“Why don’t you walk us through it? You probably remember more than you think you do,” Matthew suggested as he squatted in front of her.
Jonathon kept quiet, he couldn’t be the one to question Clara. What he could do was hold her hand and offer her silent support as one of the medics stitched the gash on her arm, and his colleagues forced her to relive the trauma she had been lucky to survive.
“How did you first become aware that he was there?” Matthew began.
“I saw his reflection in the glass in the door of the bookcase.”
“How far away was he? Did he take just a couple of steps to get to you or did he have to cross the whole room?”
Clara considered this for a moment. “He had to cross the room.”
“So, you had enough time to get a bit of a look at him. How tall do you think he was?”
“Much taller than me but not quite as tall as Jonathon, so maybe five foot eleven.”
“How old do you think he might be?”
“I don’t … I'm not … forties, fifties, possibly late thirties, not young but not old. Sorry, that’s the best I can do.” Clara eyed the medic. “Are you almost done?”
“Yep,” the young woman smiled, “lie down and I’ll check your stomach.”
When the medic had examined the wound and taped a white, square bandage over it, Matthew continued with his questions. “In a reflection you might not have got a good enough look to see hair and eye color. Did you get a good look at him another time?”
“At the bottom of the stairs. He held the knife above me, I thought he was going to kill me.” Clara’s eyes grew watery, and her bottom lip wobbled as the reality of what had almost happened finally sunk in, and the first cracks in her composure surfaced.
“What did you see?” Matthew asked gently.
Clara hesitated. “I'm not sure, brown hair I think. Maybe brown eyes. I was mainly just looking at the knife. I'm sorry.”
“No need to be sorry.” Matt patted her hand. “Can I show you a picture and see if you recognize anyone?”
When she nodded, Matt handed her a sheet of paper with six photos on it, one of them was Harry Caucchi. Clara diligently studied each face. “That one, maybe.” She pointed to Harry’s picture. “Or maybe that one.” She considered uncertainly pointing to another face. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure. I really want to help you stop him before he gets to my sister, but I just don’t know.”
“It’s okay, Clara.” Jonathon put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close.
“No, it’s not.” Her outward calm was quickly evaporating. “He’s going to try to kill my sister and there’s nothing I can do to stop it from happening. Whoa.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I feel lightheaded and cold.” In his arms, her body began to tremble.
“It’s just shock, honey, you’ll feel better soon.”
While Clara’s rapidly escalating emotions quickly overwhelmed her, his calm returned. Naomi’s stalker was getting reckless, starting to make mistakes that would help them catch him.
* * * * *
1:16 P.M.
“If you want me to take you to see her, I will.”
Naomi looked at Sam like he’d suddenly gone insane. Go and see her sister? Her sister who had almost been killed because of her? Never. She wasn't going near anyone else she cared about until this was over. In fact, she didn’t want Sam around her either. How could she live with herself if he got hurt trying to protect her? Hurt or worse. Knowing that Nicole and Oscar and Anthony were dead because of her was bad enough, but she couldn’t cope if someone she loved died all because someone was obsessed with her.
There had to be a way to sneak out of here, only Sam watched her like a hawk, never moving more than a few feet from her side. It was like he knew what she was planning and was determined to make sure she couldn’t do it. But how could she let him risk his life for her? She just had to wait until the time was right and then …
“No.”
Blinking, she looked at Sam in confusion. “No, what?”
“You are not walking out of this house on your own. Ever.”
How was Sam so good at knowing what she was thinking? Usually, she prided herself on being able to keep her thoughts and emotions to herself. She valued her privacy, and it made her a little uncomfortable that Sam seemed to be able to see through all her barriers. She felt exposed when he was around, and yet it didn’t feel as bad as she had feared. Naomi wasn’t sure why that was. Maybe it was because her feelings for him were so strong.