Stained (20 page)

Eliza aims her gun at him. “Haven't seen no girl. Now be gone—we don't like strangers around here. I've got a thirty-eight pointed right at you, case you get any ideas.”

Tessa's whispering urgently into the phone. I clench my knife.

“I'm not looking for trouble!” Brian calls. “Just a little help.”

Tessa hangs up the receiver and whispers, “They're still about ten minutes away. There was an assault up at the old McFarland place.”

“My daughter's got a vivid imagination!” Brian shouts. “She lies even when she doesn't mean to. I hope she hasn't scared you good people.”

“I told you—we haven't seen any girl!” Eliza holds her gun steady in two hands.

“Listen—could you open the door? I feel silly yelling. After all, we're neighbors!”

I look at Tessa, my heart pumping so hard I can barely breathe.

“Don't you worry,” she whispers, and squeezes my arm.

“I told you twice already,” Eliza calls. “You deaf? No girl here. You'd best be looking someplace else.”

There's silence. Brian doesn't move from the door.

He knows I'm here. I don't know how he knows, but he does. I shrink back against the wall, behind Tessa's bulk. I breathe shallowly, straining to hear.

“All right, ma'am,” Brian calls. “Sorry to have bothered you. I'll be on my way.”

I peer over Tessa's shoulder. Brian's shadowy outline recedes from the door. His footsteps shudder on the stairs and then are gone.

Eliza lowers her gun a fraction.

“Well,” Tessa whispers. “That was close.”

It was too easy. If Brian knows I'm here, he won't give up. “Tessa—do you have a back door?” I ask urgently.

“Sure,” Tessa says. “Out through the kitchen.”

There's a thud, and then a splintering sound. The back door smashes open, and Brian bursts inside.

Tessa screams and pulls me behind her. I yank away—I have to know what's going on. Have to do something. I clench my knife, but he's too far away for me to throw it at him.

Eliza whirls around and shoots, the gun bucking in her hands, the sound deafening.

“Ahhh! You crazy bitch!” Brian cries, and staggers, his hand flying to his shoulder. He aims his gun at Eliza, and there's another bang.

Eliza shoots again, her gun jerking, and Brian turns and runs back out.

“This isn't over, Sarah!” Brian screams. “I'll get you when you're not expecting it!”

Eliza strides after him, her gun aimed at the open doorway, and fires off another round.

I run after her, Tessa close behind me.

“I got him,” Eliza says. “Got him right in the shoulder. Not sure how long that'll hold him; he's one determined bastard. But at least I got him.”

The kitchen door is splintered, hanging crookedly by its top hinges. I start dragging the table over, the dishes rattling, knives and spoons falling off and clanging to the floor.

“Good idea,” Tessa says, and grabs the other end.

Eliza hauls the door shut, and we ram the table in front.

“Maybe we should put something heavier on top,” Tessa says. “Just to be sure.” She hurries to the living room, grabs the metal basket that holds chopped wood, and together we carry it to the table, grunting. Eliza's already cleared the table off, so we heave the basket on top.

Eliza's moving carefully; even in the dark, I can see that. My stomach drops. “Eliza—did he get you?”

Tessa gasps and runs to Eliza.

“It's nothing but a flesh wound.” Eliza flicks her hand. “He nicked me, is all.”

Tessa shoves back Eliza's sleeve. Dark blood runs down Eliza's arm. I close my eyes.
I did this. I brought this on her.

“Sarah,” Tessa says sharply. “Run down the hall; the bathroom's on the left. Bring the antibiotic ointment, some bandages, and gauze from the cupboard above the sink.” She pushes Eliza into a chair. “And you—sit!”

“Tessa, it's nothing,” Eliza says. “You know I've had worse. Don't scare the girl.”

I run as fast as I can, breath pushing out of me. I snatch the supplies from the cabinet, then race back to the kitchen. Tessa's already cleaned Eliza's arm.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. She bandages Eliza up, neat and fast. Eliza rests her head against the wall, her face a grimace of pain, and for a moment I see how old she really is. Then her eyes snap open and she smiles. “Bastard got himself worse than this,” she says with satisfaction.

