“Yeah, I’m sure a chocolate chip cookie will make her feel better.” Max chuckled. “Not.”
The others laughed, and before she knew it, she was laughing as well.
After a minute or so, Nate shook his head. “Well, that was certainly one of the strangest stories we’ve had.”
“I didn’t mean for it to come out quite like that.”
Rosie patted her arm and then grabbed a couple of cookies. “What a nightmare that must have been. But you’re safe now, and you’re in the process of healing, so that’s good.”
“Angelina and Stephen, everyone else has my phone number and I want you both to have it as well. If you need me for anything feel free to call.” After he gave them the number, he had each of them call him so their numbers would be in his phone. “Feel free to call anytime, day or not. I’m used to being called in the middle of the night, so it’s not a problem.”
As she walked to her car, Stephen jogged up beside her. “I’m glad you shared your story with us, Ange.”
“My name is Angelina. Not Ange.”
He touched her arm. “Sorry, I just shortened it. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
She fought the urge to shake it away. “No problem. I want to be called Angelina now.”
“All right, Angelina. Anyway, I’m glad you were able to open up tonight. It’s a first step in healing. Or at least that’s what everyone says.”
What difference did it make to him? Stop being paranoid. The guy was just being friendly. He wasn’t a stalker. Or was he? His first night at the meeting was the same night as hers. Coincidence? Or something more sinister?
“I was thinking we could go out for some coffee, maybe a late dinner. What do you say?”
“That’s nice, but I don’t think so.” She managed to say even though she could barely breathe. “I’m not dating right now.” She stood in front of her car, but he didn’t move away. She fumbled with her keys, her mind fogged over. Panic seeped in.
“Angelina, are you OK? What’s wrong?” Stephen moved closer.
She wanted to push him away. Far away. She leaned against the car, gasping for air. “I…I…I…”
“Just breathe. Hey, Nate. Need a little help over here,” Stephen called out.
Her knees no longer held her up, and she slid to the ground.
“Angelina. It’s OK.” She heard Nate but couldn’t speak.
A moment later, Rosie was sitting beside her, rubbing her back.
Nate kept talking. “Angelina, look at me. Look at me. You’re safe. Nobody will hurt you.”
She turned toward him, still not able to find her voice. She grabbed Rosie’s hand.
Rosie smiled at her. “Good girl. You’re safe. You’re here with us. We won’t let anyone hurt you. Take a deep breath and then hold it for a moment.”
It was hard to do but Angelina managed. Then another and another. Finally, her world came back into focus.
Rosie was still sitting beside her, Nate sat on the other side, and Max stood in front. Stephen and Fred were behind him. The whole group had formed a protective cocoon around her.
The reality of what had just happened hit her. She was mortified. “Oh, I am so—”
“Don’t you say sorry, Angelina.” Rosie squeezed her hand. “We’re just so glad we were here to keep you safe. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about at all. We’ve all done it at one time or another.”
“Yeah, we’ve all been there.” Max told her. “You should have seen me the first night I slept in my own apartment. All I wanted was to be back in my parents’ basement.”
“Did I do something…say something wrong?” Stephen stepped forward.
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“Not really sounds like a yes to me. What did I say?”
Angelina put a hand to her head. “Nothing.”
Stephen knelt down by her. “Come on, Angelina. You need to be real about this. It’s the only way to getting healthy.”
She was so embarrassed and wanted nothing more than to get out of here and away from these people. “When you called me Ange, it just took me back. That’s the name I used to go by. That’s the name my kidnapper said when he mocked me. He’d say it over and over while he…” She stopped. Those scars were for her eyes only. She didn’t want anyone to experience that sort of thing, even vicariously. “I know it’s ridiculous, but that’s all it takes to make me fall apart.”
Max smiled. “It’s not that ridiculous. You don’t know anything about us. Not really. Only what we say at the meeting. Any of us could be a crazed psycho killer for all you know.”
Angelina’s pulse soared.
“I don’t think that’s a useful thing to say, Max.” Nate frowned. “And I’m sure it’s not true. He’s just joking, Angelina. None of us want to hurt you.”
Max smiled at her. “But I’m only pointing out there’s nothing wrong with being a little suspicious of people. Not everyone’s trustworthy.”
Nate stood and dusted off his pants then held a hand out to her.
A part of her wanted to ignore his outstretched hand. To get up on her own. But she couldn’t do it alone. She did need help. But were these the people who could be trusted to help? They stood around her, protective, blocking out anyone who might try to hurt her.
She reached out and put her hand in Nate’s.
15
Angelina’s eyes popped open. Why was it dark? She always slept with a light on. She hated the dark. It reminded her of being trapped. She lay in bed listening. Something had awoken her. A noise?
“Ange,” A soft voice whispered in the dark.
She blinked, sure she was still dreaming.
“Ange.”
Had she really heard a voice? Impossible. She was on the second floor. Someone couldn’t get in her apartment without her knowing it. Not a voice, maybe it was a tree branch brushing against her window. Except there were no trees nearby.
“Ange.”
