Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) (29 page)

She could remember her heart almost stopping completely when he turned and saw her. He had smiled in genuine pleasure at the sight of her and breathed her name – her nickname. Just as he had breathed her nickname the night he slit Carolyn’s throat.
He had known her. He’d always known her.

He’d moved towards her, the bloody knife still in his hand. She’d been unable to tear her eyes from his. His eyes had been flat, almost dead. She’d been so frozen, her feet glued to the floor. When he reached out to touch her face, she’d jerked back and made an attempt for the door. He’d caught her before she could reach it. Grabbing her arm, he’d yanked her back, pushing her onto the bed. Back onto the very bed Kat was lying, gasping her last breaths.

Stephanie pushed Ben away from her, still locked up in the grip of her memories. Ben dropped his arms away from Stephanie when she pounded her fists against his chest. He let them fall to his side, seeing the growing terror in her eyes.

His gaze briefly met Jesse’s worried one, watching Stephanie scramble away. His concern doubled when she wrapped her arms around her trembling body. His heart ached and he wished he could put a stop to her pain.

Jesse moved swiftly to the liquor cabinet, pouring a glass of whisky and walking towards Stephanie. He carefully held the drink out for her. “Steph, drink this.” His brow furrowed with concern when she silently took it, tossing it back without a protest.

Taking the glass from her, he placed it onto the coffee table. He sat on the table, next to it. “Do you want to continue? If you don’t, I can always kick them out,” he said gently, jerking his head towards Delucci and Jase.

Stephanie shook her head emphatically, swallowing as she tried to speak. Her voice was hoarse when she continued. Touching her throat in remembrance, she jerked her hand away, as if a fragmented memory burnt her. “No. I have to finish this. I started it and I have to finish it.”

Jesse nodded, not sure if Stephanie was still talking about what had happened to Katrina or something more.

“He knew me. He’s always known me,” she whispered, touching her throat again. She didn’t see the shock reflected on Gena’s face at her admission.

“Did you see his face?” Rafe asked, concern etched on his face.

“Yes, no…I don’t know,” she said, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Delucci asked, pressing her for information. “You must know. Was his face covered? What was he wearing?” he asked impatiently, ignoring the filthy look Jake shot him. “Ms Carovella, I find it hard to believe you could just forget something like this. If it were me it would be etched in my mind forever.”

Stephanie shook her head, her hands curling into fists of anger. She spoke between clenched teeth. “I have never forgotten. I can remember every little detail. From the blood spatter patterns all over the wall, to the knife he held against my throat. I will never forget it.” Dropping her eyes to the ground, she sighed heavily. “I know his face. I know it deep within my soul. I see his face before I close my eyes and when I dream at night,” she said in frustration. “I know his face, but for the life of me I just can’t remember it.”

“You can’t remember it?” Delucci asked, dumbfounded.

Stephanie’s brow furrowed in stress. “They – the original Detectives on the scene - think I mentally blocked it out. I was in a lot of shock.”

Jesse watched Stephanie pace agitatedly, her features frozen in a haunted expression. She’d been so lost in the past that he wasn’t even sure she knew what she was doing. He wasn’t sure she knew where she was, she seemed completely trapped in a past of her own making.

She stared at him, shaken by the question. Unable to stop herself, she began to tremble. Her knees buckled beneath her. Falling into a kneeling position on the ground, she nodded mutely. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Her words fell from her lips, coming in short spurts as she gasped for breath.

“He grabbed my arm. I tried to get away. He wouldn’t let me. The blood was everywhere. It was all over me. He pushed me and I fell. I fell back onto the bed. He ripped my shirt. He tore my clothes. I fought back. I bit and punched and kicked. It excited him. Fighting back turned him on, but I wasn’t going to let him do to me what he did to Kat. I fought him off. We struggled and I grabbed the knife. I grabbed the blade. I made him let go. I grabbed the knife. I stabbed him with his own knife,” she gasped, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her ghost white face.

