Alana Candler, Marked for Murder by Joanie Bruce Page B

inside.”
    “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said as she jerked the storm door handle and closed it most of the way.
    Martin’s lower lids tensed and his nostrils flared. He tugged harder on the door handle, forcing her to let go.
    Gaining entry into the house would open a Pandora’s Box that Alana was scared of opening. She retreated back into the room and moved to slam the wooden door. Suddenly, Martin screamed, “My hand!” and she quickly jerked the door back open.
    The color of his face turned blood red, and like a bull after a red cape, he plunged through the door until his larger-than-average body was standing inside the room.
    Alana shrank in the wake of his fury and watched her terror change him into someone she didn’t recognize. He came at her with both hands raised, and fear turned her blood to water.
    He grabbed both of her shoulders and pushed her until she was backed against the wall. Through gritted teeth, he murmured, “I want you back, Alana. I’ll get you one way or the other.”
    He twisted her hair in both hands and forced her head back against the wall. Then he leaned forward to kiss her until he heard the same thing she did—the toot, toot of Lisa’s van as she honked to let Alana know she was home.
    Martin checked his movements and stared at her with disgust.
    “You’ll be sorry you dumped me, Alana. I’ll show you—you can’t dump a Strands without suffering the consequences. You better start thinking about taking me back. This ain’t over. You’ll see.”
    Stomping to the front door, he pointed his finger at her in defiance and gave her a scathing look before slamming out the screen door. The wooden door stood wide open.
    Alana shrank against the wall and tried to breathe. Her air was coming in gulps by the time Lisa finally opened the door and stepped inside the house.
    “Alana, honey! What’s the matter?”
    Alana collapsed into Lisa’s arms. The tears she thought had dried up returned once again.

FOURTEEN
     
    THAT NIGHT WHEN BRAD CAME home, Alana was wrapped in a comforter, sitting on the sofa, and staring at the blank TV screen. He sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.
    “Are you okay, munchkin?”
    “Did you get him?”
    Without asking who she meant, he nodded. “We picked him up on the road back to Bishop. He swore he was only trying to make you see he still cares.”
    A sigh followed a shrug of her shoulders, along with a shiver. “Do you think he’s the one . . . at the hotel?”
    “To be honest with you . . . I’m not sure. He says he has an alibi—that he was at a party with his friends. The friends we contacted backed him up.”
    “Yeah, they would . . . wouldn’t they.”
    Brad closed his eyes and lowered his head. Alana could see uncertainty was clouding his judgment. “I can try to keep him in jail overnight for threatening you—to give us enough time to check his story out with people at the party. But, I’ll have to let him go in the morning unless you press charges, Alana, and I’m not sure that’s the best thing to do. The only thing we can charge him with now is simple assault, and it’ll be your word against his, and his father is sure to get involved. We don’t have the evidence to make a stiff charge stick, and he’ll be mad enough at you without adding fuel to the fire. We’ll keep a tail on him for a while after he gets out in the morning. If we find DNA evidence that proves he was at the hotel, we can put him away for a long time.”
    “I’m sure he’s the one behind it, Brad. His eyebrows are thick just like the man at the hotel. If you could have seen his anger . . .” She shivered.
    He pulled her to him and held her close. “Trust in the Lord, Alana. He’s kept you safe this far. I’m sure He’s watching over you.”
    Alana nodded and let Brad’s words soak into her heart. The verses she read that morning repeated themselves in her head until she knew being thankful was her only option if she wanted to