Allison Brennan - Silenced

“I didn’t know.” She felt foolish, but wished Noah had given her a clue to his plans.

“I’ve given you a lot of slack these last two months, but that can’t continue. This case is far too complicated and high-profile.”

“I haven’t jeopardized anything, have I?” She couldn’t imagine what she’d said or done that would put a conviction at risk.

“Not yet.” Noah flagged down a taxi and opened the door for Lucy.

She slid into the cab.

Not yet.

Which meant he expected her to screw up.

It was after six by the time Noah and Lucy arrived back at Wendy James’s apartment. Noah was on the phone the entire drive, talking to an analyst about property records. Apartment 710 was owned by the corporation that managed the condo and two floors down from Wendy’s official residence, 910.

The manager let them in. “I don’t think Wendy ever used this place,” Betty Dare said. “It’s leased for short-term stays-less than a month.”

“Do you have the printout of who’s leased it in the past year?” Noah asked.

She handed him a folder.

Noah glanced through it. “These are businesses.”

“Yes-they will lease the place for staff who are coming into the city to testify, sometimes staying a week, sometimes longer.”

Lucy held her hand out. “I can go through them tonight.”

Noah didn’t give her the file. “We have a well-staffed office, Lucy. You don’t have to volunteer for everything.”

Ms. Dare hesitated, then handed Noah the key. “If you can lock up and return the key on your way out?”

“Of course.”

After the manager left, Lucy looked around.

The place was lavishly decorated with expensive, durable furniture befitting a high-end lease. Leather couch, plush carpet, granite in the kitchen, and a fifty-inch television on the wall. A plethora of plants made the place appear homey, but upon closer inspection, Lucy realized they were silk. The refrigerator had two unopened bottles of white wine and long-shelf-life barrel cheese. The kitchen cabinets included unopened packages of crackers and a wide array of alcohol. There were plates, glasses, utensils, all clean.

“Looks standard,” Noah said.

“With food and drink?”

“For executives who come in after hours-hotels do it.”

“Something seems-off.”

“Maybe Wendy didn’t want to bring Crowley into her apartment. Nosy neighbor, maybe she had a boyfriend.” Noah added, “We got nothing from the neighbors earlier, but we should follow up now that it’s after six.”

Lucy was only half-listening to Noah. She stared at a discolored strip of molding along the ceiling. There was a dark mark near the edge that caught her attention.

She pulled over a chair from the dining area and put it against the wall. As soon as she got closer to the molding, she saw that it was loose. The smudge appeared to be grease. She wiggled the piece and realized it was on a hinge.

“What are you doing?” Noah asked.

“There’s a hidey-hole here.”

“Hidey-hole?” Noah sounded amused.

Lucy pushed up and the little door snapped off. “Sorry,” she said.

“Lucy, I’ll bring a team in-”

“It’s wires. Lots of them. The space is only four inches wide. A building like this would have a separate room for its wiring.” Lucy handed Noah the broken door. “This molding is different than the rest. It’s PVC, not wood.”

She stepped off the chair and led the way into the bedroom. She saw the same slightly off-color strip of molding.

Her instincts buzzed that she’d discovered something important. “Look-same thing here.”

“Let me do it this time,” Noah said. He brought over a chair and used it as a step stool to stand on the dresser. “There’s definitely a door here.” He tapped in several locations and suddenly a door sprang up. “And I didn’t break it,” he said, grinning.

He shined a flashlight into the hole. “Empty. But something was definitely here. There’re outlets.”

“Outlets inside the wall?”

“What’s on the backside of this wall?”

Lucy walked around and opened the door. “A linen closet. There are sheets, towels, toiletries.”

“Eight feet deep?”

She eyeballed it. “It’s about three feet wide and four feet deep.”

“This section of wall is over eight feet.”

Noah jumped down.

Lucy knew exactly what he was thinking. Her heart pounded as she took the linens and two loose shelves from the closet. Behind the sheets was an obvious “hidden” panel.

Wires in the walls and ceiling, in the bedroom and living room, an apartment with no owner, where a congressman met with his mistress-sex tapes. Lucy’s face flushed as she fumbled with the panel.

Don’t panic! Dammit, this is your job.

She took a deep breath. Forced the memories back. Hot and cold flashes washed over her skin as snippets of her past assaulted her. The video camera with its mocking red light, reminding her that everyone who paid could watch her, tied naked to the floor. The pain and humiliation and the despair.

She had wanted to die.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

She repeated the mantra. If she didn’t look at the past, she could forget it, at least for now.

She didn’t want to break down. Not ever, but especially not in front of Noah.

“Do you need help?” Noah stood right behind her.

“I got it.”

His voice reminded Lucy that no one was videotaping her. She was with a friend, a colleague, a mentor. She was safe.

But deep down she felt a nightmare coming on, and wished with all her heart that Sean was back from Sacramento. Sean kept the nightmares away; he made her feel safe when nothing else could.

His unconditional love healed her.

She didn’t dare let on that this case disturbed her. Not to Noah, and especially not to Sean. Sean would quit his assignment in California and fly back to DC, jeopardizing his reputation and career, just because this case was stirring up memories that might lead to bad dreams.

You’re a big girl, Lucy. You have to deal with life on your own.

“Lucy.”

It was Noah. How long had she been standing there, bent over the shelf, fumbling with the panel?

“Sorry, mind wandering.”

She swallowed, breathed deeply again, and pushed on the corner of the panel.

It swung open, much bigger than she thought, and hit her on the head.

“Ow, shit!” She jumped back, bumping up against Noah. She rubbed her forehead, came away with a small drop of blood.

“Are you okay?” he turned her around and inspected her forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a bump.” She pulled off her right glove. “I don’t have another pair of gloves.”

“Don’t touch anything.” He eyed her closely. “You’ll live.”

“Thanks.” But she smiled. He could have made the situation even more awkward than it was, but Noah was a professional, and she needed that more than ever.

They traded places. “There’s a light switch back here.” He flipped it on.

A tiny, narrow room-carpeted along the walls-had been built behind the linen closet. It was three feet wide and about five feet long-two people might have been able to stand side by side, but it would have been a tight fit. Outlets, plugs, evidence of a full-tech operation was here, but no equipment.

“She was recording Crowley,” Lucy said, almost in disbelief.

“Recording him without his knowledge? That sounds like blackmail.”

“No wonder he was defensive.”

“She was involved publicly with other congressmen as well,” Noah said. “That’s what got Stein’s panties in a wad-and he might have been right.” He pulled out his phone. “I have to call in cyber crime for this one.”