Karen Rose - Silent Scream

And if he makes me wait days? Eventually he’d have to leave his apartment, go to class. Maybe even eat. Although the very thought of food made him want to gag.

We killed that girl. But they had not shot that guard. Which meant somebody else did. The only other person was the damn blackmailer. He did it. He shot the guard.

But who would believe them? The texter had them on video. Video, goddamn it.

How could we have been so stupid? How did he know we’d even be there? He’d racked his brain all night, trying to think of where, when they’d been together, discussing their plan. But so far he’d come up blank. Unless one of them had told.

He closed his eyes. It was top of the hour. Time for another identical report on the condo arson, word for word. He started to murmur the words along with the anchor, then bolted upright in his chair when the mouth on the tube said, “This just in.”

The television screen had split. The anchor was on the right, but on the left was a picture of the guard. In a cop’s uniform. Eric’s mouth went bone dry and he stared at the man’s badge as the talking head on the right began to speak.

“ Minneapolis police have confirmed the identity of the guard killed in last night’s arson. The victim is Henry Weems, who retired last year after a twenty-five-year career with the Minneapolis police. His daughter, Brenda Weems, gave this statement.”

The screen switched to Brenda Weems who stood on the steps of a modest house in a modest suburb, arms tightly crossed over her chest, her face tearstained.

“My father was a good cop, a good husband and father. He was murdered last night, along with another victim. I know the police will not rest until his killer is brought to justice-not because my father was a cop, but because he was a member of this community. My mother and I ask for privacy so that we may grieve. Thank you.”

The screen switched back to the anchor and Eric felt numb.

A cop was dead. So are we. The police wouldn’t rest until they’d hunted them down.

Joel had said as much last night, when they’d still thought their worst problem was the dead girl. Eric stood abruptly. He had to get to Joel before he found out about this. There was no telling how Joel would respond. He might break, crack, tell everyone.

And we all go to prison. Not going to happen.

He’d turned to wash up when his phone buzzed on the table. For a moment he just looked at it, then carefully picked it up, as if it were poisonous. His shoulders sagged. Not a text. It was an incoming call from Albert.

“Did you see the news? I didn’t kill him. I only hit him. Somebody shot him. Who?”

“I… I don’t know,” Eric said numbly.

“He was a cop. If that pussy Joel tells, we’re dead.”

He thought of the video. The texts. You have no idea how dead we are. “I know.” Eric made a decision. “We have to stop Joel from talking.” And he had to keep the texter from showing the video that would damn them all. “Just don’t hurt him, okay?”

Albert said, very quietly, “We will not speak of this again.”

Eric drew a breath, knowing he was sentencing Joel to death. “No, we will not.” He closed his phone, completely unsurprised when a text popped up immediately.

go to 11 th and nicollet. sit on bench at bus stop. find envelope taped to seat. come alone. tell no one. yes or no?

Suddenly, coolly calm, Eric texted back, yes. He went to his bedroom and grabbed the plastic bag in which he’d stuffed his smoky-smelling clothes. He couldn’t let the maid find them. He’d throw them in a dumpster.

Then he slid his hand behind the stacks of video games on his closet shelf, finding his gun. He checked the magazine, found it full. He smacked it back into place with the heel of his hand. Just in case the texter actually showed his face, he’d be ready.

He chuckled on the inside as he closed the disposable phone. Then lifted his gaze to the television mounted on the wall, his pose appropriately somber. The report was ending with old news, but the first few minutes had made his day.

The guard had been a fucking cop. It just got better. Or worse if you were Eric and the gang. A murdered guard was one thing, but a murdered retired cop? Pure gold.

He wondered if Eric had told the others. Wondered what Eric’s attempt at countering him would be. It didn’t matter. I hold all the cards. I always do.

“Excuse me.”

He dropped his eyes from the television to the slightly impatient face of the next customer. “I’m sorry,” he said soberly. “It’s just the fire. Those poor people. That officer.”

The customer sighed, her impatience gone. “I know. It’s so disturbing. You take your life in your hands every time you leave your house these days.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” he said sympathetically. “So, how can I help you today?”

Monday, September 20, 9:20 a.m.

Olivia tidily folded the paper wrapper as she swallowed the last bit of her breakfast sandwich. Not saying a word, Kane took his hand off the steering wheel long enough to hand her the large coffee in the cup holder between them.

“Thanks,” she said. “You know I could have driven. It was my day.”

He slanted her his “bullshit” look. “I slept. You didn’t.”

“I tried,” she said quietly. “I really did. I went and worked my ass off at the gym so that I’d be tired. Took my dog for a run, took a hot shower, even drank some of that herbal tea you’re so keen on, which is totally nasty, by the way. Nothing worked. So I dropped Mojo off at Brie’s and came in. And you would have done the same.”

“Well, maybe,” he said grudgingly. “All except taking my dog to doggy day care.”

Olivia’s friend, Brie Franconi, ran a canine training kennel but had begun letting cops drop off their dogs when they knew they’d be working a long shift. Olivia didn’t care what Brie called the service, she was just grateful for it.

“Mojo gets to play with the other dogs while I’m working, and I don’t feel so guilty. He keeps me company,” she added a little wistfully. She’d gotten the dog shortly after her fiancé, Doug, left her. “The house gets too quiet sometimes.”

Kane shot her a look. “Seeing Barlow can’t be easy for you.”

She shrugged. Seeing David was somehow a hell of a lot worse. “Micah made his choice a long time ago, but I suppose his siding with Doug was for the best. If Doug didn’t want me, I guess it’s better I found out before I tied the knot.” She sipped at her coffee, glad it was strong. “I’ve been thinking about the girl. If she was in business with the arsonists, her purpose for being in the building is straightforward.”

“I agree. But if she wasn’t,” Kane said, “and if her being there was just very bad timing, we have to wonder what drove her there. To that building.”

“If she’s not local, how would she know about it? You can’t see it from the road.”

“But you can see it from different points around the lake,” Kane said.

“Right again.” She took a sheet of paper from the briefcase at her feet. “I printed a map of the lake, which is primarily residential. Small houses, a lot of vacation cabins.”

“Good. We can take her photo around, see if anyone’s seen her and ask if anyone noticed any unusual activity last night. It would have been hard to see through the fence, but we might get lucky. We can’t ignore the possibility that it was an inside job.”

“I did a search on Rankin and Sons this morning. I was hoping to find they were on the verge of bankruptcy or something that would make the motive for the arson clear.”

“But Rankin’s solid?”

“Well, they were before last night. A good percentage of the shoreline property has been bought up by a company named KRB, which planned to build six condos in total. It’s supposed to be a planned community and Rankin was hired to build phase one, which were the luxury condos. Phase two will be two more buildings, targeted to upper-middle-class families. Construction is scheduled to begin in the spring.” She studied the map. “A lot of these cabins will be leveled.”