by Polly Iyer
He released the pressure on her neck enough for her to suck in a breath of air.
Whispering, he said, “Shhh, or your dog is dead. Understand?”
She nodded, and he slid his hand from her mouth. She gasped another pocket of air. Then another. He stroked his fingers over the contour of her chin and neck, over her breasts, and down the front of her body. She shoved him away, shivering. He snorted.
Neither moved until he backed away, one step at a time. The fading sound of his footsteps retreating into the house.
Then nothing. She tried to cry out, but her voice came out in a raspy sob. She didn’t doubt for a second that if she screamed, Cloveman would return and kill Daisy with pleasure while she listened helplessly.
The front door opened, then slammed shut, and the night’s silence roared once more. She took a step but lost her sense of her surroundings, as if she were levitating in space, her internal compass devoid its magnetic field. That hadn’t happened since the beginning, when space was a black hole, swallowing her into its emptiness. She reeled from the alien effect but regained her balance when she heard Daisy’s pitiful whine.
“Daisy, talk to me, baby. I’m here, talk to me. Tell me where you are.” Still lightheaded, she took tiny, careful steps toward her dog’s whimper, wishing she had her cane. About five feet inside the backstretch of fence, her foot touched Daisy’s body and she fell down beside her.
The hair on her dog’s neck felt warm and sticky. “Oh, my God, Daisy.” Abby patted her way to what felt like a gash on the side of Daisy’s head. “It’s all right, girl, it’s all right. I’m going inside to call the police. I’ll be right back.” She rubbed her friend’s neck, then backed off, afraid of aggravating a wound she couldn’t see.
Retracing her steps along the fence, adrenaline pumping, she reached the sliding glass door. What if the door slamming was a ploy and he waited inside? But why? He could have killed her outside if he wanted to. Why didn’t he go out the way he came, through the garden gate? She couldn’t think about that now. She didn’t care. She rushed through the patio door to the phone and punched 911, explaining the situation and begging them to send someone immediately.
She needed to get back to Daisy, make her feel safe, even if she didn’t feel that way herself. Working her way back along the fence, she judged Daisy’s location perfectly and sat down on the grass beside her and spoke soft, soothing words.
Sobs of relief erupted when she heard the police car pull up in front of the house, but her pride wouldn’t let them see her falling apart. She wiped away the tears and called to them. The intruder must have unlocked the front door to get out. She hoped he hadn’t locked it when he left. They knocked and she shouted for them to come in. “I’m out here.”
“Why is it dark in here?” one of the officers asked.
“The emergency operator reported a blind occupant,” the other answered.
“In the back yard,” she directed them. “Someone broke in and hurt my dog. We have to get her to the emergency vet. Please, hurry.”
“Mick, see if there’s an outdoor light.”
“There is,” Abby yelled. “To the left of the patio door.” She heard the officers approach.
“Jesus, she’s hurt bad, miss. Do you have a blanket or a large towel?”
“There’s a blanket on the sofa. Hurry.”
Abby heard the familiar voice of Pete Valkonis inside the house. “What happened here?”
One of the officers went to the door and explained the situation. “It’s Pete Valkonis, Dr. Gallant.” He approached and stooped down.
“Detective, I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I heard dispatch radio that someone was attacked this address. I was on this side of town and got here as fast as I could. I drove around, but I didn’t see anyone.”
He helped her up and they walked inside while one of the officers took Daisy. Valkonis touched her arm. “What happened? Your neck is bruised.” Abby explained the last half hour, leaving out her attacker’s sexual fondling.
“You need to see a doctor.”
“I’m okay, really. But Daisy isn’t. I need to go with her, please.”
“The officers are taking her to the emergency vet now. You come in the car with me.”
Abby touched her throat. “Why would anyone do this?”
“Any idea who it was?”
“No, he didn’t say much, and what he did say, he whispered. I thought he was going to kill me. Then he left through the front door, like a ghost.”
“Give me a minute to check the house. Make sure he’s not still inside.”
“Hurry. Daisy will be scared if I’m not there. I’ll get my purse and find my cane.” Abby used her cane when she didn’t want to harness Daisy or in new situations to get her bearings. She kept one in her office and one at home. Damn, where is it? She felt around the doorframes where she sometimes leaned it, then remembered she’d left it next to the refrigerator after using it to coax something out from underneath.
Pete met her in the living room. “No one’s here. I locked the glass door. You ready?”
She grabbed the cane, slung the purse over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Abby took Pete’s arm. He ushered her into the car and fastened her in.
“Hold on,” Pete said. “I’m going to hit the accelerator.”
“Go.”
Pete drove like a cop in pursuit of a mass murderer. The emergency vet was on the other side of town, normally a twenty-minute ride. With the help of a few wails of the siren, they arrived in ten.
Chapter Seven
Words Unspoken
Sitting in the waiting room of the emergency vet hospital, Abby still felt the pressure of the intruder’s gloved fingers around her neck, still felt Daisy’s sticky blood on her hands. The vet, Mike Rayland, had taken Daisy into one of the examining rooms by the time she arrived. He’d treated her a few times after normal office hours. Mike stuck his head out to greet her but when Abby tried to force a prognosis, he remained noncommittal. Not until he had a chance to see the damage, he said, and disappeared into the back. Pete had to go but told her to call when she was ready to leave, and he’d return to take her home. Dazed, she sat holding her cane between her legs for an hour, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. More importantly, why?
