A Silent Terror & A Silent Fury: A Silent Terror / A Silent Fury. Lynette Eason

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      She waved toward the hill they still had to climb. Fortunately, some bright soul had taken pity on the Green Hall staff and had built steps into the side of the hill. Marianna headed for them, watching Julie’s lips and listening intently as her friend asked, “Are you all right? I mean, I can’t believe someone broke into your house and killed Suzanne. It’s just…”

      “Insane?” Marianna asked quietly.

      “Yes. That’s the only word for it.” Thankfully, while Julie had her funny side, she could be serious when the time called for it. Marianna felt Julie’s hand on her arm. She stopped walking and looked around into her friend’s green eyes, which held a sheen of compassion-induced tears. “Truly, are you all right?”

      Sighing, Marianna leaned over to give the concerned woman a hug. “No, I’m not all right yet, but with God’s help and by finding Suzanne’s killer, I will be,” she whispered. “I have to be.”

      They finished the walk to the two-story building in silence. Julie went to the bottom floor, which contained the middle school. Marianna went upstairs to the multi-handicapped school. The middle school students were on an academic track that would prepare them for college. The students in the multi-handicapped school were on the occupational track. They would find themselves with a job suited to their needs and live either with family or in a group home.

      And while their IQs might not be the highest, they still had a great love for socialization. In fact, most of her students were just like any other teenagers, discussing the current television programs and the newest dance, and using the latest technology to communicate with each other. The school was a great place and Marianna loved it.

      She greeted the secretary with a smile. “Hi, Jean.”

      “Oh, you poor girl.” All five feet two inches of Jean Witherspoon ejected from behind her desk, and she rushed over to give Marianna a maternal hug. “What on earth happened? Has there been any word on who…well, any more developments?”

      No one wanted to say the word killed or murdered. Marianna certainly didn’t want to either read the words on peoples’ lips or hear them with the help of her hearing aids. No, she’d rather avoid both words.

      She shook her head. “No, nothing. I’m hoping to hear something soon.”

      “Are you going to be okay? Do you think you can concentrate today?”

      Leave it to Jean to cut to the heart of the matter. “No, probably not, but I’m going to give it my best shot.”

      A pat on her arm pulled her attention to the boy standing next to her. Actually, the word boy wasn’t exactly accurate for this student, Josh Luck, who was six feet four inches tall and would normally be called a man if it weren’t for the fact that he had the mental capacity of about a five-year-old. At twenty-one years old, he would “age out” and graduate in five months. His handicapping label also read “autistic,” but he had a mild form of it, because he enjoyed hugs and physical touch.

      And he loved to bring her gifts. Specific gifts.

      Just about every day Josh would bring her some new computer piece from his seemingly endless supply. She’d talked to his father about it and the man just laughed it off, told her to throw them out or whatever. Josh had so many computers and parts at home that there was no way to keep up with it all. If the boy wanted to give her something, he obviously didn’t think he’d need it. But each week she would send the parts home…just in case.

      Josh was also known as a savant. He knew how to take apart a computer down to the last screw and put it back together almost with his eyes closed.

      He was going to have a great career in computer repair… with a little help from the school-to-work transition team.

      Marianna said, “See you later, Jean. I need to see what Josh’s brought me today.”

      She led Josh down the hall to the third classroom on the right. He followed her and tapped her shoulder again. Marianna shook off her coat and hung it in the closet. Josh waited patiently.

      Then she turned and held out her hand, palm up.

      Josh placed a computer piece in the center of it, then clomped off to sit in his specially designed desk. His lumbering, bulky frame had decimated several regular student desks before the maintenance department workers finally took it upon themselves to build him an indestructible one. So far, so good.

      Several more students made their way into the classroom, stopping for their morning hug and encouraging word.

      The single wooden door to her classroom suddenly seemed to morph into a revolving one. One by one, other teachers and staff stopped by to express concern and condolences. Marianna kept a smile on her face and the tears at bay by sheer willpower.

      It wasn’t until she placed her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk that she realized something seemed…off. She turned to her assistant, Dawn Price, and said, “Did you move things around on my desk?”

      Forty-five years old and a veteran assistant, Dawn looked up from where she’d been asking a student about his morning. “No, why?”

      Marianna looked at the small potted plant that normally sat on the back corner of her desk. It had been moved up closer to the edge above the drawer. Her stapler was on the left side instead of the right. Several papers she’d stacked neatly looked as if they’d been rifled through.

      She shook her head. “Things just aren’t where I left them.” She shrugged. “Maybe the cleaning crew had to move my desk and things got shifted.”

      Soon, a student had her attention and she focused on getting through the morning.

      Praying the day would end soon, she did her best to concentrate on the students, pouring as much as she could into their eager minds.

      * * *

      Ethan threw the pen down on the report and rested his head in his hands.

      “What’s wrong, partner?” Catelyn asked as she found a perch on the side of his desk.

      “This case,” he mumbled into his palm.

      “Yeah.” Confusion colored her voice. “I don’t understand the complete lack of evidence.”

      He snorted and looked up. “We’ve got evidence, such as the shoe print, it just isn’t leading us anywhere. The fact that there were no viable fingerprints leaves us cold. Not even a stray hair. I don’t get it. Suzanne put up a struggle— didn’t she? The room was torn apart.”

      “There’s no indication she fought back.” Catelyn dropped a sheaf of papers on his desk. “The M.E.’s report. Nothing under her fingernails, nothing on her clothing.”

      “Then she surprised him. The room’s not trashed, because she fought him, he trashed it before she got there.” Tapping his chin, he looked at the papers but didn’t pick them up. “He wasn’t expecting anyone to be there.”

      “Okay, so he broke in, started gathering his loot in the bedroom, was there maybe a couple of minutes when Suzanne walked in on him.”

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