Silent Scream (17 page)

He started to speak, then thought better of it. “I think the dog is here,” he said instead.

Olivia strained to see across the lake. “I wonder if it’s the arson dog or the SAR.”

They’d told Barlow the girl had been with a man before the fire started. He’d already called for the state’s arson dog but
said he’d get a search-and-rescue team, too.

“Since we have no field glasses,” Kane said, “let’s drive over and find out.”

When they got to the condo, a search-and-rescue
team stood ready to work. The dog was a German Shepherd and its owner a tall woman whose red hair hung down the middle of
her back like a flame. Olivia knew only one person with hair that color.

“Barlow called Brie,” she said, satisfied. “I wasn’t sure he would.”

“That’s your doggy-day-care friend?” Kane asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Her real business is training dogs for search, rescue, and detection.” She sped up her pace. “Barlow and Brie and I
all graduated from the academy together. For a while, we were all close.” The three of them and Barlow’s best friend, to be
accurate. “Barlow and Brie used to be a couple. Engaged, actually.”

“Them, too?” Kane asked carefully. He rarely referred to her failed engagement and never referred to Doug by name, which was
just fine by her.

“Them, too,” she said. “Engagement didn’t work out for them either. But Barlow knows Brie’s good. She did SAR before she left
the force. Her dad’s a vet.”

“Dog vet or army vet?”

“Both. Takes care of the dogs in her training center and the day care in addition to his own practice. Mojo loves him, even
when he’s getting a shot.” She waved. “Brie!”

Brie Franconi waved back. “Get a move on. GusGus is missing his soaps.”

When Olivia got close, she made the introductions and Brie shook Kane’s hand with a warm smile. “I’ve heard so much about
you,” Brie said. “Good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Kane said. “I seem to have heard a lot about you. Especially today.”

“Our female victim had a cochlear,” Olivia told her quietly.

Brie’s bright brows went up. “That’s interesting.” Her speech was clear, mostly because she’d been deafened as an adult, but
partly because the implant allowed her to continue hearing. Not as well as she had before, but well enough to function in
the world she’d made for herself after leaving the force.

It had cut Brie deep, resigning her badge. Olivia couldn’t even fathom it. But she’d been there for her, as had Paige, who
Olivia had drawn into their circle back in the academy days.
I’m lucky
, Olivia thought, thinking of Paige that morning.
I have good friends.
They’d gotten each other through many a tough patch. She thought about meeting David Hunter tonight. If it went badly, she
might need her friends again.

“That’s how we ID’d her,” Kane said. “Serial number on the device. Very handy.”

“Good to know,” Brie murmured. “Just in case I ever get caught dead without ID.”

Kane grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… hell. I’m sorry.”

Olivia elbowed her, hard. “She’s
teasing
you, Kane. Leave him alone, Brie.”

Brie’s brown eyes twinkled. “Sorry, Detective. I couldn’t resist.” Then Barlow walked up and Brie’s expression went bland.
To strangers, they appeared professional, but Olivia knew that under Brie’s veneer, resentment toward Micah Barlow still brewed.
“Sergeant Barlow says we may have another victim in the structure,” Brie said briskly.

“Perhaps. We’re not sure if he got away. If so, we
want him as an eyewitness. If not, we need to identify his remains as well,” Kane said.

“But if he got away and we can track where the girl came
from
,” Brie said, “then you may be able to track your eyewitness.”

“Exactly.” Olivia looked at Barlow. “Did you get her clothing from the morgue?”

Barlow held up an evidence bag. “Can we check for the unidentified male’s remains first? One of the investigators is inside,
Brie. He’ll walk you through.” His smile was tight. “Wouldn’t want you and GusGus to fall through any of the holes.”

“Thanks,” Brie said, whipping her bright hair back into a ponytail. She tightened her hold on the dog’s leash. “GusGus, time
to work.”

She and the dog started into the building and Kane’s brows went up. “GusGus?”

Olivia smiled. “Yeah, like the mouse in the Cinderella cartoon. GusGus. He’s certified as a cadaver dog and SAR and a list
of other things as long as your arm.”

Kane sighed. “She’s addicted to cartoons, too? What were they serving in the academy canteen when you all came through?”

