Hard Silence (23 page)

“She didn’t—”

“Leave me alone. Let me think.”

She closed the door behind her, and Jeff sat on the table, staring at the butcher paper–covered walls. He’d spent the summer profiling the woman he loved—twice—but he’d learned more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in months. And he’d learned none of it from her.

He was responsible for facts. And the cold, dry facts were that she’d confessed to a murder, and her mother, through violence and neglect, had spent years crafting her into a perfect killer. On paper anyway.

Jeff looked at the photograph on his wall, at the silvery tree in the dawn light. Abby wasn’t paper. She was the woman who’d built a life from nothing and still managed to see beauty everywhere she looked.

I would’ve rather starved to death than go with her
.

He stood in front of the wall of evidence. Every letter had started seventeen years ago. Abby had been nineteen years old, on her own for the first time. Cold, poor and suicidal. And without her mother. She’d escaped, only to live in a prison of fear.

The broad, vertical stroke on his board labeled 1999 stood out. Now he knew the trigger. Abby’s disastrous Christmas at eighteen, and her suicide attempt. She’d come out of that bathtub committed to catching her mother. The letters had begun the following year. Except for Buck. Why leave him a secret until now?

And she hadn’t killed the other ones. She’d spent the last twenty-three years in Idaho. She hadn’t known about them until she’d seen Hale Riker at the gallery. And she’d immediately taken a drastic step. A huge, stupid, drastic step.

Jeff, please...

She’d kept trying to get his attention at the gallery, but he’d been focused on his job. He’d written her tears off to disappointment, but they weren’t just that. She’d been afraid, and he’d left her there.

He picked up his notebook and began scribbling questions. He was violating every rule of his training, but he was going to have to go into an interrogation without knowing everything.

Abby was going to have to fill in the blanks.

Chapter Twenty

Abby walked down the hall with Max holding one elbow and Chet the other. The cuffs and manacles jangled with every clopping step in the over-sized flip-flops, making her sound like a horse being led to the starting gate.

Except this wasn’t a start, it was a finish. And she didn’t feel like a racehorse. She felt like one of her horses—cold, exhausted, hungry and terrified. Even without a mirror she knew she didn’t look much better.

Her jumpsuit was stiff and scratchy and so large it scratched her more. The short sleeves left her arms cold. And Charlene had always said no one ever looked good in orange. At least the shackles at her waist cinched it in a bit.

Even though they’d finally given her a hair tie this morning, she’d given up on braiding it because her fingers shook. As a result, the strands slipped free, tormenting her neck and reminding her of the kudzu that had grown over everything in Alabama. It had always been pretty in the spring, but in the fall the leaves had come off and made it depressing and creepy.

They opened a door, and she saw Jeff at the table. It was reflex to reach for her hair, to straighten it. But the chains stopped her. When they jangled, his gaze snapped to hers.

There was nothing soft about his glare, and his glasses made it worse. His mouth was set in a grim line and his jaw was rigid. He was in a dress shirt and tie, and his badge hung from a lanyard around his neck. He hadn’t come here to see her. He was working.

He was trying to scare her. He thought she couldn’t lie to him. He should know better by now. Her whole life had been a lie. She’d been doing it so long it was like breathing. This was just another lie.

It was all she could think to do. If Wallis was bent on ruining her life, and she did it first, where was the fun? Wallis could visit her in prison and torment her from the other side of the glass. Maggie would be with Gray. Evan would be with Jeff. It would be over in a few minutes, and no one would be the wiser.

Surely Wallis knew by now. A crazy woman in Idaho with a body in her pasture had to make headlines. Didn’t it?

Gray was here, too—standing beside Jeff. He smiled. “Hello, Abby. Are you okay?”

Fighting tears, she nodded. “M-Maggie?”

“She’s worried about you. Why don’t you come in and have a seat?”

It could have been any other day, any other meeting. But when she moved, her shackles rattled and her steps shuffled. It wasn’t any other day, and she might as well get it over with.

Chet closed the door behind her, and the click echoed through the silent room. Abby walked to the only other chair and risked a glance at the two-way mirror behind Jeff. Instead of her reflection, she saw the paper taped to the wall. She spun, got tangled in her chains, and grabbed the table for balance.

Photos cluttered the chart—Beau, Ron, John, Walt, Connie, Buck—in life and in death. Their homes, their graves. Below those were her letters. Every other space was scattered with notes. Wallis’s photo leered down at her from the topmost level. It was like some twisted family tree.

“No.”

She heard the scream before she realized it had come from her. Fighting her shackles, not caring that she lost her useless shoes, she struggled to the door and wrapped her hand around the cold handle. But it was locked from the outside.