“Abby?”
The familiar voice sent her heartbeat into double rhythm. She’d know it anywhere—in a crowded room, in her dreams. “Luke? What are you doing here?”
“Pete sent me a text and told me what happened.”
She still felt emotionally off balance, and Luke’s presence didn’t help. He took the seat beside her. “Abby, I’m sorry.”
Distracted, she made a conscious effort to face him. “I know. I can’t talk about any of that now. I can’t.”
“I mean about Daisy. I’m beyond sorry for everything else.” He took her hand. “How is she?”
“I don’t know.”
He touched her neck. “Are you okay? You’re bruised.”
“I’m fine.” She didn’t want to sound needy and dependent, but that’s how she felt. Wrap your arms around me, Luke, and make everything bad go away. But she couldn’t say that, or wouldn’t, still cautious of a man with the potential to hurt her in a different way than the intruder. Instead, she recapped the night’s events.
“I don’t scare easily. I’ve been through too much to scare. But this guy scared the soul right out of me. What kind of person could hurt an innocent animal? Then he wrapped his hand around my throat and strangled out my breath. He got off on it. I felt it.”
“I should have been there. I’ve been such a jerk.”
“You’re not my bodyguard, Luke, and I don’t want you to be.” He didn’t speak, and she was glad he couldn’t hear the churlish snap of her words.
“Anything you recall that can help identify him? Did he say anything?”
“Nothing but a whisper, but he chews cloves. Not a great clue, is it?
” She thought back. “There was something, though. A feeling at the time, but I’ve lost it. It’ll come to me.”
“We’ll get him, Abby.”
She wanted to believe him, but how do you find someone who has no motive. “He’s a man with no conscience.”
“Sooner or later, he’ll make a mistake and we’ll be there.” Luke got up, touched her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Abby heard him open a door, heard running water, and his footsteps returning. “There’s blood all over your hands.” He scrubbed a soapy paper towel over both hands and another to dry. “That’s better.”
“Thanks. I’d almost forgotten. I must be a mess.”
“Nothing a change of clothes can’t fix.” Luke hesitated. “Do you mind if I wait with you?”
She wished she had the strength to tell him to go, but the words fell uncontrollably from her lips. “No. I’m glad you’re here.”
He rubbed her neck and massaged her shoulders. His thigh touched hers and his warmth defrosted the icy chill that had settled in her heart. She nestled into the curve of his body and sat that way for half an hour while he stroked her arm. No words passed between them. Whatever needed to be said had already been spoken.
“Abby?”
The voice jabbed like a pinprick, pulling her back to the present. She sat up straight. “Yes, Mike?”
“Daisy’s gonna be fine. She has a laceration on the side of her head. I extracted pieces of wood lodged in the bone and put her on steroids to decrease any possible pressure in the brain. Her pupillary responses are normal, and I don’t see any other neurological signs. There’s no fracture, but I’ll watch for any signs of trauma over the weekend and transfer her to Dr. Daniel Monday morning. We’ll monitor her for a few days to make sure she doesn’t have any seizures. She won’t be ready to lead until then.”
“But she’ll be all right?”
“No reason to believe she won’t fully recover.”
Abby released a long sigh. “Thank God. I thought for sure she was going to die.”
“Naw, she has a hard head. Come on in. You can visit, but don’t get her too excited. She’s still a little groggy.”
“I won’t. Promise.” She stood up and introduced Luke, then he took her arm. “Did you read that? Daisy’s going to be all right.”
“I did, but I would have known from the smile on your face.”
They walked together into the back room where Daisy acknowledged her with a series of whimpers. Abby’s smile blossomed.
“Her head’s sutured,” Mike said, “so keep your hands on her back or stomach.”
He directed Abby’s hands and she gave Daisy a rub. “It’s okay, Daisy girl. You’re going to be all right.”
“Do you know who did this, Abby?” Mike asked.
“No, I wish I did. Why would anyone do this to such a sweet, gentle creature?”
“The coward should be jailed.”
“I agree.”
Luke grazed Abby’s hand as he patted Daisy’s back. They stayed until the dog dozed off, then left.
“Pete said he’d come back to get me.”
“I sent him a text that I’d take you home.”
Abby smiled and reached out her hand. “Thanks for being here, Luke.”
When they got to Abby’s, Luke checked the house and yard, while Abby collapsed onto the sofa like a bone-tired marathoner.
“The house is clear. The intruder picked the lock on the fence door. I wedged a big rock against it to keep it closed. I found the stick he used to hit Daisy. The lab will run it for prints, but since you said he wore gloves, I doubt they’ll find anything. I’ve locked the patio door and put the bar in the groove. I’ll come over in the morning to check more thoroughly. It’s too dark now.” Luke paused. “If…if that’s okay with you.”
“I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”
“I’ll replace the lock on the fence door and get a key made for the yardman. Remember to put the bar in the sliding door when you come in from outside.”
