Hallie lifted her key to insert it into her lock and went still, rib cage squeezed tight. A pair of gouges on the jamb had never been there before. Slowly she straightened and backed away. Her door flung open, and a faceless apparition in black charged toward her.
Screaming, she whirled and ran, but iron arms captured her from behind. One clamped her arms to her sides, the other went around her throat, cutting off her air. She struggled, but to no use.
“Where is it?” A voice grated in her ear. “I know he gave it to you.”
She gurgled, spots waltzing before her eyes. The man dragged her backward toward the privacy of her apartment, where he could do whatever he wanted with her. Weakness seeped into her limbs, but she sent one frantic command to her failing body. With every remnant of strength she rammed her spike heel onto her attacker’s foot.
He howled, and his grip loosened. She whirled away, staggering. Her ankle turned, shooting fire up her leg, and she plunged headfirst toward the edge of her neighbor’s doorframe. Pain split her skull. Then blackness and silence swallowed her whole.
NINETEEN
Quiet greeted Brody in his small two-bedroom rambler in South St. Paul. No television blaring. No music going. Only one light on in the living room. Carrying his tux jacket over one arm, he went up the hall toward the bedrooms. A quick check in Damon’s revealed an empty bed. Where was he? Frowning, Brody left his jacket and shoes in his room and headed for his tiny office on the other side of the house, calling Damon’s name. No answer. Maybe the kid was engrossed in a computer game.
A light glowed under the closed door, and Brody blew out a breath. “Hey, buddy.” He opened the door to nobody home. A yellow sticky note was stuck to the PC screen. He snatched it and read, Gotta get some air. Back soon. Probably before you get home, and then you’ll never see this note. Ha! Ha! Oh, and some lady called from a university around 10:00 p.m. She said to call her back right away. Number’s on the phone.
Brody scowled. Fool kid! Well, at least he wasn’t strolling the neighborhood in broad daylight. Brody turned and snatched another sticky note off the phone receiver. The number had a Seattle area code. Must be Alicia’s former college supervisor. He settled into his desk chair and punched the numbers in.
“Ferndale residence,” a mellow female voice answered.
“This is Brody Jordan, returning your call from Minnesota.”
“Ah, Mr. Jordan.” The tone sharpened. “I’m Professor Gladys Ferndale. I was Alicia Drayton’s supervisory professor when she attended here. Thank you for calling back yet this evening. I realize it’s a couple of hours later there than here.”
“I was told you had urgent information.”
“Indeed, I do. In fact, I’ve already given it to the St. Paul police.”
“The police!” Brody’s breath caught.
“The Dean of Admissions filled me in on the reason for your inquiries. Alicia was violently murdered and a female colleague of yours has acquired a stalker? Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“Then I’m afraid there is cause for alarm connected with Alicia’s reason for withdrawing from college here at the U of W.”
“Just a second. I want to write this down.” Heart thudding against his ribs, Brody grabbed a pen and a notepad out of his top drawer. “Go ahead.”
“This is so sad. I hate when things like this happen.” Professor Ferndale heaved a breath. “When Alicia arrived at school, I noted immediately that she was like a confused creature escaped from captivity. She didn’t say much about her background, except that she’d chosen a school about as far away from home as she could get.
“Soon, she took up with a senior student, a wild young man named Wyatt Rosenbaum. Red flags went up in my mind, but she did well in her first semester. However, into her second term, she gradually slacked off on attendance and her grades slipped. I attempted to counsel her on numerous occasions, but she brushed me off.
“Then I truly became alarmed when I began noticing bruises on her face and arms. That’s when I took the liberty of calling her parents. They came and got her. The next day, Mr. Rosenbaum was in a two-car collision where several people were hurt, and he was found to be under the influence of drugs. His family’s money had gotten him out of trouble in the past, but this time he ended up getting sent to prison for a five-year stretch.”
Brody stopped writing. “So the man is in jail? How does this story relate to Alicia’s murder and the stalking issue?”
