They turned from Fifth Avenue onto a side street that was darker and more deserted. Marni couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked through the city like this at night. She’d always been too intent on getting from one place to another, via cab or car or limousine, to think of walking. Yet, now it was calming, therapeutic, really quite nice. Of course, it helped that Web was with her. Talking with him was easy. He made her think about things—like Ethan—and doing so brought less pain than she’d have expected. Ethan was gone; she couldn’t bring him back. But Web was here.
He’d never take the place of her brother; for that matter, she couldn’t eventhinkof Web as a brother. It wasn’t a brother she wanted anyway. She wasn’t sure just what she did want from Web—she hadn’t thought that far. But his presence had an odd kind of continuity to it. Tonight, even Tuesday night when he’d taken her to dinner, she’d felt an inner excitement she hadn’t experienced since she’d been seventeen years old. She felt good being with him—proud of what he was, how he looked, how he looked ather—and she felt infinitely safe, protected with his arm around her and his sturdy body so close.
Just then, a muffled cry came from the dark alleyway they’d just passed. They stopped and looked at each other, and their eyes grew wider when the sound came again. Suddenly Web was moving, pressing Marni into the alcove of a storefront. “Play dead,” he whispered, then turned and ran back toward the alley. He’d barely reached its mouth when a body barreled into him, sending him sprawling, but only for an instant. Acting reflexively, he was on his feet and after the man, who was surprisingly smaller and slower than he.
But smaller and slower was one thing. When he dragged the nameless fugitive to the ground nearly halfway down the block, he found that he was no match for the shiny switchblade that connected with his left hand. Shards of pain splintered through him, and he recoiled, clutching his hand. He had no aspirations to be a hero or a martyr. Letting the man go, he ran back to where he’d left Marni. She was gone.
“Maaaarni!” he yelled, terrified for the first time.
“In here, Web! The alley!”
He swore, then dashed into the alley, skidding to a halt and coming down on his haunches beside her. She was supporting a young woman who was gasping for air.
“It’s all right,” Marni was saying softly but tightly. “It’s all right. He’s gone.”
“Did he rape her?” Web asked Marni. He could see that the woman’s clothes were torn.
She shook her head. “Our passing must have scared him off. He took her wallet. That’s about it.”
Web put a hand on the woman’s quivering arm. “I’m going to get the police. Stay with Marni until I get back.”
Her answering nod was nearly imperceptible amid her trembling, but Marni doubted she could have moved if she’d wanted to.
Web dashed back to the street, wondering where the traffic was when he wanted it. He ran to the corner of Fifth Avenue, intent on hailing some help. Cars whizzed by without pausing. The cabs were all occupied, so they didn’t bother to stop. And there wasn’t a policeman or a cruiser in sight. Spotting a pay phone, he dug into his pocket for a quarter, quickly called in the alarm, then raced back to the alley.
Marni was where he’d left her, still cradling the woman. Frightened, she looked up at him. “He must have hurt her. She has blood on her sleeve, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.”
“It’s mine,” Web said, crouching down again. He was feeling a little dizzy. Both of his hands were covered with blood, one from holding the other. Tugging the scarf from around his neck, he wound it tightly around his left hand.
“My God, Web!” Marni whispered. Her heart, racing already, began to slam against her ribs. “Whathappened?”
“He had a knife. Lucky he used it on me, not her.”
“But your hand—”
“It’ll be all right.”
The woman in Marni’s arms began to cry. “I’m sorry … it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have … been walking alone….”
Marni smoothed matted strands of hair from the young woman’s cheeks. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three, was thin and not terribly attractive. Yes, she should have known better, but that was water over the dam. “Shhhh. It’s all right. The police will be here soon.” She raised questioning eyes to Web, who nodded. Then she worriedly eyed his hand.
“It’s okay,” he assured her softly. He turned to the woman who’d been assaulted. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Denise … Denise LaVecque.”
“You’re going to be just fine, Denise. The police will be along shortly.” As though on cue, a distant siren grew louder. “They’re going to want to know everything you can remember about the man who attacked you.”
“I … I can’t remember much. It was dark. He just … jumped out …”
“Anything you can remember will be a help to them.”
The siren neared. It hit Marni that Denise wasn’t the only one in for a long night. “They’ll want to know everything you remember, too,” she told Web.
He closed his eyes for a minute, frowning. His hand was beginning to throb. He wasn’t sure if his wool scarf had been the best thing to wrap around it, but he’d needed to hide its condition from Marni—and from himself, if the truth were told. “I know.”
Marni’s hand on his cheek brought his eyes back open. “Are you really okay?” she whispered tremulously.
He gave a wan smile and nodded.