Definitely a voice. Not a tree branch. Someone was in her house. Her arm shot out to turn on the light. Instead, she knocked it off the nightstand. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the pitch-black room. She had to get out of here.
She fumbled around the night stand once more and found her phone. Jumping out of bed, she ran to the window. Peering out, all she saw was more darkness. The pole light was off. Had the electricity gone off? It happened sometimes out here in the country.
“Ange. Want to play?”
This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real. Had to be her imagination. She turned from the window and sank to the floor. He was here. In the apartment with her. She didn’t know how it was possible, but he was back. And he would kill her this time if she didn’t get out. But she couldn’t make herself move. She was stuck. Trapped again. Without a way to protect herself. Why hadn’t she bought a gun? She needed a gun. To kill Luther. She wouldn’t let him hurt her again.
“Want to play, Ange?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t just sit here and wait for Luther to come and get her. She became aware of the phone she clutched in her hand. She hit the last number dialed.
“Nate Goodman.”
“He’s here. He’s here. He’s going to kill me,” she cried.
“Angelina?”
“Yes, yes, it’s me. Angelina. He’s here. Going to kill me.”
“Where are you?”
“M…my apartment.”
“Be right there.”
“Ange. Want to play?”
She clutched at the phone and threw it, hoping it would hit Luther. Wherever he was. She wouldn’t let him touch her again. Ever. She’d die first.
Her gaze went to the window. If she could climb out, she could run to the main house for help. Keren and Peter could help her this time. It wouldn’t be like last time. She wasn’t alone. There were people who loved her.
She stood, but she was shaking so badly her legs could barely hold her up. Turning to the window, she tugged o
n it. Stuck. It wouldn’t open.
“Ange, don’t you want to play with me?”
The voice was closer. Forget about opening it, she moved from the window and then kicked it. As glass shattered, pain shot up her bare foot. After knocking away more glass, she stuck her head out, feeling the wind blowing her hair. She could breathe again.
She wouldn’t wait for Luther to kill her. She put one leg through the window, then the other. Now she was balanced on the sill. She stared down at the ground. Such a long way.
“Ange, come play with me.”
She wouldn’t let Luther kidnap her again. She’d rather die. She took a deep breath—
“Angelina? What are you doing?” Keren stood by the door at the main house with a newspaper in her hand.
“Luther’s in my apartment,” she yelled. “He’s going to kill me. I have to jump. I won’t let him touch me again.”
“Don’t jump. You’ll hurt yourself.” Keren was running toward her.
“Keren. Don’t come up here. Luther will kill you too.”
Her cousin stopped running, her hands out in a pleading gesture. “Luther’s dead, Angelina. Remember. He can’t hurt you. He’s dead. Please don’t jump. It was a nightmare.”
“It’s not true. He’s in here. He’s going to kill me. I have to get out.” She readied herself.
“Please don’t jump.”
“I have to.” Her voice broke, tears clogging her throat and eyes. “I have to…”
Headlights turned into the drive. Nate. Nate would protect her—he’d keep her safe. The car stopped and Nate stepped out of the car.
“Nate. Luther’s going to kill me.”
His gaze moved upward, “Angelina, don’t jump. I’ll be right there.”
“Ange. Are you ready to play? Here I come.”
Luther would never touch her again.
~*~
“Don’t move, Angelina. I’ll come to you.”
She shook her head. “No. Won’t let him hurt me again.”
Nate looked at Keren. “Can you get in her apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Go.” Even as he said the word everything telescoped to focus totally on her.
Keren ran toward the stairs of the apartment.
Angelina shifted, her bare feet dangling, blood dripping from one foot. She took a deep breath, looking into some hell only she could see.
“Nooooo…” Nate ran as she dropped through the air and his arms went out as she hurtled toward him.
~*~
Angelina opened her eyes. She was curled up on her bed in her old room at the main house. Why was she here? So tired…too tired to think. Her eyes drooped, but she forced them open. Something….something…she struggled to remember. “Keren?”
A moment later the door opened with Dr. Markley coming into her room.
What was going on?
The doctor looked concerned. “How are you, Angelina?”
She had no idea how to answer. “What happened? Why are you here?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?” Even as she said the words, the memory came back. Luther. Nate. The window. Along with the memories came the panic. “Luther. Luther was in my apartment. He was going to kill me.”
“Luther wasn’t in your house.” The doctor’s voice was calm, reassuring. “But you thought he was. No one was in the apartment with you. You were safe the whole time. It must have been a dream. A nightmare.”
That was ridiculous. It had been real. She’d heard his voice—his horrible whisper. “It wasn’t a dream. I heard him. I was awake when I got out of the bed. He was there. He was going to kill me.” Why didn’t the doctor believe her?
“Our minds can play tricks on us sometimes, Angelina. Haven’t you ever had a dream where you thought you woke up only to realize you were still dreaming?”
She had. Real or not real? She wasn’t sure. The whole thing did have a bizarre dream-like quality to it. Could it really have been a nightmare? “No. I…I think it was real.”
“But you aren’t sure?”
“I…I…it seemed real then. Now I’m not...not so sure.”
“The sleeping pill you use has a history of causing sleepwalking incidents just like this.”