“Let me finish.”
“Go ahead.” He poised his pen, a prickly sensation teasing the nape of his neck. This was the big break. He knew it.
“When the Dean told me about Alicia’s death, at first I assumed the same as you did—that Mr. Rosenbaum couldn’t possibly be a factor. But the matter bothered me, so I took the liberty of checking.” A pregnant second of silence passed. “Three months ago, Wyatt Rosenbaum was released on parole. He failed to report to his parole officer eight weeks ago, and has been missing ever since.”
The sheet of paper ripped beneath the pressure of Brody’s pen. Expelling a pent-up breath, he threw the ballpoint down. “Is there any chance you have an old student photo of this Rosenbaum that you could fax me?”
“I’ve already sent one to your police station. I could do the same for you.”
“Please.” Brody gave the professor his fax number. “And thank you so much for coming forward with this information. You may have helped save another woman’s life.”
“Someone you care about personally?”
“More than I can say.”
“Ahhh. I thought I heard that inflection in your voice.”
“Very astute, Professor. Can you tell me one other thing about this Rosenbaum?”
“If I can, I will.”
“I take it he might have had access to money through his family. Is he also the sort of man who would have particular electronics expertise?”
“Most certainly. He was studying to be an electrical engineer and was very savvy with computers, as well.”
Gotcha! Not only would Rosenbaum have been able to modify the tracking device in Hallie’s purse, he would have had the money for whatever equipment he needed in order to pick up the signal. “Thank you. That confirms an aspect of the stalking issue. I don’t suppose you know if he had a dog.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”
They ended the call, and Brody’s fax machine chittered a minute later. The sheet that came out showed a head and shoulders shot of a young Caucasian man with a square chin and dark hair and eyes. Shade was indeterminate since the fax was black and white. Beneath the photo, Professor Ferndale had written a few more identifying characteristics—six feet tall, about one hundred eighty-five pounds, brown eyes and hair.
So this was the face of a killer. Not that what they had so far on Rosenbaum would get Damon off, but it was a huge opportunity to create reasonable doubt. Damon and his lawyer would be tickled silly. Where was that kid anyway?
Brody stuck the photo and notes from his conversation with Alicia’s former supervisor into a manila envelope to show Hallie tomorrow. But he was going to call her tonight, whether he woke her up or not, and give her the scoop on this monster. He picked up the phone and stabbed the number keys then drummed his fingers on the desk while the phone rang.
“Hello.”
Brody’s spine went stick straight. That female voice didn’t belong to Hallie. “Detective Millette, what are you doing at Hallie’s apartment?”
“Mr. Jordan?”
“Yes, it’s Brody. After I dropped Hallie off tonight, I got home and returned a call to a Professor Gladys Ferndale at the University of Washington in Seattle. She told me about Wyatt Rosenbaum. I was just calling to warn her, but I suppose that’s why you’re there.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jordan, but we were too late.”
“What?” Brody’s heart somersaulted.
“There’s been an incident.”
“She’s not—�
��
“No, but she’s unconscious with a head injury and is on the way to Region’s Hospital.”
Brody swallowed the golf ball-sized lump in his throat. “How bad?”
“No way to tell until a doctor assesses her.”
“I’m on my way.”
He slammed down the phone and charged to his bedroom for his shoes. He snatched his car keys from the dresser and raced through the kitchen to the attached garage. His car was well up the street before he thought about Damon. He’d just have to call the kid later and tell him where he was. Like that young man would actually waste a second wondering.
Annoyances, major and minor, plucked Hallie toward consciousness. Her head throbbed in rhythm with a beeping noise. No way was that her alarm clock. Her ankle hurt, and something tight squeezed it. And the bed beneath her—too hard. Not hers. What was going on? And what was that smell? Antiseptic? Her apartment was clean, but it didn’t smell like a hospital. Hospital?