“Cartoons can be brilliant social commentary,” Olivia said archly, knowing Kane was teasing. Mostly anyway. “And sometimes,”
she added quietly, “it’s just escape.”

“That I’ll buy,” he replied, just as quietly.

Some women craved ice cream. When Olivia was stressed, a few episodes of the Road Runner relieved her tension. Something about
that anvil crunching the Coyote’s umbrella made her laugh, every time.

She’d watched a lot of the Road Runner over the last seven months. It had become habit during the weeks of
informing the families of the victims they’d found in the lime pit. Come home, walk Mojo, slide her “Best of Road Runner”
DVD in the machine, then sit and stare at the screen until she’d fallen asleep.

Their killer had kept their driver’s licenses as souvenirs, making initial identification a lot easier. The killer had been
quietly murdering women for decades.

Sometimes the families had moved. But focusing on details like tracking next of kin kept Olivia from focusing on the horror
of finding the remains of victim after victim. At times it ran like a slide show in her mind. Bones, bones, and more bones.

The bones actually weren’t so bad. It had been the first bodies they’d pulled from the pit that had been the worst. Lime decomposed
a body in a matter of days. But the killer had killed too many at the end. Decomposition was slowed for those final victims.

She briefly closed her eyes, remembering the rotting flesh. How it would simply… fall off the bones as the body was moved.

If there was a body in the burned-out condo, there wouldn’t be much left. It would look like
them
. Her anxiety returned in a harsh wave and with it, the fierce need to run away. But she didn’t, forcing herself to stand
her ground. It would get easier. It had to.

She wondered how Kane coped, but he’d never shared, so she’d never asked. He’d just done his job.
Like me. Because that’s what we do
.

“We know where the arsonists exited,” Barlow said. “The arson dog sniffed a trail of accelerant to that door.” He pointed
to a stairwell door, on the same side of the building as the window on which David had first spotted the girl’s shiny handprints.

“Did you find footprints?” Olivia asked, but Barlow shook his head.

“Only smudges. The arsonists stepped in the carpet adhesive and tracked it to the door. Unfortunately, the adhesive on their
shoes picked up dirt, so the impressions aren’t crisp. No tread, no feel for shoe size even, although there do appear to have
been two individuals.”

“So if we find their shoes?” Kane asked.

“You’ll find traces of the accelerant and the glue,”
Barlow said. “If there’s any ash or dirt still mixed in with the adhesive, we’ll be able to match the composition to what
we found here, so we can place them at the scene. The dog tracked the accelerant trail across the construction yard to that
cut in the fence.” He pointed to one of the three slices in the fence that Micki had told them about, the one closest to the
road.

“So they escaped by the road,” Kane said, frowning. “Not by the lake. Henry Weems’s killer shot him while standing between
Henry and the lake.”

“I thought of that. The handler took the arson dog around the condo, including the area on the other side of the building
where Henry Weems was shot. No accelerant on the ground, anywhere. His shooter might have left by the lake, but it’s equally
possible he walked back around the building to join the others, escaping by the road.”

“So,” Olivia said, “whoever shot Henry didn’t step in the adhesive or was never in the condo to begin with.”

“Could have shot Henry, then gone into the condo to set the fire,” Kane theorized.

“If Weems inhaled no smoke, that’s a possibility,” Barlow said. “But if Ian finds smoke in his lungs, it would have to be
after.”

“Ian’s doing the cut this afternoon,” Olivia said. “If Weems was killed after the fire started, and there were two arsonists
inside, then we have at least three arsonists. The question is, were Tracey and her sex partner involved with them?”

“And is her sex partner still alive?” Barlow added.

“And if the arsonists came out through that side door,” Kane continued, “did they go in the same way? How did Tracey Mullen
get in?”

“The side door lock hadn’t been tampered with,” Barlow said, “but that doesn’t mean anything. On a construction site, people
prop doors open all the time.”

“That should have been something the guard checked, right?” Olivia asked.

“It was on his route. First stop would have been the camera console in the construction trailer, then a check of all the doors
from the outside, then a walk around the perimeter. But Weems was struck as he exited the back door. He never got a chance.”

Olivia looked at Kane. “We gotta check him out,” she said. “Weems.”

