Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls) (28 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lindsay

February

Every day is the same, a complete misery. The pills I’m taking now numb me out a little, but not enough. They make me tired, too. I’m sleeping better, but I haven’t finished my homework in weeks. In fact, I could sleep all day long and wish I didn’t have to wake up at all.

I. Just. Don’t. Care.

The waiting room walls are thin. I listen as the psychiatrist and my mom talk about me switching schools. Maybe going to some private academy not far away or homeschooling even.

The doctor nudges my mom in this direction. “You have to think about what is best for Lindsay.”

But Mom has this “never give up” attitude ingrained in her soul. It’s how she finished college in three years, got grants for graduate school, and taught herself to speak Spanish.

For a smart lady, she is fucking clueless.

“Aren’t I teaching her to be a quitter?” she asks. “Aren’t I enabling these other kids if I pull her out of school? Most people get teased or harassed at some point in our lives. What kind of life lesson am I teaching Lindsay if we surrender? If I let her quit the skating team, the other kids win. Lindsay loses. She needs to learn to stand up for herself.”

I block the rest of the conversation out. I’m a big disappointment to Mom. I can hear it in her voice. She wishes I was stronger, more like her.

Well, I’m not.

I feel like I’ve been sent into battle empty-handed. I have no options. No friends to support me. No weapons to fight back. Really, what can I do? They’re smarter than me. All of them. I am worthless.

I want to give up. Surrender. Just don’t make me go back to Scarlet Falls High. This morning, I flat-out told Mom I’m not going back to the skating rink. She can’t make me. The arena has become my Guantánamo Bay. I’m surprised Regan and Autumn haven’t tried waterboarding me in the locker room.

I don’t want to go back to school either. Talking with the shrink always makes me feel raw, exposed, as if my clothes have been peeled away and left me naked. But back we go. Mom signs me in just after noon. From the looks on the teachers’ faces when I walk in, they think I’m a whiner. Regan and Autumn have them all snowed. They are top students with disciplinary records as perfect as everything else. There’s no proof they’re behind any of the bullying. Actually, except for the texts of anonymous origin, there’s no proof any of it even happened. It’s all my word against theirs.

Dad is just pissed. He’s been down to the school six times, and he’s argued with the director of the arena. Each time, he comes home more frustrated. He’s not a confrontational guy, though. So when he and Mom fight about the situation, which is all the time, she wins. Last night, though, I heard him say, “I’ll give you until spring break. If things don’t improve, she’s out of there.”

“Hamiltons are not quitters,” was her response.

I get through the day without incident. This doesn’t happen very often, but have no fear. My locker is jammed. By the time I hunt down the custodian to help me get it open, I’ve missed the bus. I have a choice: wait an hour for the late bus or walk home through the woods. At the most, the trek will take fifteen minutes, and the last thing I want to do is stay at school for another hour. This place is my prison. I just want to go home, but I’m not calling Mom or Dad. Besides, Mom’s job is the closest, and it would take her a half hour just to get here. She’d taken the morning off for the appointment with the psychiatrist.

My favorite hours are the ones between school and when my parents get home, before the questions about my day begin.

“What happened today?”

“Did you write it down?”

I’m supposed to keep a log of all the bullying, but I only put about half the incidents in the notebook. Writing it down is like living it all over again. Once is enough, you know?

I don’t want to lose my alone hours today. I shut my locker and sling my backpack over my shoulder. The winter air slaps my face as I head out the door. On the bright side, I avoided a nasty bus ride with lots of staring. Shivering, I cross the parking lot. The track team passes me, decked out in winter running tights and hats. And then I am alone.

I like being alone.

Once I cross the street and enter the woods, the trees protect me from the wind. This isn’t so bad. Maybe I should stop taking the bus home. Mom leaves first in the morning, and Dad has been driving me in on the sly. So walking home would completely eliminate the torturous bus ride.

Cheered, I speed up my pace. There’s a snowstorm forecast for next week, but today, the ground is clear, frozen like rock under my feet. A bird shoots out of the underbrush, startling me. I take a deep breath of pine-scented air and watch a rabbit dart across the trail. This is nice. For the first time since I started school here, I relax. I always considered myself a city girl, but maybe I could learn to be a nature lover. But my peace is short-lived.

They are waiting for me in a clearing. Regan, Autumn, and four other kids. Two of them are boys who want to get laid. They’ll do whatever the girls ask in exchange for blow jobs. Regan is famous in the junior class for giving head. I don’t understand how the teachers and administration can be so duped. I’d roll my eyes if I wasn’t so terrified.

I know instantly that me missing the bus was no accident. I walk right into an ambush.

