Manhattan Hunt Club

CHAPTER 1 Kill him, cindy allen silently prayed. kill him, and let me know that this is over. Sensing her tension, Bill reached over and took her hand. "They'll lock him up forever," he said softly. "They'll lock him up and you'll never have to be afraid again." Though she squeezed Bill's hand as if his words had comforted her, Cindy knew they weren't true. She would be afraid for the rest of her life. Afraid to walk by herself in the streetsif she could ever walk again. Afraid to look at the faces of strangers, fearful of what she would see in their eyes: pity and revulsion and embarrassment. Afraid even to look at Bill, of seeing shades of those emotions in his eyes. And all because of the man whose face now filled the screen of the television set at the foot of her bed. She tried to put aside her anger and her fear for a moment, tried to look dispassionately at the face of Jeff Converse. It was a handsome faceshe had to admit that. Clean-cut, even features. Not the kind of face you'd expect to see on a monster. Indeed, nothing about Jeff Converse's pleasing appearance hinted at the cruelty that lay within. Not the dark, wavy hair, not the warm brown eyes, not the expression on his face. In the image on the television screen of the man she'd testified against in court, Jeff Converse looked as frightened as Cindy Allen felt. Except that she knew her fear was real. His was just another lie, like all the lies he'd told in court. "What if the judge believes him?" she whispered, not quite aware that she'd spoken aloud. "He won't believe him," Bill replied. "The jury didn't believe him, and neither will the judge. He'll give Converse everything he's got coming to him." But he won't, Cindy thought. He might put Jeff Converse in jail, but he won't do to him what he did to me. As the image of Jeff Converse vanished from the television screen, replaced by the smiling visage of the pretty blonde who anchored the morning news, Cindy looked away, her gaze shifting to the mirror over the dresser that she'd made Bill hang low on the wall so she could see herself as others saw her. "It will be all right," Bill had said, trying to reassure her the first time she'd looked into the mirror after the bandages were removed. "I've talked to the doctor, and he says he can repair almost all the damage. It will just take time." Time, and five surgeries, and more money than she and Bill earned in a year. And even then, even if they found the money and she went through all the procedures the plastic surgeon had explained to her, she wouldn't be well. Her features might once again bear some resemblance to the face that had been hers until that horrible night six months ago. But even if they could repair the scars on the outsiderebuild her crushed cheekbone and shattered jaw, repair the lower lip that had been nearly torn away when he'd slammed her face into the concrete, breaking five teeth in her lower jaw and four in her upperthey'd never be able to repair the scars on the inside. Even if they could find a way to mend the damage to her spine that had made it impossible for her to walk, they'd never be able to make her feel safe on the streets again. That was what Jeff Converse had taken from her. She had been on her way to meet Bill. It was late, but not that late. He'd had to work, and so had she, and they were going to meet for dinner at ten. The subway was almostSaul, John is the author of 'Manhattan Hunt Club' with ISBN 9780345433305 and ISBN 0345433300.