“You really think it was a dream and that I was walking in my sleep?”
“I do.” The doctor nodded. “I’ll prescribe a different sleeping pill so you won’t have any more episodes like last night. That should do the trick. There shouldn’t be any more sleepwalking events. I’m so sorry this happened, but it wasn’t real.”
“I guess. But…but…I’m not sure that’s what happened. But I wasn’t sleeping, I was awake. I heard him call my name right before I jumped. I saw Nate and Keren. That part wasn’t a dream.” She knew what she heard. Luther was calling her name. Asking if she wanted to play games with him. That had been real, not a dream. “Nate was there, right?”
“Thankfully, he was. If he hadn’t caught you, you could have been really hurt.”
“I called him. On the phone. That means I wasn’t dreaming. I didn’t just call him in my dream. It was real.”
“That part was real, but Luther wasn’t in your apartment. He’s dead, so it’s impossible.” Dr. Markley watched her carefully.
“But I jumped out of the window. Nate caught me, right?”
The doctor nodded.
“So that part wasn’t a dream. So what makes you think Luther being in my house was a dream?”
“Because Luther Marks is dead,” Nate said as he walked in the room. “Remember? Leslie shot him. He’s dead, Angelina. He can’t hurt you ever again.”
She stared at him and then pointed. “Did I do that?”
“No big deal.” He held up the arm in the sling. “A sprained shoulder. The doctor just wanted me to keep my arm immobilized to make sure it doesn’t get any worse.”
“First you get shot in the shoulder because of me, and now I jumped on top of you. You saved me. Again. I’m sorry.”
“Better me than the concrete drive.” He grinned.
“I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry, Nate.” She took a deep breath. “But I’m telling you. Luther Marks was in my apartment with me. I heard his voice. His whisper. And the same words. ‘Want to play a game?’ He kept saying it over and over. You believe me, right?”
His gaze met hers.
She needed him to believe her. That she wasn’t nuts. She wouldn’t just jump out of a window for no reason.
His smile reassured her. He looked at Dr. Markley. “I need to talk with Angelina. Alone. If you don’t mind.”
Dr. Markley shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She doesn’t have a good grasp of reality right now. Anything—”
“She has a perfectly fine grasp of reality, don’t you?”
Tears filled her eyes. Nate believed her. Even if no one else did. “Luther’s dead. He wasn’t in my house. It was a nightmare.”
Dr. Markley nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
After the door closed, Nate walked over and sat on the bed. “You trust me, right?”
“Of course. That’s why I called you.” She grinned. “Well, that and the fact your number was the last number dialed. But I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do so I called you.”
“And I’m so glad you did.” He touched her arm.
That was all it took. Her own arms went around his neck. “I’m telling you the truth. That man was in my apartment. I heard him asking if I wanted to play his sick little games again.”
He pulled her close. “Take a few breaths, Angelina. Deep ones.”
She did. As she calmed down, she moved her head to his shoulder. He caressed her hair. It felt so good to have him hold her. So safe. Eventually, she moved away. “Do you believe me, Nate?”
“I want to tell you about my last case as a Chicago policeman. Can I do that?”
She nodded.
When he was finished, he
looked at her. “For months afterward, I would hear that little girl crying for help. Not thinking about it. Not imagining it. But actually hearing it.”
“Just the way I heard Luther?”
He nodded. “So I’m not telling you that you were imagining it or dreaming it. I understand completely. You heard what you heard. But Dr. Markley’s right when she says our mind can play tricks on us. It wasn’t Luther. It was your mind. And it doesn’t mean you’re crazy; it means you have PTSD. Do you believe me?”
She met his gaze. “I believe you.”
“Good. Now I want you to listen and follow the doctor’s orders. She knows what she’s doing. After all, she helped me.”
“She helped you?”
“She did. I’ll tell you all about it someday. But doctors can only do so much. God has to be a part of your recovery as well. That’s why I’m so glad you’re coming to the support group at the church.”
She nodded. This wasn’t the time to tell him that she had no plans to go to another meeting after that anxiety attack. She didn’t need any more humiliation. The anxiety attack? Maybe that was why she’d had the nightmare. “OK, tell Dr. Markley to come back in.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You’re getting better, Angelina. I did and so can you. With God, all things are possible.” He left.
Dr. Markley walked back in.
Angelina smiled at her. “OK, I’ve calmed down. Of course, I know Luther Marks is dead and that he can’t hurt me anymore. And as real as it seemed, it must have been a nightmare. Just as you said.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“How did you get here?”
“Keren called me. Said you were hysterical. I gave you a shot to calm you down. She tells me you’ve been going to support meetings. How’s that going?”
“Apparently not well if I’m having these nightmares. And I had an anxiety attack last night after the meeting. That might be what triggered the nightmare.”
“Quite possibly. Well, keep going. You’ve just got to give it time.”
He restoreth my soul.
She couldn’t do this alone. But with God, all things were possible. “You’re right. I’ve given Luther Marks enough of my time. I’m not giving him any more of it.” She sat up, feeling stronger than she ever had. Luther wouldn’t win.
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