I’m almost home. I can see the bright spot ahead where the trail opens to the meadow behind my house. If I ran, I could be on my porch in five minutes.

My heart sprints, mimicking the way my feet want to run away. But my combat boots are frozen to the ground. The muscles of my legs feel weak. Sweat rolls down my back and soaks my waistband.

“Hey, look who it is,” Regan sneers.

I make my feet move, backing up to try and get away from them. Over their heads, I can see freedom. My escape is right there. I can see in her eyes she has something special planned. This is not like in school or at the arena. No security cameras in the woods. No adult within shouting distance. There’s no limit to what they can do to me out here.

As the possibilities roll through my head, I turn and break into a run. I get maybe three steps before one of the boys has me by the arm. He drags me back to the small clearing.

Liquid drips down my face. Tears or sweat. I can’t tell which, not even when it runs salty into my mouth. My body is shaking so hard, my molars chatter.

They surround me.

Regan leans in. “Are you scared?”

“She should be.” Autumn is grinning.

I rip my gaze off her face and look around.

They have a rope and a long log turned on its end. The rope is draped over a tree limb overhead. My brain goes blank as I realize the end is fashioned into a noose. Numbness washes over me.

The boys have my arms. I struggle, but they are much stronger than me. The only thing fighting does is hurt my shoulders. But I can barely feel my arms pulling in their sockets. Adrenaline sends my pulse skittering. Light-headed, I pant for air.

“Smile for the video.” Autumn steps in front of me. She holds a cell phone in front of her, steadying it with two hands, recording the event for posterity.

“I told you we’d be happy to help you commit suicide. The world will be a better place without ugly you in it.” Regan tosses the noose over my head.

Someone ties my hands behind my back. I’m lifted by my arms onto the upturned log. The leather soles of my boots find little purchase on its unsteady top. The rope is tightened until there’s no slack.

“Stand up, stupid.” Regan slaps my ass.

I straighten my legs and stand. Then I kick at her, my sudden motion breaking the boys’ holds. But I miss. My balance goes haywire. The log teeters. My vision goes red around the edges. My throat narrows until it feels like I’m breathing through a milk straw.

“Grab her.”

My boot connects with a head.

“Ow.”

I can’t stop kicking my feet. It’s like they aren’t connected to my body. Panic whirls in my head. My lungs burn. The rope isn’t tight enough to cut off my air, but I can hardly breathe. My bladder gives out. Warm wetness floods my legs, soaking my jeans with hot liquid.

“She pissed herself.” Autumn laughs. “Oh my God. This is even better than we expected.” I can see her in my peripheral vision. I watch, almost detached from my jerking and spasming body, as she circles around to film the incident from all angles.

My body goes into full flight mode. I have no control over it. I am twisting and kicking and pulling away from the boys’ attempts to get ahold of my legs. The log wobbles more.

“Hold still, stupid,” Regan yells, grabbing my legs. “Or you really
will
die.”

My knee catches her under the chin. I hear her teeth clap together. She falls back with a loud grunt.

“Cut her down,” one of the boys yells.

“You said it was only a joke,” the other boy chimes in. “You said we wouldn’t really hurt her.”

“We won’t. OK. OK. Get her down.” Autumn giggles, but her voice rises with apprehension. “I have enough footage.”

Regan moves toward me, a knife in her hand.

But my feet slip. The log tips over, something cracks, and I fall into darkness.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Grant’s stomach turned as he watched Lindsay Hamilton’s feet sway. The video shifted to the dirt.

“Oh, my God. She’s dead!” someone shrieked.

“What should we do, Regan?” a voice asked. “We need to get out of here. We need an alibi.”

“Shut up. No one will suspect anything other than a real suicide.” She paused, as if considering her options. “We’ll call Victor. He’ll come get us and cover for us.” This voice was calm. Other than a slight tremor, the only emotion seeping through her tone was irritation.

“He won’t cover for us.”

“Unless he wants to go to prison, he certainly will.”

The phone screen went black.

“The coach is at the rink with Ellie and Julia.” Grant’s gaze swept across Nan and Hannah and Carson. “I have to go get them.”

From under her oxygen mask, Nan waved, her eyes wide and frightened. Hannah shifted the baby to one side and wrapped an arm around Carson.

“I suppose I’d have to arrest you to get you to stay here.” McNamara sighed.

“Yeah. That’s about right.” Grant turned toward the street, where he’d left Corey Swann’s sedan running. The car was blocked in by emergency vehicles.

“Then you might as well come with me.” McNamara jogged toward his car. Grant followed him into the unmarked police cruiser. Swirling lights reflected off something in the tree on Ellie’s front lawn. Grant ran over. A small surveillance camera was mounted on a low branch.

