“Get up!” Carlton ordered. He pulled on her arm and she rose, still shaky, as he brandished the knife in front of her face.
“Get them back! Get them back!” he shouted.
“Never! I won’t let you near them!”She didn’t care that she was crying as she tried to wrench her arm out of his grasp, but he was so strong. Her pulse was beating so loudly in her ears she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to hear a firecracker if it went off in the hallway. Yet she thought she sensed movement on the other side of the main door. She looked toward it and took a step in that direction.
The door swung open. “Hello, Carl, old man,” Marcus said as he stepped into the room.
Amanda’s relief was palpable, but short-lived. Carlton brought the knife to her throat, as his other arm circled her waist, holding her next to him.
“Don’t call me that!” he screamed at Marcus, shielding his body with Amanda’s.
“If you don’t want me to call you that, act like a man and let Amanda go. If you want to cut someone, cut me, Carl. I’m more your size. Carl, Carl, Carl,” he taunted.
Carlton released Amanda and turned toward Marcus, anger suffusing his face, his cheek twitching rapidly as he looked first at Amanda and then at Marcus. “My name is Carlton! You know that! Why do you keep calling me that other name?!”
Amanda ran for the phone in her office. She tried 9-1-1 and when she got a funny buzz, realized she had misdialed, her hands were shaking so hard. She tried the two-digit campus police number, but the line was busy. She found Ian’s extension and tried it, too—busy. When she looked toward the men, Carlton was advancing on Marcus, moving the knife in a circle in the air near his face. She was afraid not to watch as the men circled each other. She redialed 9-1-1 without looking.
“What is your emergency?” A tinny voice answered.
“Um, oh, God. Two men fighting. With a knife. Come to the English department. Buckley College. Hurry!”
“What is your name, ma’am?”
Amanda put down the phone and edged out of her office.
Marcus reached for the knife. “Who were you going to cut, Carl? Amanda’s little girl? Why didn’t you pick on someone stronger, bigger than you—or do you always go for little girls, the ones who can’t defend themselves?”
Carlton swiped at Marcus, who danced around the man. “Come on, Carl, answer me. Do you always go after little girls—like that one in Wisconsin who died? Was that your handiwork, Carl? Did you cut her, too?”
Amanda looked around for a weapon, anything she could throw at Carlton to distract him, but nothing was within reach. Carlton swung at Marcus, who blocked the thrust and reached again for the hand holding the knife.
Carlton roared, lunging at Marcus as he backed toward the outer door of the department. Carlton swung again, this time slicing across Marcus’s arm, cutting through his sweater.
Amanda gasped when a line of red bloomed on the fabric.She slid along the wall farthest from the men. If she could just get out—get help, find the girls.
Marcus turned in a half-circle, waving his hand, directing her to leave and placing himself between her and Carlton. He shoved the man back, away from her. But when Carlton thrust forward and jabbed again at Marcus, their feet tangled with one another, and Carlton lost his balance.
As he fell backward, Carlton grabbed for Marcus’s arm, pulling the taller man toward him. Carlton’s other arm thrust out as he fell. His head hit the shiny stone statue of Shakespeare at the entrance wall. The statue teetered for a moment then tumbled downward, shattering as it crashed onto the floor.
Amanda screamed then ran back toward both men, now sprawled on the floor. Carlton was unconscious. She kneeled down next to Marcus, who lay on his side. He groaned and rolled onto his back, blood sliding from a wound in his lower chest. He brought one hand over it and Amanda watched in horror as the blood oozed between his fingers, covered his hand, and dripped onto the floor in a widening pool.
He looked up at her and gave her a half-smile. “The phone—I heard him when I tried to call you.” His eyes rolled back in his head.
Chapter 19
Amanda was kneeling at Marcus’ side when Ian slammed open the outer door of the department. He took one look at the rapidly spreading stain on Marcus’s sweater and the floor, Amanda’s trembling hands and her stricken expression, and pulled off his shirt.
“Here. Use this as a pressure bandage. Wad it up, press hard. I’ve called 9-1-1 and campus police.” He looked at Carlton and the knife lying between the two men. He kicked it into the corner. “Isn’t that Carlton Winslow? I thought he left last spring.”