Paralyzed (A Kennedy Stern Christian Suspense Novel Book 2)

by Alana Terry

  He stepped into her room and gave her an awkward half-hug. “Merry Christmas.”

  “You, too.” Heaviness sank in her gut, disappointment over their failed night out mingling with her own embarrassment. She plopped onto the bed. Why did she always do this to herself? She had let her own anxiety and nerves ruin her evening out with Reuben, and now she didn’t even have the strength to pack her bags for tomorrow. The morning would come all too soon.

  She set her alarm for seven. That would give her time to start her laundry and see if Adell wanted her to come in for her final. And then she had to be at the detective’s by ten. Why hadn’t she asked him if they could get together after Christmas vacation? With Vinny in custody, what was the rush?

  Her head hit the pillow, and she wondered how many cavities she’d end up with if she went a night without brushing her teeth. She’d have to get up soon, but she’d take a minute or two to rest her eyes first. She deserved at least that small indulgence, didn’t she?

  The whole dorm was as still and lifeless as a dish full of fruit flies etherized into temporary comas. Everyone had already rushed home to their moms and dads, to their decorated houses and colorful Christmas trees. The silence was like pin pricks in Kennedy’s ears, and she missed the ticking of the grandfather clock in her parents’ house back in Yanji.

  Just a few minutes’ rest. Then she’d get up and do something productive. She couldn’t sleep the whole night away …

  All she could focus on was the exhaustion in her limbs and the gnawing emptiness in her gut. They hadn’t fed her in almost a day. Water. Just a little sip of water.

  Tinkering. Stockpiles of weapons. Men fiddling by the workbench. Arguing in hushed tones.

  Blood. A whole river of it. How could someone so little lose that much?

  Lights. Flashing. Strobing. Ringing sirens. Never stopping.

  Breathe. She couldn’t breathe.

  Kennedy opened her mouth and inhaled noisily. Oxygen flooded her brain, jolting her into consciousness. She sat up in bed, gasping. Her body was cold and clammy with sweat. She hadn’t even taken her black boots off.

  The ringing continued. Her phone. She glanced at the clock. Past eleven. Who would be calling now?

  She flipped on her desk lamp, which cast dim shadows on Willow’s side of the room. She checked the caller ID.

  “Dad?” Her voice was croaky from sleepiness. She hoped he couldn’t tell how confused she felt.

  “Honey, where are you?” His voice was even more tense than normal.

  “I’m in my dorm.”

  “Did you lock yourself in?”

  Kennedy rubbed her eyes. Did her dad really think a safety drill at this time of the night would help anything?

  “Did you lock yourself in?” he demanded again.

  Kennedy let her eyes drift slowly to her door. She couldn’t even remember what time it was when she lay down. “Mmm-hmmm,” she lied, staring at the unbolted lock.

  Her dad let out his breath in a sigh that did nothing to relieve the strain from his voice. “I was just on Channel 2’s webpage. Have you heard about Vinny?”

  Kennedy contemplated whether it was worth getting off her soft mattress to lock herself in. She probably should, she decided without moving. “Yeah. They caught him just yesterday.” Or was it two days ago? She couldn’t figure it out. Was it tomorrow yet, or still today?

  “Not that. They say he’s been working with a partner. A man who’s wanted for questioning. Sounds like he was part of the plot last fall.”

  This was news to Kennedy, but she still didn’t understand why it couldn’t have waited for morning. “I’ll ask Detective Drisklay about it tomorrow.” Was that the only reason her dad had called?

  “Is your computer up?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve been asleep for the past couple hours.” Had it really been that long? She had only meant to take a little catnap.

  “Well, I’m emailing you the news page. It’s got a picture of the man. I want you to take a good look at it. If he was involved with everything that happened, he’s not going to want you talking to the police, or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Yeah, I’ll take a look.” She stood up. Her back was as tight as a spring scale.

  “I’m sending it now. Check your email as soon as we hang up.”

  “I will.” She shoved some dirty clothes into her laundry bag. Her back and leg muscles ached. Had she really been running that far in the subway tunnel?