“What is it?” McNamara yelled.

Grant sprinted back to the police car and jumped into the passenger seat. “A wireless video camera. I think I just figured out how Corey kept watch on Ellie’s house.”

The cop pulled away from the scene.

Grant dialed Mac again and told him about Victor. McNamara used his radio to call the dispatcher and call for backup from the county sheriff’s office.

They headed for the rink, Grant praying that Mac found Ellie and Julia in time.

The cop turned on his vehicle lights but not the siren. “We don’t know what happened. Victor has no reason to hurt Ellie or Julia.”

But Grant did know what happened. Those girls accidentally killed Lindsay Hamilton, and their coach had covered up their crime.

Ellie tried to slide out from between Josh and the wall, but he blocked her exit with a knee. Julia would be out any minute, and Ellie didn’t want her daughter anywhere near Josh.

She pushed against his chest, but he sneered down at her, clearly enjoying his physical superiority. Ellie glanced down. Her knee and his groin were perfectly aligned. She tensed, drawing her leg back to gain f
orce. She had one shot at a solid blow to incapacitate him. If she missed, she’d just make him angrier.

The door to the rink opened.

“Hold it, Josh.” Victor’s voice boomed down the concrete corridor.

Thank God. Ellie nearly sagged with relief. Victor stalked across the cement. With a furious glare, Josh backed away.

The coach positioned himself between Josh and Ellie. “Go on home, Josh. You can’t talk to the lady like that.”

Josh scowled, but he backed off. “Remember what I said.” He walked down the hall and disappeared through the heavy door into the arena. The metal door shut with a loud clack.

Julia came out of the locker room in jeans and a sweatshirt. She hefted the long strap on her duffel bag higher on her shoulder. Her ice skates dangled from her hand. She handed them to Ellie. “I broke a lace.”

Ellie took the skates and turned to Victor. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” But his gray eyes were flat. Angry with Josh, no doubt.

The door to the rink opened again. Mac burst through. “Ellie!”

A police officer entered the hallway behind him.

Shock bloomed in Victor’s eyes. He reached into his pocket and drew out a gun. He pointed it at Ellie. “Come with me.”

Ellie had no time to think about why Victor was pointing a gun at her—or why the hell he even had a gun here at the rink with him. She needed to get her daughter away from the threat.

“Julia, run!” Ellie shouted. She threw her body into the coach, making sure she was between the gun and her daughter.

But Victor was an athlete. His body was solid muscle. He didn’t budge as Ellie’s weight slammed into him. He wrapped his hand in her ponytail and dragged her backward, using her body as a shield, but relief coursed through Ellie as Julia got away. Sobbing, the teen ran toward Mac.

“Drop it.” The cop pointed his weapon at Victor.

Mac pushed Julia behind him. His eyes sought and held Ellie’s gaze. Anger sharpened his features.

Victor pressed the gun to Ellie’s temple. The muzzle dug into her skin. “I’ll kill her if you follow me.”

He pulled her down the hallway and through the emergency exit door that led to the employee parking area behind the arena. The door closed with a heavy click. “Hurry.” He yanked her hair, throwing her off balance.

She stumbled, trying to keep up. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not going to prison for those little brats.” Victor headed for a black SUV parked twenty feet away. “I made one mistake. One. I let that little whore Regan seduce me, and I’ve been paying for it ever since. Stupid bitch wanted to keep the phone and video. She wanted to be able to watch it over and over. But I took it. If she wanted me to cover for her, she had to do it my way.”

“I don’t understand.”

But Victor ignored her and continued his manic, frustrated rant. “It’s all Kate’s fault, really. She heard me arguing with Regan and stole the phone. She said she was going to give it to the police. I reminded her of our past indiscretion. I told her I’d tell her husband she’d been in my bed if she turned the phone in. We fought for weeks. She was wavering, but I knew in the end she’d do the right thing, just like she broke off our affair to save her marriage.”

What phone? Shock numbed Ellie’s scalp. Victor slept with Regan
and
had an affair with Kate. Wait! That meant . . . “You had Kate and Lee killed. Why?”

Victor was lost in his own head. He shoved her toward his vehicle. “Get in.”

Light flashed as police cars poured into the parking lot. They blocked both exits. Cops angled vehicles and got out, drawing their weapons and pointing them at Victor and Ellie. Victor put his back against his SUV and pulled Ellie to his chest. “Don’t come any closer. I will kill her.”

“Mac says Julia is safe, but Victor has Ellie. He took her out the back door.” Grant ended the call.

The cop swung the car around the outside of the arena. Three patrol vehicles turned into the parking lot behind them.