Her eyes popped open. Pain speared through her brain, and she squeezed them shut against the dim light of, yes, a hospital room. What happened? “Why am I here?” The words mumbled between dry lips.
“What did you say, sweetheart?” Big hands clasped one of hers between them.
She peeked through slitted lids at the man who spoke near her ear. It was Brody, bristly-faced and haggard, but wearing a tentative smile. He leaned over her from a chair beside the bed.
“You’re awake!” The smile widened.
“I’m…confused. How…” She swallowed against a dry throat. “How did I get here? Why does my head hurt?” Her eyes closed.
“No! Don’t fade away again. They’ll want you to stay awake. Here. This might help.”
A straw nudged her lips, and she drew in sweet moisture. Sighing, she forced her heavy lids open. “An explanation might help, too.”
His brows drew down. “What do you remember about last night?”
“Last night?” She attempted to lift her head, but gave up after battling for an inch. “What time is it?”
He looked at his watch. “It’s five o’clock on Saturday morning.”
Hallie touched her forehead with the hand that wasn’t in Brody’s clasp and found that an IV tube came with it. Her fingers landed on a bandage over a very sore spot right behind her hair line. “I don’t remember anything after stepping out of the elevator on my floor. Did I trip over my own feet?”
Brody kissed her fingers. “You’ve had a rough time of it, honey. The doc warned me you might lose a patch of memory. That’s normal. According to the report your neighbor gave Detective Millette, he heard a scream and a thud outside his door. When he opened it, he saw some man dressed in a black leather coat and jeans trying to pick you up off the floor. Your head was bleeding. The neighbor hollered to know what was going on, and the guy took off down the stairwell and left you lying there.”
“Somebody attacked me? Who?”
“No way to identify him for sure. He was wearing black gloves and had nylon hosiery pulled over his face, but we think we know.”
Hallie frowned as Brody told her about an abusive boyfriend of Alicia’s from her days at the University of Washington. “So Damon may be innocent after all,” she said when he finished. That idea would take some getting used to, but it might not be so bad to be proved wrong.
“I’ve been trying all night long to call him and give him the good news,” Brody said, “but he won’t answer either his cell or my home phone.”
“Probably scared to pick up after I chewed him out for answering when I called.” She tried a chuckle and winced.
“You can be intimidating sometimes.” The Brody dimple winked at her. “But no. He’s been answering the phone all right. Spoke to that professor at the university around the time I dropped you off at your apartment.” His gaze fell. “If I’d only gone up with you…” He blew out a breath. “I’m so glad you’re going to be okay.”
“Me, too, considering I don’t even remember the attack. Have you been sitting here with me all night long?”
“I don’t think they had an orderly big enough to toss me out.”
A laugh slipped out. “Ouch!” Her hand flew to her head.
Pretty soon a nurse came in, and Brody was shooed out while the woman fussed over vital signs. When she offered oral pain meds and assistance to the bathroom, Hallie didn’t turn her down. Then the hospital started to come to life with the clank and creak of cart wheels and the bustle of personnel doing morning rounds. Breakfast arrived, and Hallie nibbled a few bites of hot cereal and drank her juice greedily. She asked for coffee, but the nurse said nothing with caffeine for now. Hallie made a face at the woman’s retreating back, and Brody chuckled.
“You should go home and get some rest,” she told him. “I’m in good hands here.”
“I’ll probably take you up on that after the doctor’s seen you. I need to check on Damon.”
“You’re worried about him, huh?”
He shrugged. “I’m sure he’s okay. Just indulging a contrary streak.”
The words had scarcely left his mouth when a woman with steel-gray hair and a name tag that said Dr. Naylor entered the room, leafing through a chart. She fixed Hallie with a stern stare through a pair of thick, wire-rimmed glasses. “You’re a lucky young lady. Either that, or you have a very hard head.” She smiled, and her whole face softened. Her gaze moved to Brody. “Are you her young man?”
“Brody Jordan, aspiring to the position.” He raised a hand.