“I stabbed him in the leg with his own knife and twisted it. I ran. I ran to the door. I got out. I could hear him screaming – screaming at me, screaming my name, as I ran. I didn’t look back, couldn’t look back. I just ran.” Her words sped up, her thoughts focused on that night. She was so lost in the past she wasn’t even aware when Jase knelt down beside her.

Her voice gritty, she stood up, pacing the living room. She unconsciously rubbed her hands up and down her arms, a shudder running through her tiny frame. Stopping by the window, she turned her back to them all, running a hand through her tangled hair. Her voice was tortured when she spoke again. “I knocked on every damn door. I screamed for help. I was covered in blood, my clothes torn and I begged them to help me. I was so scared, so sure he was going to kill me. I think I woke up every person in the dorm.” Stopping, she took a deep breath. Her vision clearing, she said quietly, “The Campus Police had no clue what to expect when they arrived. If they’d taken action immediately, he wouldn’t have escaped.”

She fell silent, staring out in the darkness. She was unsure what else she could tell them. “I sat with sketch artist after sketch artist but I could never help them. I was pretty shaken up and needed medical attention.”

Smiling bitterly, she flicked a glance at Ben. “Ben, you once asked me how I got the scar on the palm of my hand, well now you know. I sliced open my hand gripping the blade.” Her smile fading, she added, “I was in a state of shock the first time Detectives approached me with a sketch artist and then I just couldn’t remember. All I can remember are his eyes. I’ve seen him three times in my life and each time, I never remember his face. I just remember his eyes. They were flat, lifeless- dead. It’s like staring into someone without a soul.”

Turning away from the window, she leaned against it, gripping the railing tightly for support. Looking around the room, she wasn’t surprised to see the horror and shock on all their faces.

Laughing harshly, she rested her eyes on Gena. “Gena, you asked me if I was hiding anything, well here it is. Kat, Angel, Carolyn and I – we were all stalked our first year of university and Kat, poor sweet Kat, never made it out alive. First there were the hang-up calls followed by heavy breathing. Then personal mementos and clothing went missing. We’d come home from class and find he’d left us some kind of gift. We thought our boyfriends were trying to scare us, play mind games with us. Finally he started sending us flowers – our favorite kind.

Christ, we were kids and didn’t take it seriously. There’s not one day I don’t wish to God we had, but how were we supposed to know? Was I supposed to be his intended victim? I’m positive I was. I don’t know why he chose to kill Angel, Carolyn or Ana instead of me but I do know this. It’s all a game to him, and I’m the end prize.”

Chapter Thirty

Jase gently knocked on the bedroom door, pausing before he entered the room. He stood in the doorway, scrutinizing the woman standing with her back to him. Stephanie barely registered the knock on the door, staring blankly into the darkness.

Waiting patiently for her to acknowledge him, he frowned when her eyes never left the window. Observing the way she wrapped her arms around herself, he thought she looked like she was preparing to protect herself from anything coming her way. She seemed so fragile, so lost – almost breakable.

Tearing his eyes off her, he scanned the room, struggling for composure at what confronted him. Each wall was dedicated to each murder, he realized. Crime scene photos were taped all over the walls, with hastily scrawled post-it notes beside each photo. He stepped closer, wanting to read each scribbled note, to know every thought running through her mind.

She fascinated him. If he was completely honest, he was also attracted to her. He had been from the moment they’d met, and maybe even before that. He’d listen to Angel tell him about the dynamic Stephanie Carovella and every story he’d heard made him want to know her. He smiled to himself. The funny thing was, she was oblivious to the way she captivated men. They were drawn to her like butterflies, and she didn’t even seem to realize. Gena saw her as a femme fatale, someone who used her looks and femininity to wrap men around her finger, but Jase knew differently. She didn’t give a damn what men thought of her. In fact, Jase would bet everything he owned that the only man whose opinion had ever mattered to Stephanie, was Dominic Delaney. For a brief moment, he envied the dead man.

Sliding his eyes to the lone box sitting on the middle of the king-size bed, he wondered what it contained. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Clearly his throat loudly, he turned his attention back to Stephanie. Still waiting for her to acknowledge him, he silently moved to stand behind her, gently touching her shoulder.