“There!” Grant pointed across the parking lot. Victor dragged Ellie across the pavement by the hair. Fury and fear fused in Grant’s chest.

McNamara reached for the radio, called dispatch, and requested a sniper and hostage negotiator from the county. He angled the car and opened his door. His weapon was in his hand.

“Sniper won’t get here in time.” Grant joined the cop behind the engine block. They crouched, watching Victor and Ellie over the hood of the car. “He’s not waiting around to chat.”

If Grant could just get to Ellie without Victor shooting her, he’d kill the skating coach with his bare hands. He wanted to do it with a ferocity that should have alarmed him.

The patrol officer next to them took an AR-15 out of his trunk. He hunkered down behind his engine block and aimed at Victor over the hood of the car.

“Is he a good shot?” Grant asked.

McNamara glanced sideways. “Yes. If we can get a little space between them, and it seems as if he’s going to pull the trigger, Officer Tate can take him out.”

“Let her go, Victor,” the cop yelled. “You can’t get away.”

“We’re getting in the car and driving away.” He tugged Ellie toward the driver’s side door. The gun muzzle was pressed to her forehead. Ellie’s eyes were white-rimmed with fear as they met Grant’s. The thirty feet of pavement that separated them could’ve been a mile. The urge to kill surged through him. He wanted Victor’s throat under his hands.

“You’ll never get out of the parking lot,” McNamara retorted.

Grant’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched, unable to help. The rifleman shifted his position. Ellie’s head was too close to Victor’s. In Grant’s mind, he pictured Ellie’s face exploding into a red mist. The insurgent’s ruined face. Lee. Images crowded Grant’s brain, a nauseating slideshow of blood and death. How many people had he watched die? How many men had he seen maimed? Blown to pieces. Bleeding out onto the sand.

Victor moved sideways, his hand searching along the side of the vehicle for the door handle. His gaze shifted. The gun moved a few inches from Ellie’s temple. She moved quickly, swinging the ice skates in her hands over her shoulder and hitting Victor in the face. The gun went off, the blast echoing in the damp air. Blood spurted. Ellie fell to the ground. Grant’s heart stopped. He was on his feet and rounding the cop car as Officer Tate fired. Victor’s body jerked and fell sideways.

Grant and the cops raced across the asphalt. Ellie! Blood soaked her pale blue sweater. Grant skidded to his knees beside her, his hands on her head, seeking the damage. He had to stop the bleeding. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t.

“Grant.” She wriggled in his grip. “I’m all right.”

His fingers delved through her hair. Her hand came up and covered his, stopping his frantic examination of her scalp. “I’m OK. It’s Victor’s blood, not mine.”

Unable to comprehend her words, Grant turned. Victor was on his back. The cop’s bullet had caught him in the shoulder. They’d handcuffed him. One officer was applying pressure to the shoulder wound while another tried to stop the bleeding from a huge gash on his head. Ellie’s blow with the ice skate had split his forehead open. His skull gleamed white through the blood. Once Victor was restrained, an EMT took over.

Ellie’s tug on his arm broke his stare. “Please, let’s get away from him.”

“Of course.” He scooped her off the ground.

“I can walk,” she said.

“I know, but I want to hold you right now.” He wished he never had to let her go.

She leaned her head on his chest. “That works for me.”

He carried her to the grass twenty feet away and set her down. A second EMT knelt beside her.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Grant took her hand. He needed constant physical contact to convince himself she really was all right.

“Let me make sure.” The EMT cleaned her face with water and gauze. “That’s the best I can do. I don’t even see a scratch. You’re sure nothing hurts?”

“Positive. Thank you.”

The EMT walked away.

McNamara approached. He stood in front of them, both hands propped on his hips. “You’re not hurt?”

“No,” Ellie said. “But I don’t understand what happened.”

Grant squeezed her hand. She might be physically uninjured, but the events of the last week would leave a psychological scar. “Lindsay Hamilton didn’t commit suicide. Regan and Autumn killed her by accident in a prank that went horribly wrong. For some reason, Victor helped them cover up their crime.”

“Oh, no.” Ellie pressed a hand to the base of her throat. “Victor said Regan seduced him.”

“So she threatened to tell unless he covered for her.” Grant glanced at the cop. “What’s the age for statutory rape in New York State?”

The cop sighed. “He’s older than twenty-one, so sixteen. Third-degree rape is a class E felony. He could have gotten four years in prison.”

The rear door of the building opened. Mac came out. Julia peered around his body. He scanned the situation before allowing her to run out from behind him. Sobbing, she ran to Ellie and threw her arms around her mother. Even as Ellie comforted her daughter, Grant kept hold of her hand. After the horrors he’d endured over the past week, he’d finally gotten lucky.