Hallie’s cheeks warmed, but she awarded him a little smile and a nod. He answered with a grin big enough to eat New York. This man had proved himself faithful too many times for her to fight her heart with her stupid head anymore. Plus, she did remember that kiss.
The doctor stepped up beside Hallie’s bed. “Well, if you don’t mind, Mr. Jordan, step outside and wait with the nice police officer while I examine my patient.”
“Police officer?” Hallie’s gaze sought Brody’s.
He nodded. “You finally rate some official protection.” He exited the room.
Doctor Naylor looked at Hallie’s head, checked her pupils, listened to her heart and lungs, asked about her level of pain, or if she noticed anything odd about her vision. The doctor seemed satisfied by all she discovered. Then she took a look at Hallie’s ankle, which was wrapped in a bandage.
“The sprain may take longer to heal than the head wound,” she said.
“I take it I’m going to live. I wasn’t so sure the way my head hurt when I woke up.” She smiled. “The pain meds are working well, thank you very much.”
“Good. You’ll probably appreciate those for several days yet. You’ve got a moderate concussion and ten stitches in a cut on your scalp. You aren’t showing any signs of subdural hematoma, but I’m ordering a follow-up CAT scan for this afternoon, and we’ll want to keep you another night, to be on the safe side.”
Hallie’s smile faded. “I don’t get to go home today?”
Dr. Naylor’s lips thinned. “I’m not sure you’ll be allowed into your apartment yet anyway. You’ll have to talk to the police about that.”
The doctor soon left, and Brody came back in. Hallie gave him the medical report, and he shushed her complaints over staying another day in the hospital. Pouting, she ordered him to go away, and he laughed.
“I am going to check in at home,” he said, “but you won’t get rid of me for long. I’m sure you’ll have other company, too. I called your friend, Jenna, at the restaurant, and she was going to let Sam know.” He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. “See you later, beautiful.”
Shortly after Brody left, Detective Millette showed up and plopped Hallie’s purse onto the nightstand.
“Oh, thank you,” Hallie breathed. “I would have missed that sooner rather than later.”
Millette grinned. “I can relate.” Notebook in hand, she attempted to take a statement, but Hallie had nothing helpful to offer.
The detective put
the notepad away in her pocket. “Good thing your neighbor was home.”
“I’ll have to send him a whole collection of classical CDs to say thank you.” Hallie shifted in the bed, seeking a comfortable position. “Are you going to have my apartment off limits much longer?”
“You can go home any time the doctor says, but I don’t recommend it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A couple of reasons.” She lifted one slender finger. “Whoever attacked you ransacked your apartment, and I don’t think you’re in any shape to tackle the job of cleaning things up.”
Hallie groaned.
The detective lifted a second finger. “Until we catch Rosenbaum, I would prefer you go someplace for a while where this guy doesn’t know where to find you. We won’t be able to keep a guard on you after today. Not enough manpower.”
The detective left, and a few minutes later, Jenna and Sam walked in, bearing mylar balloons and a big purple teddy bear. They gushed all over Hallie and entertained her until the lunch tray arrived.
“Remember, you’re coming to stay at my house after you get out of here tomorrow.” Jenna reiterated an agreement they’d come to during their visit.
“I’m grateful.”
“No problem.” She patted Hallie’s arm.
Sam wrinkled her nose. “I’d offer you a place at my apartment, but it’s upstairs and no elevator.”
“Don’t worry.” Jenna poked Sam with her elbow. “You and Ryan get to stand your turns at guard duty while I’m at work tomorrow afternoon.”
Sam smacked her head. “In all the excitement, I almost forgot. Ryan’s got an engagement party booked on his boat tomorrow, and I need to help him.” Her fiancé ran a cruise boat rental service on Lake Minnetonka.
“Don’t worry about it,” Hallie said. “Brody can stay with me. And if not, I’ll be perfectly fine. Like Detective Millette said, it’s a place this man doesn’t know where to find me.”
Witness to Murder Page 19
