Silent Scream (12 page)

“She could have hit it with that ball till kingdom come and that window wouldn’t have broken,” David said. “But I doubt she
got more than a few hits in. Her lungs would have already been damaged by the smoke from the stairwell, if that’s where she’d
gone.”

“Where did you say you found the ball?”

“About two feet from where her fingertips had been. She was lying on her stomach, her arms extended.”

“Her body’s angle to the wall?”

“Thirty, forty degrees, maybe.”

“So she tossed the ball, then pounded on the glass with her hands. She was desperate by then.” She studied the prints on the
glass. “She smacked the glass with her palms and pounded with her fists.”

“Probably in the reverse order,” he said quietly. “Her hands were flattened on the glass when she collapsed to the floor.
You can’t see them well, but there are streaks from her fingers.”

“Poor kid.” She was silent for a moment while he studied her profile. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to
her—two and a half years if he didn’t count the minutes she’d sat next to his bed in the hospital
after he’d rolled down an embankment in Evie’s old Mazda last February. And he didn’t count that time as his eye had been
too swollen to see clearly. She’d been little more than a hazy image, but he’d known it was her by his bedside as soon as
he’d smelled the honeysuckle.

Abruptly she lifted her eyes to his, blue and intense. “That is one hell of a hole,” she said. “I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.”

A fist squeezed his heart and he struggled for what to say. But before he could find the words, she’d turned her gaze toward
the lake. “How high does this bucket go?”

He cleared his throat. “Hundred feet. We’re at about fifty feet now.”

“Can you take me all the way up?”

Sweet God.
He sure wanted to try.
Focus, Hunter. Do not blow this again.
“Yes.” The word came out gruffly, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Why?”

“We were wondering how the girl knew about this place. We don’t think she’s from around here. You can’t see the condo from
the road, but you can see it from the lake.”

He lifted the bucket past the roof. “What are you looking for?”

“Don’t know.” She held the camera to her face, searching and snapping photos with the zoom. “A path through the trees, a hidden
boat, something that shows us how she found this place. We should probably get someone on the ground, checking for a path
through the woods.”

“You could try dogs.”

She lowered the camera, looking up at him. “To track her?” A new light filled her eyes. “It might work.” She jumped a little.
“Cell phone. Can you hold these?”
She handed him the black bag with the binoculars and grabbed for her cell. “Sutherland.”

Her little smile disappeared as she listened. “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Problem?” he asked when she hung up.

“ME. He has something on the girl. Can you take us down?”

“Sure.” He started their descent, debating his next words, filling his senses with honeysuckle while he could. “Olivia.”

She stiffened and he realized it was the first time he’d said her name that morning. “Yes?” she asked, her gaze focused on
the lake.

Look at me. Give me something. Please.

Then he watched her draw a deep breath and let it out. Only her head turned, her eyes meeting his. “Yes?” she asked again.

“I…”
Say it.
But years of fruitless waiting for the wrong woman had dulled his skills when it came to the woman who just might be the
right one. “I need to talk to you,” he blurted. “But not here, where everyone can hear.”

She stared at him, then after what seemed like an eternity, nodded, just once. “I’ll call you when I get a break later. When
are you off shift?”

Relief swamped him. At least she hadn’t said no. So whatever he’d done, it couldn’t have been that bad… right? “About two
hours ago. I’m on OT now.”

The bucket reached the ground and she unhooked the belt herself, looking for Kane who stood next to the captain ten feet from
the truck. “Kane, Ian called. He wants us at the morgue. I told him thirty.” She hopped down from the bucket gracefully. Her
knees bent and for a moment
she hung there, then straightened like a gymnast sticking a landing. “Thanks for the view. I’ll be in touch,” she said briskly.

Still in the bucket, David watched as she strode to her car, Kane ambling behind her. She didn’t look back, not once. It wasn’t
until Kane’s car had disappeared through the front gate that he realized she’d never reclaimed her binoculars.

He pocketed them. That had gone far better than he’d expected.

Monday, September 20, 10:55 a.m.

A
question, Mr. Marsh?”

