Karen Rose - Silent Scream

A question, Mr. Marsh?”

Eric looked up, stunned to see that the classroom had cleared and his professor stood staring at him. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Mr. Marsh, when you sleep, you snore. When you are awake, you participate. You did neither today, and you arrived fifteen minutes late. Is anything wrong?”

“A girl,” he said, feigning embarrassment. “I’ll have to get the notes from someone.”

“Fine. Just be on time for Wednesday’s lecture.”

“I will.” Eric made his escape, then slumped against a wall outside. If anyone got suspicious, the prof would say, He looked upset, preoccupied. “Terrific,” he muttered.

He had to tell the others. This impacted them all. Would they burn another building? Would he tell them about the video? Joel would freak. No telling what the idiot would do.

Albert, he thought, would not be surprised. Albert knew someone else was there, that someone else had murdered the guard. Because they had not.

Like anyone would believe that. “We are so dead,” he whispered, then, still slumped against the wall, pulled out his own cell phone. The texter’s phone was in his pants pocket, set to vibrate. Couldn’t have that bastard chirping at him during lecture.

Meet me outside the library at noon, he typed, then addressed the text to Albert, Joel, and Mary. Before he could hit SEND, his cell vibrated. It was Mary. “What?”

“Oh God.” Her voice was unsteady, hollow. Scared. “Did you hear about Joel?”

His dread intensified. Had Joel told? Damn him. “Hear what?”

She sniffled and he realized she was crying. “He didn’t show up for class.”

Eric breathed a sigh of relief. Is that all? Mary was overreacting, as usual. Eric hadn’t wanted to include her from the beginning, but Joel had insisted. Being around Mary always left Eric feeling hyped up and edgy. He’d never understood why Joel was so stuck on her. The sex must be good. “He’s probably holed up in his room.”

“No. He’s dead.” Her voice broke. “Joel is dead.”

Eric felt the air leave his lungs. Wow. Albert worked fast. “How?” he asked.

“He was in his car, on his way to school.” She was sobbing now. “He ran off the road, hit a tree. He went through the windshield. He bled to death.”

“Hell.” He’d told Albert to make it so that it wasn’t painful. That sounded pretty damn painful. But it was done. And they’d have to live with that, too.

Better a guilty conscience than life behind bars.

But now Joel wouldn’t be available tonight. All of them had to participate or the video would be leaked. I should have told Albert, he thought grimly. We needed Joel.

Maybe the texter would accept a note. Please excuse Joel from any extortion-related arsons, as he is dead. Eric closed his eyes. Frickin’ unbelievable.

“Who told you?” he asked.

“His sister called me. His… his parents didn’t know about us. Joel said they wouldn’t have approved. But his sister knew about me and knew I needed to know. But don’t say anything to the Fischers. I don’t want to get his sister in trouble.”

Joel’s parents were Orthodox Jews. Mary was Irish Catholic. That they wouldn’t approve was expected. That Joel hid his and Mary’s relationship… well, Eric had known Joel since kindergarten, and that wasn’t surprising either. I should be crying, too, he thought. I should feel something. But all he felt was weary dread. This whole mess was Joel’s idea. So in a way, it was kind of his fault.

“We need to meet. The three of us. Library. Noon.”

“I can’t,” she said numbly. “I’ve got class.”

“Skip it,” he snapped. “This is important.” He hung up. He had choices to make. Hard ones. To torch a stranger’s warehouse or risk prison? To tell the others or not?

They could flee. Leave the country. They could be in Canada in less than three hours. From there… wherever people go who are fleeing the cops. To whatever country doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. He needed money. He needed new ID. He needed to buy some more time. But he had only thirteen hours.

Maybe the texter wouldn’t follow through. Why wouldn’t he? He had nothing to lose. And I have everything to lose.

Eric dug into his pants pocket and flipped open the disposable cell, checking the warehouse address again, even though he remembered it perfectly.

Who owned it? Were they good or bad? Maybe the owner had done something horrible. So horrible that taking out his warehouse might be doing a public service.

And I am lying to myself. I need to buy some time. Torching the stranger’s warehouse would buy him that time. As long as no more people got hurt, it was just stuff. Stuff could be replaced. That’s what insurance was for.

Hadn’t he said that himself just yesterday? Yesterday when they were still environmental avengers? God. How had things gone so wrong?

He couldn’t think about that. Now he needed information about the stranger whose warehouse would be ashes by midnight tonight. He needed to find a way to convince Albert and Mary that they were doing the right thing. He needed to buy some time.

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

Olivia was steady by the time she and Kane walked into the morgue, but David’s voice still filled her head. I need to talk to you. About what? Why he’d been hiding for seven months? Or would he go for the tried-and-true It’s not you, Olivia, it’s me?

She’d kept it together in that bucket. Having him that close was a dream and a nightmare, all rolled into one. But she hadn’t turned to goo, even when he’d put his hands on her shoulders and whispered in her ear. Even when he’d said her name, all husky and sexy. The man exuded sex. So considering, she’d done okay. Held her own.

“Liv?” Kane was regarding her with an amused, if pained, expression. “Either put him out of your mind or go home and take a cold shower. You’re making me think about going home for a very long lunch break with my wife.”

Her cheeks heated. “Sorry.”

He patted her shoulder. “Have Ian take you into the freezer. That’ll cool your jets.”

“Who needs to go in the freezer?” ME Ian Gilles came out of his office.

“Nobody,” Olivia said firmly. “So, what do you have?”

“Gold,” Ian said. “Come on, have a look.” He led them to the light board, where an X-ray was mounted. “The girl’s skull.”

Olivia’s heart started to beat faster as a puzzle piece fell into place. There was a distinctive dark, tombstone-shaped patch about the size of a half-dollar, just behind the girl’s ear. “Is that what I think it is?”

Ian looked a little disappointed. “Depends on what you think it is.”

She looked up at Kane. “David Hunter and his partner didn’t find a hearing aid. Not exactly anyway. Our girl had a cochlear implant. What he saw was the processor.”

“What’s a processor?” Kane asked.

“It’s a… device…” Olivia groped for the words. “It converts sounds… Explain, Ian.”

Ian perked up, his disappointment dissipating. “The processor is worn behind the ear and converts sound into electrical signals. The signals are passed to the implant, here.” He tapped the bone behind his ear. “The implant bypasses the normal auditory systems, stimulating the aural nerves. It’s pretty cool. How do you know about it, Liv?”

“My friend has one. You know her, Kane. Brie Franconi. We just talked about her.”

“The lady who runs the doggy day care?” Kane asked.

“She used to be a cop, but lost her hearing. Ended up having to quit the force, start another career. She got the implant about two years ago.” She turned to Ian. “So there will be a serial number on the implant part, right? Because the processor was so melted, it was almost unidentifiable.”