My breath is coming in short pants. “I never should have come here. I'm sorry,” I say. “So sorry.”

“What're you talking about?” Eliza says. “You were smart to. Didn't we drive him off?”

I glance at Tessa, sure she doesn't feel the same way, but Tessa nods. “We couldn't have lived with ourselves if we didn't help.”

My eyes burn. “I don't know how long he'll back off. Brian likes to win.”

“Fine. Then we'll be ready for him.” Eliza reaches down and picks up her gun. “Now I want you two to get away from the windows. Get back to the alcove and stay down.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” I say, my teeth chattering. “I'm the one he's after.”

“All right, girl,” Eliza says. “If that's what you choose. Just be ready.”

6:28 P.M.

 

WHEELS CRUNCH OVER GRAVEL. I stiffen.

“Let me go see who it is.” Eliza hefts her gun. “You two sit tight.”

I follow her to the door. Red and blue lights pulse through the windows.

“The cops,” Eliza says. “Your boy won't stick around here now.”

I'm not sure about that. Brian is crazy determined.

Footsteps pound on the stairs. Eliza opens the door, and uniformed officers march into the living room, their shoes thumping. Large men with big shoulders and hands, staring at me.

I start to hide my cheek, then stop myself. “He was here. He shot at us—and hit Eliza. They saved me, Eliza and Tessa both,” I babble.

“When was this?” a woman officer asks, squinting in the dark at us.

“Not long ago. Maybe a few minutes,” Eliza says.

The woman officer turns to the others. “Go call it in, then fan out and look for him. He may not be too far off.”

“He shouldn't be. I got him in the shoulder,” Eliza says proudly.

“I'm Detective Sato,” the woman says. She reaches over and flips on the lights.

“Don't!” I say. He can see us now. Shoot us.

The detective looks at Eliza's gun, and then at Tessa's and my makeshift weapons. “You can put those away,” she says. “I think we've outnumbered him.”

I put down my knife, my hand shaking.

Detective Sato's eyes grow softer as she looks at me, her short black hair shining in the light. “He'd be crazy to do anything with so many uniforms around, honey.” She nods like that should make me feel better.

She studies my dirty face, and then the way Eliza's holding her arm. “Are any of you harmed?”

“Eliza got shot,” Tessa says. “And Sarah here needs some looking after. She seems half starved.”

“I'm okay,” I say quickly. “I'm not the one who was shot.”

“I'm just fine,” Eliza says. “I've had worse than this.”

The detective purses her lips, lifts her radio to her mouth, and calls for an ambulance.

“I tell you, I don't need no ambulance,” Eliza protests.

“Me, either,” I say.

The detective hooks her thumbs through her belt. “You're both going to get yourselves checked out. A gunshot wound is nothing to take lightly, especially at your age,” she says sternly to Eliza. “And you, young lady—you've had months away from home, and who knows what done to you. We need to make sure you're all right.”

When I open my mouth again, she holds up her hand. “No arguing, now. I'm in charge.”

I look over at Eliza's pissed-off face and start to laugh. And then the laughing turns to sobbing.

Tessa's by my side in an instant, gathering me in a warm hug. “There, there. It's okay now. Everything will be okay.”

I want to believe her, but I don't know how. I stuff the sobs back down, shudder a few times, and pull away.

The detective's gaze slides over to Eliza and rests on her bandage, then moves to Tessa's white face. “I know you've had quite a night, but I need to get your statements. I can ride with you all to the hospital.” She looks at me. “Your parents will meet us there.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

The detective nods brusquely. “The ambulance should be here soon.”

“I told you, I don't need—” Eliza says.

“Would you prefer to ride to the hospital in my squad car?” the detective interrupts. “Because that's what we'll all be doing if you don't get in that ambulance. I'm not having anyone hurt on my watch.”

“We'll go in the ambulance,” Tessa says quickly. “All three of us.”

We stand in silence, Eliza shifting uneasily. My mouth is dry, my heart beating hard.

A siren wails in the distance.

