Plain Retribution

by Dana R. Lynn

  “It’s possible, but there’s a lot we don’t know. We don’t even know where exactly she was attacked. The police believe she was moved from the original scene. Until now, they had nothing to go on. No one had reported her missing. I have ordered additional precautions at the hospital, just in case her attacker gets the dumb idea to go after her again. Hopefully, she’ll regain consciousness and be able to give us more to go on.”

  Suddenly, she gasped. “Brooke! Is she safe?”

  “I intend to find out. And I will let you know.”

  “Why? Why is this happening?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I promise you, I will not give up until you are safe and the man responsible for terrorizing you and your friends is in jail.”

  FOUR

  She wasn’t happy.

  She was scared, mad and moody. And feeling guilty, as she wondered if her escaping from her assailant had led to Holly being abducted. Then she’d remember that Ashley had been attacked, too. So maybe it was all a matter of time before they were each targeted, one by one.

  She sat quietly as the car wove smoothly through the winding roads of LaMar Pond back to her apartment. Inside, though, she was anything but quiet. Inside she was a chaotic mess of whirling thoughts. Fear for herself, and for Holly and Brooke, filled her. Miles had already left a message with Brooke’s family to contact him immediately.

  The one positive thought was that she didn’t have to go in to work today—she had already been scheduled to have the day off. Not that she would have gone. It would have been more than she could have borne to have gone back into the bookstore today, knowing that just yesterday someone had sat in her car, waiting to pounce on her. Someone who knew who she was and where she worked. Goose bumps broke out all over her. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face that fear. For now, she had to concentrate on going back to her apartment, knowing Holly wouldn’t be there.

  She shivered.

  The car stopped. Looking up in surprise, she saw they had arrived. She had been so lost in her own mind, she hadn’t even noticed how close they were.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Miles reach out and shut off the car before removing the key from the ignition. Every movement was quick and decisive.

  “Let’s go,” he signed.

  Ready or not, she mentally signed. Not. Sighing, she opened her door and followed him to her apartment building. She entered the security code, then they moved inside. They passed Mr. Wilson and his wife on their way up the stairs. The elderly couple moved slowly. Painfully.

  All thought of her neighbors fled her mind as they approached her apartment door. The sudden, irrational hope that Holly might have found a way to escape and make her way home sprung up, only to die when she unlocked the door and entered the empty apartment. Holly’s coat was not hanging on the hook, nor were her shoes on the mat beside the door.

  But...

  She shivered.

  “Something feels off,” she signed to Miles.

  He frowned, but didn’t mock her, or tell her she was imagining things. Instead, he motioned for her to stand against the wall while he drew out his gun. It still seemed odd to be around someone holding a loaded gun, knowing that he was willing to shoot or stand in front of her to protect her. The Amish didn’t believe in violence. While her father and brothers would gladly put themselves at risk for her, she knew they would never consider shooting another person. Even if they or their loved ones were in danger.

  But Miles was clearly prepared to do that.

  She tracked him as he moved down the hall to the back of the apartment. He turned at Holly’s room, sliding along the wall.

  A movement broke her focus away from Miles. The closet door beside her was opening. Slowly, slowly. Like a horror movie. A sense of horrible fascination held her captive. She watched, dread building up inside her like a wave about to crest. When a large figure dressed in black slipped out of the closet, she broke from her haze. The figure halted, then charged at her, grabbing her in a viselike grip. His muscular hands squeezed her upper arms until they hurt and attempted to drag her toward the door.

  A scream ripped from her throat.

  Miles tore around the corner, his gun ready. The man jumped in surprise. He literally threw Rebecca at the policeman. Off balance, she sailed across the room, falling as she did so. Strong arms caught her, then let her go. Miles jumped past her and took off out of the apartment, following after her would-be kidnapper. She ran to the door and followed him down the stairs.

  In the parking lot, Miles raised his gun again.

  He didn’t fire.

  The assailant barreled into frail Mrs. Wilson and knocked her to the ground. Agony spread across her wrinkled face. She wouldn’t be getting up on her own power. Mr. Wilson sank to his knees beside his injured wife, his face pale.

  The attacker never looked back. He hopped into a van that was idling. Into the passenger seat. An instant later, the van took off.

  He had an accomplice. There were at least two people who they needed to track down before she could be safe again. Unfortunately, from where she was standing all she could tell about the other person was that he or she was wearing a baseball cap. The grimness that settled over Miles’s countenance as his gaze met her eyes made her take a step back.

  Miles shoved his gun back into his holster and jogged over to the couple, his hand already at the radio attached to his shoulder. Rebecca didn’t need him to sign to know he was calling the 911 dispatcher.

  The old man looked up angrily as Miles kneeled down beside the couple. He pointed a harsh, trembling finger in her direction. Uh-oh. She didn’t know why, but the man clearly held her responsible for whatever had happened to his wife.

  Miles shook his head firmly. He said something to the man. Both his expression and his body language indicated that he had spoken firmly, but not angrily. Like a man in command. The old man scowled, but backed down. Although his glance cut to where Rebecca stood. Even from a distance, she could sense the animosity simmering beneath his skin.