Eric looked up, stunned to see that the classroom had cleared and his professor stood staring at him. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Mr. Marsh, when you sleep, you snore. When you are awake, you participate. You did neither today, and you arrived fifteen
minutes late. Is anything wrong?”

“A girl,” he said, feigning embarrassment. “I’ll have to get the notes from someone.”

“Fine. Just be on time for Wednesday’s lecture.”

“I will.” Eric made his escape, then slumped against a wall outside. If anyone got suspicious, the prof would say,
He looked upset, preoccupied
. “Terrific,” he muttered.

He had to tell the others. This impacted them all. Would they burn another building? Would he tell them about the video? Joel
would freak. No telling what the idiot would do.

Albert, he thought, would not be surprised. Albert knew someone else was there, that someone else had murdered the guard.
Because they had not.

Like anyone would believe that. “We are so dead,” he whispered, then, still slumped against the wall, pulled
out his own cell phone. The texter’s phone was in his pants pocket, set to vibrate. Couldn’t have that bastard chirping at
him during lecture.

Meet me outside the library at noon
, he typed, then addressed the text to Albert, Joel, and Mary. Before he could hit
SEND
, his cell vibrated. It was Mary. “What?”

“Oh God.” Her voice was unsteady, hollow. Scared. “Did you hear about Joel?”

His dread intensified.
Had Joel told? Damn him.
“Hear what?”

She sniffled and he realized she was crying. “He didn’t show up for class.”

Eric breathed a sigh of relief.
Is that all?
Mary was overreacting, as usual. Eric hadn’t wanted to include her from the beginning, but Joel had insisted. Being around
Mary always left Eric feeling hyped up and edgy. He’d never understood why Joel was so stuck on her. The sex must be good.
“He’s probably holed up in his room.”

“No. He’s dead.” Her voice broke. “Joel is dead.”

Eric felt the air leave his lungs.
Wow. Albert worked fast.
“How?” he asked.

“He was in his car, on his way to school.” She was sobbing now. “He ran off the road, hit a tree. He went through the windshield.
He bled to death.”

“Hell.” He’d told Albert to make it so that it wasn’t painful. That sounded pretty damn painful. But it was done. And they’d
have to live with that, too.

Better a guilty conscience than life behind bars.

But now Joel wouldn’t be available tonight. All of them had to participate or the video would be leaked.
I should have told Albert
, he thought grimly.
We needed Joel
.

Maybe the texter would accept a note.
Please excuse
Joel from any extortion-related arsons, as he is dead.
Eric closed his eyes. Frickin’ unbelievable.

“Who told you?” he asked.

“His sister called me. His… his parents didn’t know about us. Joel said they wouldn’t have approved. But his sister knew about
me and knew I needed to know. But don’t say anything to the Fischers. I don’t want to get his sister in trouble.”

Joel’s parents were Orthodox Jews. Mary was Irish Catholic. That they wouldn’t approve was expected. That Joel hid his and
Mary’s relationship… well, Eric had known Joel since kindergarten, and that wasn’t surprising either.
I should be crying, too
, he thought.
I should feel something
. But all he felt was weary dread. This whole mess was Joel’s idea. So in a way, it was kind of his fault.

“We need to meet. The three of us. Library. Noon.”

“I can’t,” she said numbly. “I’ve got class.”

“Skip it,” he snapped. “This is important.” He hung up. He had choices to make. Hard ones. To torch a stranger’s warehouse
or risk prison? To tell the others or not?

They could flee. Leave the country. They could be in Canada in less than three hours. From there… wherever people go who are
fleeing the cops.
To whatever country doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States
. He needed money. He needed new ID. He needed to buy some more time. But he had only thirteen hours.

Maybe the texter wouldn’t follow through. Why wouldn’t he? He had nothing to lose.
And I have everything to lose.

Eric dug into his pants pocket and flipped open the
disposable cell, checking the warehouse address again, even though he remembered it perfectly.

Who owned it? Were they good or bad? Maybe the owner had done something horrible. So horrible that taking out his warehouse
might be doing a public service.

