by Alana Terry
The temptation was strong to plop down in bed and worry about everything in the morning. She could talk to the detective, head out of state for a few weeks. No, that wasn’t going to cut it. Call the police, maybe? See if they could get her some protection? She hated running to them like a damsel in distress, unable to take care of herself, but if she explained that she had actually seen that man on the subway — a subway that ran out of power and filled with smoke …
Kennedy’s head spun, threatening to knock her off balance. The smoke in the T, the invisible phantom in the tunnel, the chase … No, she couldn’t think about those things. God, why have you left me here to deal with all this myself? You tell me to be brave, and then you throw convicts at me …
Willow’s voice was as soft as her gently waving midnight hair. “I know it’s not easy, but I think we need to go. Let’s at least head to Toby’s. We’ll call the police from there, ok?” she coaxed, as if Kennedy were a toddler afraid of getting wet in the kiddie pool.
Kennedy took a deep breath. The plan made sense. She picked up her phone charger and her coat.
Footsteps pounded up the hall. Footsteps coming closer, headed straight to their room. Kennedy froze, staring at the door Willow had left a crack open.
“Kennedy!”
The door burst open.
CHAPTER 12
Kennedy would never believe any of those suspense novels that had the heroines screaming in every chapter. Her breath caught in her throat, every muscle in her body seized up at once, and she stood paralyzed, staring at the form in the doorway.
When she saw Pastor Carl, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw herself into his arms for a bear hug or collapse on the ground like a lump of gelatinous mold.
“You know him?” Willow asked. She had snatched the hardcover Bible off Kennedy’s shelf and held it high above her head.
“It’s ok. This is Pastor Carl.” She laughed nervously, picturing Willow swinging the huge book in an attempt to ward off an attack. Silly as it looked, it was more than Kennedy had thought to do. “What are you doing here?”
Carl was winded. He put his hands on his knees and bent forward at the waist. “Your dad called me. Explained about that Gino guy, said he was implicated somehow with everything. He asked me to check up on you. I called at least a dozen times and couldn’t get through, so I drove over here.” He glanced at Willow, who was now holding the Bible at waist level. “You can put that down, Miss. I know a thing or two about defending myself from Bible thumpers.”
For the first time in Kennedy’s memory, Willow looked sheepish, and she replaced the Bible on its shelf.
“And as for you, young lady.” Pastor Carl clasped Kennedy on the shoulder. “You’re coming home with us. We’ll drive you to Logan tomorrow in time for you to fly to your aunt’s.”
Kennedy wasn’t about to argue. She glanced at Willow, who seemed eager for the chance to excuse herself. “Don’t you think you should come, too?” she asked.
Willow shook her head. “Nah. I still might head over to Toby’s. You know, just in case.”
“You should still call the police.” Kennedy studied Willow’s eyes. Was she going to take care of herself? “Or do you want me to do it?”
Willow pouted. “No, I will. I’m the one who made a mess of it.”
“What are you getting the police involved for?” Carl looked from one girl to the other. “What’s been going on?”
“It was me.” Willow’s voice was completely deflated. “I met this guy, and I thought he was …”
“Willow might have accidentally given our dorm room information out, that’s all,” Kennedy jumped in.
Carl frowned. “You need to come with us too, then. I’m not about to leave you alone by yourself …”
Willow picked up her duffel. “I’m all right. I was just leaving anyway.” She swung the bag over her shoulder.
Just the thought that Willow had talked with anybody involved in the events of last fall curdled the blood beneath Kennedy’s skin. “Be safe,” she whispered and did her best to offer a reassuring smile.
“Hey, I’ll be just fine.” Willow pulled her hair behind her ears. “It’s not me they want, remember?”
“That’s right.” Carl prodded both girls into the hall and shut the door behind them. “That’s why Kennedy’s coming with me, and you’re welcome to as well,” he added to Willow.
She flashed one of her stage smiles to reveal dazzling white teeth. “Don’t worry about me.” She lowered her gaze and stared at Kennedy. “You be careful now, all right?”
“I will.” Kennedy wondered why it felt like they were saying good-bye. Break was only a few short weeks. “You, too,” she whispered and followed Carl down the stairs.
CHAPTER 13
Kennedy couldn’t remember the last time she had seen wind like this. It howled around her face, wrapped around her legs, and threatened to suck her breath away.
“I parked just around here.” Carl had to shout to be heard.
Kennedy clutched her leather coat across her, wishing for the warm softness of Reuben’s parka again. She followed Carl around the corner and saw his maroon Honda.
He fidgeted with the keys until the doors unlocked. “Gonna have to take this baby in soon to have someone look at the wiring. Every time I signal left, the wipers go on.”
Kennedy didn’t care what they were driving as long as it got them out of the cold and off campus. How could Willow have been so naïve? Giving their dorm number to a total stranger …
She had to stop thinking like that. It wasn’t Willow’s fault. Ok, so maybe it was, but she hadn’t acted in malice. Willow was like an untrained puppy. You couldn’t really get mad at her, and even if you did, it wouldn’t last for long.
