Karen Rose: Silent Scream

Wednesday, September 22, 7:10 p.m.

The sun was setting and for the first time Phoebe wondered if David would be too late. Mary was growing more agitated, hugging herself as she paced the floor. Phoebe had seen the track marks on her arms and knew she was starting to withdraw. Mary had been unpredictable. She still held the gun, but carelessly by the barrel, not by the handle.

Mary had made her stop the car about a half mile from the cabin in which they now hid. She’d obviously been here before, going straight to an unlocked window and forcing Phoebe through. She’d then tied her to a chair with, ironically, the pull cords from the window blinds. If I ever get out of here, David and Glenn will laugh at that.

Mary was pacing, tapping the gun against her palm. Calm her down, if you can. “If you’ll untie me, I’ll make you some hot tea,” Phoebe said. “I see a kettle on the stove.”

Mary threw her a glare. “You’re crazy. I tie you up and you want to be nice to me?”

“Frankly, if I had that gun I would shoot you. I wouldn’t kill you, but I’d make it so you couldn’t chase me. But I don’t have the gun and you look like you need some tea.”

“You’re a strange woman, Phoebe.” Her mouth trembled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want you to hurt me either. Mary, what are you planning to do with me? You haven’t made any calls, made any demands.”

Her laugh was brittle. “In the movies, they ask for passage to Mexico.”

“But you’d always be looking over your shoulder. No way to live.”

“Prison is no way to live either.”

“Then you’ve got a hard choice to make. But you need to make it, because I don’t like being forced around at gunpoint. You can’t hide here forever.”

Mary looked around the room longingly. “I wanted to. Live here forever, I mean.”

“When was this?” Phoebe asked gently.

“When I was little. My mom and dad-my real dad-would come up here and we’d have a normal family vacation.”

“How old were you?”

“Four. I was five when he died.” Her jaw tightened. “And then she married him.”

“Who, honey?”

“Crawford. He had a kid already. Andy was nice, but Crawford… We had to be perfect. Make the beds. Up at sunrise. Straight As. I hated Crawford the day I met him.”

“Your mother must have loved him.”

“My mother had no family and no job. When my real dad died, we were so poor. Food stamps. Government cheese. My mother couldn’t feed us. She needed a man.”

“My husband died when my youngest was still in school. It was hard.”

Mary was pacing again, gun in her hand. “How did he die?”

“Car accident. One of my sons was with him. He was paralyzed for a while.”

Mary’s face shadowed. “Like the firefighter will be. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t want to set the other two fires. Eric and Albert made me.”

She sounded like a wounded child, and Phoebe suspected that, deep down, she was. But the wounded child had killed so many and right now held a gun. The wounded child needed to be stopped, however possible. Phoebe had spoken the truth. If she had to, she would use the gun to stop Mary. If I have to, I’ll kill her.

For now, all Phoebe had was her quiet voice and her instinct that was screaming that this girl craved a mother. “I know, honey. But you did. There are consequences to your actions. The condo fire you set killed two people.”

Mary shook her head. “No. No. We didn’t know the girl was there. And somebody else killed the guard. That wasn’t me.”

“My son almost died that night. He almost fell four stories. David would have died.”

“He caught the ball,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.”

“What did you think would happen when you set the fire, Mary? Did you think it would burn nicely and stop all by itself? You set fires, firefighters come. It’s what they do. You lit a match and put a dozen men and women in mortal danger.”

“Nothing happened to them.”

“Not Sunday night. What about last night? David almost died again, and his partner may never walk again. And don’t tell me you didn’t mean for that to happen, Mary,” she ordered sharply and saw the girl flinch. Satisfied she’d delivered her point, she softened her tone. “You have to run or turn yourself in. Those are the only choices I see here.”

“Eric was going to France. I should have kept him alive so he could take me, too.”

Phoebe didn’t think her blood could go much colder, but she was wrong. There was no remorse for the murder, only Mary’s regret that she hadn’t been more forward-thinking.

“Well, you didn’t. So, coming full circle, what do you plan to do with me?”

Mary tensed, then slapped the gun on the counter. “I’m going to shut you up.”

Phoebe watched, breath held, as Mary rummaged in the kitchen drawers. She came out of the kitchen with a pair of scissors and a large roll of duct tape. “Lincoln brought this with him the last time we came. He fixed the swing outside for me.” She slapped a piece of tape over Phoebe’s mouth, dragged the chair around the back of the sofa, and shoved it over on its side. “Now I don’t have to look at you or listen to you.”

Phoebe tried to ignore the pain jolting through her stiff joints. She’d pushed the girl as far as she dared. It was clear Mary didn’t want to hurt her now, but if the girl became more desperate, that could change.

There was a chill at her back. The sliding glass door was a few feet away. If Mary went to sleep, and if she could scoot close enough, and if she could manage to get the door open… It was damn frustrating to have an escape so close and so far away.

Okay, David, I’m ready for you to come get me now.

Wednesday, September 22, 7:15 p.m.

That’s done.” Olivia glued Kirby’s photo into the array. Austin was on his way in with his mother, so hopefully the ID and the subsequent warrant wouldn’t take long.

“I sent the text from Austin ’s phone to the fake Kenny account,” Noah said. “We’ve got SWAT and snipers surrounding the meet. We picked an area that’ll be deserted this time of night. I’ll stake it out. You go home, rest your head.”

“I’ll go, too, as soon as Austin ID’s Kirby.” Too nervous to sit, she checked her messages. Deleting the ones from reporters, she stopped dead in her tracks as she listened to David’s voice, then pulled her camera from her desk drawer before the message was over. “Noah, David knows where Mary went. Up at the lake, near the condo.”

“David and Tom went up alone?” he demanded and she flashed him a look.

“What do you think?”

They started to run, then stopped at Abbott’s command. “What’s going on?”

“David found Mary,” Olivia said. “We have to move.”

“Where’s your vest?”

She slapped at her shoulder, realized she still wore the ice pack. “In the conference room. Go get the car,” she said to Noah. “I’ll suit up and meet you downstairs.”

Wednesday, September 22, 7:25 p.m.

“That’s it.” David pointed to a green awning, about a hundred yards away. They’d parked as close as they dared and now crept through the heavy trees lining the lakeshore. “I wish I had binoculars.”

“I wish I had a gun,” Tom muttered. “What’s our plan?”

“I don’t know,” David whispered back. “Yet. Just hurry.” They ran as noiselessly as possible. And then David’s heart stopped. No. Please, no.

They were at the edge of the cabin’s backyard. There was a sliding glass patio door in the rear wall. A few feet from the glass door was the back of a sofa. And behind that sofa lay his mother on her side, tied to a chair.