McCall's version - part 15

It will be a little while before any more is posted since I'll be out of town for a week or so.



She hung up the phone and smiled at his pledge to be over if Bigfoot moved. He did
say the sweetest things sometimes. It was rare, but worthwhile. The dinner with Brad
and Kitty had been nice too. She was almost able to forget the departing commander’s
words and unspoken accusation to her that afternoon. Swinging her purse over her
shoulder, she went to change into more comfortable clothes.

Halfway up the stairs she stopped. Instincts working ahead of her brain, she tried
to sort out how she knew she was in imminent danger. Heart pounding rapidly as she
thought, it seemed like minutes, but was less than a second before she realized she
smelled the cologne. “God!” He was here. He was in the house and no one knew it.
They thought he was still at home, she had just told Hunter she was safe. Searching
for her gun she sensed a shadow passing in front of her and there he was, at the top of
the stairs.

Huge, his face distorted by her own pantyhose and the darkness, he menacingly
moved toward her. He reached for her and she had no means to defend herself as he
half fell, half pushed her down the stairs. She felt the stairs leave their marks on her
spine as they tumbled to the landing, then down the remaining flight. The force of
their bodies broke the banister and each jar of the staircase left it’s imprint on her. But
she knew that would be nothing compared to what he intended.

She landed on the floor with a thud, her shoulder hitting the corner of the wall at
an impossibly tight angle. The pain in her side told her she already had broken ribs.
For an instant his body was dead weight on hers, and the fear and horror of the
moment propelled her into action. Kicking her legs and shoving with all her might,
ignoring the pain that accompanied each movement, she did little except to enrage
him. As he straddled her middle and pinned her down with one hand, he was able to
mostly remove her top. Battling for her life she moved and shifted in an attempt to
unbalance him. Too close to the wall, she ended up flinging her arm against it and pain
ricocheted through her elbow. In a flash it was gone, replaced again by the consuming
terror of her attacker as he tried to force his leg between her upper thighs.

Suddenly she felt his weight shift, then leave her body as he began to speak to
her. “You never saw me. They may be coming, but you can’t prove it was me. I’ll be
back.” Confused, she listened to him open and then walk out her front door. He left it
open and she could finally hear the wail of sirens which she assumed were coming to
her rescue.



Her rescue never occurred. The sirens effectively scared him off, but that was the
extent of their service. She remained on the floor long after the wails had faded,
hoping that someone, anyone, had realized they man they were so focused on had
eased his way out of their sight. The futility of her hopes became evident when no one
appeared. On hands and knees, she made her way to the phone and began to dial the
phone number she knew by heart. Mid-way through she paused, mentally connecting
the dots she knew would form themselves together once she finished. Reflecting on the
foreseeable outcome, the indignities of which she had already suffered through, she
hung up the phone. Instead she dialed a new number, not allowing history to repeat
itself.




"I was just gonna call you," she said. "I've been up most of the night . . . I called
Dr. Paxton. She said there's some kind of bug going around, and . . . . . I guess I got
it." He knew when she was lying so many times, half of her wished he would see
through this one. "So, any sign of Fredericks?" she asked him. She was sure her voice
would give her away this time, but it didn’t happen. Hearing Finn yell in the
background she realized he had become distracted. He hastily said good-bye and
promised he’d call her later.

The repairman was as good a person as any to take out her frustrations on and
she did just that, hounding him every five minutes until he scurried gratefully out of
her house. Intellectually, she knew the new pane of glass in the door could easily be
broken again, but at least the door no longer appeared damaged. She couldn’t say the
same thing for herself. Fierce bruises lined her back and thighs. She had seen them
when she briefly glanced in the mirror as she changed out of the clothes that reeked of cologne. If she inhaled deeply
she received a sharp stab of pain from her ribs. Certain movements of her shoulder or
neck were impossible.

Sitting on her couch with her back to the stairs, she stared mindlessly at the TV
for hours, trying in vain to limit the number of times her mind replayed last night’s
events. Sleeping did her no good; the images only followed her into her dreams. And
besides, she was waiting. Waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for the news that
Fredericks had been caught, that everything had been solved. But just like last night,
what she was waiting for never arrived.