“Okay.”
“You look tired.”
“Not tired, exhausted. It’s been a stressful day.” She refused to tell him about the ethics committee, sure he’d feel responsible. Someone was out to get her, and they were using Luke as a means to do it.
“Email me in the morning when you get up,” he said.
Abby nodded.
“Will you be all right?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll stay if you want. On the sofa. In my car. Whatever.”
Abby laughed and touched his arm. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”
“If you’re sure. Lock up after me and go to bed.”
“Yes sir.” She walked him to the door. He put his hand around her waist and kissed her cheek. She let him out, took off her bloody clothes, and fell into bed naked, her nightly beauty regimen the last thing on her mind.
Chapter Eight
Ethics Be Damned
Abby awoke Saturday morning and pressed the button on top of the clock. “Ten o’clock,” a clear voice announced. Unwilling to abandon the comfort of her bed, she rolled over and hugged her pillow. She couldn’t run this morning. Every bone in her body shrieked from fatigue. She’d call Jackie and suggest a later time.
She remembered her first trip to the South Carolina School for the Deaf and Blind, not far from the center of town. Scared to death would be an understatement, but everyone helpfully eased her through the difficult transition, teaching her how to live independently. When Jack Todd discovered she’d been a runner, he arranged a time for her to run the track with a guide. As she segued from terrified to confident, it became her Saturday morning ritual. Jackie Davis, a state champion cross country runner during her high school career, picked her up and ran a few miles around the oval with her. The exercise kept her fit and burned off excess frustration. She needed it.
But not this morning.
After Abby described the “random break-in” and a late night at the vet’s, Jackie agreed to postpone the run until two. The guide said that suited her, especially after a long Friday night. Abby told Jackie she’d call if she needed a ride.
She never slept this late because Daisy woke her before the alarm went off.
Daisy. The thought of her dear companion lying in a strange place, stitched and groggy, made her stomach ache. Guilt won out and she crawled out of bed. A hot shower washed off last night’s grime and injected renewed vitality into her weary body. She brushed her teeth and threw on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt.
Lucy had arranged everything in her closet, but some things were still out of order from the first break-in. She kept her wardrobe simple, colors minimal, so everything coordinated. Too complicated and a mistake might make her look like a circus act. Her only concession to the exotic was her T-shirts. Hard to mess up jeans and a T-shirt. She chose a pair of jeans by the feel of the denim. A quick finger over the Braille label told her they were black.
She scuffed to the kitchen to make coffee. A glass of orange juice accompanied a calcium tablet and multivitamin. When the coffee stopped gurgling, she poured a cup and emailed Luke. He answered immediately, saying he’d be right over. Then the robotic voice asked: Got coffee?
Made plenty, she typed back. She left a couple of emails to check later, took a second cup of coffee. She wanted to sit outside, but even though she thought her intruder hid his perversions under cover of night, she’d wait until Luke came and checked it out. She curled up on the sofa and waited. She almost dozed until the doorbell chimed.
“Who is it?” she asked. No response. Of course not. Leaving the security chain on, she opened the door, staying behind it.
“Hi, it’s me,” Luke said.
She let him in.
“You just get out of the shower?”
“I guess wet hair is a dead giveaway, huh?” They headed for the kitchen. “Coffee pot, cup, and sugar are on the counter. Cream’s in the fridge.” She heard Luke pour the coffee and
liked the comfortable way he made himself at home.
“Mmm, coffee’s good and strong, and, boy, do I need it. Can’t get it in me fast enough.”
“Now I’m glad I made a full pot.”
“Next time you hear a knock on the door, knock back. I’ll feel it and knock twice in response.”
“How do you know there’ll be a next time?”
He came closer and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Only if you want.”
She felt the heat rise on her face. “I need more coffee. How about you?”
“Yeah, I guzzled the first cup. I can get it.”
“So can I.” She walked to the counter, refilled both cups, placing her finger inside the rim to warn her when to stop. She held out the cup. “Black.”
“How did you know I took it that way?”
“No stirring, no opening of the fridge, no-brainer.”
“Right.” He took the coffee from her hand. “Have you heard from the vet?”
“No, I have his card here. Do you mind?” She handed it to him. “I didn’t have my recorder.”
Luke punched in the number and handed her the phone. Mike told her that Daisy was resting, still a little drugged but doing fine. Abby could pick her up at Dr. Daniel’s on Tuesday. Both vets went out of their way for her. They sometimes stayed late to accommodate her and even ferried Daisy if Abby couldn’t get a ride.
Luke replaced the phone when she finished. “I dropped the stick used on Daisy at the lab on the way over. Like I thought, no prints. Whoever’s doing this is a pro.”
The word “pro” put Abby in mind of a contract killer. Why would a “pro” be after her? “A pro?” she said, her voice higher pitched than she intended. “You mean a hit man?”
“Bad choice of words,” Luke said. “Abby, this guy’s had his chances. Killing you is not in his game plan, so don’t worry.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one being harassed by this…this pro.”
“We’ll get him. I’m going outside to check the other side of the fence. Maybe our trespasser carved his name in the door. Be right back.”
