He reached out for her, but she slapped his hand away.
“Get the hell off of me!” She stormed out the back door and Cody followed. He followed as well, when his cell rang. He put it up to his ear. “Whatever it is, I can’t talk now,” he said.
“Mr. Sinclair? It’s Dr. Zais at Perkins hospital,” said the voice on the other end.
“I can’t talk right now,” he repeated as he continued following her. She was starting to go up the trail.
“Oh, okay, Mr. Sinclair. I can call back. I thought you’d want to know there’s a strong possibility Ms. Franzi is going to be released.”
He froze in place. “What?”
“Yes. It seems proper procedure was not followed when she was taken into custody, Mr. Sinclair. I’ve been told she may be leaving us soon. I thought you’d want to know.”
He didn’t move. He didn’t know whether to let Aimee calm down or go after her. He shook his head in disbelief as he watched her and Cody disappear into the trees. It was probably better to let her get some air. He could straighten this out later.
He returned to the call.
“So, what is this now? Marisol thinks she’s getting out?”
She was pissed. It served him right, her walking out.
Who the hell did he think he was?
Her feet felt like lead as she pounded them into the dirt. Decomposed grass and leaves made a feeble attempt to cling to her boots and the tiny fluffs of dirt which accompanied them shaded the light brown of her Uggs.
How dare he?
Indignant from Carter’s rebuff, Aimee pushed at the branches along the path, leaving the tiny, more pliant ones in a haphazard pattern. Behind her she heard leaves crunching and anticipated she was being followed. The thought crossed her mind it might be him, and her hopeful heart beat a little faster. She actually smiled at the prospect he would run after her. Her thoughts were interrupted when all at once she felt a big bump against her leg. It was Cody fast on her trail. She stopped to pet her.
“You’ve got good taste, girl, coming with me,” she said as she reached down to hold onto Cody’s collar. The dog nudged even closer at the contact and tone of her voice.
“Your master is a jackass. No wonder you left. We’ll go to my house, Codygirl. He doesn’t deserve the company of nice ladies like us!”
As she released the dog she realized she’d covered more ground than she thought, and in her anger somehow went off the trail.
Damn!
She knew she was somewhere between his house and hers but she hadn’t been paying attention. At least Cody was with her. She could lead her back. She knew the woods better than Aimee did.
She watched as the big girl ran ahead. She had been distracted discovering a squirrel. Aimee felt some of the tension drain as she smiled at Cody’s playful nature. She leaped over rocks and tree stumps in an unsuccessful attempt to snatch the full tail of the little creature.
The few minutes spent watching Cody helped to abate her anger, and she slowed down as her temper returned to normal. She was trying to follow the dog, knowing she couldn’t be too far from her house.
A sudden SNAP came from behind her. She turned expecting to see a weak tree. Carter had warned her to pay attention to the sounds so she wouldn’t be at the mercy of falling trees or branches, but she didn’t see anything. Shaking her head, she thought her imagination was playing tricks on her. It was an overcast day and what little sunlight there was seemed to be blocked even more so by the trees. Being alone in the woods wasn’t without risk because she’d only walked the trails a few times, and then in bright sunlight.
Where the hell did Cody run off to?
She took a few more steps, navigating over a stump and the fallen tree in front of it. Finally she looked up, breathing a sigh of relief as she spotted the back window of her kitchen. At least a light was on! The very back of her potting bench could be seen adjacent to the corner of her house. Maybe that was what she could do today- dig around in the garden. She could vent her frustrations by digging in the dirt. It might take her mind off of things.
Taking a deep breath of the crisp air, she felt much better than when she walked out on him. She was known to have a quick temper and he did say she misunderstood. Maybe she had. She might at least give him a chance to explain himself, and then she could…
WHACK!
Her vision disintegrated, exploding into a blank void. The sudden blow to the back of her head sent her forward, taking her breath and effectively disorienting her. Adrenaline spiked and flooded as her body and mind went into overdrive. There was an enormous pounding in her chest and the blackness of fear took residence in the space that moments ago occupied her heart.