Memories overwhelmed her. Bicycles, ice cream, fishing, lightning bugs, camping under the stars. Every happy memory ended with the look on their faces as they’d realized what was about to happen. Remembered sounds hammered in her ears—squishy thuds, shovels hitting rock, closet doors slamming. Her skin stung from long-ago abuse, stealing her breath as she squinched her eyes closed and put her hands over her ears, heedless of the chains biting into her. Her chest hurt so she knew she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear it. She also knew she was falling, but she couldn’t stop it. Her bones were coming apart.

Strong arms caught her and held her tightly.
Jeff
. He hauled her against his chest, and his voice rattled her cheek as he stroked her hair. Eventually, his words soaked in.

“It’s okay, Slugger. I’ve got you.”

Someone had finally listened.
He
had listened.

The realization renewed her sobs. This couldn’t come at his hand. She’d dragged him into her private hell and forced him to dance with the skeletons crowding her closet.

He tilted her chin and wiped her tears, giving her a good look at the shadows under his eyes and the pity in his gaze. He shouldn’t pity her. These people were dead because of her.

The weight of the chains vanished and she was able to breathe. Jeff handed her a handkerchief and draped his jacket over her shoulders before sliding her favorite socks over her icy feet.

“Better?”

She nodded, and he helped her stand and step over the pile of shackles. Two chairs were waiting on them, both facing the board.

“I’m going to sit with you and we’re going to talk,” he said.

“And I’m your attorney,” Gray explained, looking at her like she was a wounded animal. “You stop if I tell you. The federal prosecutor has given you immunity, on the condition that you didn’t actively participate in any murder once you reached age eighteen. Do you understand?”

She nodded and cleared her throat. “Why?”

“Why immunity?” Jeff asked. “Because no one believes you did this.” He bent until he met her gaze.
“No one.”

“How’s. Evan?”

“He’s at my house with Cass. He’s worried, but he’s safe.” He drew a deep breath. “Are you ready to start?”

You know what I’ll do if you tell
.

“I’m. Not. Sup-sup-posed. To. Tell. She’ll. Be. M-mad.”

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore, darlin’.”

Was it really over? He’d said Evan was safe. He wouldn’t have said that if Wallis was still loose, would he?

“Beau died when you were seven. I’ve never met a child strong enough to wield a roofing hammer on a grown man.” He wrapped his fingers through hers. “Tell me a story, Abby.”

She looked into his dark green eyes, fringed with those impossibly thick lashes, and gripped his hand. “My. Mother. Did it.”

No grim reaper appeared. The world didn’t shear in two.

“Keep going,” Jeff said, nodding in encouragement.

“She took. Casino. Jobs. And they were. Regulars. They were always older. With-without families. I was bait.”

“Single mom, sweet kid?” Gray asked.

Abby nodded, but never took her eyes off Jeff. “They got married fast.”

She nodded at each photo, eager to eulogize each of the men who’d loved her. “Beau taught me to ride a bike and took me with him to town. John tried to learn sign language so we could talk because she’d told him I was deaf. Ron took me fishing and shopping for new school clothes. Walt was kind, but he was totally wrapped up in Wallis.”

“Why did she kill them?”

“Because of me.”

“What do you mean because of you?”

“She thought they loved me more than her,” Abby whispered.

“And you were there?” Jeff asked, resting his forehead against her hair.

She nodded, her tears renewing. “We’d go. Camping. And she’d—” Abby hauled in the deepest breath she could manage. “She’d stab them in the back. Through a lung. When they couldn’t fight anymore, she hit them in the head.”

The chorus of memorized thumps echoed again, and she put her hands over her ears while she curled into Jeff’s side. She wanted to stop, to not think about it, not remember. But she had to. This was what she’d wanted—justice for all these people—and she had to be brave enough to finish the job. She sat straighter and wiped her tears away.

“Except for Walt and Connie. I was locked in a closet.”

“Why are they different?”

As she stared at Connie’s third grade photo, memories played across Abby’s vision like a horror movie. “Because I’d told Connie that I’d had another daddy in Kentucky but he’d died. Wallis heard me, and she and Walt took Connie home.”

“Dear God,” Gray murmured.

It was easy to narrate a movie—that was telling a story, not
telling
. “Wallis had her monster face on when she ripped my locket off my neck. I loved that locket. My father had given it to me, and I’d put my first Toby’s picture in it because I missed him. I’d worked so hard to get it the right size and not cut off any of his face or his ears.

“Everyone thought I was lost with Connie, and I could hear people in the house. But Wallis told me I had to be quiet or she’d be mad. When we left in the middle of the night, she shoved me in box and put me in the trunk. When she let me out, we were in Ohio.”

Jeff’s arms tightened around her. “So you were quiet.”

