A Silent Terror by Lynette Eason Page B

look at it. It may need a stitch or two. If you don’t get it taken care of, you might end up with a scar.”
    She nodded and Ethan vowed to see she took care of it.
    Finally, after all the commotion calmed down, the statements had been taken and the gym closed off so crime scene staff could do their job, Ethan said to Marianna, “I’ll give you a ride to your parents’ house.”
    “That’s all right. I have my car.”
    “Then I’m following you home.”
    At first he thought she would protest; then she gave a weary nod and headed for the exit.
    Before she could place her hand on the door, it burst open and a young teenage boy exploded through. Spotting Marianna, he broke into a flurry of signs. Her face paled and she looked at Ethan. “Did you understand what he said? Someone vandalized my car!”
    Grim, jaw tight, he nodded. “Let me call the police back.”
    “Why would someone do this? What did I do? Who hates me so much? What is going on?”
     
    Stunned, Marianna could only stare in disbelief. Every window in the little red Honda gaped as if it, too, were shocked at the violence perpetrated on it. Glass lay shattered on the ground around the perimeter of the vehicle. Sickness swirled in her stomach. The glass was on the outside. Someone had kicked the windows out…from the inside.
    “Seems to me trouble keeps following you, little lady.”
    Marianna read the policeman’s words, her brain on autopilot as it took in the shapes formed by his lips. Her hearing aids picked up some of the sounds and she processed his sentence.
    “No kidding,” she muttered.
    Grateful for Ethan’s supporting arm around her shoulders, she leaned into his embrace. It appeared that was going to be his job tonight, holding her upright.
    The officer spoke again. “We’ll let the investigative team haul the car down to the lab, since you’re concerned this may be in connection with that other woman’s murder.”
    Weariness like nothing she’d ever felt before made her light-headed. She must have sagged slightly, because Ethan’s arm tightened. He turned her to face him and said, “We need to get you home. There’s nothing more you can do here.”
    With a grateful heart, she allowed him to lead her toward his car, then stopped abruptly when she remembered the paper.
    “Oh, no!”
    Ethan looked alarmed. “What? Are you okay?”
    “No! He shoved something in my hand. What did I do with it?” She opened both hands, palms up, and there it was, still in her right hand crunched and crushed into a flat mess. Her fists had been clenched the entire time, she realized, even when she’d used the heel of her palms to wipe her tears and the blood from her face. Dried, dark streaks still stained her skin.
    He sucked in a deep breath. “Hold on. Just…don’t do anything with it yet.” Turning, he hollered over his shoulder. “Hey, Henry, you got a pair of gloves and a plastic bag on you?”
    Henry hurried over, a frown on his slightly pudgy face, which hadn’t seen a razor in a while. “Of course I do, I’m working a crime scene,” he said, holding the items out. “Why?”
    Ethan took the gloves and pulled them on. To Henry he said, “Hold that open, okay?”
    Still frowning, the man complied. With one gloved hand, Ethan reached for the paper in Marianna’s shaking hand. Gripping it with the edge of thumb and forefinger, he held it and, with his other hand, unfolded it.
    Marianna looked over his shoulder and tried to see what it said, but it was too dark. Ethan moved about ten yards to his right and held it up to the light. She watched his lips as he read aloud, “Keep your mouth shut, or else.”

EIGHT
    Exhausted, worried, frustrated by the lack of progress on the case, Ethan had fallen into bed after making sure Marianna was safely ensconced in her family’ s care. Her mother had seen Marianna’s cheek and immediately ushered her off to examine the wound. Now, he lay sleepless once again, staring at the ceiling. Slowly,