Karen Rose - Silent Scream

He understood. “She tried to use the glass ball to break the window. There was no furniture yet, no chairs, nothing she could use to break the glass. God. Poor kid.”

“I know,” she said. “Barlow said the arsonists poured the carpet adhesive on the first and second floors.”

“True. I could show you the pour patterns if you want.”

“On the way down.” She crossed her arms, dangling the camera from her wrist as she frowned at the window. “If the arsonists only hit the first two floors and she was up here on four, and she wasn’t with them, how did she get the damn ball?”

“We think they poured on two floors, but started the fire on the first floor. That way they could get out. If they lit both floors, it could have spread before they were out.”

“Do we know how they got in and out?”

“Not that I know of. You’d have to ask Barlow.” He considered the night before. “We got here about five minutes after we got the call. We had to smash through the gate, so it delayed us another two minutes. The first two floors were fully engaged at the time, and it wasn’t safe to go in through any of the doors. We were fighting it from outside. That’s what I was doing in the bucket in the first place.”

She still faced the window, but her frown had become thoughtful. “Okay. And?”

“The fire doors on one and two were open. The smoke would have filled the stairwell. If she’d been squatting on one of the lower levels…” He thought about the hearing aid. “And if she wasn’t able to hear them coming…”

“She may have been asleep. Woke up from the smoke, tried to go down the stairs, found herself trapped.” She glanced up at him. “Would she have been able to get out of the stairwell and into the hallway?”

“Possibly. But the heat would have been intense.”

“Hot enough to blister her feet?”

He remembered the soles of the girl’s feet. “Yeah.”

She nodded, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. “She would have been panicking,” she murmured. “Not thinking clearly. Smoke choking her. Maybe she drops to her knees, below the smoke. And somehow she finds the ball.”

“She wouldn’t have been able to see anything,” David said, his stomach turning at the thought of how terrified the girl must have been. “The smoke would have filled the first floors and the stairwell in minutes. If she stumbled on the ball, found it somehow…”

Her blond brows lifted. “Or if they used it to block open one of the fire doors?”

He’d admired her mind the first time they’d met. That much he clearly remembered. “Possible. So she picks it up, but can’t go farther, because it’s too hot. The smoke is too thick. She backs up, to the stairwell.”

“Back to the fourth floor. No fire yet on four. She still has the ball. People hold on to weird things when they’re scared. She gets to the window, tries to break it.”

“She could have hit it with that ball till kingdom come and that window wouldn’t have broken,” David said. “But I doubt she got more than a few hits in. Her lungs would have already been damaged by the smoke from the stairwell, if that’s where she’d gone.”

“Where did you say you found the ball?”

“About two feet from where her fingertips had been. She was lying on her stomach, her arms extended.”

“Her body’s angle to the wall?”

“Thirty, forty degrees, maybe.”

“So she tossed the ball, then pounded on the glass with her hands. She was desperate by then.” She studied the prints on the glass. “She smacked the glass with her palms and pounded with her fists.”

“Probably in the reverse order,” he said quietly. “Her hands were flattened on the glass when she collapsed to the floor. You can’t see them well, but there are streaks from her fingers.”

“Poor kid.” She was silent for a moment while he studied her profile. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to her-two and a half years if he didn’t count the minutes she’d sat next to his bed in the hospital after he’d rolled down an embankment in Evie’s old Mazda last February. And he didn’t count that time as his eye had been too swollen to see clearly. She’d been little more than a hazy image, but he’d known it was her by his bedside as soon as he’d smelled the honeysuckle.

Abruptly she lifted her eyes to his, blue and intense. “That is one hell of a hole,” she said. “I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.”

A fist squeezed his heart and he struggled for what to say. But before he could find the words, she’d turned her gaze toward the lake. “How high does this bucket go?”

He cleared his throat. “Hundred feet. We’re at about fifty feet now.”

“Can you take me all the way up?”

Sweet God. He sure wanted to try. Focus, Hunter. Do not blow this again. “Yes.” The word came out gruffly, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Why?”

“We were wondering how the girl knew about this place. We don’t think she’s from around here. You can’t see the condo from the road, but you can see it from the lake.”

He lifted the bucket past the roof. “What are you looking for?”

“Don’t know.” She held the camera to her face, searching and snapping photos with the zoom. “A path through the trees, a hidden boat, something that shows us how she found this place. We should probably get someone on the ground, checking for a path through the woods.”

“You could try dogs.”

She lowered the camera, looking up at him. “To track her?” A new light filled her eyes. “It might work.” She jumped a little. “Cell phone. Can you hold these?” She handed him the black bag with the binoculars and grabbed for her cell. “Sutherland.”

Her little smile disappeared as she listened. “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Problem?” he asked when she hung up.

“ME. He has something on the girl. Can you take us down?”

“Sure.” He started their descent, debating his next words, filling his senses with honeysuckle while he could. “Olivia.”

She stiffened and he realized it was the first time he’d said her name that morning. “Yes?” she asked, her gaze focused on the lake.

Look at me. Give me something. Please.

Then he watched her draw a deep breath and let it out. Only her head turned, her eyes meeting his. “Yes?” she asked again.

“I…” Say it. But years of fruitless waiting for the wrong woman had dulled his skills when it came to the woman who just might be the right one. “I need to talk to you,” he blurted. “But not here, where everyone can hear.”

She stared at him, then after what seemed like an eternity, nodded, just once. “I’ll call you when I get a break later. When are you off shift?”

Relief swamped him. At least she hadn’t said no. So whatever he’d done, it couldn’t have been that bad… right? “About two hours ago. I’m on OT now.”

The bucket reached the ground and she unhooked the belt herself, looking for Kane who stood next to the captain ten feet from the truck. “Kane, Ian called. He wants us at the morgue. I told him thirty.” She hopped down from the bucket gracefully. Her knees bent and for a moment she hung there, then straightened like a gymnast sticking a landing. “Thanks for the view. I’ll be in touch,” she said briskly.

Still in the bucket, David watched as she strode to her car, Kane ambling behind her. She didn’t look back, not once. It wasn’t until Kane’s car had disappeared through the front gate that he realized she’d never reclaimed her binoculars.

He pocketed them. That had gone far better than he’d expected.

Monday, September 20, 10:55 a.m.