Allison Brennan - Silenced

“How many girls were living there?”

“They came and went, no more than eight, I don’t think. I didn’t keep tabs on them. They probably had changes in roommates with each semester.”

Lucy wondered whether that was true or not, or if Mrs. Neel didn’t want to seem to be a busybody.

“They probably liked that someone in the neighborhood was looking out for them, especially if they were from out of the area and not familiar with DC.”

Mrs. Neel smiled. “I try. I love this little street.”

“Do you know how many girls lived in the house right before the fire?”

“Six or seven.” She thought. “Ivy, Mina, I didn’t know the others. There was a new girl-young, I couldn’t imagine she was in college, but my eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

“New girl? How new?”

Mrs. Neel closed her eyes, counted silently, her lips moving. “About a week before the fire. It was a Wednesday, garbage day, and I had forgotten to take mine out. I got up early, and couldn’t go back to sleep. Saw a car drive up, a girl and a man get out. I assume her father. They went in, and a while later the man drove off.”

Mrs. Neel sat down on the porch swing. “Please excuse me, I’m getting old.” She sighed as she relaxed. “They really kept to themselves, and I don’t think Ivy would have spoken to me if her sister hadn’t wanted to visit. It must have been hard on them, but I’ll admit, I liked seeing how they looked out for each other. Families get torn apart these days, living everywhere around the world. I have three children, all of them more than a day’s drive!” She shook her head.

Lucy took a chance. She pulled Jocelyn’s driver’s license photo on her phone and said, “Have you seen this woman around lately?”

Mrs. Neel put on her glasses and looked closely. “Yes, yes I have. She’s been over several times. I haven’t met her.”

“Do you recall the last time?”

Mrs. Neel thought. “I can’t say, really. But it’s been awhile. More than a month, maybe two.”

That surprised Lucy. “Thank you.” She handed Mrs. Neel Noah’s card, but wrote her cell phone number on the back. “If Ivy or Mina or any of the girls contact you, please let me or Agent Armstrong know.”

“Is something wrong?”

“We’re worried about them. Since the fire, no one has spoken to any of them.”

“But they weren’t hurt, right? The firemen said no one was inside. I told you that, right?”

“No one was hurt in the fire, but we need to talk to them.” Then Lucy had another idea. She pulled up the unidentified girl from the Hotel Potomac. “Is this one of the girls?”

She squinted, put on her glasses again, and smiled. “Yes, yes, the new girl. Doesn’t she look young to be in college?”

Lucy didn’t respond to the rhetorical question, thanked Mrs. Neel for her time, and made sure she remembered she’d put Noah’s card-with Lucy’s cell phone written on the back-in her pocket.

Ivy didn’t want anything bad to happen to Pastor Marti North, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“If you can just keep Mina awhile longer,” Ivy said.

“As long as necessary,” Marti said.

Marti was pastor of His Grace Church. She was a forty-five-year-old former Army chaplain who ran the church and preschool for lost souls. At least, that’s how Ivy viewed it. She’d been coming to services ever since moving to the house on Hawthorne. She listened to the message of forgiveness, redemption, and love, but didn’t truly believe she deserved it.

Not when she harbored dark feelings of murder.

“Please be careful,” Ivy begged. “I’ll come for her as soon as I can.”

“Ivy.”

She turned to the pastor. “Once I get my sister safe, I’ll be back.”

“There are people who can help.”

“Like Jocelyn?” Ivy paced, her voice rising. “She’s dead. So is her husband. I’m worried about what could happen to you if you help me.”

“No one knows Mina is here. She hasn’t been outside. I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

“I hate asking-”

Marti showed a rare irritation. “Ask, and you shall receive,” she quoted.

“Don’t-if God cared, Jocelyn would be alive. She never hurt anyone, she was only trying to help me . As soon as I get Sara settled, I’m coming for Mina. No later than tomorrow.”

She turned and started to leave the small, simple church.

Mina stood in the back.

“You don’t have to come back for me,” she said. “I’m okay.”

Tears threatened, but Ivy wasn’t going to cry. “I promised to take care of you, even after I rescued Sara. I promise I’ll come back.”

She shook her head. “You only had two passports.”

“I was working on getting yours.”

“It’s okay, Ivy.”

“You have to believe I care about you!”

“Sara’s your sister.”

Ivy strode over and hugged Mina. “So are you. In my heart. I’m not leaving you in DC. You’re coming to Canada with me. I just need to get the money, I already have three passports lined up.”

Marti said, “I have some money.”

“I can’t take your money.”

“It’s not enough, but it will help.”

Ivy squeezed her eyes shut, nodded her head once. “We’ll talk tonight.” She hugged Mina again and left.

Hawthorne Street was six blocks over. Ivy went the long way, through alleys, staying off the main streets. Truly, she didn’t know who was trying to kill her, and that made everyone a potential killer.

Ivy knew Mrs. Neel kept cash in a wall safe in her house. She also knew, because of Mina, that Mrs. Neel never remembered her password, so had written it in her address book, which was in her top desk drawer.

It was probably not enough, but it was something, and she would make it work.

She didn’t want to steal from the old woman, but she’d leave a note, promise to pay her back. Mrs. Neel had been so kind to them. Ivy already missed the house, the neighborhood, the small sense of peace.

No time for regrets.

If she had to, she’d sell her body to ten guys tonight, give blow jobs to a hundred, if that was what it took to raise the money to go to Canada.

Ivy came at Mrs. Neel’s house from the narrow alley that backed up to the rear yard. She kept hidden as best she could along the side of the garage, but she’d have to cross the driveway to reach the house.

Voices came from the front porch, and Ivy feared she’d have to wait. She didn’t have time. She peered around the corner and saw the back of a woman with long, dark hair pulled back, dressed professionally in slacks and a thin blouse. Cop? Arson investigator? Ivy didn’t see any law enforcement vehicles on the street, but she only had a partial view of the road.

Mrs. Neel seemed occupied, and the desk was in the back of the house, far from the front door. She had to take the risk.

Without giving herself time to change her mind, Ivy slipped in through the back door, using the key that Mrs. Neel had given Mina for emergencies. Guilt made her head ache, but she had no other choice.

She heard the voices, but not what was being said. Without hesitating, she flipped the address book over, memorized the passcode, and carefully took off the picture frame from the wall. She typed in the numbers, heard a click, and the light turned from red to green.

Her heart started beating again.

There were a lot of papers-insurance, bank statements, tax records, and for a moment Ivy feared Mrs. Neel had no cash.

Then she found the white, business-sized envelope.

She had no idea how much was inside, but she put it down her shorts, closed the safe, put the picture back, and slipped out of the house.

She’d been inside for less than four minutes.