“Hello, Noelle.”
An apparition. A nightmare. A trick of her mind. It would vanish. But her heart pounded as her eyes adjusted, giving it substance. Michael.
Her throat went dry, and her breath came shallow. She tried to think. Would her leg be swift if she ran? It still shook from the exertion of riding Destiny. Would Rick hear if she screamed? Michael took hold of her hands. She cried out at his touch.
“I’m not going to hurt you!” But his grip was tight.
Her eyes jerked to the meadow. Would Rick hear?
“Noelle.” Michael’s voice was calm. “I just want to talk to you.”
Think. She had to think. “Daddy told you where I was?”
His brows raised. “I found you through the gallery … in Boston. Beautiful work, Noelle. I’m very impressed.”
A weight settled in her stomach. Betrayed by her own work, her quest, the success she’d wanted. Her search for beauty and the divine.
“It’s been so long.” He stroked her hands with his fingers, a tremor in his voice.
She jerked away, calling, “Rick!” and lurched toward the house.
Michael grabbed her around the waist. “Stop it! What are you doing?” He trapped her against the side of the car.
She screamed, then thrashed as he clamped her mouth with his hand, slamming her head against the doorframe.
“Why are you acting like this?” He jerked open the car door.
She writhed and kicked. He smashed his fist to her head, and she fell to her knees in the snow. She screamed, but he kicked her side, kicked her stomach. She couldn’t breathe. He gripped and shoved her into the car. From the glove box, he pulled a snub-nosed sidearm and pointed. “I’ll use it, Noelle.” The look in his eyes convinced her.
He held the revolver on her all the way around to the driver’s side, then climbed in and jerked the car into reverse. Dazed and trembling, she gripped the armrest and gasped for breath.
Rick looked up from the fence. He stood and stared down the meadow, just able to make out a gray sedan between the house and barn, backing and pulling away. His heart started pounding in his chest. Had he heard a scream?
He lunged for the truck, shoved it into gear and flew down the meadow, skidding to a stop before the stable. “Noelle!” No answer. He rushed into the house. “Noelle!”
He grabbed the rifle from the closet and ran back to the truck. Fishtailing into the intersection in town, he stared around him. There was no sign of the sedan, and there were tracks both ways.
Left would take him down from the mountain, right, up the canyon into the national park. His hands were shaking. “God, help me,” he groaned through clenched teeth, then wheeled the truck to the right and grabbed for his cell phone. He barked the nature of his emergency to the dispatcher as he headed up the canyon.
It had to be Michael; he would take her away, out of the mountains. That was Rick’s first thought, but his heart said go up, so he did. If he was wrong, if they’d gone down, he prayed the state police would stop them in time.
Michael rammed the car to a lower gear and skidded around the turn. He gunned the accelerator and sped up the winding highway. Noelle whimpered beside him. Why had she panicked? He wouldn’t have hurt her. Didn’t she know that? All he had wanted was to find her.
And what had she meant by “Daddy told you?” William knew where she was? He hadn’t said a word about finding her. Could he have known all along? Had William turned on him too? Pressing the accelerator, he rounded the bend, then jammed the brake and swerved.
The deer thudded against the hood as the car veered and slammed into a snow-filled ravine. Michael landed hard against Noelle, and she made a sound like air through the pinched neck of a balloon. He smelled her fear. His adrenaline surged. They couldn’t stay there. He pulled himself up by the steering wheel, then gripped her arm. “Come on.”
She struggled, but the gun convinced her to stop. He pulled her out his door, sucking an acrid breath of burnt rubber. His hand shook as he held the gun to her temple. He’d wondered before what his limit was. Could he put a bullet through her head? Never. But he couldn’t show her that. “Don’t fight me, Noelle.”
She went still, believing he could kill her, thinking him capable of shooting the one woman he loved more than anything in the world. What was wrong with her?