  Before long, the ambulance crew and additional police arrived. The woman was put on a stretcher, then both she and her husband were off to the hospital. Rebecca recognized Lieutenant Dan Willis, brother-in-law to Jess’s husband, when he hopped in his cruiser and followed the ambulance. No doubt to question the couple about the man who had barreled into them while he fled the scene. The man in the ski mask.

  Rebecca waited in the parking lot with another officer while Miles and Jackson went over her apartment again, especially her closet. This time, they were looking for evidence of the man who had hidden inside, awaiting her return.

  When Miles returned, she knew they hadn’t found much.

  “He was waiting for me, wasn’t he?” she signed at him. “I don’t think he knew you were there. I think he heard someone going back to the bedrooms, and thought it was me.”

  The smile Miles threw at her almost shocked her. What was there to smile about?

  No. She took that back. She had a lot to smile about. Thank You, Lord, that we are both safe. And please heal Mrs. Wilson.

  “I’m smiling because you’re thinking like a cop,” Miles signed back, his smile stretching into an infectious grin. Then it winked out. “But you are probably correct. I wasn’t speaking, so he wouldn’t have heard my voice. And I doubt he would have tried to grab you if he knew I was there. He risked not getting away in time.”

  She nodded. That’s what she had thought.

  “So why was Mr. Wilson angry with me? I didn’t hurt his wife.”

  Miles blew out his cheeks and rubbed the back of his neck. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to say. But she knew Miles well enough to know that he wouldn’t lie. He would respect her right to know.

  She braced herself.

  * * *

  Her sk
in was so pale, making her blue eyes appear huge. He was reluctant to add any more trouble onto her already overloaded shoulders. But keeping her in the dark would be unfair. It would be taking advantage of the fact that she couldn’t hear the rantings of Mr. Wilson. It would be treating her differently just because she was deaf.

  He hadn’t grown up with deaf grandparents and a deaf uncle for nothing. He understood enough about deaf culture to know that one of the worst insults he could give this sweet, strong woman would be to judge her less than capable because she couldn’t hear. His grandmother always told him that the poor communication between the deaf and hearing worlds often led to hearing people underestimating those who were deaf.

  He bit the bullet.

  “He said it was because of you that his wife was hurt,” he signed.

  She interrupted before he could go on. “My fault? But how? That’s ridiculous.”

  He shook his head. “I agree. But there’s a new development. Apparently, Holly’s sister has been posting on Facebook about her sister’s abduction. She mentioned you, and that the two of you were kidnapped before. A reporter approached them this morning. About an hour ago. He saw the post and thought it made a great story. Who knows who else has seen it.”

  Shock flared on her face, had her eyes shooting sparks. If he hadn’t known she wasn’t mad at him, he might’ve been tempted to take a step back.

  “But how am I to blame? Or any of us. We were the victims!”

  This was the pits. “I know, I know. But he was angry. His wife had recently had her hip replaced, and now she’s hurt again. Angry people tend to lash out.”

  He was angry himself, right now. Not at the Wilsons, but at the man who had harmed the Wilsons and Rebecca, and who had also violated what should have been a safe space for Rebecca. He needed to do something. The feeling that he was going to explode worsened every time he imagined what could have happened to her if he hadn’t been there.

  But you were there. No sense dwelling on what could have happened.

  It was a relief to see the other policeman come out of the building and give him a thumbs-up. She could go back inside. And stay there, alone? Uh-uh. Glancing up at the window of her apartment, he made a decision. Really, the decision had been made the moment that dude had tried to grab her.

  “Come on. You can’t stay here by yourself.”

  He waited for her to argue. She didn’t. Instead, she lifted her shoulders in a listless shrug. “What are my options?”

  “I think an officer should stay here with you. I can stay until this evening. I have my laptop in my car, so I can work from there. And then another officer can replace me. Sergeant Zerosky would be ideal. She goes on duty at eight.”

  The tension that had started to creep back into her posture bled out when she realized the officer staying overnight would be a woman. Hey, whatever made the intrusion into her life easier was fine with him. It made his job easier, too.

  And he could go home and sleep. Not that he imagined he’d be sleeping all that well.

  The idea of leaving her here, even with a decorated officer like Sergeant Zee, as they called the tall red-haired officer, left a bitter taste in his mouth. He really didn’t like the thought of not being there. But he still had a job to do. And he would be back first thing in the morning.

  It didn’t help.

  He spent the afternoon sitting on the couch, looking up leads on his computer. Rebecca was a very peaceful person to be around. She was a restful companion. Every once in a while, he’d glance over at her to see her reading a textbook or making notes.

  Curious, he waved at her.

  “Are you studying to earn a CDI certificate?” he signed when she finally looked up.

  She nodded. “Yes. I have been working on it for the past two years. I have a bachelor’s degree, which is required. I also have all my hours in. I need to take the first part of the test next month.”

  “Can I ask what inspired that?” It was an admirable goal, but not an easy one.