As she attempted to push herself up from the ground, a loud scream ripped from her throat. Her entire body weight was being lifted by her hair. The explosive pain as the strands were ripped from her scalp was horrendous. She clumsily tried to rotate to regain her footing, but a thick and heavy hand slapped forcefully across her face. An explosion of pain assaulted her cheekbone and jaw.
No matter how she tried to stand, a momentary vertigo had her spinning. Her back slammed against a solid wall which felt like a man’s chest. The terror registered violently to every part of her body and she shook in response like a marionette. Her breath quickened into ragged gasps, as panic overthrew rationale. She reacted on the most basic level as she kicked vigorously in retaliation. Her foot connected soundly with his knee and she felt it give way with the force. That one motion caused her attacker to stumble, and she fell into an evergreen tree, her face and neck pummeled by the branches. She bounced off and bashed squarely onto the ground.
Later, she would wonder why she hadn’t bolted away at that very moment when the opportunity arose. Instead, she spun to face her attacker, willing her brain to remember details in the event she survived. There were too many thoughts assailing at once.
The man wore death. It was in his eyes. She’d never met him before and she didn’t recognize him, but his appearance branded its image in the surface of her memory.
“WHO ARE YOU??!!”
She almost didn’t recognize the screaming sound of her own voice- the question coming out in tones of terror. Her attacker lunged at his second opportunity, grabbing, clutching, and yanking her pony tail with more force than before, enough so she thought he’d break her neck. His other hand gripped, wrapping her throat in a choke hold. He applied enough pressure to cut off her oxygen as he pulled her to face him.
“Who am I?” he laughed. “I’m a friend of an enemy.”
He pulled her toward him. She smelled his rotten breath as it charred her skin. His mouth grazed near her ear.
“…and we don’t like busy bodies.”
His tone flagellated her rationale, ripping open the door to her fear. She thought of Carter. She would never see him again. Someone would find her dead. She wanted to go back an hour in time. She began to cry.
The cries only served to excite her attacker and he smacked her again. There were no more thoughts of Carter as he wrapped her hair around his wrist, using his arm like a slingshot to fling her into a nearby tree. The impact was so strong it caused the bark to splinter. She felt the skin on her cheek shred into bloody pieces. Specks of silver altered her vision into a billion shooting stars. Her mouth, dry from fear, now filled with a metallic tasting liquid she recognized as blood. It dripped from her mouth, staining her sweater. The force of her delicate bones and muscles impacting with the tree made her look like a grotesque ragdoll.
As she ricocheted off the tree, his heavy fist sideswiped her collar bone, finding its way to her stomach. She then lost all breath, and whatever remnants had been in her stomach projected as she vomited on her attacker. She fell to the ground once again, desperate for air. She had a speck of hope that Carter might come after her, but misfortune cursed the moment as the man dragged her into the thick Mountain Laurel and evergreens. She whimpered weakly as the view of her house disappeared with each
of his steps. In a final attempt, she pushed, trying to get away, but it was no use. She had neither the strength nor the energy to save herself.
Along with the sound of her dragging feet, she thought she heard a dog. Moments later Cody threw her thick, one hundred pound body at the man, unbalancing him. He cursed as he dropped her to the ground, then turned his attention to the dog. She heard Cody snarl and growl as she lay there. In what she knew was her final opportunity, she struggled to crawl, but Cody’s cry of pain stopped her. The man was kicking at the dog with great force. Cody yelped as Aimee watched helplessly when he sank the point of his boot into Cody’s beautiful coat over and over. He jabbed at Cody with a knife. With unfathomable strength and what was left of her energy, she threw her leg in front of the man hitting his ankle. It interfered with his aim and blocked the knife from going into Cody’s head, instead, making its way to her side.