“I made a promise. No one else was going to get hurt because of me. I stayed out of the way and kept quiet. I didn’t make any friends.” She looked up at Gray, willing him to understand. “Until Maggie.”

“Then Buck saw Wallis hit me. He was going to tell. He was going to keep me and send her away. I was so happy. So she killed him.”

Freedom surged through her veins, loosening her tongue. It felt so
good
to talk. To quit worrying that she was saying the wrong thing. “After Maggie was in college, I told Wallis I was staying here. I promised her I’d be good, but she was so mad. Toby, my other Toby, and I fought so hard, but she won. She always won. She killed the only thing I had left that loved me and made sure I understood what would happen if I told her secret to anyone.”

Gray swore again.

“And then everyone started helping me—teaching me things, hiring me, inviting me places. I had to protect them. They couldn’t know—”

“I think they do, sweetheart.”

She frowned at him. “Really?”

“Not specifics, but I’m guessing Hank doesn’t keep a loaded shotgun by his door for squirrels.” He cleared his throat. “So you sent letters?”

“I
had
to tell, but it had to be. Anonymous. Or Wallis would’ve come back.”

She wiped her eyes and caught a glimpse of the other end of the chart, visible over Jeff’s shoulder. More photos scattered that end, unfamiliar faces and places, no letters. Jeff followed her gaze.

“Abby—”

“No.” She pulled away from him and stood. “She was supposed to
stop
. I wasn’t there.” She walked to the photos and stared at them through her tears. “They’re dead because I didn’t say anything. Aren’t they?” She looked back at Jeff. “
Aren’t they
?”

“They’re dead because she killed them.” He walked to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Darlin’, this was never about you, not really. It was the money. She killed them for their money. And she’ll pay for it.”

Abby walked the length of the wall, looking at each entry and remembering. She stopped at Connie, at the gravestone identifying her as Abigail Quinn. “This isn’t my grave.” She looked up at Gray. “Wallis showed me a grave with a big angel on it. She told me no one would miss me.”

Jeff joined them. “Your family moved the grave to Kentucky.” He cleared his throat again. “Your first Toby is buried there, too.”

“He is?” she squeaked. “They kept him?”

“They did. He lived to be old and gray headed.” He took her hand. “Do you remember your family?”

“Papa liked to garden. He was always outside. And he loved to sing. ‘Blackbird’ by The Beatles was his favorite song.” She looked at him, hoping against hope. “Can you prove Wallis killed him?”

Jeff pulled her to a chair and knelt in front of her. “What can you tell me about the night she took you away?”

“He was on the kitchen floor all bloody, reaching for me. But he quit moving.” She tried to remember anything else that would help. “They’d had a fight.” That wasn’t much. She met Jeff’s stare. “Wallis always told me he was dead. Maybe you could get her to confess.”

His fingers tightened on hers. “She lied, Abby.”

She shook her head. Wallis lied about a lot of things, but she’d never once lied about killing someone.

“That was the reason for the grave,” he continued. “So he’d think
you
were dead and quit looking.”

The door opened, and a lean, older man stood there, his face wet with tears. “Abigail?” His soft voice washed over her, bringing with it laughter and lilacs and sunshine.

No one had called her that since she was four. She’d been named for her grandmother, who had loved her and made her favorite cookies and taken her horseback riding.

Papa?
It couldn’t be her father. He was dead.

He walked into the room. “Your middle name is Marian, and you thought you were named for the animated fox in the Disney movie.”

They’d watched that movie together over and over because she’d liked the idea of talking animals. She’d even made Evan watch it just to relive the memory. She looked down at Jeff, watched him nod.

She looked up again, meeting the man’s gaze and recognizing
her
eyes staring back. Saw the wheat-colored hair—no longer bloody. “Papa?”

He took the chair beside her and wrapped her in a tight hug. Caught between him and Jeff she was warmer than she’d been in over thirty years. Free and safe, and loved.

“Now what?” she whispered.

“Now you go home,” Gray said. “Hug Evan, take a shower—”

She looked at Jeff, confused. Surely she’d never have Evan with her again. “But the headlines—”

“We kept everything quiet,” he explained. “No one knows anything.”

Rather than comforting her, the favor began a new panic. “What about Wallis? You have her, right?”

“Not yet.”

She looked around the room. Not only was everyone important to her now involved, they were unprotected. And her father... Wallis would never forgive her for this reunion.

Warn them,
her conscience commanded.
Don’t hide. You don’t have to anymore.

But she knew what they’d do. They’d rush to the house, straight into danger. Jeff, Gray and Papa...and Wallis would hurt them all. And then she’d go after Evan, Maggie and Faye. And then, God only knew. Abby thought about the strangers on Jeff’s chart. Wallis would never stop. Not unless someone intervened.
You have to be brave.