Stalking The Phoenix Part 13

"Thank you for the weekend."

"If I thought that you stood the remotest chance of being able to walk away from your teaching at the college, I would take you somewhere far away from all of the troubles here. But, you have to honor your commitments. The old-fas.h.i.+oned values which you have are one of the reasons that I love you so."

"Finals are in a bit less than two weeks. We will be married the day after I turn grades in, Geoff. I only hope that we get this situation resolved by then."

"Whatever comes, 'Licia, my love, we will deal with it."

I kissed him lightly, nothing more than a brush of my lips against his.

Geoff's arms tightened around me as he kissed me in return. This caress started light, but rapidly became much more pa.s.sionate. I was with him until his hands began to roam, then the fear hit me. I began to shake. I know that I stiffened.

Pulling back from me slightly, he smiled a strained smile. "I've taken so many shortcuts in my life, 'Licia. With you, I want to do things right. I'm not pus.h.i.+ng you. It's just so much of a temptation to..."

"To try to seduce me."

Geoff smiled sheepishly. "Yes. But, you aren't ready for that, are you?"

"No, obviously I'm not. I'm sorry."

"I love you, 'Licia." He placed his hand on my still flat stomach. "And I love sprout there. He just seems so unreal to me, right now."

"As for sprout, it won't be terribly long until she'll seem real to you. Now, I'm going to bed. Sleep well."

Pa.s.sing through the foyer, I saw someone peering into the house from the porch. I couldn't make out the face because of the opaque etched gla.s.s, but there was definitely someone there. "Geoff?" I asked.

Geoff was there in a flash. I nodded over to the door. The face was still there. Geoff wrapped his arm around my waist and urged me toward the stairs.

"Easy, baby, I'll come down the back stairs and go around from the kitchen," Geoff whispered in my ear as he hustled me up the stairs. "Let's get you out of harm's way."

"You be careful," I whispered in return.

"Always."

Geoff left me in the upstairs hall.

I heard the sound of breaking gla.s.s. I ran into my bedroom and found my gun. I picked up the telephone extension on my bed table and dialed 911.

"This is Alicia Jenkins. We have a prowler at 133 Park. a.s.sistance needed, immediately."

I made my way downstairs carefully. The antique etched gla.s.s was broken out of the front door. There was a substantial amount of blood on the floor.

"Geoff!" I called out in fear. "Geoff!"

But, Geoff did not answer.

The police car pulled up, siren running. I placed the pistol on safety, then put it at the small of my back at the waistband of my jeans.

Both uniformed men approached the house with guns drawn.

I called out to them, "Come around to the kitchen door. There's too much gla.s.s and blood here."

"Are you all right?" one of the officers, a young man named Sam Ulrich who had taken a couple of cla.s.ses I had taught, asked in concern.

"I am. But, I'm not so sure about Geoff."

I reached the kitchen at the same time that the officers arrived at the door.

"What happened?" Sam Ulrich asked firmly.

"I don't really know. I saw someone outside, peering in the front door. Geoff took me upstairs, told me to stay safe, then he went down the back stairs to the kitchen door, and walked around the porch to confront whomever it was. The next thing that I heard was the breaking gla.s.s. That's when I called."

Sam Ulrich nodded.

A motorcycle drove into the driveway and parked at the back door. There were heavy footsteps on the back porch stairs. Phil Mallory walked in, pulling off his helmet.

"Al? Are you okay?" he demanded as he came to stand before me.

"Oh, Phil!" I cried brokenly as I buried my face in his chest. "There's broken gla.s.s and blood in the foyer. There was someone there, looking in. Geoff must have chased him. I'm so scared."

Phil put his helmet down on the kitchen counter. Then he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. "We'll find him, Al. We'll find him."

"Phil..." His name was a cry of pain on my lips.

Phil stroked my hair. "Look, I know that you have been through h.e.l.l lately. But, you have to pull yourself together. Come on, Al, show some of that famous Jenkins composure."

I sniffled. I pulled myself out of his arms. "Thanks, Phil," I said as I wiped moisture from my eyes.

"Al, hang in here with us. Let's take a look at the broken gla.s.s."

I led them back to the foyer. Then I went back into the living room and sat before the fire. I just stared into the dying flames.

Phil looked at Sam Ulrich and Peter Hess. "Get the men out looking for Geoff Samson. And I want a photographer, and a man with an evidence kit here ten minutes ago."

"Al?" Phil asked from his position behind where I was sitting on the carpet just in front of the hearth. I hadn't answered his earlier softer queries.

"Go find him, Phil," I responded without taking my eyes from the fire.

"Al, look at me."