He scrambled up the slope, half dragging her behind. “I only wanted to talk to you. But you had to panic. You think I want to hurt you? Why would I hurt you? Why?” His hand hurt from hitting her. Why had she made him hit her? A flash of his father’s fists on his mother’s drunken face. He’d caught her with someone again.
Fury like acid in his veins. Who did Noelle have? Who had she called for? His throat closed in like a fist. All the same. They were all the same, even his beloved Noelle.
He forced her on until her breath rasped and she collapsed in the snow. “Get up.”
“I can’t,” she gasped, holding her side.
He yanked her up, shoved her on, upward into the forest toward the peaks. He saw a trail marker and turned sharply. He must avoid public areas. He pulled Noelle the other way. She’d lost weight, so thin now he could feel the bones of her arm through her coat, but even so, she dragged on him. He let go and she collapsed. This time he let her lie there as he caught his own breath and searched the area.
The trees were dense, the snow a thin covering where the slope steepened, thick with pine needles and black nubby branches. It was quiet, no sound but the drip of sun-melted snow from the branches and an occasional flutter of a bird taking wing. His urgency lessened, but he gripped Noelle’s shoulder again and pulled her up. “We can stop on level ground.”
He moved off to the right, climbing toward a ridge with a huge boulder outcropping. That would do. He pressed them both up toward it, then let go of Noelle. She crumpled and lay on the frozen ground. Had he hurt her so badly? He’d only hit her once … or twice. It wasn’t clear. He dropped to his knees beside her, stroked her head. This wasn’t how he’d wanted it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She pressed her face to the ground.
“I had to get you away from … who was it you called?”
She didn’t answer.
He jerked her up. “Who!”
“My fiancé!” She spoke through her teeth and angry tears streamed down her cheeks.
A cold spear pierced him. “So. There was someone else.” Again the acid fury burning through his skin.
Her breath came sharp and jagged. “There wasn’t then, but there is now.”
He slapped her. “Liar!”
Her eyes dilated, and she breathed strangely, the way she had the last time, when it scared him so badly he’d left her alone. And she had run away. Was it an act?
He shook her. “Stop it.” Could she even see him? “Noelle!”
A flicker of fight back in her eyes. “What are you going to do? Rape me again?”
“What are you talking about?” He gripped her jaw, pressing his fingers until she flinched. “Rape you?”
“They said I wouldn’t remember, but I do.”
“You’re crazy.” What delusion was this? Yes, he’d hit her, lost his temper and struck, but rape?
“‘Spoiled little rich girls need a lesson.’” Her voice was cold, threatening.
Michael started to shake. She was delusional. He gripped her shoulders and jerked her close. “Is that what you told William? Are you trying to destroy me?” He had feared that William would learn he’d struck his daughter, but this—this was insanity. “Listen to me, Noelle. I never raped you.”
She suddenly spat and clawed. “Don’t touch me, God. I’ll tell Daddy.” Her voice sounded infantile.
God? Had she called him God? He must have hit her too hard, must have … What had he done? She was … crazy. Searing anguish flooded him. He’d destroyed her. Somehow he’d destroyed the one perfect thing in his life.
One look at her, and everyone would know. It didn’t matter th
at her claims were false. Who would believe him? William? The very thought of facing him—everything he’d fought for, everything he’d gained. His entire transformation meant nothing against a charge like rape. Rape meant prison, and he knew well enough what chance he’d have in there.
Tremors passed through in waves. He scoured his mind. Was it possible? Had he done worse than he thought in his blind rage? He staggered to his feet and stared down at her bruised face, bleeding lip. Was he the monster she believed him?
She pulled her knees to her chest, shaking violently. “I’ll tell. I’ll tell.”
Rick scoured the highway, the slopes, the vales. His hands on the wheel were white-knuckled and his temple throbbed with terror coursing through him. Any one of the side roads could be the way, but he stayed to the main highway. God. Jesus. Please. He couldn’t articulate more. But God knew his need.
