Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella)

by Nina D'Angelo

  Ben closed his eyes at her confession, opening them abruptly when Stephanie broke off tearfully. “I’m so sorry, Ben. I’m so god damn sorry. I just got so sick and tired of feeling empty.” She bit back a sob, her tears flowing freely. “Ben, I feel so empty and so very alone.”

  He groaned, his anger subsiding. Slowly he was beginning to comprehend why she married Leigh. Drawing her into his arms, he held her tightly, smiling when she whispered, “Please don’t hate me. I couldn’t handle you hating me.”

  Tucking his chin on the top of her head, he drew her even closer, whispering in her ear, “Hate you? I could never hate you, Carovella. Be mad as hell with you? Yes, but hate you? Never.”

  ***

  Ana collapsed against the wall outside the room, clutching her stomach in agony. Ben’s rejection sent shards of pain through her. Gasping for breath, she angrily wiped away the tears wetting her cheeks.

  “You look like you need this?”

  She lifted her head to the man offering her the tissue. Cringing at the sympathy she could see in his eyes, she stood up straight, taking the tissue he offered her. Blowing her nose, she studied Stephanie's husband from beneath swept eyelashes.

  Swallowing hard, she fought for control of her emotions. “I guess this wasn’t how Stephanie planned on introducing you to her friends.” Holding out her hand, she smiled wobbly. “I’m Ana by the way.”

  “I’m Leigh, but then I guess you’ve already figured out who I am,” he said, giving her a shy smile.

  Nodding his head towards Ben and Stephanie, he asked, “Is he always so angry?”

  Ana laughed bitterly. “Ben? No, he’s usually Mr. Self-Control. He rarely gets mad. I’ve never seen him this furious,” she whispered angrily, “Or at least he’s never been this angry over anything I’ve ever done. But then I should have known only Stephanie could evoke this anger, this passion in him.”

  Leigh arched an eyebrow silently, asking icily, “And what exactly is his relationship with my wife?”

  Ana smiled coldly. “Oh, that’s right Stephanie hasn’t bothered to share her past with you,” she spat out, jerking her head towards where Ben held Stephanie in his arms. “By all means, let me educate you. Ben and Stephanie were lovers before she moved onto Dominic Delaney.” She jerked her head towards Jesse. “And you see him? That’s Stephanie’s last victim, Jesse Carlisle.”

  Biting back a sob, she rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. Smiling at him in pity, she choked out, “I feel sorry for you. She chews men up and spits them out. You’re just another poor sucker to add to the list of many.”

  Breaking off again, she shook her head, her choked laugh almost hysterical. “I’m sorry, my emotions are running high. This is a funeral, if you haven’t noticed.”

  Leigh nodded speechlessly, his eyes locked on Ben who was tenderly stroking Stephanie’s back. His expression hardened when Stephanie rested her cheek against Ben’s chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  Ana’s gaze followed his and she bit back another sob, jamming her fist into her mouth. “I’m sorry. I just can’t. I’m so sorry.” She turned abruptly and walked away.

  ***

  Jesse watched Ana heading quickly towards him, her face tearstained and etched with heartbreak, before his gaze turned to the man she’d been talking to, the stranger who had embraced Stephanie.

  “Jess, I made a huge mistake,” she whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

  He wordlessly opened his arms, and she moved into his embrace, burying her face in his shirt. “What’s happened?” he murmured, his eyes never leaving the stranger, even as his arms tightened around Ana.

  “I kept something from Ben and you, and Ben...he is so angry with me,” she confessed, raising her face from his chest.

  “You kept something from us?” he asked, tensing in apprehension.

  “Yes, about Stephanie,” she whispered sorrowfully. “I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want to get involved.”

  “Does it have anything to do with him?” he asked, nodding his head towards Leigh.

  Nodding, she took a deep breath, before answering his question. “He’s her husband.” She tensed, waiting for the explosion she knew was coming. She quickly glanced at him when he was silent. “Jesse?” she questioned tentatively.

