ll be Ok. She’s a fighter as you can see from the apartment.” His eyes scanned the room which looked like a tornado had cut a swath through it. “Whoever attacked her will definitely bear signs of being in a fight.”

  “Making your job easier,” Chase said.

  “Maybe, if he hangs around.”

  “Who called it in?”

  Johnson peered at Chase as he answered slowly, “Ms. Yves called 9-1-1.”


  “What about our neighbors?” Emma asked. “Didn’t they hear anything?”

  “No one heard anything. The way these kids blast their music, I understand why they didn’t. A detective nearly had to knock a door down in order to get someone to answer.”

  “Did the attacker—?” Emma interrupted. She wanted to know if Nanette had been raped, but she couldn’t seem to get the words past her lips. She trapped her bottom lip, dreading the detective’s answer.

  “There were no signs of sexual assault, if that’s your question.”

  Emma exhaled and immediately nodded.

  She felt Chase’s presence intensely as he stepped closer to her back. “Do you think this attack on Emma’s roommate has anything to do with the Davidson case?”

  “Do you?” Johnson threw the question back at Chase.

  Chase shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not a cop with access to all the information, but since you’re here heading the investigation, and not just another officer, I assumed you might consider a connection.”

  Johnson’s brow pulled higher on his forehead. “If there is, the connection between the two cases would be Ms. Lewis here.” He looked down at her and a chill tickled her spine.

  The anguish of all the questions she’d been drilled with over the last few days, the way she felt like she was watched every time she left her apartment, and the commandeering of her car by Johnson and his partner came rushing back to her. She clamped her jaw shut and felt her tight muscles pulsing, then answered, “You can’t possibly think I would hurt Nanette? I love her like she’s my own sister.”

  “Sisters have been known to turn on each other, Ms. Lewis, but to answer your question. No, I don’t think you had anything to do with Ms. Yves’ attack, but I do believe there could be a link between this case and Ms. Davidson’s. At this point, you’re the only obvious connection I have between the two.”

  Bang. Metal on wood.

  A fury of commotion happened at the entrance to Nanette’s room. Two EMT’s tried their best to maneuver the gurney carrying Nanette through the doorway.

  Her friend’s dark eyelashes rested against her bruised cheeks. Nanette’s usual bronze skin was devoid of color, except for the areas clouded with shades of black, blue and crimson. A wide white gauze bandage circled her head and small pool of blood caused a star-shaped stain upon it like a badge of courage.

  Emma pushed by Detective Johnson. The detective ordered Chase to remain by the door when Chase made a move to follow her.

  She grabbed Nanette’s hand. A bit of crusted red laced her friend’s swollen lips. Sorrow swelled Emma’s heart, stealing her breath, as she leaned down to speak softly to her best friend. “Nanette, it’s me, Emma. Can you hear me?”

  The eyelashes of the puffy skin covering Emma’s eyes fluttered, and hope swelled in Emma. “Nan. You’re going to be all right. They’re taking you to the hospital. I’m going to meet you there.” She gently squeezed Nan’s cold fingers between her palms.

  Nanette’s lids cracked and through her dark lashes laced with moisture, Emma saw the horrible pain and anguish in Nanette’s weary eyes.

  Nanette’s throat muscles constricted a moment before she mumbled something.

  “What?” Emma drew closer, noting the scent of blood and sweat and salty tears. “I’m here.”

  “My camera,” Nanette whispered.

  “We’ve got to get her to the hospital,” the EMT interrupted. “She needs to be attended to by a doctor.”

  “Your camera.” A smile pulled at Emma’s lips. Nanette was a true artist. “I have your camera. It’s safe.” She placed a quick kiss on Nanette’s cheekbone and grudgingly let go of her hand as the EMTs urged the gurney forward.

  Aimlessly, she followed them, not wanting to let Nanette out of her sight.

  At the door, Chase draped a strong arm over her shoulder, keeping her from following the emergency personnel down the steps. Onlookers in the hallway pressed back against the walls, making way. Lips were chewed nervously by others, who knew they could be in Nanette’s condition if the intruder had broken into their apartment. Tears slipped from a few eyes.

  Emma wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She had to be strong for Nanette. She had to find out who did this to her friend and why.

  “What did she say?” Chase’s deep tone broke through her sorrow.

  She shook her head, taking a second to collect her composure as she moved away from his embrace. She was thankful he was here, but he was really a stranger. He didn’t know Nanette. He couldn’t possibly know the fear threading through Emma now, threatening to cut off her next breath.

