Karen Rose - Silent Scream

No, Austin thought numbly, flinching as the flame flared. It’ll never be okay again.

Monday, September 20, 4:30 a.m.

Olivia pummeled the bag with a barrage of short jabs that left her knuckles aching, but pain was easier to deal with than the howl she’d kept restrained since walking away from Mrs. Henry Weems’s heartbreaking sobs. I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.

The grunting bodybuilder next to her paid her no attention as he did his reps, which was why she came to the gym this time of the morning. People who were here at this hour came to work out, not to be seen. There was a certain anonymity in that.

There were days she craved anonymity, especially from herself. Especially after telling another grieving family she was sorry for their loss. She’d done that a lot in the past months, walked away from a lot of sobbing parents, brothers, sisters.

We found your daughter’s remains in a bone pit. No, you can’t identify her. I’m sorry for your loss. Such inadequate bullshit. And it never ended. Your husband is dead. He was shot to death by an arsonist. I’m sorry for your loss.

Frustration surged and Olivia tore into the bag again, then collapsed against it. “I’m sorry for your goddamn loss,” she muttered, spent.

“Easy, tiger.”

Olivia shuddered at the calm voice. “What are you doing here?” she asked wearily. Paige Holden wasn’t on duty till eight. Which was precisely why Olivia had come now.

“Making sure you leave some of Jasper for everyone else,” Paige said dryly.

Olivia pushed away from the bag that took the name of Paige’s old boyfriend after each breakup. “He’s Jasper now?” Olivia had lost count of all the names Paige’s punching bags had borne in the fifteen years they’d been friends. “What did Jasper do?”

“Left me with the check as he ran off to a client for the very last time.”

Olivia once again marveled at how smart women could be so stupid when it came to men. Present company totally not excluded. “Filet and a hundred-dollar bottle of wine?”

Paige shrugged. “Close enough. Speaking of dinner, when did you eat, Emo-girl?”

Olivia shot her a dirty look. “Dinner.”

“Which was?” Paige pressed.

Olivia closed her eyes, digging deep for patience. “Salad.”

Paige pulled a PowerBar from her pocket. “You need protein, even if it’s not meat.”

Olivia took the bar, knowing it would taste like cardboard. All food tasted like cardboard since the Pit. Meat was especially hard to stomach. Just thinking about it brought the memories back. Flesh falling off the bone. She shook her head to clear it.

“What are you doing here?” Olivia asked again.

“A little bird told me you were here, knocking the stuffing out of Jasper.”

Olivia looked over her shoulder to the man behind the counter who had muscles on his muscles. Caught watching them, Rudy suddenly developed an interest in the sign-in sheet. “Son of a gun,” Olivia muttered. “Freaking little weasel.”

“I prefer to think of him as my confidential informant,” Paige said archly, then sniffed. “You smell like an old fireplace. What happened tonight?”

“Fire. Two dead,” Olivia said briefly, sharing no more than the reporters knew.

But Paige had known her a long time. “You had to inform the families.”

“Just one. So far anyway.”

Paige winced. “The other’s a John Doe?”

“Jane.” Olivia swallowed hard, remembering the girl’s ashen face. “Just a kid.”

Paige squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“Me too.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not going to have time to work out later, so I stopped by on my way home for just a few minutes. I was going to call you.”

“You’ll call me. Famous last words of Jasper.” Paige pointed at the Nautilus equipment. “You’re warmed up already, so let’s get started.”

Olivia hesitated. “That’s okay. You don’t have to stay.”

“I know. But if I don’t, you’ll keep avoiding me like you have for the past few months. So get to the leg press, Detective.”

Sulking, Olivia obeyed, giving Rudy a dirty look as she passed him. “Traitor.”

“Leave him alone,” Paige murmured. “He’s worried about you. So am I.”

Olivia flopped onto the first machine. “Let’s get this over with.”

Paige said no more of a personal nature, simply counting reps. They moved through the rotation as they had a hundred times before, Olivia mindlessly going through the motions. It wasn’t until they were near the end that the wall crumbled.

“She was expecting us.” Olivia was lying on her back, staring at the tiled ceiling.

Paige was sitting on her heels, next to the bench. “Who?” she asked, unsurprised.

“The widow.” Olivia never gave names and Paige knew not to ask. “The daughter saw the fire on the news, knew it was dad’s shift. She went to sit with mom and wait for us, the bringers of great joy to all people.” Her words were bitter. “He’d been a cop.”

“Oh no. Liv.”

“Yeah. Did his twenty-five years and retired. Never took a bullet. Tonight he did. And all I had to say was ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’”

“What else could you say?” Paige asked logically.

“I don’t know. All I know is I’m damn tired of saying it.”

“You’re just damn tired. Your boss offered you a vacation. Why don’t you take it?”

A vacation. Right. “I tried,” Olivia spat. “It was too quiet. All I could see was…”

“The bodies in the pit,” Paige finished for her.

Olivia sat up, glared at Paige through narrowed eyes. “And then he shows up.” Which was what she’d wanted to say all along and been afraid to, all at once.

Paige’s black brows went up, surprised now. “Who?”

“That guy. From Mia’s wedding.”

Paige blinked. She was the only one who knew the story which had only been pried from Olivia’s margarita-numbed lips. “You mean your sister’s wedding? No way. That was two years ago, in Chicago. He just showed up, after all this time? What a jerk.”

Olivia flicked her gaze back up to the ceiling. Paige hadn’t been updated recently. “Two and a half years, and actually, he lives here now. Moved here seven months ago.”

“Lots of stuff happened seven months ago,” Paige observed quietly. “Why did he move here?”

“His friend lives here. You met her. Eve.”

“The one you saved from Pit-Guy? Rest over. Another set. Go.”

Olivia winced as she pumped. “Pit-Guy” had killed dozens of people, most of them women. Eve had come within a hair of being his thirty-sixth victim. “Another cop saved Eve, not me. I got there after all the killing was done, just in time to clean out the pit.”

Paige sighed. “Two more. One, and you’re done. So what about Wedding-Guy?”

“Came to visit Eve, ended up buying a place. She told me. He hasn’t said a word.”

Paige winced. “Not a word? So, does Wedding-Guy have a name?”

Olivia’s throat closed and she swallowed harshly. “David.”

“And what does David the wedding-guy do?”

“He’s a goddamn firefighter.” And from the corner of her eye she watched Paige’s black eyes flicker. “What?”

“Just that he was at the fire tonight and you got the homicide. Helluva coincidence. So he’s been here, in Minneapolis, all this time? And he didn’t, like, call or anything?”

“Not once.” And that hurt. A lot.

“Pig.”

“I know, right? Except…” Olivia closed her eyes. Be truthful, at least to yourself. “Except he’s a nice guy. He likes cartoons and dogs and loves his mother. He cooks and fixes cars. We’d read the same books, liked the same music, dreamed of traveling to all the same places. He volunteered in shelters for women and teen runaways, fixing plumbing and roofs and whatever got broken. He did karate, too. Like you.”