Karen Rose - Silent Scream

Seth was studying his mother’s worn profile. “Can we go now? She’s helped you.”

“Yes, she has and yes, you can go. Mrs. Tomlinson, thank you. I’ll personally keep you updated on the investigation. Can I take you home?”

“I’ll take care of them,” the lawyer said. “You’ll want those CDs tonight, I take it?”

Olivia flicked a glance at the clock on the wall. It was almost three a.m. Surely the warehouse had cooled enough for her and Kane to see Barney in his office now. “That would be ideal. My partner and I will follow you home.” Then she and Kane could double back to the crime scene.

Olivia found Kane in the observation room, a ten-dollar bill in his hand. “Nice.”

“Keep it. She was going to help us all along. You ready to roll?”

“Yep. I’ll drive. You can nap on the way.”

Tuesday, September 21, 3:58 a.m.

The three of them sat in Eric’s living room, watching the muted television. It was tuned to the local twenty-four-hour news station, as it had been for the last day. Mary sat curled in the corner of the sofa, her expression like stone. Albert sat in an armchair, looking like the very angry captain of a starship.

Eric straddled a dining room chair backward, his chin propped on the chair’s carved back, having just been snapped at by Albert to stop pacing and sit his ass down.

“Turn it up,” Mary said flatly and Albert grabbed the remote.

“Top of the news this hour is another fire, this time in a warehouse north of the city,” the anchor said. “News 8 has just learned that not only is it another arson fire, but also police have found another body inside.”

Shock had Eric surging to his feet. “What the fuck?” he yelled.

Albert leaned forward, waving his arm. “Shut up.”

Mary sat up straighter, her expression gone flatter, if that was possible.

“The body has been identified as Barney Tomlinson, the owner of the warehouse,” the anchor said, and a photo of a middle-aged man with a comb-over appeared on screen. “We have Joseph Bradshaw live at the scene. Joseph, what are you hearing?”

The screen switched to the reporter, a fire truck in the background. “The fire is out, but the activity here at the fire site has not slowed. Homicide detectives and medical examiners went into the building twenty minutes ago and have not yet come out. No one is giving any details of the circumstances surrounding Barney Tomlinson’s death, but the presence of Homicide suggests the owner of this warehouse met with foul play.”

“Joseph,” the anchor said, “is anyone indicating a link to the condo fire?”

“Not yet, but the homicide detectives who just went in are the same ones who were on the condo scene-Kane and Sutherland.”

Albert muted the television. “So this is his game,” he said darkly. “He murders and sets us up to take the fall.”

“We destroyed the tape,” Eric said. “We wore masks. Nobody will know it was us.”

Albert’s chuckle was without mirth. “Do you truly think so, mon ami? I give him five minutes, perhaps ten. He’ll send you another text with another link to another video.”

It was less than two minutes. Eric’s personal cell phone buzzed. He checked the text and flicked a glance at Albert. “It says ‘welcome to my employ.’”

“And the video?” Mary asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Eric clicked the link. “It’s us,” he said when the video began playing. “We’re wearing masks.” He watched as the texter’s camera closed in on Mary as she looked back to check on the drugged dog. Then the screen filled with a still shot of Mary’s face, covered by the mask. Successive shots closed in on Mary’s right eye until her iris was all that could be seen, then the video cut to a picture of Mary at the condo. Again the camera closed in, again the close-up of her iris.

Eric didn’t even blink when he saw himself pause to snap a photo of the burning warehouse. “He was there,” he said woodenly and passed the phone to Albert. “He’s basically saying he can put Mary at both scenes through her eyes.”

Albert replayed the video, his jaw going taut. “Where was he? Goddammit.”

“He got Mary when she stopped to see the dog, so he had to have been hiding to our left.” Eric sank onto the sofa, opposite Mary. “This is unbelievable.”

“This isn’t what I planned,” Mary said thinly. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us, Eric. You had no right to keep this from us.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help. If you had any idea…” She closed her eyes. “Damn you.”

“Another text,” Albert said, then drew a sharp breath. “It’s Tomlinson. Or what’s left of him.” He passed the phone back and Eric flinched.

Tomlinson lay facedown on his desk. There was a helluva lot of blood.

Eric passed his phone to Mary and waited for her to watch the video. “So now what?”

“We draw him out,” Mary said coldly. “And then we kill the sonofabitch.”

Albert raised a sarcastic brow. “I thought you said you couldn’t kill anyone.”

“I was wrong,” she said. “The game just changed.”

“That’s all well and good,” Eric said, “but as I said before, now what?”

“He had to have had some beef with Tomlinson,” Albert said. “Who knows, maybe he was blackmailing him, too.” Albert got up and paced. “Somehow he found out about us. I can’t figure out how. We never met together, except for here. Never in public. So how did he find out? How did he know Tomlinson? What’s the connection?”

Eric felt an icy chill slink down his back. “Could he have this place bugged?”

Albert stopped pacing, his expression grim. “As crazy as that sounds, maybe.”

“But he still had to know about us,” Mary insisted. “He’s not going to just pick out rich boys at random and bug their apartments.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Hear that, asshole? We’re talkin’ about you!”

“Sshh,” Albert hissed. “You’ll wake the neighbors.” Then he stilled, his gaze swinging around to collide with Eric’s. “Eric.”

Eric had the same thought in the same instant. “The neighbors. These walls are thin. Somebody heard us talking. Which one?”

“The walls aren’t that thin,” Mary scoffed, but Albert looked away, rolling his eyes.

“One of the neighbors complained one night when we were…” Eric felt his cheeks heating. “You know.”

“Oh.” Mary shrugged. “Same thing happened to us. Joel and I…” She stopped suddenly, her lips pressing tight as tears filled her eyes. “Dammit,” she whispered. “For just a second I forgot. How could I forget?”

“It’s part of grief,” Albert said quietly. “You live in the dorm. A quad, right?”

“Yes. We all get our own rooms.”

“Did you and Joel discuss this in your room?” he asked.

Mary shook her head, hard, then slowed. “Maybe, once or twice. But softly.”

“Those walls are thinner than these,” Eric said. “That’s why we never did anything in Albert’s dorm room. Your roommates could have heard. But how do they connect to Tomlinson?”

“We need to find out more about Tomlinson.” Albert pointed to Eric’s laptop. “You got into his company server. What did you find?”

“Only what I was looking for-the maintenance files on the alarm system.”

“I Googled him while you were trying to hack into his server,” Albert said. “I found a few general things. Tomlinson played golf in a charity tournament last year, but his business was bad-lots of layoffs. His wife is divorcing him. You’re better at the computer, so dig deeper. Find out everything you can.” Albert grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?” Eric asked.