Betise glanced at her quickly. "Why?"
"Because the rangers aren't sure the murdered women are being raped."
"Really? They implied in the papers that they were."
"And you can believe everything you see in print," Neva said dryly. She picked up her coats and mask and quickly put them on. "I'll still report your attack to Savannah, though I really think you should report it yourself."
Betise's smile was wry. "Given where I was and what I was doing, the rangers aren't going to take it all that seriously."
"Any attack is serious. The man who attacked you might just try his luck with someone else." And right now they certainly didn't need another lunatic running around.
"I very much doubt it."
It was a statement that basically confirmed the theory that Betise knew her attacker. "Thanks for the coffee and the info."
"You sure you don't want that hair of yours styled?"
Neva just smiled and opened the door. The wind hit her, almost blowing her back inside. Shivering, she closed the door but remained under the cover of the entrance for a moment, reaching out with her thoughts. There was little response from Savannah — her sister was asleep. No use going to the hospital just yet then.
She glanced up the street. On a normal day, the diner was within easy walking distance. In the midst of a storm, it might as well be in the next county. Or was that cowardice speaking? As much as she knew she had to speak to her parents, she wasn't sure she was ready to do it just yet. But then, would she ever be? She certainly hadn't confronted them before now, and maybe, if Duncan hadn't have forced the issue, she never would have. Moving into her own home had been her only attempt to break the leash, and even then, her parents still had too much control over her life. As Ari had often commented.
But the attack on Savannah, and being with Duncan these last few days, had forced her to see there was more to life — more to her — than blindly following the path her parents had set.
And while she had no intention of becoming a frequent visitor at the mansion once this dance was over, she was tempted to explore her wilder side. Not so much sexually, not even emotionally. She just wanted to step beyond the boundaries of her life so far and explore possibilities. Discover what else there might be out there for her. True, she was happy enough working at the diner, but it was a job that would always be there. There was a world beyond Ripple Creek to explore. Savannah had taken off years ago on a quest to find herself. Maybe it was way past time she did, too.
Only trouble was, that deep down crazy part of her wanted to explore it with Duncan at her side.
She shoved her hands into her pockets and ventured out into the storm. The strength of the wind had, if anything, increased in the last half hour. It was as if nature itself was intent on pushing her back towards the diner rather than home.
She let it blow her along the empty street. The cold began to seep into her bones, despite the multiple layers of clothes, and her limbs felt leaden. What she needed was a good eight hours of solid sleep. Whether she'd get it before the full moon finally rose was another question.
Main Street swung right, and the buildings momentarily cut the full force of the wind. She tripped, caught herself before she could fall, then glanced behind her to see what had snagged her foot. There was nothing to see — not even the cracks in the pavement. She shook her head and continued on. Above the howl of the wind came the sound of an engine. She glanced over her shoulder, glimpsing an old blue truck moving slowly along the street. At least she wasn't the only fool out. Though she was the only fool walking.
She tripped again and cursed softly, smacking her hand against a shop window as she tried to steady herself. Her goddamn feet seemed intent on tripping over each other, no matter how hard she tried to lift them. This wasn't good, and it meant she was more tired than she'd thought.
She studied the snowbound street ahead — or what she could see of it. Her house was closer than the diner. Maybe she'd better head home and take a nap. The way she felt, she'd fall asleep long before she got to the diner, and in this storm that would be deadly.
The wind hit her again as she came out of the protection of the buildings to cross the road. She staggered sideways like a drunkard, battling to keep upright against the force of the storm and the sudden weakness in her limbs. Fear slithered through her. It was almost as if the utter cold of the day was leeching all her energy.
She sighed in relief as the next row of shops gave her a brief respite from the wind, but she knew worse was to come. Her street was the next one, and to get home, she'd have to walk against the force of the storm.
She stopped at the last shop, leaning a hand against the glass to support herself as she took several deep breaths. Her eyes drooped closed, and she forced them open again, blinking rapidly. The slither of fear became stronger. She could so easily fall asleep right here and now. All she had to do was close her eyes.
She had to get home. Fast.
The wind slapped against her the minute she stepped out into it, forcing her back several steps. She gritted her teeth, leaned forward and walked on, but it felt as if she were walking through glue. Icy cold glue, at that. Every single step was an energy-draining effort. Her breath tore at her throat, and the iciness of the air seemed to shred her lungs.
She counted the houses as she passed each one, needing to keep her mind off the effort to walk. Off the need to simply lie down and sleep. Eight houses to go.... seven ... a street corner loomed into view. Once she'd crossed it, she was almost there. The thought seemed to rush fresh energy into her limbs, and she stepped out onto the road.
Above the howl of the storm came the roar of an engine. Too late, she became aware of the sullen gleam of headlights rushing down on her.
She yelped and tried to leap away, but the truck clipped her hip and sent her sprawling. She smacked against the ground, saw stars, and for several seconds couldn't seem to breathe.
Then oblivion rushed in, accompanied by the harsh sound of laughter.
Chapter Ten
Duncan rapped his knuckles against the old wooden door. There was movement inside, so he knew someone was home. After a few moments, he heard the scuff of heels against wooden flooring approaching the door.