Carl strapped the buckle across his chest and pulled it. “Darn thing never gets tight enough.” He tugged a few more times and then seemed content. “You ready?”
She nodded.
“Let’s go.”
There was hardly any traffic. Kennedy had never been on the roads at this time and wondered if they’d have to worry about drunk drivers. At least it was still a weeknight.
Carl turned down the volume to his talk radio station. “So, you’ve had an exciting evening, by the sound of it.”
Kennedy stared at the picture of Carl’s grandkids taped to the dashboard.
“You wanna talk about it?” He gave her a quick glance.
No, she didn’t want to talk about it, but she knew she would anyway. That was just the way Carl was. He wouldn’t make a single demand, probably wouldn’t say more than a dozen words, and Kennedy would end up baring her entire soul before they reached his home in Medford.
Carl drummed a little beat on the top of the steering wheel. Kennedy knew he had lived through his share of both trials and excitement. He played pro football for a few years before settling down as a pastor. He started St. Margaret’s only five or six years ago, and it was already one of the largest churches in the Cambridge area. New Englanders were by nature fairly tolerant, but she knew he and his wife had experienced a decent amount of flak in the past for their interracial marriage. Maybe that’s why he was so easy to talk to. In all their conversations this semester, he had never once made her feel judged. She shut her eyes for a minute, wishing the night would end.
“I hate these silly rotaries.” Carl leaned forward and squinted his eyes as he curved onto one of the Boston area’s many circular intersections. “Why can’t they just put in a traffic light like normal cities?”
Kennedy was surprised at how few Christmas decorations were out, nothing at all like when she was growing up in New York. The one or two businesses that sported lights were about as polished and appealing as a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
“So you finished your classes finally? How’d they all go?”
Kennedy sighed. She knew Carl would find a way to get her talking, so she may as well stop resisting and get it over with. “I ended up getting an extension for my
chemistry final.” She told him about her episode during the test. “I felt pretty stupid when I heard they caught Vinny. I mean, I should have been ecstatic with news like that, but really I was just embarrassed.”
Carl didn’t respond as he whizzed right over a speed bump. The car jostled and made a loud scraping sound that made Kennedy wince.
“So I had to make an appointment at the clinic to get a medical excuse, and the guy I talked to thinks I should have some counseling when I go back for spring semester.”
Carl looked over at Kennedy and rushed through a yellow light. “Really? What kind of counseling?” There was a strain in his voice that made Kennedy even more uneasy.
“Something to do with PTSD. You know, probably thinks I’m still not over the whole thing last fall.”
“And are you?”
“Traumatized?” She had to fight off her indignation. “No. It could have been a lot worse.”
“No, I mean are you over it?”
Kennedy was shaking now. She hoped Carl didn’t notice and hugged her arms across her chest. “I mean … I don’t know. I’m trying to move on. That’s all.”
Her throat constricted.
“I’ve been praying.” Her voice was defensive, but she didn’t care. “And reading my Bible. A lot. And I know that if I keep that up, I’m going to be fine. I don’t need to sit on a couch and talk with some shrink about what happened.”
She sniffed. Please don’t cry, she begged herself. That was all she’d need to convince Carl she was as big of a basket case as everyone else thought. Tears spilled out from the corners of her eyes, but she looked out her window and refused to acknowledge them.
Carl was silent. The radio talk show host was drawling on about something or other in the Middle East, and then the next minute he moved on to the American public school system. Didn’t Carl realized there were at least a dozen stations playing Christmas music this time of year? Kennedy remembered teaching carols to the North Korean refugees who lived with her family in China. On Christmas Eve, they had all sung a Korean version of Silent Night a capella in the den, and the sound had given Kennedy chills.
A small black car revved its engine as it sped past them, swerving in its lane, and Carl muttered something about crazy Boston drivers. The radio host was complaining about a new tax proposal when Carl finally spoke up, his voice soft and subdued. “The Bible never says you have to forget something to heal from it.”
Kennedy wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“God promises healing, but sometimes that can take years.” Carl handed Kennedy a Kleenex. “Sometimes, it doesn’t come until the afterlife,” he added, almost to himself.
“I just wish that …”
Kennedy stopped herself. Wish what? That she had never gotten abducted? That her dad didn’t constantly freak her out with his safety paranoia? That her roommate hadn’t given Kennedy’s room number to the one person connected to her kidnapping who remained at large?
“I just wish I could go home.” A tear splashed onto her seatbelt buckle.
Carl slowed down and passed her another tissue. “You’ve had a rough semester. It would have been hard for you even without getting kidnapped.”
Kennedy wished people would stop using that word. She didn’t need to be reminded of what happened to her last fall. Her nightmares did a good enough job of that.
Carl slowly curved the Honda up an overpass ramp. “You shouldn’t be hard on yourself. Just because you’re a Christian doesn’t mean you …”
The black car in front of them slammed to a stop. Kennedy had time to suck in her breath before Carl’s forehead bashed into the steering wheel.
CHAPTER 14
“Are you all right? Is anything broken?”