  She grimaced. “The trial. The interpreter they had was wonderful, but there were some concepts that she still had trouble conveying so that I could understand. If she’d been able to work with a deaf interpreter, I think that whatever she’d signed could have been better translated through a person who knew exactly how a deaf mind works.”

  Wow, did that sound familiar. “My grandmother says the same thing.”

  Rebecca stood and stretched. The sunlight streaming through the window caught fire in her gold hair. Man, she was pretty. And honest. He had a feeling if she gave her word, she’d bend over backward to keep it. Unlike his mother.

  Why had he gone there? His mother had nothing to do with the current situation.

  “I’m thirsty. Want anything?” she signed, completely unaware of the dark place he’d gone to in his mind.

  He shook it off. “Yeah, I could go for something to drink. What do you have?”

  Please say Mountain Dew.

  “Coffee, tea, water, lemonade. What’s that face for?”

  Had he made a face? Oops. He needed to be on guard more. This lady was an expert at reading the nonverbal signals most people were oblivious to. “Sorry. I was hoping you had some kind of soda.” When her eyebrows rose to meet her bangs, he grinned and shrugged. “Actually, I really was hoping you kept Mountain Dew.”

  That cute little nose wrinkled. “No, sorry. I don’t drink pop.” She turned her left fist upright and smacked her right open hand on top of it in the sign for pop. The sound was strikingly loud in the otherwise silent environment.

  He settled for lemonade, and then resumed working.

  Twenty minutes later, he got her attention again. “I just received confirmation that Terry Gleason died in prison. So he’s not personally responsible for any of this.”

  Abruptly, she stood, knocking her textbook onto the floor. She ignored it. He doubted if she even realized she had dropped it. She crossed her arms across her chest and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Walked to the window. Came back. She continued pacing the room like a caged tiger for a minute or two.

  He let her pace, recognizing the need to move while she digested the new information.

  After a couple of minutes, she seemed to calm down a notch, although she still appeared disturbed. She didn’t try to talk to him. Instead, she walked to the flat-screen television and swiped the remote control off the shelf. With a quick jab, she turned on the TV. The local news filled the screen. Huh. He hadn’t realized it was already six in the evening. Closed captioning scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

  The first story was a burglary in Erie. He grunted and nodded when the anchorwoman related that the suspect was in custody. Good.

  The second story began. He sat up straight, his eyes flaring wide. Rebecca gasped and sank down into her seat. A picture of Terry Gleason filled the screen. Next were two side-by-side images of Holly and Ashley. Then a picture of Jasmine Winters. It was her senior picture, probably from the yearbook. A picture of Rebecca was last. Only Brooke’s picture was missing. Did they not know about her yet?

  Miles was barely aware of the story. All he knew was that their timeline had just moved up. Whoever was after these women had been moving relatively slowly, seeing how Ashley had been kidnapped weeks ago. Now, however, the perp knew that they were onto him, and had made the connection between the victims. A connection that would hopefully lead them to the identity of the attacker. Or attackers, since the man in the apartment earlier had clearly had an accomplice driving his getaway van.

  Would the publicity and public scrutiny stop his vendetta? Or would this new development cause his attacks to escalate and become even more violent?

  A hollow sensation took hold of his gut. The level of danger to Rebecca had just increased.

  Miles immediately called in for mor
e backup to watch over Ashley in the hospital. He’d also make sure Rebecca was never without protection. And he needed to find Brooke.

  Things were going to get messy.

  FIVE

  Miles knew the news wasn’t good the moment he walked into the station the next day. Lieutenant Tucker was waiting for him at his desk.

  “What’s up, Lieutenant?” He hoped with all his might that his instincts were off. But he knew, just from the troubled expression on the senior officer’s face, that his gut was spot on. Something bad had happened. Real bad.

  “A body was found early this morning. It had been dumped in the pond. Some fishermen found it. It was Holly.”

  Oh, man. He closed his eyes briefly. Poor girl. And poor Rebecca. He had to be the one to tell her.

  “You sure, Lieutenant?” Of course Tucker was sure. Miles was grasping at straws.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. The ME has already confirmed it and called her parents. It was her. She’d been beaten pretty badly before she was dumped in the pond. My guess is the perp kidnapped her so that he could take his time.”

  It made sense. The timing of disposing of her made sense, too—in a sick sort of way. “I think that news report last night might have been the reason she was killed now, rather than him running the risk of keeping her alive longer.”

  Lieutenant Tucker’s eyes tightened. “I’m inclined to agree with you. I called Sergeant Zee. She’s bringing Miss Miller in to give a full description of the man from the apartment yesterday. To see if there were any distinguishable marks on the man. Or on the vehicle. Anything to shed some light on this.”

  Miles nodded. “What about the couple who he ran into? They had said a reporter questioned them about Rebecca. Was it really a reporter?”

  “It was. We confirmed that this morning. The reporter, however, had gotten an anonymous tip. Someone’s been talking.”

  Great.

  “What about the last girl? Brooke?” Tucker asked.

  “I finally got a hold of her parents this morning. She’s out of the country on a mission trip. They will call if anything suspicious happens.”