“I thought you could use this,” he said, tenderly but determinedly, turning her around to face him and handing her a cup of coffee. She accepted the coffee wordlessly, dropping her gaze to it before lifting shuttered eyes to his.

He watched her turn her back on him, the soft pattering of the rain against the window pane thunderous in the silent room.

Speaking quietly, he said, “You know, there’s not a single person downstairs who doesn’t love you in their own way.” Pausing, he waited to see if he was getting through to her. “Every single one of them is here tonight to protect you, to be there for you. Not one of them is condemning you for what happened.”

She half-turned away from the window, her eyes glittering with a hidden emotion, one which made him step back haltingly. “They don’t condemn me? Jase, I was there. I saw the horror on their faces. I saw
Gena’s
face. She blames me,” she whispered fiercely, punching her fist against her chest. “She has always blamed me for every little thing to go wrong. Even before I started to tell you what happened to Kat, she’d already condemned me. Don’t you dare tell me not one of them downstairs blames me for what happened, for what
is
happening.”

Looking out the window again, her voice was harsh. “Why shouldn’t they blame me? I blame myself. If it wasn’t for me then Angel and Carolyn would still be alive. If Kat hadn’t desperately wanted to be just like me, she’d be alive today.”

“Stephanie you’re being too tough on yourself,” Jase said, moving closer to her. He gently braced his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them reassuringly.

She twisted back to him, her expression unreadable. “You think I’m being too tough? Jase, you don’t get it do you? He will
never
stop. He will never stop killing my friends until he gets what he wants. Me. He wants me. Angel died because he
knew
I would come home. He killed Angel to bring me back to this god-forsaken hellhole,” she said, her voice laced with steel.

“You can’t know this for sure,” Jase argued, reaching out to stroke her cheek. He winced when she flinched at his touch. He immediately dropped his hand to his side, unconsciously flexing his fingers.

“You’re wrong. I know this exactly. He will never stop Jase,” she said, punctuating each word with a control she didn’t feel. “I thought I was finally free. I left Dominic and thought leaving him would be enough. I gave up everything to protect all of those I loved. I gave up my whole life to protect them. I gave up
everything
. God, I gave up Dominic. And, even then it wasn’t enough so I moved away to protect everyone…” She broke off, aware she’d said too much.

“You moved away?” Jase whispered, the realization of what she was telling him making his voice crack. “Jesus Christ. He was still stalking you? Is this why you left your husband? Why you eventually left L.A?” he asked, disbelief vibrating through him.

Stephanie ignored him, her eyes moving behind to search for the box sitting on the bed. Jase’s gaze followed hers, wondering again what was in the box now holding her attention.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s in the box, Stephanie?” he said quietly, shoving his hands into his pants pocket and waiting for her answer.

She laughed bitterly, tearing her eyes away from the box to meet his. “A past I can never escape,” she answered, moving past him to sit on the bed. Her hands automatically reached out to draw the box onto her lap. Her fingers braced the sides of the box.

Jase walked to the bed. Sitting down beside her, he watched her wretch the lid off the box. Frustration crept through him at her hooded expression. She was so good at keeping everyone out. Tonight was one of the few times she had let anyone close enough to see the real her and even then Jase wondered how much of it was contrived and how much of it was the truth.

Stephanie ignored him. She stared hard at the box which held so much of her past, a past she’d wanted to keep hidden. Reaching inside the box, she pulled out a photo album. Silently, she handed it to Jase.

Jase opened the photo album, not sure what to expect. He was surprised to find newspaper clippings. Reading the first newspaper clippings headline, he tore his eyes off the article to look at Stephanie. “Are these...?”

She nodded calmly. “I kept every newspaper article on Katrina’s murder. I don’t know why. Maybe I was hoping it would trigger some memory, a reflection of what happened that night to help me remember his face. It didn’t work. Nothing seems to trigger any of the memories. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve scoured these articles. I know every little detail of her murder – from what the police thought, to who their suspects were. I used to read the articles until I could memorize them from front to back,” she said, tapping her fingers against the box she held.