Kennedy had never heard Carl sound frightened before. They were at a dead stop in the middle of the overpass, but he shot his hand out across her chest, as if he wanted to shield her from the impact several seconds too late. The wipers turned on automatically and screeched loudly against the dry windshield.
“I’m all right.” She was a little sore on her shoulder where the seatbelt had seized up, but she didn’t think she was injured.
There was a small cut on Carl’s forehead, but he opened the door and stepped outside. “I’m gonna see if the other driver’s all right. What in the world …” He slammed the door in the middle of his sentence and walked up to the car ahead, smoothing down the front of his coat.
Kennedy opened her door and hopped out, too. If the driver was hurt, Carl might need an extra set of hands. She patted herself down and checked Carl’s fender, which was obviously dented, but at least it hadn’t buckled all the way in. Good thing Carl hadn’t been driving any faster.
The wind rushed across the top of the overpass, and Kennedy took a few steps away from the edge so she wouldn’t lose her balance. She was about to join Carl when the door to the black car ahead opened, and a muscular, slightly balding man jumped out.
Gino.
Her body whipped around and started running before her mind had fully processed the danger. She wasn’t about to wait and see if Carl’s Honda started up after slamming into Gino’s car. She sprinted right past it and hurried down the ramp. There were no sidewalks here, but it didn’t matter. She had to get as far away from him as possible.
And then she’d need to find someplace to hide.
Cold, wind, and panic were foreign to her now. Her lungs ached, but she didn’t dare slow down or look back. She thought she heard Carl calling behind her, but she couldn’t be sure. He was probably worried, probably would attribute her actions to another attack. It didn’t matter anymore what he thought. If only this were another episode. She would face shame and humiliation every day of her college career to learn this was another phantom her mind had conjured up.
Maybe the other times were just ghosts from her trauma, but this was different. Her mind was surprisingly clear. There was no coughing, no choking, no sobbing like in the science hall. No, this wasn’t some psychological hiccup.
This was real.
She had never driven in Cambridge before. She didn’t even have a license. She hadn’t been paying attention when Carl was driving and had no idea what street she’d be on once she got down off the overpass ramp. It didn’t matter. As long as she got to safety, she didn’t care where she was.
The street was mostly bare, no houses, only a few storefront businesses that were all closed for the night. Traffic was slow, but there were headlights ahead. Should she flag someone down? What if it was one of Gino’s men? What if they had been following for backup, and now they were coming straight toward her?
Tires screeched and squealed on the overpass above. The wind moaned and whipped past her cheeks. She had to stay alert. She could run underneath the overpass, but that would be an obvious hiding place. The sidewalk was lined with streetlights. Why couldn’t the city conserve energy at night like they did near her grandma’s house in upstate New York?
Her options were limited, but the worst plan of all was to stay put. She had to keep moving. She thought she heard a crash behind her but couldn’t slow down to look. Just move. Just move.
Her hair had fallen out of its clip and was smacking her face. She would never buy another pair of winter boots again — no matter how cute or stylish — without checking first to see how well she could run in them. There was a side street just ahead. If she could get to it …
She strained every muscle. Forced her lungs to push through the pain. Please, God. Just give me a little more strength.
Her feet pounded the pavement, shooting fire up her shins as she rounded the corner onto a little residential road. This was perfect. Backyards. Fences. Even a doghouse a few homes down. Any shelter would do if it hid her from Gino.
She slowed her pace. The rest of her body was hot and sweaty from running so hard, but her face was raw with cold. Her leg muscles and lower back ached. How many times had she run in the past twenty-four hours?
Warm shame melted
the icy cold on her cheeks. What if …?
No, this wasn’t like the other times. That really had been Gino getting out of that car. She had seen him once on the subway. She had seen his picture again online. She couldn’t have made a mistake like that.
Could she?
And what about Willow? Willow said she recognized him, so it wasn’t all in Kennedy’s mind. He really was after her, right? Or what if her own paranoia had rubbed off on Willow, as well? Had her dad been giving Kennedy so many safety speeches that her roommate got infected, too?
What would she say to Carl?
Carl.
Where was he? She had just left him. She had just run right past …
The sound of gunfire. She had never heard it before in real life, only in Willow’s silly video games and the movies she watched with her dad, but there was no mistaking it. Were they shooting at Carl? Her feet took off beneath her, thrusting her forward. If she could just make it to that dog house …
The sound of tires squealing. A car taking the corner way too fast. She wasn’t going to make it in time. The light from the headlamps caught her, and she skidded to a stop, too petrified to keep running, too frightened to turn and face him. In her periphery, she caught sight of the little black car pulling up along the curve.
She listened to it stop, forced herself to turn, and quivered as Gino strolled out as if he had all the time in the world, swinging his gun back and forth in his hand. What would he do? Make her kneel with her hands behind her head? Shoot her execution-style? What if he abducted her again? What if they took her somewhere …
The loud blaring of a horn broke Kennedy’s fear-induced paralysis, and the crumpled front end of Carl’s Honda whizzed toward her. She dashed across the street, but even as she ran, she knew she wouldn’t make it in time. Gino would shoot. He would kill her.