There—off to the right—the gray sedan sunken sideways into the ravine beside the road. He jammed the brakes and slid to a stop, lurched out of the truck and ran. The car was empty.
But there were tracks heading up the mountainside. He pulled the rifle out of the cab and started up. Some two hundred yards above the road, he heard noise below and looked back. The sheriff and a female deputy had found the vehicle. One spoke into their radio, then they were climbing the slope behind him. Michael Fallon had better hope they found him first.
Pain throbbed in her head and ribs. Noelle’s leg burned and when she tried to breathe something wheezed in her lungs. Her stomach churned. She imagined she heard voices, but only dully. Her mind was shutting down and she welcomed the stupor. She was in a room no larger than a closet. Maybe it was a closet, though it was empty of everything but her. If she didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, the bad man wouldn’t come back. “Are you God?” “Yeah, kid. I’m God.”
She slid down the hard surface behind her and curled into a ball. If she could just hide where God wouldn’t find her. She tried to make herself smaller, to fit into the very corner. She pressed her eyes shut, hoping never, never to see God again.
Bounding up the slope, Rick saw her. His chest seized. Noelle lay curled up on the ground as Michael scrambled over the boulders above, sprinting up and away. Rage burning, he raised the rifle and sighted Michael. Something tackled him from the side, and he landed hard. Rick fought back, but the deputy restrained him. Michael was getting away. Rick hollered, “Go! I won’t follow.”
The man yanked the rifle from his hands, then leapt up and ran. Rick crept to Noelle, took her into his arms, and pressed her face to his chest. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t respond, just clenched the collar of her coat and drew her knees up to her chest.
“Noelle?” Did she even hear him? It must be shock or …
Two state troopers made their way up the mountain. One stopped beside them. Rick looked up, and the man motioned. They had to get Noelle out. This wasn’t over yet. Gently, Rick raised her to her feet. She could hardly support herself, and he guessed her leg was damaged again. He would have carried her, but the terrain was too steep and slick, so he bore as much of her weight beside him as he could.
God, help me. His fury had chilled to cold rage, worse than anything he’d known before. If he met Michael Fallon now, he would crush him with his own hands. The potency of the thought terrified him.
“Where do I dump her?” God speaking, then another. “Leave her at the lions.” Her heart raced. Lions would eat her! Something was wrong with her leg, but they kept making her walk. She didn’t want to be alone with God. God did bad things. God was bad.
“We can call for an ambulance.”
“I’ll take her in my truck.”
She knew that second voice but didn’t look. Someone urged her into the cab. She smelled hay. Did they feed the lions hay? Shards of pain shot along the side of her knee, but she held herself still, silent until she climbed out of the truck and limped toward the hospital. Recognition flickered. She’d been there before.
Because of her police escort, her companion took her through the emergency room directly into a curtained cubicle. He helped her onto the paper-covered bed. His arms were strong, his hands calloused and long-fingered.
“Sir, would you wait outside?”
The man beside her hesitated. Noelle looked up. Rick.
“Sir?”
He was waiting for her to speak, but what was she supposed to say?
“I’ll be right outside.” He squeezed her hand and left.
The woman who spoke was huge, not obese, but of Amazon proportions. “I’m Sharon.” She pulled the curtain shut. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but we have procedures we need to follow. This is all to help you out, to get the man who abducted you. Do you understand?”
Noelle nodded mutely.
“I need you to remove your clothes so I can record injuries. Here’s a smock. I’ll be right back.”
Trembling, Noelle took her clothing off, then slipped into the thin cotton smock. She slid down to the floor between the wall and a heavy drawer unit on wheels, then dropped her face to her knees. She jolted when the curtain opened, but it was the same large woman, Sharon, who stopped, then tugged the curtain closed behind her.
“All right, honey, stand up now.”
Noelle didn’t move. The woman reached down and helped her up. She photographed the bruises on her face, the cut at the side of her mouth, the swelling on her temple. Then she photographed the bruising on her ribs and abdomen.