  “All right, sweetheart. How were your exams?” he added, almost like an afterthought.

  “They went fine.” Kennedy was ready to forget about them.

  Her dad paused for just a moment and then added, “Well, have a safe trip to your aunt’s tomorrow. Remember, call …”

  “I’ll call you as soon as the plane lands,” Kennedy interrupted. “Talk to you later.”

  “I love you, sweetie.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Kennedy put the phone on her desk. Stupid laundry. Stupid dreams. Stupid evening. For a minute, she wondered if Reuben was awake. Well, she wouldn’t bother him now. She needed time to let her bruised pride heal over. She’d get back to campus in a few weeks in time to start a new semester. She and Reuben would take general chemistry, chem lab, and calculus together again, and things would go just like this term. Joking in the cafeteria. Late nights in the library. Frantic texts the day before a lab was due. It almost would have made things easier if he had laughed at her in the taxi. Now, she was mortified not only by her own behavior but by his undeserved compassion.

  Kennedy fumbled through her desk looking for spare change for the laundromat. Her phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  Emailed you the link. Did you get it?

  She had already forgotten about the news from Channel 2. When would her life stop being ruled by current events her dad read from halfway around the world?

  Reading it right now, she typed back, but her phone powered off before she could send it.

  Stupid battery.

  She thought about going back to bed. Her dad had only said there was another potential suspect. If the police thought she was in danger, they would have called to let her know. Just like her dad to ruin a perfect nap with his paranoia.

  Still, if she didn’t give him some sort of response, she’d never hear the end of it tomorrow. She clicked on her computer and waited for her inbox to open. There was a note from Adell telling her she could take the test when she got back to campus in January, and there was another note from her Russian lit professor. She had gotten an A on her paper on Raskonikov and the Christological symbols in the epilogue of Crime and Punishment. “If you were a grad student, I’d encourage you to get your ideas published.” It was a somewhat indirect compliment, but Kennedy would take it anyway.

  After shooting back quick replies to both professors, she clicked on the email from her dad. No notes attached, no Merry Christmas, sweetheart, just the web address for a Channel 2 webpage. She opened it up, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to load. She needed to get her clothes washed.

  Additional Partner Identified in Boston Kidnapping Case. At least when she got to Maryland, nobody there would remember the incident. Even if they did, they would consider it old news.

  She skimmed the text, her eyes darting down the screen so she could tell her dad she read the whole thing. Four paragraphs down, she froze. The computer was still loading the bottom half of his face, but she recognized his eyes immediately.

  Cold. Icy green like frosted grass before it’s covered by snow and trampled by sleds.

  The picture kept loading. High cheeks. Angular nose.

  Tight jaw. Lips drawn in a narrow line.

  The man from the subway.

  A noise in the hall. Kennedy whipped her head up from her computer screen in time to see her doorknob turn.

  CHAPTER 10

  She imagined screaming but was too petrified to make an actual sound. She pictured herself running behind the door so th
at when it swung open she would be partially concealed behind it. But her feet fastened to the ground like a slide on a microscope stage, held in place by unyielding metal clips. Her scream stuck between her throat and her mouth, closing off her trachea so she couldn’t breathe.

  She watched the door swing toward her, clutched her phone as if it could ward off an attack. Blood drained from her head to her limbs, which still refused to move.

  “What are you standing in the middle of the room for?”

  At the sight of her roommate, Kennedy’s breath whooshed out of her lungs like wind through the subway tunnel. The paralyzing power of fear melted, and embarrassment heated her face. She steadied herself against her desk and clicked off her monitor. “Oh, you startled me, that’s all. I was just talking with my dad.”

  Willow raised an eyebrow and glided in, leaving the door partially open behind her. Lock us in here, Kennedy wanted to scream. She forced a smile. How many times would she humiliate herself before the night was over? “What are you doing? I thought you were going right from Cape Cod to the airport.”

