Without Mercy - Lisa Jackson [109]
Jules shook her head to shake off the image. God, she didn’t need more death in her psyche. But the girl’s ghost had touched her now and would probably haunt her forever.
“What the hell happened here?” she whispered, suddenly cold to the bone.
Trent was beside her, shaking his head, raking stiff fingers through his hair. He stared up at the rafters, as if he, too, could see her. “Two kids meet in the stables.” He nodded toward the corner of the loft. “They had sort of a love nest built out of bales over there. Apparently it was set up in advance, though for how long I don’t know. Flannagan doesn’t take any shit from these kids.”
“Rumor has it they were found naked,” she said, and he nodded. “So they were attacked while they were having sex…or possibly afterward?”
“Yeah. Prescott gave a statement to the detectives. He claims he and Nona were going at it, about finished, he on top, when the world exploded. He can’t even remember any pain, just that one minute he was having sex, the next he found himself waking up in a hospital.”
Jules thought aloud, “So someone came in, hit him, kicked him through the hole in the floor, and then hung her? Really?” That didn’t sound right.
“No weapon was found. The cut on the back of Andrew’s head was deep, probably from a sharp rock, but the police haven’t found it yet. Until the storm breaks, they might never.” He glanced down at her. “For all anyone knows, it could be at the bottom of the lake or buried under two feet of snow.” He squinted upward to the wooden ceiling. “As for Nona, she was probably already dead when the killer strung her up.” He glanced down at Jules, his eyes dark in the watery light, his jaw set. “The details are ugly.”
“I can deal with ugly.” Painful memories flashed through her mind: her parents’ vile fights, nights spent huddled in her bed, wishing it would just stop, and then, ultimately, discovering her father’s body in a pool of blood. Yes, she had endured the ugly, worked beyond it, or at least tried. “What I can’t take is being blindsided.”
He hesitated, as if unsure how much he should divulge.
“I’m a big girl,” she reminded him.
“This I know,” he said, nodding. “I suppose if you’re going to stay here, you should be armed with the truth.” He told her about the severity of the attack, about how the coroner found that Nona’s hyoid bone was crushed, her larynx damaged, her vagina showing signs of rough sex. Hers had been a violent, painful death, and from the bruises on her neck, it was obvious that she’d been face-to-face with the person who had taken her life, had watched and struggled as he’d cut off her air, then, using a winch usually used in stacking the bales and a rope Flannagan had for the horses, he’d strung Nona’s nude corpse high above.
“What kind of sick mind would do that?” she asked, almost wishing she didn’t know the truth.
“Someone extremely disturbed.” Trent let his boot scrape at a wad of hay, and they both watched as golden strands of straw tumbled through the opening and fluttered down to the floor far below. “Someone here at the school.”
“So does the sheriff’s department think this is an isolated case?” she asked. “That Nona and maybe Drew were targets, that there’s a motive for the killings?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Trent said. “I guess time will tell.”
CHAPTER 28
Sundays, Shay had heard, were usually quiet on the campus, but today was different than most. Half the students were whining about being scared, and the administrators were freaking out and keeping everyone pent up in annoying group activities.
Reverend Lynch’s sermon had been less than inspired, but Father Jake managed to make the service a little more interesting and lively, and the kids responded to him. Shay had witnessed it herself and so had Lynch; he’d pretended not to notice that the younger preacher had everyone listening, but Shay had seen the reverend’s jaw tighten.
It probably had made things worse that his Barbie Doll of a wife had sat on the edge of her seat when Father Jake stood at the altar.