I clear my throat, and the detective's sharp gaze snaps to me. “Brian killed other girls before he tried to kill me,” I say. “And he said he'd go after my parents. Can you make sure they're safe? And Tessa and Eliza, too? He won't like that they helped me.”

“We've already placed a uniform at your house, and I'll make sure we put one here, too,” the detective says. “We are taking this very seriously.”

I don't know if that will be enough. Brian's intelligent and sneaky. He worked with my dad for at least six months before he made his move, and none of us suspected him. “He's really smart,” I say hesitantly.

“We are, too,” Detective Sato says. Her foot taps once, before she catches it. “We'll get him.”

An ambulance pulls up outside, lights flashing.

“Let's go,” the detective says, holding the door open.

9:00 P.M.

 

THE HOSPITAL SMELLS LIKE disinfectant and stale air, and there's so much noise around me—voices on the loudspeaker, nurses talking, carts rumbling, people crying out. The lights are too bright, but I'm grateful for them after all the months of darkness. I sit on the edge of the hard hospital bed, arms wrapped around my chest, feeling naked in the thin hospital gown the nurse gave me to wear. “I'm Lynda, a SANE nurse,” she said when I first arrived. She laughed when I looked at her, puzzled.

“It stands for Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner. I'll be examining you today, doing everything I can to get you comfortable, and I'll stay with you until your parents arrive.”

She led me into an exam room and explained what she'd be doing. Then she had me strip. Detective Sato couldn't grab my clothes fast enough, especially once she heard the blood on the shirt was Judy's. She looked almost excited. I know she was just doing her job, but all I could think about was that a girl was dead, and I almost was, too.

I shudder now, feeling the pain. Though Lynda is gentle, I can't bear the speculum—or the swabs that scrape at my insides. I fisted my hands and stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pain.

Lynda draws her breath in sharply.

“What?” I say.

She looks at me over her glasses, her eyes sad. “You have some internal scarring,” she says. “But the vagina is incredibly good at healing. It shouldn't be permanent or affect your sexual health.”

I look away faster than she does.

She clears her throat. “Looks like you've got a urinary tract infection.”

I look at her blankly.

“It hurts to pee.”

I nod, shame rushing through me.

“That's common after rape, even just intercourse. Don't worry about it; I'll give you something to clear it up.”

The physical exam is almost as bad, with Lynda examining every inch of me, clipping fingernail samples, taking my temperature, my pulse, my heartbeat. But when she is done, she lets me take a shower, where I scrub my body until it is red and sore. Then she leads me to a room where she puts an IV in my arm.

“Please, could I have some clothes?” I beg.

Detective Sato comes to the doorway.

Lynda looks at me. “Just one more interview, and then I'll get you some. Think you can hold on that long?”

I shudder and nod.

Lynda sits with me right through Detective Sato's questioning, asking me to tell her everything I can remember about what Brian did. She tries to be sensitive, but her questions make me feel ill, and I just want it to be over.

Lynda smiles at me. “You want me to see if I can find you some clothes now?”

“Yes! Please.”

Lynda pats my hand and says she'll see what she can do. “Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?”

I shake my head. “I'll feel better if I can just have some clothes.”

“All right, then. You stay here, and I'll be back as soon as I can.”

I sit at the edge of the bed, feeling sore and bruised, emotionally and physically, and strangely removed from everything. I keep telling myself I'm safe, but I don't feel it yet. Maybe because they still haven't caught Brian.

I wonder where Eliza and Tessa have gone; I haven't seen them since they wheeled Eliza away, protesting over all the fuss. Tessa shook her head and hugged me fast. “You take care, now. Let us know how you're doing,” she said before rushing off after Eliza.

I turn and look out the hospital window. It's dark now, and I see my reflection.

A stranger looks back at me. Long hair that's limp even though I washed it five times; shadows like bruises under my eyes; cracked, peeling lips. Pale, unhealthy skin with raw patches from the blindfold, and the purple-red stain on my cheek brighter than ever. Hollows in my cheeks that didn't used to be there. I look like I've been on street drugs. The only thing that feels familiar and reassuring is my port-wine stain. A croaky laugh escapes my lips.