  Willow tossed her long raven waves over her shoulder. Of all the hair colors Willow had gone through this semester, Kennedy liked black the best. It reminded her of those smooth onyx gems her grandmother used to buy for her at the little knick-knack shop in upstate New York. Kennedy had loved the soft feel of the stones, which could stay several degrees cooler than the ambient temperature.

  Willow tossed her duffel bag onto her bed. “The partying was lame.”

  Kennedy tried to hide her surprise. Willow hadn’t talked about anything besides her trip to the Cape during all of finals week. She and about a dozen of her theater friends had rented a little cottage, and Willow had rattled off their inventory of entertainment plans — both legal and illegal — nearly every night like a bedtime prayer.

  “Besides,” Willow continued, “I got a text from this guy I met at the bakery. He thought it might be fun to get together, so I left early.” She plopped onto her mattress and studied her fingernails which were painted with the swirling colors of the aurora borealis. “Anyway, what’d you do tonight? Eat Cheerios and stick your nose in a book?”

  Kennedy had to chuckle at how well Willow knew her. “Actually, I was out with Reuben. We saw The Nutcracker.”

  “It’s about time you two finally started to date.”

  Kennedy fidgeted with some old papers on her desk. Maybe she should clean up a little before she left for Maryland. “It wasn’t a date.” Kennedy’s back tingled at the spot where she knew Willow was staring.

  Willow let out a dramatic sigh. “You two are so cute together. Just going slow like you both have all the time in the world. It’s adorable.”

  Kennedy’s brain was too groggy to defend herself or Reuben.

  “Anyway,” Willow prattled on, smacking gum while she talked, “you know I totally respect your morals and everything. Because if I didn’t, I would have figured he was gay or something and that’s why you hadn’t hooked up yet.”

  Kennedy’s whole stomach scrunched as if someone was trying to twist excess water out of it. She hoped her expression was more neutral.

  “Boy, you look tired,” Willow exclaimed and kicked off her shoes. “Are you ok? Wait.” She stood back up. “He didn’t hurt your or anything, did he?”

  Kennedy was itchy beneath her sweater. Itchy and sweaty. “No, nothing like that.”

  “Good. Because, honestly, from the looks of it, you’re either doped up or something freaked you out. So what is it?”

  Kennedy inhaled choppily. Maybe she needed acting lessons from Willow. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  Willow raised her eyebrows, which were about as thin as two blades of grass.

  “It’s just my dad,” Kennedy explained. “I guess he read in the news that there’s now another suspect at large.”

  Willow frowned. “He give you one of his famous freak-out safety speeches? Well that explains the shell-shock.” She chuckled. “For a minute, I was worried it was serious.”

  Something buzzed, and Kennedy flinched at the noise.

  “Geez, woman. You’re as jumpy as a poodle in heat.” Willow reached into her pocket and smirked at the screen. “It’s just a text from the guy I met. He’s an actor. Hey, let me get on your computer. I want to see if he’s got an IMBD page.” She turned on the monitor and froze when the Channel 2 page leapt onto the screen. Her eyes widened, and she brought her blanched face closer to Kennedy’s computer screen. “Where’d you get this picture?”

  Unease splashed at the bottom of Kennedy’s gut and sent waves of fear rippling outward. “That’s the guy I told you about. The one they think helped mastermind things last fall.” Even now Kennedy couldn’t bring herself to use words like kidnapping. “I forget his name. Something kinda ethnic. Guido? Giulio?”

  “Gino.” Willow’s voice, usually dripping with melodrama, was terse. Expressionless.

  Kennedy’s legs felt like they were supporting one of Boston’s looming concrete overpasses. “What are you talking about?”

  Willow pointed at the computer screen, but Kennedy didn’t even want to look. What venom dripped from that photograph? What new threats would she discover in that pixelated image?