The lions were stone. They wouldn’t eat her. But they were so big! She huddled into the hollow of one animal’s side. “Don’t tell,” God said.“If you tattle these lions turn real and tear you to pieces.”
Noelle grabbed her stomach and retched. Sharon scrambled for a plastic, kidney-shaped dish. The hand on her shoulder was heavy and warm, and the palm had a soft, spongy feel. The spasms stopped. As the woman leaned over, the gold cross at her neck dangled. Noelle fixed her eyes on it, remembering the cross in Rick’s church.
Sharon handed her a paper towel for her mouth. “Just bear with me one more minute.” She cleaned the cut beside her mouth, then stepped back. “Are there other injuries I need to know about, honey?”
Noelle knew what she was asking. She shook her head. Not this time.
“Honey?” The woman seemed small, calling to her from the steps between the lions. “What are you doing there, honey? Are you lost?” Don’t tell—don’t tell—don’t tell.
Sharon gave her a packet of pills and a glass of water. “Just a little pain-killer for the cuts and bruises. And you can get dressed.”
She swallowed them, amazed they didn’t come right back up.
“They’ll finish the report outside.” Sharon paused, touched Noelle’s shoulder with her warm hand. “I’ll pray for you.” It was almost a whisper.
Noelle looked into her eyes. “Don’t.” She didn’t want anyone talking to God about her.
She waited for the woman to leave, then got dressed. With all the injuries the photographs documented, she should hurt, feel something. She opened the door, and a different woman took her to a tiny room. A desk wrapped the walls, with computer equipment and stacking files. A man stood when she entered. “Ms. St. Claire, I’m Detective Spaulding. I need to get a statement from you.”
Someone came in behind her, and Noelle turned. It was Rick. She turned back to the detective. “All right.”
He motioned her to a molded plastic chair. “What you say will be recorded. Please be as specific as you can. I know it may be difficult, but the more you tell us now, the better case we have against your assailant. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
He pushed the button on a handheld tape recorder. “Please begin by stating your name.”
“Noelle St. Claire.”
“Please describe the events of this day, January 4, 2002, from the beginning.”
Noelle began hoarsely, then cleared her throat. “I went into the stable …”
“At y
our home?”
“Yes … well, no … at Rick’s ranch.” She glanced at Rick, who stood against the wall just inside the door.
“Rick?” Detective Spaulding prompted.
“Rick Spencer. I’ve been living there … boarding there since last July.”
He nodded. “Please continue.”
“I went into the stable and unsaddled Destiny, the horse I had been riding, and when I came out …” Her voice shook. “He was there.”
“Who was there, Ms. St. Claire?”
“God.” No, that wasn’t right. She saw the glance Rick and the detective shared.
Detective Spaulding straightened. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
Bile rose in her throat. “It was Michael. Michael Fallon.”
“Are you acquainted with Michael Fallon?”
She nodded.
“Please answer aloud.” Detective Spaulding held the recorder a little closer.
“Yes.”
“Did you speak with him?”
Noelle pictured the glaring sunlight, Michael standing there like a nightmare. “I asked him if my father had told him where I was.”
“Where you were?”
“I ran from him the last time.”
The detective leaned forward. “The last time? Has he assaulted you before?”
Noelle closed her eyes, starting to shake. “Yes.”
“Did you press charges?”
“God is everywhere, kid. And he knows everything. If you tell, I’ll find you again. You know I will.”
“No. I ran away.”
He considered her with a flat, opaque gaze, then said, “Please describe what happened after you saw him at the stable.”
She swallowed. Her voice sounded distant, a stranger’s voice. It didn’t have to be hers. “He grabbed me and hit me and forced me into the car. He had a gun.”
The detective made a note on his paper. “And then?”
“He drove into the park. We hit a deer and crashed, then he made me get out and climb the mountain.”
A Rush of Wings Page 36