  He shook his head, holding up his hand to silence her. She took a staggered breath, pain crippling her when he strode past her, stalking towards Leigh.

  Chapter Nine

  Stephanie sat cross-legged on the bed, studying the man sleeping peacefully beside her. Her eyes caressing him, she smiled wistfully. She knew every inch of him and would even with her eyes shut.

  She sighed heavily. She’d spent the better half of last night sitting up and talking to Jesse. No, she corrected herself. She had spent the better half of last night drinking and talking to Jesse. They’d discussed her relationship with Leigh, and the fears she’d not had the courage to voice until now.

  He’d been more supportive than she’d thought he would be, and had listened to her while she’d talked. The alcohol had helped to loosen her up, and she’d let someone in for the first time since Dominic died. And, it hadn’t been her husband.

  She dropped her head to her chin warily, raising it again when she felt his hand on her thigh. His touch warmed the cold emptiness she felt inside.

  “You look contemplative. That’s never a good sign.” He teased, leaning up to brush her lips gently with his own, before he deepened the kiss. She broke the kiss, giving him a half-smile. Reaching out, she absentmindedly pushed the hair out of his eyes.

  “Jess, about last night -” she began.

  “Hey, it didn’t happen,” he said, turning onto his side and grinning at her unabashedly.

  “No Jess, it did happen,” she said with a drawn out sigh. “We slept together.”

  Jesse snorted, sitting up straight and sliding naked out of the bed. Pulling on a pair of black jeans, he moved to stand beside the bed, staring down at Stephanie.

  “Steph, we didn’t sleep together. In order to have slept together, you would actually have to sleep. We talked, we fucked, and then I slept. You, however, spent the night damning yourself all over again.”

  “I cheated on my husband,” she bit out. “After less than a month, I’ve already cheated on him.”

  He sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and sliding a hand through her tangled hair.

  “Steph, from what you told me last night, your marriage was unplanned and something you did to fill a void.” He smiled at her gently. “If you want to keep telling yourself you belong in that small town and you belong with that man; a man who has no idea of who you really are, then that’s fine. Last night didn’t happen. I won’t ruin your marriage or stand in the way of your happiness.”

  Stephanie gasped in surprise when he took her hand and place it to her heart, covering it with his own. “Can you tell me from deep inside that you don’t miss this? That you don’t miss L.A or the rush you feel from being in the middle of this chaos again? You don’t miss your friends, who sure as hell miss you and you’re really happy being away from everyone who really knows you?”

  She opened her mouth to protest, before closing it again. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears silently sliding down her cheeks.

  “You can’t, can you? You miss this. You need this Carovella. You’re not alive without this, but the pain became too much for you, it became unbearable.”

  Stephanie listened to Jesse, her breathing uneven, as he voiced all her fears aloud. “Jess, please don’t,” she whispered brokenly, her face contorting with pain.

  “Damn it Stephanie, yes. You stopped living to avoid the pain. You took yourself to a place where no one knew you or your pain. You walked away from everything important to you, including our relationship. You did this to avoid anyone getting close to you again. Then you married a stranger to fill the vacant space of your life. Why can’t you just damn well admit it?”

  “He l
oves me,” she said softly, clasping her hands together.

  “He doesn’t know you. Not the real you. He has no clue,” Jesse argued, kissing her forehead and resting her head on his chest.

  Stephanie relaxed in Jesse’s embrace. Her throat contorted with a half-sob. She tightened her grip on him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Jesse held her tight, feeling her tremble in his arms. He loved her. He’d always loved her, but she’d always been Dominic’s. Then, for a brief moment, she had been his. Even then he had known, deep down inside, she would eventually leave him.

  Feeling her tremble again, he smiled softly. Even now, she was fighting an inner battle to control the demons plaguing her – demons that had plagued her for as long as he’d known her. He knew this was one of the few times Stephanie had let anyone close enough to see her mask of control slip. His protective grip on her tightened, a rush of pleasure enveloping him because she had chosen to let him in. It was a first step in the right direction.