Kane nodded. “I know. We can’t ignore that he might have known they were coming and they killed him to keep him quiet. Let’s
pull his financials. But discreetly.”

“No need to add any more grief to the family unless we have to,” Barlow murmured. “Did you catch Weems’s daughter on the news?”

In his eyes Olivia saw the compassion she’d seen so often in the past.
Except when I needed him most, and then he was an arrogant bastard.
“What did she say?”

For a bittersweet moment it was like they were still friends. “She sang our praises, Liv.” He met her eyes then, held them.
“She was stronger than I might have been, considering she’d just lost her father. I wouldn’t want to do anything I’d… regret.”

Olivia nodded. She’d lost her own father the same night her friendship with Micah Barlow had crumbled into pieces.
Because Barlow had been an arrogant, meddling bastard.
Today, his words might be an apology, or the start of one. She’d have to see.

“We’ll be careful,” she said. “We just want to rule him out as an… accomplice.”

She could see he got her double meaning, just as she’d gotten his.

“Good enough.” Barlow looked away. “It’ll take Brie’s dog a while to cover the whole structure. I’ve got the personnel files
for Rankin and Sons’ construction personnel in my car. We can go over them while we’re waiting. Maybe something will pop.”

Monday, September 20, 2:40 p.m.

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Dent.” Mr. Oaks, the principal, signed to his mother, then threw Austin a harsh look. All three
of them were deaf and their signing flew fast and in his mother’s case, very furious. “Your mother drove a long way.”

“Three hours,” his mother signed. “But this is a mistake. Austin doesn’t smoke.”

“The dorm RA smelled smoke this morning,” Oaks signed, “after the smoke alarm started flashing. When
he went in Austin’s room, Austin had the lit cigarette in his hand.”

His mother’s face went pale. “Why, Austin? Just tell me why.”

Because I took Tracey to that condo. I wanted to take care of her.

Now she’s dead. And it’s my fault.
The stairwell had been full of smoke.
She was behind me. I know she was behind me.
He’d made it outside, but Tracey hadn’t.

“Sorry,” Austin signed. But it wouldn’t bring Tracey back. She was gone.

Oaks frowned. “Austin is suspended for five days. He can return next Monday.”

Austin closed his eyes. He hated this, lying to his mother. But if he told her… He remembered the man in the boat. He’d shot
that guard.
If he knew I saw…

Austin had been ready to tell the truth so many times. But as the shock over losing Tracey had worn off, he started remembering
the way the guard’s face looked as he fell. And the way the shooter’s teeth had gleamed in the moonlight as he’d smiled.

And every detail of the shooter’s face when he’d pulled off his ski mask.

He’d been ready to tell. But if he did, the man might kill him, too.

People who get involved, who tell the truth, get hurt. What do I do?

His mother stood up, her back hunched over. “Get your backpack,” she signed.

His backpack. He’d left it behind, in the fire. It had some of his books, his papers. Tracey’s things.
My hearing aid
. He only hoped the fire had been hot enough to burn all the papers up. He didn’t want anyone to know
he’d been there. But he needed his hearing aid. His mom didn’t have the money to buy a new one and they’d lost their insurance
a long time ago.
What am I going to do? For now, nothing.

He stood. “Lost it,” he signed back carelessly.

His mother looked at him, defeated.
Not again
. He knew she wanted to say it, to scream it. But she just shook her head, her signing weary. “Let’s go home.”

Monday, September 20, 3:25 p.m.

Brie stopped at Barlow’s car where Olivia, Barlow, and Kane read personnel files. “He must have escaped,” Brie said. “There
were no human remains in the structure.”

“Then we have a witness to the fire at least,” Olivia said. It was more than they had after reading through Rankin’s personnel
files. There were a few performance reviews. One or two drug tests. Nothing popped. So knowing Tracey’s partner hadn’t died
with her was the best news they’d had all day.

Barlow handed Brie the bag containing Tracey’s clothing. “Can we track the girl?”

“Of course,” Brie said formally.

Olivia put the file she’d been reading in the box in Barlow’s car. “Can I watch?”

Brie smiled at her. “Of course,” she said, her voice substantially warmer.