  Willow slammed her fist on Kennedy’s desk. “No, no, no, no, no.” She pinched her forehead between her thumb and forefinger. “The jerk!” If Kennedy had been critiquing one of her roommate’s plays, she would say Willow was overdoing it. Willow held out her hand in the universal sign for Don’t freak out on me. “That guy in the photo, that’s the one I met at the bakery. The one I was supposed to …” Willow scrunched up a large handful of her jet-black hair. “We’ve been texting all night, making plans for tomorrow. I gave him our dorm number and everything.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Kennedy’s diastolic blood pressure must have dropped at least twenty points. She didn’t yell. Raising her voice might attract whatever fiend her roommate had invited. Seriously? Seriously! Willow was always hooking up with strangers, but a random man at least in his thirties she met at a bakery?

  “When’s he coming over?” Kennedy’s voice quivered, but she didn’t care. Disgust and fear warred against each other in her stomach. It was a miracle she didn’t have a dozen ulcers after a semester like this.

  “We weren’t going to meet until tomorrow,” Willow answered. “You know I don’t do that kind of stuff until you’re out.”

  Kennedy shut her eyes. Think. She had to think. Come up with a plan. Which was harder than it sounded after functioning on a few hours of sleep each night. Why did her parents have to live so far away?

  Willow picked up her duffel. “Come on. Are you already packed for tomorrow?” She grabbed Kennedy’s backpack and shoved it at her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re not staying here,” Willow answered. “We’ll spend the night with Toby.”

  “The RA?”

  Willow put her shoes back on, but Kennedy still hadn’t moved.

  “Let’s go.” Willow stopped tugging on her laces. “Look, Toby and I will behave ourselves. I promise. Nothing funny. Now hurry up before Gino decides to pay a surprise visit.”

  Kennedy stared around the room, uncertain what to take. She still had that mass of laundry, and her clean clothes were strewn sloppily in her drawers. Her mind was swarming, like a chemical reaction that clogs up if you introduce too many reagents at once. She stared at her dead cellphone, her lifeline to her parents. To emergency responders.

  Willow was right. They should both go somewhere else. But would they be any safer down the hall? The men who abducted her last October were chillingly high-tech. They had bugged her phone, hacked her computer. What difference would it make if she were in her own dorm or five rooms down when Gino came after her?

  But what other choices did she have? She couldn’t ask Reuben to put her up for the night. It would be ridiculously awkward, for one thing. For another, she didn’t have his phone number memorized a
nd couldn’t call him until her phone charged. Where was the plug?

  “You’re stalling.” Willow’s hand was on the doorknob, her penciled eyebrows slanted down.

  “I just can’t figure out what would be best.” With all the crisis training her dad put her through, you’d think she’d be more prepared to make these sorts of snap decisions. Maybe he was right. Maybe she just wasn’t ready to be out on her own yet. “Do you think we should call the police?”

  “Of course. But not from here.” Willow’s features softened, her eyebrows resumed their regular position, and she sighed. “I know this is all my fault. And I’m really sorry. I thought that he … well, he wasn’t what I expected. Now I just want to make things right and make sure you’re safe, ok? If you’re not comfortable at Toby’s, then let’s find somewhere else to go. Do you have any other ideas?”

  Kennedy’s stomach rumbled once. Why couldn’t this have been a normal night? She should be asleep right now.

  Willow’s hand rested on the doorknob. Waiting. Waiting for Kennedy to make up her mind. Only she didn’t know how. Kennedy half-expected Willow to come up with a sarcastic jab, but her roommate just stood there. Watching. Waiting.

  Kennedy’s mind churned like a centrifuge in slow motion. Reuben’s wasn’t an option. She didn’t really have any other friends on campus. There were students she smiled at, a few in her calculus study group she might eat lunch with if they happened to be in the student union at the same time, but nobody else she could call a friend. In fact, she was closer to Pastor Carl and his wife than to anyone else on campus.

  That was it.

  “What about my pastor’s house?”

  It wasn’t the ideal scenario. Carl’s phone number was stuck in her phone as well, and it would be almost midnight by the time they got there. Well, how many times had he and Sandy told her to let them know if there was ever anything she needed? This was definitely something she needed.

  “Do you think you could drive me over there?” Kennedy didn’t have the route memorized, but she could point Willow in the right direction and let her phone charge up on the way.