  “Her camera. Nan’s worried about her camera. She’s a wonderful photographer.” She gestured toward the framed photographs which hung on the apartment walls. Normally they were displayed proudly and told a story, but now the ones that remained hung at odd angles. Someone had touched them. Disturbed them. Why?

  Emma swallowed the bile threatening to spill from her.

  “Taking pictures is her passion. She wants to be a world-famous photo journalist.”

  Chase looked around the room. Upon spying a camera lying on the floor in a corner, he nodded in its direction and said, “It looks like she’ll need to replace it.”

  Emma looked in the direction he indicated. But the camera lying on the floor with its back ajar and the film from inside, curled out onto the carpet like a dark worm, wasn’t Nanette’s digital camera.

  “She has several. That one is an old one. I think the one she asked about is in my car. That’s her baby.”

  “Why is it in your car?”

  “Nan rode with me to afternoon classes. She ran late getting ready for class.”

  “She did?”

  Not only did he sound surprised, Chase’s eyes had widened. “Yes. Why are—?”

  “What time was that?” he asked, cutting her off.

  “About one. Why are you asking these questions and why are you shocked by my answers?”

  He shook his head. “Never mind. I thought I’d seen her at The Lair at lunch. Around noon.”

  “She might’ve been, but she was here when I came in around twelve forty-five. I dashed in and went right back out. She went with me.” Emma hadn’t given Nan’s camera a thought until now. Nan was especially excited about the pictures she had taken on Tuesday.

  Emma heard the siren outside, signaling the ambulance had rolled out.

  “I’ve got to get to the hospital.”

  ***

  Emma rubbed her thumb against her middle finger, a sign Chase noted that the stress of the week had eroded her resolve to maintain control.

  Her shoulders squared. Her chin notched higher. Without uttering another word, Emma did a heel turn like a seasoned solider and crossed the room to speak to Johnson. Her boots slammed the tile floor, making it clear to all in her path she didn’t want any more crap tossed at her. She definitely wasn’t the kind of person who, when thrown from a horse, whined about it on the way to a hot tub.

  While Emma had held Johnson’s interest, Chase seized the opportunity to inspect the scene. He studied the broken camera a second time. He doubted a camera held sentimental value. And he didn’t understand an artist’s passion, being more of an action type of guy, which led him to believe Nanette worried about the location of her camera for another reason than a few photographs.

  He studied the trashed room.

  There had to be a hell of a fight to cause this much upheaval, and if there had been a frantic struggle here, why hadn’t the neighbors heard anything? This building was one of the oldest ones on campus and certainly in need of updates to bring it up to code to prevent noise—so how had no one heard?

  He figured the walls couldn’t have been as thin as he suspected, but they certainly weren’t soundproof either. Yeah someone had had their music turned way too high, but even so someone must’ve heard something.

  He tapped the paneled door behind him.

  Someone could’ve heard something as
they passed by the apartment, even if the loud music was a distraction.

  A chair had been overturned. Did anyone in the apartment below hear the loud thump if Nanette had been thrown to the floor or when the chair had been toppled over? Had they been home? Or had the chair been placed in the position after?

  From his vantage point, he could see part of the kitchen. Cabinet doors stood ajar and in one spot, a disheveled dish towel kept one drawer from closing: signs someone had searched for something.

  He checked every few seconds that Johnson and Emma remained focused on each other, and slowly inched deeper into the apartment’s hallway. He made quick mental notes of the damage done to adjacent rooms—a bath and two bedrooms. In every room, dresser drawers were pulled open and items cast aside. This break and enter wasn’t just about attacking Nanette or Emma. Whoever did this wanted something else.

  The perp had done a number on Nanette. Had she held out and not given him what he searched for? What had they wanted so badly?

  His gaze jumped to Emma and fear made his heart hitch. Maybe it wasn’t something Nanette had, but rather something Emma held for her. If that was the case, the mother-fucker would likely come at Emma the next time. She might pay the ultimate price for something she had no idea she’d possessed.

  He determined not to let Emma out of his sight.

  Taking one slow step at a time, he made his way back through the short hallway and once again stood right at the spot Emma had left him. Emma’s brow still furrowed under her brown bangs, as she listened to Johnson. She touched her temple, gave the officer a curt nod, then pivoted and hurried across the room to Chase.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, latching onto Chase’s gaze. “You look like you know something. What is it?”

  “Is he done with you?” Chase spoke quietly and jutted his chin toward the detective. “I can drive you to the hospital.”

  Over her head, he saw the senior in-charge officer summon a female officer to his side and then point in their direction.

  “Yes, but…I have to get a few things.” She crossed her arms and her fingers and curled them into the material of her jacket.