Because of the Rain
Deborah Raney
Contents
Because of the Rain
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
About the Author
Nearly
Finally Home
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Because of the Rain
Deborah Raney
Because of the Rain
(Expanded and updated from the 1997 novel In the Still of Night.)
© Copyright 2016 Deborah Raney.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted to any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from Raney Day Press.
Scriptures used from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All characters are fictional and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Published by Raney Day Press. Cover and interior design by Ken Raney.
Printed in the United States of America.
Created with Vellum
“To appoint unto them that mourn…to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified” (Isaiah 61:3)
For Vicky, Brad, and Beverly
who shared a perfect childhood with me;
and in memory of our sister Kim,
who tasted heaven before us all.
Chapter 1
Anna Marquette stepped into the quiet of the carpeted hallway and closed the door to the hotel room behind her. Checking the lock, she tucked the key card into her large leather handbag and headed across the hall toward the bank of elevators. The doors at the far end of the row slid open silently, and she entered the empty car. The air inside smelled of stale cigarette smoke and air conditioning. Anna pressed the button for the lobby and leaned back against the handrail as the elevator began its descent. The elevator shaft was encased in glass, affording Anna a sweeping view of Orlando’s skyline as the cage crept slowly down the sleek face of the towering building and ground to a halt on the lobby level.
It was March, and they’d flown out of Chicago’s O’Hare yesterday morning in below freezing temperatures. But March in Orlando meant ninety degrees. The late afternoon sun beat down on the glass, warming Anna’s bare arms. It always amazed her that the weather could be so drastically different just a few hours’ flight away.
Paul had laughed at Anna as she packed sweaters and wool jackets alongside her summer dresses.
“Anna, we’re going to Florida, not the Yukon.”
“I know, but I’m not taking any chances. You know I can’t stand to be cold.”
“Suit yourself. But I’m only carrying one suitcase.” He gave her the grin that had won her heart twenty-three years ago and continued folding golf shirts and summer dress shirts, adeptly packing them into one half of the large suitcase that lay open on their bed.
An executive with a large advertising agency in Chicago, Paul Marquette was a seasoned traveler. His business trips were usually overnight—two or three days at the most—but he traveled several times a month. Whenever he had to be gone longer than that, he liked Anna to come with him.
When their daughters were younger, Anna had relished the chance to get away with Paul and take a break from being a full-time mom. Her parents lived an hour west of Chicago and were always eager for a chance to spoil their granddaughters. But now that the girls were grown and on their own, and Anna’s days were more her own to orchestrate, the days spent lounging in a hotel room or shopping the malls of whatever city they happened to be in had lost some of their appeal. Yet the evenings with Paul, exploring the city together and sampling the local cuisine, made the days of solitude worthwhile.
And now that she’d gone back to school, Anna knew that for a few years at least, she would no longer be able to drop everything and take off with her husband whenever she pleased. Fortunately, this trip had fallen during the university’s spring break.
Anna was teaching first grade when she and Paul met, and she’d kept her teaching job after their marriage, but when Kara was born two years later, Anna was smitten. Although she’d always planned to go back to her job when her maternity leave was over, as the scheduled day of her return to the classroom crept closer, she could not imagine leaving this precious little bundle with anyone, let alone a series of relative strangers at the local daycare.
Paul was surprised at her change of heart, but they’d reworked their budget and decided Anna would stay home with the baby a while longer.
She was still at home when Kassandra came along two years later. And then two years had stretched into almost twenty, until the girls were grown.
Anna had thoroughly enjoyed the busy and fulfilling life of a stay-at-home mom. But when Kara started her senior year of high school, Anna realized how quickly the empty nest was approaching, and she started to think about what she wanted to do with her life once the girls were grown and gone. Teaching had lost its appeal, and while she’d briefly entertained thoughts of going to medical school, the realization that she would be past fifty by the time she could begin a practice sobered her. Now, at forty-five, she was back in college studying for a master’s degree in counseling. A whole new, intriguing world had opened up to her at the university, and Anna was enthusiastically working toward the day when she could open her own clinical practice.
She was grateful for Paul’s support through it all. He’d shared her enthusiasm from the beginning, along with her passion for the study of psychology. “Advertising is nothing more than the exploration and application of the remarkable ways the human mind works,” he’d told her more than once. Her studies had precipitated many animated—if sometimes heated—discussions between them.
The elevator doors glided open, and Anna stepped into the cool marble-floored lobby. She pushed open the heavy front door to a blast of Florida heat. The bellman indicated that the taxi she’d summoned was already parked under the canopy in front of the hotel. She thanked him and climbed into the waiting cab. “Longwood Center, please.”