  ***

  Gena frowned, dropping an aspirin into a glass of water; impatiently waiting for it to dissolve. Glancing over to where Ana slept on her couch, she sighed heavily. Ben and Ana had, had a fight at Angel’s funeral. Right after Ben punched Jase Devlin.

  Smiling in amusement she noted, even at her own funeral, Angel added some chaos. Or more so, Stephanie Carovella did, Gena thought darkly. Damn Stephanie for coming back into their lives and turning them upside down all over again. She was like a hurricane who swept people up in her path, and didn’t look back to see the aftermath. She’d been exactly the same at university, leaving Gena or someone else to pick up the pieces.

  Gena scowled, gulping down her drink. Stephanie was going to be a problem. She was determined to find Angel’s killer and she would have no qualms about stepping all over Gena’s case in the process. In short, she was going to be a royal pain in her ass.

  Rubbing her aching temples, she lifted her black briefcase onto the kitchen table. Unclasping the locks she opened it and pulled out the file on Carolyn Mathers. This case made her uneasy. She couldn’t work out what it was, but she’d had a nagging feeling at the back of her mind since she’d worked the crime scene. There was something she was missing, something about the case she couldn’t put her finger on. She just knew it.

  Sitting down at the table, she opened the file, spreading the crime scene photos out in front of her. Pushing the crime scene report aside, her eyes strayed to the bloodied scrapbook found with their victim. Opening it, she carefully turned the crafted pages, barely suppressing a shudder while she did so.

  She could almost imagine the killer patiently putting together this book of love, horror, and obsession. She knew he’d poured hours into designing each page, carefully selecting photos designed to lead the police on a merry chase.

  She scowled in frustration. The crime scene had been too clean, too out in the open. Most killers dumped their victims where they would never be found. This killer was different.

  Gena wished she could discuss the case with Stephanie. Stephanie had this uncanny ability to get inside a killer’s mind. It used to scare the hell out of Gena and excite her at the same time. It was one of the reasons Stephanie had been so successful at her job.

  Gena had lost count of the many times, first during university and then as Professionals, they’d unofficially worked together. Over drinks they would sift through crime scenes and voice their thoughts in an attempt to get into a killer’s mind. She’d once told Stephanie she should have been a Profiler instead of a Journalist, to which Stephanie had just shrugged and changed the topic.

  Pushing her thoughts aside, she picked up a crime scene photo, studying it. The crime scene was staged. She was sure of it, now more so than ever. It had been an elaborate body dump, the victim left at one of L.A’s busiest tourist spots. One thing she would say for this killer, he was ballsy. It was a gutsy move to leave a victim in a place where there was a constant influx of traffic.

  It wasn’t any coincidence the body had been dumped in plain view of the Hollywood sign. He had wanted her to be discovered. Did it mean something? Was he making a statement? A star, discovered?

  Picking up another crime scene photo, she dropped it back on the table, tilting her chair backwards until it rested on its back legs. She crossed her hands behind her neck, returning her eyes to the bloodied scrapbook.

  There was something methodical about this murder. It was calculated. It was almost as if their killer was mocking them. He was sending them a message. What the message was, she didn’t know yet. What she did know was this – whoever he was, he’d spent years obsessing over Carolyn Mathers.

  Leaning forward, she gently turned another page of the scrapbook. Her eyes caught the banner inscription, Graduation Day, taking in the banner’s bold colors. She felt an infinite sadness; the knowledge his victim must have spent most her life trying to escape her stalker, weighing heavily on her.

  Sliding her attention back to the banner colors of blue and gold, she froze. Her university colors, the thought imploded through her mind, her stomach churning. Glancing quickly at the graduation photo again, she quickly stood. With shaky legs she moved into her living room, walking to her solid oak wall unit, she picked up her graduation photo. Silently she moved back into her kitchen, sinking back onto her chair in a daze.

  Her grip on the photo tightening; her pulse quickened an extra beat. She knew even before looking from her graduation photo to the one in the scrapbook they were identical.