The sound of the animal could only be described as a scream and she ran back into the trees. No longer distracted, her attacker returned his attention to Aimee. He bent over her, relentless in his assault. Holding her in front of him, he once again used her hair, this time completely suspending her. He punched her over and over, and as self-preservation took over she scratched and tore any of his flesh within her reach. Blood surfaced on his arms from her fingernails and he punched her once again. This time she went limp. He growled and dropped her on the ground where he began to kick her with the same force he kicked Cody. Too weak to move, she heard the crack of her own rib, the pain making her scream.
There was no one to hear.
He relentlessly continued as Aimee felt another rib splinter. She began to feel her consciousness slipping away. She thought he could do no more. Certain she was dying, she heard him stop for a moment, but he was just getting a second wind. He refused to let her slip into unconsciousness, knowing just when to stop. As he grabbed the front of her sweater, he pushed her onto her back so she would be forced to face him. He knelt down as his knee went into her chest, the pressure enough to remind her of the pain. When she closed her eyes he pushed his knee a little deeper and Aimee screamed once again. After that, the pain graduated to numbness and she felt a murky black ink fill her, saturating her mind.
He laughed as he stood and lifted her by her sweater, laying her broken and bloody body over a tree trunk. A feeling like stabbing icicles moved on her skin, but it was really the cold steel of his knife. He steadily cut away her sweater and bra, then flipped her, cutting away her jeans and panties.
Now she was certain she would die.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t move.
She couldn’t scream.
She could only utter one word.
“Why?”
He laughed again.
“Why not?
She felt the sting of salty tears as they bathed her torn and mangled cheeks. He kicked her legs apart, spreading them wide. Now half conscious, there was nothing she could do to defend herself. She felt him push himself against her. His stench caused her to vomit. He grabbed the top of her hair to force her to look at him, but strangely, she began to slip into a state where she felt no more pain, only the abrasive scratching of his neck chain as it dug into her breast. He pressed in, bending over her until she felt his breath. He licked the blood and vomit that skimmed her face. The seasoning of her tears mixed with the sticky fluids.
He growled, victorious as he glared at her.
“I’m gonna do you so good, chica, you’ll never forget me.”
As she slipped into the black and away from reality, his cackling laugh accompanied the shredding pain between her legs.
He dialed her number over and over. Nothing, just voicemail.
She must really be pissed.
After the initial shock of Dr. Zais’ call, Carter took his number and told him he would have to get back to him. The possibility of Marisol being released was bullshit and he planned to investigate. Right now, he wanted to talk to Aimee.
He couldn’t really tell what she was thinking when she got pissed off, but he knew whatever it was, it was a misunderstanding. He wanted to tell her about the birth control malfunction, but when she ran into the bathroom he could hear her vomiting. If she really was sick, maybe this wasn’t the best time to tell her.
He was waiting for her to come out when he noticed the picture of him and Lacey. It was a good one. They’d been hiking and one of her former students snapped the shot. It was the first time he looked at a picture of her and didn’t feel sorrow or guilt. He attributed it to Aimee. He didn’t realize it, but in the past several months she’d found a way inside his heart. He was thinking about it when she walked up behind him.
When the shit hit the fan.
She railed at him, making no sense, then walked out pissed. He would have followed her except for the call. By the time he finished on the phone with Dr. Zais, she should have made it home.
She’s being a damned brat and should answer her phone!
There were two sides to Aimee. She was a real sweetheart but she had a nasty temper. He knew she was ignoring him. She had her cell with her, because he checked and it wasn’t left in the bedroom. She was being childish, and Cody, the little traitor, ran out to go with her. He hadn’t seen her since.
That was three hours ago.
She’s probably reading a book by the fireplace and Cody’s laying snug by her side. She’s so damned stubborn!
He paced. Then he went to the back door and whistled for Cody. She was probably with Aimee, and he hoped she was just clearing her head. Going to his office, he started some paperwork—anything to occupy his mind other than Aimee—or Marisol. Nothing was working.
