Chapter 9

Candace flicked off her office light and closed the door and locked it behind her. It was late Sunday night, and most students and staff were in their dorms cramming for final exams or at home with their families. The usually bustling corridor was empty, and her footsteps echoed hollowly as she strode past dark faculty offices and an empty lecture theater to the stairs.

The utter emptiness of the deserted building was unnerving, and she hurried her steps.

The custodial staff had finished their cleaning rounds an hour ago, and the building had been silent ever since.

A prickle of unease tightened her stomach. She never stayed at work this late. She liked to be safely tucked in her townhouse when the sun went down, but with everything going on, she’d fallen behind in her work, and end-of-term deadlines loomed.

The building creaked around her, and she was almost running by the time she reached the end of the hallway and shoved open the fire exit door. She stepped onto the dimly lit landing and leaped down the stairs. Her chest was heaving when she slammed open the door and entered the main foyer.

A campus security guard sat behind a large wooden desk in front of the main entrance. A hockey game was playing on a small television set on top of the desk. When he saw her, he turned the volume down on the game and smiled. “Burning the midnight oil, Dr. Cooper, I see.”

“You know what end of term is like, George.” She nodded at the television. “Good game?”

George Baker was a fixture at Briggston College. He’d worked as a college security guard for as long as Candace could remember. Always cheerful and friendly, he was a fervid fan of the local hockey team. He had front-row-center season tickets when the Bobcats played in town, and he watched their televised games when they played out of town games.

He took off his wire-framed glasses and polished the lenses with his shirttail. His forehead creased. “I tell you, if the Bobcats don’t do any better this next round, I’m burning my season tickets.”

She laughed. “I’ll believe that when I see it. You’re their biggest supporter. I don’t know what they’d do if you weren’t sitting in the stands cheering them on.”

He chuckled and settled his glasses on his face. “You know me too well. I guess I’m a sucker for punishment.” Shoving back his chair, he pushed to his feet. “I’ll walk you to your car. It’s dark out there.” Since a young coed had been assaulted on campus six weeks prior, George and the other campus security guards had agitated for more guards and brighter sidewalk and parking lot lighting.

The college was under tight budget constraints, and so far, nothing had changed.

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” She smoothed her palms on her jeans. The thought of leaving the safety of the faculty building and walking to her car alone in the dark filled her with fear. But she hated to tear him away from his game. Her therapist told her she needed to conquer her unreasonable fear of dark, lonely places. Besides—she patted the bulge in her purse—she had her can of mace and her cell phone.

“Okay. If you’re sure.” He focused on the television screen and cheered. “Yes!” He pumped his fist in the air. “The Bobcats scored! They’re ahead by one. I knew they could do it. Go Cats!”

“Goodnight, George. See you tomorrow.” She headed toward the glass exit doors.

He waved a hand, her presence already forgotten.

She thrust open the door and stepped into the night. A blast of cold wind struck her, and she tightened the collar of her coat.

It had rained sometime during the evening. Puddles pooled on the sidewalk, and the air was damp. Patches of fog hung in the air.

Faint streaks of light from the widely spaced streetlights filtered through the leafy branches of the tall trees lining the sidewalk, casting the walkway in dark, shifting shadows.

She shivered and huddled into her coat, already regretting not asking George to escort her.

A footfall sounded behind her, and she cast a glance over her shoulder.

Nothing.

She clutched her purse to her chest. She’d done this walk to the faculty parking lot countless times, though never so late at night. She was always vigilant. A woman couldn’t be too careful, but tonight she jumped at every noise and peered into the shadows.

Another footfall, the scrape of a heavy boot sole against pavement.

Tensing, she fumbled with the catch on her purse and fished out the can of mace. She shot a look behind, but the sidewalk was empty.

Headlights lit up the narrow road, and a car drove slowly by. Water splashed as the car’s tires drove through mud puddles. The faint glow of light cast by a streetlight lit the car’s interior, revealing a blonde-haired woman behind the wheel. The car continued along the road until it was out of sight, and the campus was once again deserted.

Candace released a shaky breath. A cold wind gusted loose strands of hair across her face. She couldn’t shake the sensation she was being followed, but no matter how often she looked behind, she didn’t see anyone. She should return to the faculty building and take George up on his offer to walk her to her car. Don’t be a ninny. No one was following her. She’d done this walk dozens of times, and she’d never had a problem.