"No," I denied with a sob. "Just go find him. Find him and bring him home. I don't think that I want to go on without him."

I was aware of the men who came and went. After the photographer was done, a forensic sample of the blood was taken. No textile fibers could be found around the break in the gla.s.s. I was aware of all of this. But, I couldn't pull myself together. Instead, I sat in front of the fire, not seeing, nearly lost in my misery and fear.

Periodically, I heard the difficult-to-decipher squawk of a broadcast along the police band from one or more of the radios the uniformed officers wore on their belts.

After the majority of activity was done, I rose from my place in front of the dying fire. "May I clean up the mess now?"

"Sure, Al," Phil answered. "Do you need a hand in fixing the window?"

"None of the stores are open. That gla.s.s was antique. I don't know how Geoff will want to fix this."

Phil nodded. "It could be boarded up until it can be fixed correctly."

I nodded tightly. "That sounds reasonable. I know that there is a piece of plywood in the garage. How do I get the bloodstain off of the hardwood floor, though?"

Phil looked at me for a long moment. "Would you like for me to board up the window?"

My face crumpled. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, Phil. I just don't know how much I can take. If Geoff is hurt or worse ... G.o.d forbid. Oh, Phil..."

"Hey, let's not worry about something which we can't do anything about. Don't go borrowing trouble."

"Borrowing trouble? I don't need to borrow any. I've already had a life time supply. Do you know why I picked Fieldsburg? It's almost funny now. It was a quiet college and farming town. Being the county seat, there was enough of the urban conveniences resent that I didn't quite feel out of place and there was enough of the rural mindset that I felt comfortably laid back."

The radio Phil had laid down on the hall table screeched just after he had finished boarding up the window.

Phil picked up the radio and answered the call, "Mallory."

"We've located Mr. Samson. He's in route to Community Hospital."

"What's his condition?"

"Unconscious."

"Dear G.o.d!" I prayed fervently.

"I'm on my way," Phil replied before signing off.

"I'm coming with you!"

"You ever ridden a motorcycle?"

"Never. But, I'm not in any shape to drive. Look, Phil. Just take me to Geoff?" I demanded. "Please, Philip."

Phil nodded affirmatively. "Okay. Hang onto me. If I lean, lean with me, even if your first instinct tells you to do the opposite. Trust me."

I knew in that moment that I would trust him with my life. "Fine. Just get me to the hospital."

Geoff was in the emergency room at Fieldsburg Community Hospital when Phil and I arrived there. Sam Ulrich was there, having ridden in the ambulance with Geoff.

"How bad is he, Sam?"

"I've seen worse, Doc. But, he's not going to be pretty for awhile," the young officer said.

I sighed impatiently. "'Pretty' is not important. How is he? How badly is he hurt, Sam?"

"Well, Doc, I would surely hate to see the other guy. There was apparently quite a fight."

I turned and walked over to the clerk. "Who is working on Geoff Samson?"

"Doctor Roby was called. He's with him, now. Would you like for me to ask him to talk with you when he's done?"

"Just tell me where they are."

"Examining room A."

"Thanks," I replied as I turned to go from the waiting room into the treatment rooms.

"But, Miss ... Miss, you can't go in there."

"Watch me."

The young clerk looked over at the officers as I went through the double doors that separated the waiting area from the treatment rooms. "She shouldn't be back there," I heard her say.

Treatment room A was a small cubicle just inside the treatment area. The door was open. "Well, Ed?" Doctor Ed Roby was a dark haired, muscular, man of average height in his early forties. "He's going to be fine, Alicia." "Thank G.o.d." "'Licia?" Geoff's voice asked. "I'm right here." I walked into the room.

Ed Roby had been blocking my view of Geoff. Now that I stood close by, I could see that Sam had been right. If Geoff had an eye that threatened to become a technicolor horror, I wondered what the other guy looked like.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Like h.e.l.l," Geoff said in a strained voice.

"Don't bother talking, just now, Geoff. You just lie still and let Ed work you over..."

"Hey, I've been worked over enough for one night."

I laughed nervously, in relief. At least his sense of humor was still intact.

"Are you keeping him overnight?"

"That would be for the best, Alicia. I haven't gotten him down to x-ray, yet. But, I

would feel more comfortable, if we kept him for observation. He's not going to be a happy camper for a few weeks. I would guess that he has a couple of cracked ribs, in addition to the s.h.i.+ner. I wouldn't doubt that the cheekbone is cracked, at least. You will need to help him wrap those ribs every day."

"No problem. What about the eye? Any real damage to the eye or optic nerve?"

"Doesn't appear so."

"Orbital bone?"