And I am lying to myself. I need to buy some time.
Torching the stranger’s warehouse would buy him that time. As long as no more people got hurt, it was just stuff. Stuff could
be replaced. That’s what insurance was for.

Hadn’t he said that himself just yesterday? Yesterday when they were still environmental avengers? God. How had things gone
so wrong?

He couldn’t think about that. Now he needed information about the stranger whose warehouse would be ashes by midnight tonight.
He needed to find a way to convince Albert and Mary that they were doing the right thing. He needed to buy some time.

Monday, September 20, 10:55 a.m.

Olivia was steady by the time she and Kane walked into the morgue, but David’s voice still filled her head.
I need to talk to you
. About what? Why he’d been hiding for seven months? Or would he go for the tried-and-true
It’s not you, Olivia, it’s me
?

She’d kept it together in that bucket. Having him that close was a dream and a nightmare, all rolled into one. But she hadn’t
turned to goo, even when he’d put his hands on her shoulders and whispered in her ear. Even when he’d said her name, all husky
and sexy. The man exuded sex. So considering, she’d done okay. Held her own.

“Liv?” Kane was regarding her with an amused, if pained, expression. “Either put him out of your mind or go home and take
a cold shower. You’re making me think about going home for a very long lunch break with my wife.”

Her cheeks heated. “Sorry.”

He patted her shoulder. “Have Ian take you into the freezer. That’ll cool your jets.”

“Who needs to go in the freezer?” ME Ian Gilles came out of his office.

“Nobody,” Olivia said firmly. “So, what do you have?”

“Gold,” Ian said. “Come on, have a look.” He led them to the light board, where an X-ray was mounted. “The girl’s skull.”

Olivia’s heart started to beat faster as a puzzle piece fell into place. There was a distinctive dark, tombstone-shaped patch
about the size of a half-dollar, just behind the girl’s ear. “Is that what I think it is?”

Ian looked a little disappointed. “Depends on what you think it is.”

She looked up at Kane. “David Hunter and his partner didn’t find a hearing aid. Not exactly anyway. Our girl had a cochlear
implant. What he saw was the processor.”

“What’s a processor?” Kane asked.

“It’s a… device….” Olivia groped for the words. “It converts sounds…. Explain, Ian.”

Ian perked up, his disappointment dissipating. “The processor is worn behind the ear and converts sound into electrical signals.
The signals are passed to the implant, here.” He tapped the bone behind his ear. “The implant bypasses the normal auditory
systems, stimulating the
aural nerves. It’s pretty cool. How do you know about it, Liv?”

“My friend has one. You know her, Kane. Brie Franconi. We just talked about her.”

“The lady who runs the doggy day care?” Kane asked.

“She used to be a cop, but lost her hearing. Ended up having to quit the force, start another career. She got the implant
about two years ago.” She turned to Ian. “So there will be a serial number on the implant part, right? Because the processor
was so melted, it was almost unidentifiable.”

“Here it is.” Ian handed her a sticky note with the name of a manufacturer and the serial number written on it. “I had this
big buildup planned. Gee, thanks.”

Olivia patted his arm. “I’m sorry. But this is really great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t run off,” he said when they started to. “There’s more.”

They followed him into the autopsy suite. The bodies here didn’t bother her like they did in the field. By the time they got
here, she’d gone through the panic.

The girl lay on the table, a sheet covering her from neck to knees. The soot had been washed from her hair and her face was
ghastly white under the glaring lights.

“So young,” Kane murmured.

“Probably sixteen,” Ian said. “Cause of death was smoke inhalation. Londo said he pointed out what appeared to be recent abuse
trauma. Her X-rays showed fractures to her right arm and some damage to her left hand. She’d also been drinking last night.
Her blood alcohol was point-oh-nine. She’d eaten tacos very shortly before the fire.”

“If she got food locally,” Olivia said, “we might track her last hours.”

“Or her partner’s,” Ian said. “She’d had sex very shortly before death. Within an hour, quite probably less.”

Olivia frowned. “Somebody was in there with her?” she said. “Having sex?”

“I take it you haven’t found another body,” Ian said.

“Not yet, but the first two floors are still a mess,” Kane said. Then he winced. “What about the guard?”