In spite of her reassurances, the certainty something dark and menacing was closing in had her hurrying her steps. The sense of being watched from the darkness remained acute. She was almost running by the time she reached the parking lot.

Her car, parked under a tall elm tree, was the only vehicle in the lot. Raindrops beaded on the car’s shiny red surface. She sucked in a shaky breath. Why hadn’t she parked near one of the parking lot lights? But it was daylight when she’d arrived, and she hadn’t planned to stay so long at work. Working through the stack of student papers, she’d lost track of time. One minute the sun was shining, and the next time she looked out the window, the dark of night had settled in.

She fumbled in her purse for her keys.

A hand jerked her arm with such force she was knocked off her feet. She screamed. Thick fingers dug through the thin fabric of her coat into her skin and muscle, stopping her fall.

Her purse, her car keys, and the can of mace fell from her hands. Lipstick, loose change, her cell phone, and her wallet spilled onto the wet pavement. She opened her mouth to scream again, but a large, callused palm slapped over her mouth silencing her. She was yanked back against a hard, masculine body. A nauseating wave of garlic, fried onions, and stale cigarette smoke washed over her. She gagged, as terror iced her gut.

The rapist!

He was going to rape her. Just like he’d assaulted that coed. Adrenaline fired through her, and she jerked and twisted, kicking and punching her attacker, fighting to escape. One of her blows struck home, and he grunted in pain.

Yes!

She fought harder, determined to break free.

He tightened his grip, and his arm jammed across her neck.

Her lungs burned, and her chest heaved as she struggled to draw in breath. She clawed at his arm, her nails digging deep, drawing blood, desperate for air.

A rough voice snarled in her ear, “Stop fighting or I’ll slit your throat.”

The prick of a sharp blade sliced the tender skin on her neck just below her ear. A trickle of warm blood trailed down her neck. Terror rocketed into the stratosphere. Her mind raced, skittering from one frantic plan to another.

The mace!

Out of the corner of her eye she saw it. The small, red cannister lay inches from her feet. If she could grab the can she could—

“How ya doin’, Candy Girl?”

Warm spittle spattered her face. She froze. Candy Girl? Only one person had ever called her Candy Girl, and that person had vanished twenty-two years ago. Her heart clenched, and her worse nightmare, the one that kept her up at night, rushed at her like a freight train.

It’s him! The monster who took Charlene and the other four girls had returned for her. Just like in her nightmares.

Spots clouded her vision, and her ears rang. She needed air. Now! Panic roared, and she bit his palm, sinking her teeth through the thin glove and into flesh, tasting blood.

He cursed, and for a heartbeat, the pressure on her neck eased.

She sucked in a breath and screamed like a banshee. He grabbed her, but she fought harder, kicking, twisting, and bucking. Her booted foot connected with his shin.

He grunted.

Victory soared through her, fueling her fury, and she struck again.

Arm raised, he lunged and stabbed.

A sharp prick on her neck, like a bee sting.

He cackled and held up a syringe. “You can’t get away from me, Candy Girl. I’ve got plans for you. Big plans.”

Loud ringing in her ears dulled his words, and a warm lassitude washed over her. Salty tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks. Sheer nothingness grasped her soul, threatening to engulf her. Her muscles grew heavy and leaden, each leg weighing a ton.

Keep fighting!

Her body refused to obey. An icy coldness settled deep in her belly, and fingers of ice invaded her blood. The glow from the distant streetlights faded in and out in nauseating waves. Her legs wobbled. She sagged.

“Hey! What are you doing over there?”

“Let her go!”

Distant voices, shouting, feet pounding on the pavement.

The painful grip on her arms loosened. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed in a boneless heap onto the unforgiving ground. Her head snapped back and smashed the pavement. A jolt of pain, and bright splotches of light filled the night. The world dimmed, but she fought to stay conscious, to be aware, to fight, to live. But her legs and arms wouldn’t move, her muscles leaden.

“Ma’am? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” A man’s blurry face loomed above her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat closed tight as if a boulder were lodged inside, and no sounds emerged.

“Call an ambulance!” Another male voice, distant and muted as if the speaker were under water.

The world darkened and transformed into a fathomless black abyss, and she fell, spiraling into the dark.