The driver grunted his acknowledgment and eased into the flow of traffic on the congested boulevard. Anna had arranged to meet Paul for dinner at eight o’clock. Friends had recommended an Italian restaurant near the shopping center, but Anna had left early enough to do a little shopping beforehand. The warm weather had put her in the mood to buy summer clothes. Paul would never let her hear the end of it if she walked into the restaurant with a shopping bag full of summer things. Oh well, his teasing was one of the things that had drawn her to Paul. And thanks to her father, who was a terrible tease, An
na had always seen teasing as a sign of affection.
The cab pulled smoothly alongside the curb of the shopping center. Anna paid the fare and tipped the driver, then entered the huge mall, which was nearly empty on a weekday afternoon. The shops were situated around an open courtyard that boasted an abundance of fragrant flowering trees and a cobblestone floor. The subdued staccato of Anna’s sandals on the cobblestone mingled with the musical splashing of the courtyard’s many fountains and the hushed conversations of scattered shoppers.
Enjoying the balmy weather and window-shopping, Anna walked at a leisurely pace to the far end of the mall. When she turned to retrace her steps, she got down to business, entering several shops that looked promising and even trying on a few items. She bought three shirts and an expensive pair of sunglasses. Then, feeling guilty that she’d spent too much money, she carried her bags to the food court in the center of the courtyard.
She ordered iced tea and, juggling the brimming cup and her packages, made her way to a small table. She sat there entranced by the parade of people passing by. She’d always been enthralled with the diversity and uniqueness of people, but her study of psychology had made the observing even more fascinating. It was such fun to hazard guesses about personalities and relationships––and often be proved wrong in only a few minutes of observation. If she’d learned one thing, it was that you could not judge a book by its cover.
She checked her watch. It was almost time to meet Paul. Taking one last sip from the tall Styrofoam cup, she gathered up her packages. Pushing back the chair, she surveyed her surroundings, unsure which entrance would take her in the direction of the restaurant. She’d spotted Italia from the taxi as they pulled onto the mall’s frontage road, but she had her directions turned around in this city.
She headed toward the entrance where the cab had dropped her. Traffic in the parking lot was picking up now that the workday had ended. The sun had sunk below the horizon an hour earlier, and Anna looked around, trying to orient herself.
The restaurant was nowhere in sight. It must be on the opposite side of the mall. Sighing, she turned to go back through the shopping center’s doors, then decided it would be just as quick to walk around the outside of the complex. Besides, the weather was glorious. She followed the narrow walk and came to the end of the long row of buildings.
Rounding the corner, she spotted the restaurant. Italia declared a large banner flapping in the breeze at the center of a spotlighted avenue of red, white, and green flags. The restaurant was much farther from Longwood Center than it had looked from the window of the taxi. She’d have to cross a busy street and walk past another small office complex to get there.
The lights of the city twinkled in the semidarkness, and the streetlights illuminating the outside of the mall grew fewer and farther between as she walked away from the anchor stores’ facades.
She approached a service entrance. A huge air conditioning unit jutted out into the path, and several trash bins were clustered in the darkened alley that led, she supposed, into the shopping center’s maintenance area. In the warmth of the evening, the trash bins emitted a pungent odor. Wrinkling her nose and checking the drive for traffic, Anna stepped off the curb.
Chapter 2
She hoped Paul hadn’t been waiting long. Waiting had never been his strong suit. Intent on the maze of sidewalks and crossings leading to the other side of the busy boulevard, Anna walked past the service entrance at Longwood Center, trying not to inhale the foul odors coming from the dumpsters.
She inhaled sharply as a figure suddenly loomed in front of her. Without warning, a sharp pain tore through her left shoulder, and before she had time to even imagine what had struck her, she felt a heavy cloth close over her head. Arms flailing, she went down, then felt herself being dragged across the concrete. At first she thought she’d been hit by a car. But hearing a man’s voice––no, more like gutteral grunts––she fought against the panic rising in her throat.
A heady rush of adrenaline surged through her veins and she tried to get loose, regain her footing. But a muscular arm hooked her neck, and she felt herself being lifted until her toes barely touched the ground. She tried to scream, but the vice around her throat nearly crushed her windpipe, rendering her mute. A sickly sweet smell assaulted her nostrils. Men’s cologne mingled with sweat, she thought. She struggled to push down the panic and think clearly, but her thoughts ran wild. Waves of pain rolled over her, so intense she feared she’d lose consciousness.
