“Of course. When you come to the office tomorrow, just ask Beatrice to let you in if it’s locked. Tell Amanda not to worry about a thing. We’ll take care of her classes. Can I speak with her?”
“She’s still at the hospital.”
“Marcus, I gather you and Amanda … the two of you are close?”
“Uh, yes.” How many people knew? Could they tell how he felt about her? What did they know? Had she said anything?
“Give her our best.”
“I will. Thanks, Greg.”
Cecelia—almost killed by a car. Amanda—in shock. He looked down at his own hands. They were shaking.Delayed reaction? He gripped his hands together. How could he help Amanda through this? And Cecelia. His heart ached for her. If this was what being a parent was all about, this feeling of helplessness, he wasn’t sure he was up to it. The grief he’d felt at his own parents’ deaths was nothing like seeing that precious child and being able to do nothing to make her better.
A door slammed next door. Janet. Maybe she saw what happened. He walked over to the neighbor’s house.
“Janet? Can I ask you some questions?” The senior student with the dark curly hair nodded and ushered him inside. “How is Cecelia?”
She’s got some broken bones. They’ve sedated her to keep her quiet. We’ll know more after she’s awake. She was in surgery for a long time—it seemed like forever.”
“How is Amanda—is she at the hospital?”
He nodded.
“You don’t look so good. Would you like some coffee, tea?”
“Thanks, not right now.” He brushed his hair off his forehead as he looked back at the young woman Amanda used so often as a babysitter. “Did you hear or see anything odd just before or right after the accident?”
Janet frowned. “Let me think.”She stared out the window toward the street as if visualizing what had happened. “I heard someone yelling right before I heard the car or maybe it was at the same time. I think it was Cecelia. It sounded like her. That’s why I looked out the window.”She paused and then added, “I heard the car trying to stop—the brakes were screeching like forever. But by the time I’d run out onto the porch, the car had already hit her.” Her eyes filled. “I didn’t actually see it happen. No one else was around except for a guy who was running between our houses up the hill, but I’m not sure that had anything to do with the accident. People do that all the time—cut through the yards.”
Marcus put his hand on Janet’s shoulder. “Did you see anyone go into Amanda’s house—a student maybe? You said you saw someone run up the hill. Was it someone you know?”
She shook her head. “Like I said, sometimes students take the shortcut up the hill and park in the alley when there’s no room on the street. You know how crowded it gets on our block.”
Marcus thanked her then returned to the house and jotted down notes about what Janet had said. He walked up the hill, taking the same route she had mentioned. When he knocked on several doors of the nearby homes, no one could remember having seen anyone at the time of the accident. But at the last apartment house, one student said he’d seen a man limping up the alley the day before—someone who seemed familiar from campus, but he didn’t think he lived nearby. He couldn’t come up with a name or much of a description. All he noticed was that it was a man and he was limping.
Marcus thanked him—half of the five thousand students and all of the male faculty. Not a great help. Maybe the student who dropped off the paper?His investigative reporter’s intuition told him he had to figure out what had sent Cecelia out of the house when she knew he was coming to get her. He had a feeling that once the shock wore off, Amanda would want to know as much as possible about what had happened to her daughter that day.
He returned to Amanda’s house and looked in her briefcase for a grade book. But he found nothing there or next to her desk. He sat on Amanda’s porch and studied the street, pondering every possibility for what might have happened. Small signs of the accident the previous day were still visible—a dark stain near the far curb, shards of glass that glinted in the sun, and the remains of the milk carton Amanda had dropped.
His heart ached for the child and for her mother. How will this change things between us? He vowed to try to convince Amanda to move in with him. No fast-driving cars where I live. If only… But a simple change of scenery would not necessarily protect Cecelia from danger. Why did you run into the street, Cece? You know better. Something must have scared you. What was it? Who was it?