Then a sound chilled his blood.
He’d left the office when he heard the dog’s cries. At first he couldn’t locate where she was, but as he followed her yelp toward the back door, he saw his beautiful Berner limping toward the house. Instantly, his protective nature went into overdrive. Her cries were primal—a mixture of fear and pain. He flung the door open and ran to her. There was blood. When he first saw it, he thought she’d been attacked by an animal. Black bear were fairly common in the area and raccoons could be vicious when cornered. He tried to grab Cody’s collar, to hold her so he could inspect further, but she ducked and turned toward the woods.
“C’mere girl,” he gently said, trying to coax her. She refused. Turning again toward the woods, she limped away. He followed with the intent of snatching her up to inspect her wounds. She was moving slowly, but every time he got close, she pulled ahead.
Something’s wrong!
Cody went deeper into the trees, then veered off the main path and into the brush. He decided not to run after her. She was frightened and he didn’t want to risk further damage, especially not knowing the extent of her injuries.
She whimpered and whined as he dutifully followed. The thought occurred to him she might be leading him to whatever had attacked her. He’d never known Cody to be vicious, and Berners were gentle giants, but every animal was born with self-preservation instincts. Given her size, she could have done damage to another animal while defending herself.
Finally, her pace began to slow. Whether it was from exhaustion or pain, he didn’t know. Suspecting they’d reached their destination, he looked around for an injured bear, a large possum, or a raccoon. He stood very still for a moment, trying to hear any sound. They would both be in danger if it was a pissed off, injured animal. Hearing a faint sound, he couldn’t place what or where it was. It was a buzzing sound, but not like bees. He looked around on the ground until he saw it. Leaning against a rock was a remnant of fabric, a blue jean pocket—her blue jean pocket—and her cell was buzzing unanswered. His fear kicking into overdrive, he frantically searched for signs of her. His mind a jumble of questions.
Where was she? What happened? Did a bear attack her as well?
He then saw her sweater—or a piece of it—hooked on a tree branch and he ran over to grab it, looking
for other evidence she was still in the area. When he picked up the fabric he saw there was blood on it.
Jesus Christ! Where was she?
He took a few more steps to the left and saw nothing, so he ventured out to his right. It was beginning to get dark and he feared he wouldn’t be able to find her in the dark. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him. He had to be getting close. His gut was telling him she was somewhere nearby, and confirming his suspicions he saw larger patches of dried blood on the trees and ground. His whole body went on high alert and he felt the hair on the back of his neck eerily stand up.
Then his mind exploded, splintering all rationale.
She laid quiet and bloody. Her lifeless body was slumped over the remains of a tree. From that point forward, everything seemed surreal, as if in slow motion. He couldn’t get his legs to move fast enough to reach her. What was left of her clothing hung in tattered strips, and not much of it covered her. Her beautiful hair formed a curtain of blood as it hung matted and lifeless, covering her face. Her skin was tinged blue from the evening air.
There was so much damn blood!
She didn’t move as he approached to check for breath. He was relieved to discover she was breathing, but just barely. The slight rise and fall of her chest confirmed it.
What the hell happened? Why did he let her run off? Why didn’t he go after her? Why was she so damned impulsive?
As tormenting thoughts violated what sanity remained, his mind muddled even more. He could see the damage to her body was extensive, yet their origins were still unknown. He wasn’t certain she could be moved, afraid he would hurt her or make it worse, but she would die without medical attention. She was covered in sticky substances. Some smelled like evergreen, some were blood, and he could only guess the remainder were from her, her attacker, or both. At the moment he wasn’t sure what kind of animal did this.
Tenderly, he moved the matted hair away from her face. The cuts, swelling, and bruising made her unrecognizable. Just hours before he was looking into her eyes—her sweet, innocent eyes. The memory made him choke with emotion. He spotted more cuts around her throat, on her chest, and at the top of her breast; he couldn’t tell where one began or ended. She looked one hundred percent destroyed.
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