shot him a sympathetic glance and saved him from having to answer by saying, “Mama, you know how it is in law enforcement. You’ve got to do what you can when you can.”
Maddelena rolled her dark eyes and signed, “Bah, you go do your job, then, but only if you promise to come back when you can eat a decent meal. And come to church with us tomorrow. We go to the church with the interpreter on the other side of town.”
Ethan said his thanks for the breakfast, made no comment about church and headed out the door.
Marianna stabbed a bite of pancake as she watched him leave, wondering why the fact that he was so comfortable with her family made her nervous.
* * *
Ethan climbed into his car, never so glad to get out of someone’s home. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the crazy clan, but they made him think about the past. About what might have been.
Guilt pierced him as it did every time he thought about his sister, Ashley. And the more he was around Marianna, the more he thought about Ashley. A vicious cycle if there ever was one.
Poor Ashley. She’d been ten years his junior and stuck with him as the one person she could count on…and he’d let her down. True, it hadn’t been intentional, but in the end it hadn’t mattered. She’d died.
And his life had spiraled downward into a hole he’d almost been unable to claw his way out of. If it hadn’t been for his ex-partner, Mac McCullough, Ethan might still be drowning his sorrows in a six-pack each night. Mac had eventually quit the force and gone on to be a missionary overseas, but Ethan thanked God for the man every day.
His phone rang, yanking him from his memories. Thank goodness. “Hello.”
“Hey, it’s Catelyn. Where are you?”
“Almost to the lab. Why?”
“We got a shoe print from under her window.”
“Does it match the bloody one from the porch?”
“Nope. Unfortunately, not.”
“Are they the same size?”
“Negative on that, too.”
“All that means is that the guy wore a different pair of shoes.”
“Or this break-in is totally unrelated to the murder.” Ethan could hear her frustration. She wanted to catch this guy as bad as he did.
He said, “Yeah, I’ve already thought of that.”
“So, what’s Marianna going to do? Is she staying with her folks right now? I’m really nervous about her going back to that house by herself. Something’s just weird about the whole situation. The murder, then the break-in…weird.”
“I agree. But I’m stumped as to a connection. And yes, right now, she’s staying with her folks.” He sighed, ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “Listen, I haven’t been to bed yet. If you don’t actually need me there, I’m going to run home, take a shower and crash for a couple of hours.”
“Sure, I’ve got it covered. Go get some rest and call me when you get up. I appreciate you not calling me in on it last night.”
“Nothing much you could have done. I didn’t figure you’d hate me for letting you sleep.”
“Never. That’s why I’m willing to put in a few hours on the weekend. I’ll get it back after we catch this guy.”
“Thanks, Cate.”
He hung up, did a U-turn, then took a left to head home. Just a few hours sleep, then he’d be back on it, he silently promised himself…and Marianna.
FIVE
As Marianna dressed for church in the morning, she studied the childhood room she’d shared with two of her sisters, Catherina and Alissa. She smiled when she thought of her twin, Alissa.
As children and even teens, they hadn’t wanted to be separated and had shared a room up until graduation from high school. They’d gone to different colleges, Marianna to Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C. and Alissa to the University of South Carolina in Columbia, just a couple of hours away.
Being the parents of six children, her mother and father had had to get creative when it came to sleeping arrangements. The house had four bedrooms and a basement that had been converted into a small apartment for Marianna’s grandmother, who’d lived with them until she died last year.
Marianna appreciated the fact that her mother still kept the double bed and bunk beds in here so that the sisters could have their “reunion” during holidays. Often all four sisters usually wound up in the one room, staying up all night catching up, then crashing wherever they found a spot.
She said a small prayer of thanks for her childhood, knowing she’d been blessed. Oh, not always with material things but with the things that mattered. And one more thing to be thankful for was the fact that the vet had sent a text message saying Twister would be able to come home Monday. Marianna missed her four-legged friend.
Attached to the pocket of her black dress pants, her BlackBerry buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She slipped it from the clip and checked the caller ID.
Curt Wentworth. Why he continued to bother her, she had yet to figure out. This was the man who’d wooed her, had her tumbling head over heels in love, then had turned around and emotionally stabbed her in the back. When he finally let her know she wasn’t good enough for him. Add his physical aggression into the mix and she just wanted him to leave her alone. She read, “Why aren’t you answering my messages? I want to see you, Marianna. It really makes me mad when you just ignore me. Rather rude, don’t you think? At least have the courtesy to answer me.”
She punched the reply button on the machine and typed, “Leave me alone, please, Curt. ALREADY TOLD YOU I’M NOT INTERESTED IN SEEING YOU ANYMORE. If you would stop texting me, I wouldn’t have to ignore you. You are the one being rude.”
He responded, “But I’ve apologized, what else can I do?”
“Honor my request to LEAVE ME ALONE.”
“I made a mistake, Marianna. As a Christian, aren’t you supposed to forgive me?”
This called for caps again. “I HAVE FORGIVEN YOU, JUST DON’T WANT TO BE WITH YOU. I wouldn’t mind trying to build a friendship with you, but it would go no further than that, and you and I both know that you’re unwilling to accept that right now. Late for church. Bye.”
She replaced the device back into the clip and grabbed her purse. When it vibrated once more, she pressed the ‘Ignore’ button, resolving not to respond to him anymore. Maybe that was the problem. She kept answering him intermittently instead of being consistent in just deleting his messages, and that encouraged him or gave him hope. Quite possibly if she just didn’t acknowledge his texts anymore, he would give up and go find someone more suitable.
Such as a hearing girl, one he wouldn’t be ashamed of. Absentmindedly, she smoothed her hair down over her ears, then stared at herself in the mirror above the dresser.