  “I’ll be god damned,” she muttered, focused on both photos with undisguised horror. Not only had she gone to the same university as Carolyn Mathers, but she’d also graduated the same year. They may have shared the same classes.

  Her face blanched white, another thought hitting her. Both Stephanie and Angel had also graduated the same year. Did this mean they’d all gone to university with Carolyn’s killer? Was it someone she’d known during university?

  A deep shudder ran through her at the idea she might have shared classes with a killer. Was it a coincidence they’d gone to the same university? She hoped so, but she had the sickening feeling it wasn’t.

  Turning the next page, she couldn’t prevent the gasp falling involuntarily from her lips. “Hell,” she cursed, staring at the central photo.

  It was one she recognized well. The same photo sat on her bedside vanity. Angel and Stephanie also had a copy. It had been taken seven years ago, the night of their graduation. The photo showed a laughing Angeline, Stephanie and herself with their university roommate Lyn Jeffreys. They’d been hamming it up, as always, for the camera. The four of them were inseparable throughout their university years. The photo had been taken on their last night together before she’d left for New York.

  A wave of nausea hit her with the realization Mathers had been Lyn Jeffreys’ mother’s maiden name. She was sure of it. She fought to stay calm, her breathing coming in short gasps, and a moan creeping from her throat. Her stomach churned and she felt bile rising within her throat. Standing up, she stumbled to the kitchen sink, shakily reaching for a glass. Fumbling with the cold water tap, she turned it on, pouring herself a glass of water. Lifting it to her lips, she gulped it down quickly. Gripping the side of the bench, she fought off the waves of nausea threatening to overcome her as the same thought ricocheted through her time and time again. Not only were both Angel and Carolyn Mathers’ throats cut, but they’d also been killed within days from each other. This time she knew it wasn’t a coincidence.

  Chapter Ten

  Gena paced outside Starbucks agitatedly. Glancing at her watch, she rolled her eyes in annoyance. Taking an empty seat outside, she wrapped her hands tightly around her Caffé Americano, resisting the urge to light up a cigarette. She was trying to quit, after constant nagging from Ben. Tapping her fingers against her jeans, she bounced her leg up and down impatiently, resisting the urge to look at the time again.

  Stephanie was late as usual. In all the years she’d known her she’d never kno
wn her to be early to anything, unless it was to do with her work. Hell, she was even late to her own wedding, Gena reminisced with a bittersweet smile, recalling how frantic Dominic had been. He’d been so sure Stephanie was going to change her mind. She’d shown up two hours late; completely unaware of the emotional chaos she’d caused, so caught up in a story she’d lost track of the time.

  “Is that smile for me?” A voice intruded her thoughts, as a shadow fell over her. Her smile disappearing, she lifted her coffee to her lips, taking a sip. Observing the woman in front of her, she scowled in annoyance.

  “I guess that’s a no then,” Stephanie said, sinking gracefully into the seat opposite Gena.

  Gena ran her eyes over Stephanie, taking in the neatly pulled back ponytail, the tight white singlet top, skin-tight black denim jeans and knee-high boots. She smiled grimly at the lack of makeup save for a hint of lip gloss. It never failed to amaze her how young and fresh faced Stephanie could look.

  “Do I pass inspection?” Stephanie asked, breaking through her reverie.

  “You’re late.” She said, frowning.

  “I was at the gym and lost track of time,” Stephanie said apologetically.“You know I lose track of time when I’m running.”

  Gena rolled her eyes emphatically. “You’re never on time for anything. Hell, I’m pretty sure you’d be late to your own funeral if you could get away with it.” Her frown deepened. “Don’t tell me you ran here?”

  Stephanie shook her head. “Of course I didn’t, I came straight from Body Maxx.”

  “Body Maxx?” Gena asked, raising an eyebrow at the name of one of L.A’s exclusive gyms. “I see you still have expensive tastes. Does your husband know this?” she asked dryly.