“Hush, Mam’selle.” For the first time, her attacker spoke. “You cooperate, no? Then maybe you walk out of here een one piece.” He had a deep voice and the smile his voice held belied the threat of his words. He spoke deliberately, in a heavy tongue that sounded French to Anna’s ear.
Her thoughts churned, disconnected, in her mind. She struggled to loose her arm from the man’s grip, but that only made him squeeze more tightly, wrenching her arm backward. And then she felt the smooth, hard, cold of steel against her neck. Her thought of the blade on her throat erased the pain that seared through her shoulder.
She willed herself to stay calm. “Please,” she pled in a hoarse whisper. “There’s…there’s some money in my purse.” She tried to thrust her handbag in the direction of the voice, but she couldn’t make her arms work right. “Just take it. Take all of it.”
“Ah, miss, your money eez not what I am after.” His voice came from above her and held a wicked sneer. He must be tall. She fought to memorize every detail. She could see nothing but felt the smooth, flimsy fabric of his long sleeves—silk perhaps—on her throat. Through her lashes she could see only the coarse weave of the white cloth that covered her face.
He struggled with something and momentarily loosened his grip. In a last foolish effort to escape, she tried to go limp and squeeze out from under his stronghold.
He cursed and jerked her against him, the blade of the knife sharp against her neck, the stench of his cologne choking her. She felt the warm, sticky wetness of her own blood trickle down her chest. Light-headed and strangely calm now her thoughts were instantly clear as glass: I’m going to die. The will to live was strong within her. Resisting would only hasten her death, and she forced herself to calm down, willed herself to stop struggling against the man’s brute strength.
Anna had always imagined she would fight like a wildcat in a situation like this––fight to the death if necessary. She had a strong faith and did not fear death, but now the beautiful faces of Kara, Kassandra, and Paul—her sweet, sweet Paul—passed before her. And she knew at that moment she would submit to any horror if only she could live to see her family one more time.
“Please, God, help me! “She whispered a desperate prayer. “Oh, please don’t let me die.”
Anna fought to push what was happening from her mind. She felt herself being shoved to the ground, her clothing pushed and twisted immodestly. The gritty concrete ground into her back and hips. And then her abductor was on top of her, crushing her into the pavement. Fear and the heavy weight of his body paralyzed her, but with a sense of stunned astonishment, she realized she was living every woman’s nightmare.
Please, God…
The crime she'd thought would never touch her was, in that very moment, becoming fact. She felt strangely detached from her own body, and despite the pain, she tried to sever herself from the horror, thinking only of surviving—for her daughters, for the man she loved.
A prayer swirled through her mind––one that seemed designed to distance her mind from what was happening to her. Even though the hood of cloth blinded her, she squeezed her eyes shut battling to stay conscious, despite being brutally violated.
Finally, the body atop her shuddered. He spat a vulgar oath, and she felt his weight lift as he crawled off of her.
She curled herself into a fetal position, tensing, praying he wouldn’t take her life along with her dignity.
The heels of his shoes shuffled on the concrete kicking fine sand in her face. She will
ed him to walk away. He took a staggering step, but then he turned, and spat in her still shrouded face. She turned her head away, resisting the instinct to rip off the saliva-soaked hood. If she saw his face, he would be more likely to kill her.
With a final vicious grunt, the man grabbed a hank of her hair and lifted her head by it, then he let go, and her head slammed onto the concrete.
She heard his footfalls running away and breathed out a strangled moan. Her whole head throbbed as she clambered blindly in the opposite direction. But when she tried to stand, everything swam
Mercifully, she tumbled into a black world of nothingness.
Chapter 3
Paul Marquette looked at his watch for the tenth time. The lobby of Italia was noisy and crowded and the hostess had already seated two parties in front of them. Where was Anna? He was sure they’d agreed on eight o’clock.
He tried her cell phone again. Straight to voicemail. He checked the time. Eight twenty-five. It wasn’t like her to be late. At least not twenty-five minutes late. He’d seen her change her watch to Eastern time on the plane, and their cell phones had both synced automatically to local time, so he knew that wasn’t her excuse.
Anna often turned her ringer off when she was in public places. She hated the rudeness cell phones had “perpetrated on society,” as she put it, but surely by now she would have realized she was going to be late and tried to call. Maybe she’d lost her phone, but even then, she would have found a pay phone and called to let him know what was going on.
Had she gone back to the hotel and fallen asleep? Or slipped in the shower? Or–– He didn’t like where his thoughts were taking him. He called the hotel and asked them to ring the room. Again, no answer, but he left a message just in case.
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