Karen Rose - Silent Scream

“Back to my dorm. It’ll be daylight soon. I’m going to change and shave and then go have a talk with Mrs. Tomlinson and find out what her husband was up to.”

Mary stood up. “You can’t just waltz into her house and talk to her.”

“As a reporter, I can.”

Eric rose slowly. “Albert, wait. What if she checks up on you? You don’t exactly fade into the woodwork. Especially with your accent.”

Albert’s smile was grim. “What accent?” he asked in a perfect Minnesotan tone.

Eric stared, his mouth open. “You… Which is real?”

Albert met his eyes, his gaze cold. “Does it matter anymore?” he asked. “Start digging on Tomlinson. We need everything we can get.”

Well. As always, they were an interesting bunch. So Mary wants to kill me? Right back atcha, girl. And Albert, not really French? Say it isn’t so. He’d seen that one coming a mile away. For a nerd, Eric was really very stupid.

He sat back in his easy chair and frowned. But Albert going to talk to Louise Tomlinson? He needed to think about that one. Louise didn’t know anything to tell. He’d made sure of that. What harm could Albert do?

Conversely, how can I use this to dig their graves a little deeper? And how long can I keep the leash tethered so tightly? He didn’t plan on watching them so closely forever. When their useful life was over… their lives would be over.

Besides, he might have a bigger worry at the moment. He rewound the recording he’d made of the nine o’clock news. It was a grainy video, taken by a cell phone. A search-and-rescue dog and its handler stood on the bank of the lake, a few hundred yards from the dock at the condo. He knew that shoreline like the back of his hand. The only way to that patch of open beach was by boat, but he saw no boat in the video.

He might have assumed that patch of beach was how the girl had come to be in the burning building to start with, but if so, the boat would still be there, would it not? Which could mean someone had been with her, someone who had not died in the condo.

Which could mean trouble for me. He needed to know what the police knew. If a witness existed, that person needed to die.

Tuesday, September 21, 5:30 a.m.

Austin Dent sat on his bed hugging his knees to his chest. His mom would be coming home from her job soon. She worked hard, his mom. He hated the worry he’d put in her eyes.

He hated that he couldn’t forget the fear in Tracey’s eyes when they’d both smelled smoke. Or the look on that guard’s face when he’d been shot, the way he’d crumpled to the ground. But mostly he hated that somewhere out there a killer walked free.

Austin’s hands clenched into fists. I have to do something. But he was afraid.

I owe it to Tracey. I promised I’d protect her. She was there because of me.

But what did he owe his mother? If he told, he’d put both their lives in danger. That man shot that guard in cold blood. He couldn’t lead the guy straight to their lives.

But I can’t do nothing. I can’t live this way, wondering if he’s going to shoot me, too.

If he called from a phone nearby, the cops would trace it. Everybody in town knew he went to school down in Minneapolis. A smart cop would connect the dots in no time.

So he’d have to contact the cops from Minneapolis. Kenny will help me. He’d text Kenny, tell him what to write in the letter and Kenny could mail it from downtown. That way the cops would know about the shooter, but nobody would know he’d told.

It could work. It would have to.

Tuesday, September 21, 5:45 a.m.

Olivia blinked hard as she drove the road to her house. The last forty-eight were catching up to her. She was going to walk Mojo, then fall into bed…

She slowed as her front porch came into view. A familiar form slowly rose from her front steps and her tired brain wanted to scream foul. Carefully she pulled around the red pickup truck he’d parked on her curb and drove into her garage. For a moment she just sat in her car, her forehead resting on the steering wheel.

Then her door opened and she could feel the warmth of his body as he crouched next to her. “Olivia?”

“I’m all right, David,” she said, not looking at him. “You promised not to bother me.”

“I know. I lied.”

“What do you want from me?”

“A chance to explain. Please.” His hand dipped under her braid, closing over her neck. His palm was warm, his fingers strong as they began massaging her skull.

A little whimper escaped her throat. She was so tired and his hand felt so good. Focus, girl. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. “What’s to explain?”

“A lot. Come on.” He urged her from the car, pulling her to her feet. “You’re about to fall flat on your face.”

“I was about to go to sleep.”

“Then I won’t take long.” She let him lead her to her front door, not complaining when he took the keys from her hand and unlocked her front door. Mojo came bounding, crouching into a snarl when he saw David.

“Down,” Olivia commanded and Mojo instantly dropped to his stomach, eyeing David suspiciously. Smart dog. Good dog.

David closed the door behind them, walking around the dog as if he weren’t there. Mojo craned his neck, watching. Cursing her own weakness, Olivia did the same. David looked as good going as coming. She followed him into her kitchen, Mojo at her heels.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Standing in front of her open fridge, he looked over his shoulder. “Making us breakfast. Your eggs are about to expire.”

“Sorry?” she said, shaking her head, then tilting it sideways on a silent sigh when he bent over to check out her vegetable bin. Too nice. Way too nice. And so not fair that all the sexy ones are jerks.

Abruptly he straightened, pointing to the bar stools at her counter. “Sit, please.”

Mojo sat obediently, wagging his tail, looking up at David adoringly.

“Traitor,” she muttered to the dog. “I want you to leave, David.”

He deposited all the cooking materials on her counter, ignoring her.

“I’m not hungry. Stop that,” she snapped when he broke eggs into her mixing bowl with the finesse of a chef. “What the hell are you doing?”

His jaw clenched. “I cook when I’m tense.”

“You’re tense.” She made a scoffing sound. “Please.”

“No, I’m actually scared to death.” He looked up, met her eyes. “I’m not lying.”

He looked utterly serious and she felt her resolve weakening. “Hell of a line,” she said. “I must be the most gullible woman alive. Come on, Mojo.”

Her dog hesitated, staring up at David. Biting back a really vile oath, she tugged on Mojo’s collar. “I said, come.” Finally he followed, looking back over his shoulder as if to ask why the new guy wasn’t coming. Olivia stood on her patio, tapping her foot impatiently. Finally Mojo padded back and she let him into the house. David was still there, inspecting a clear carton of mushrooms with a grimace.

“It’s been a while since you shopped,” he said.

“I’ve been busy.” She slid onto a bar stool. “Say your piece and then leave.”

He dropped his gaze to the cutting board, chopping the few vegetables that hadn’t gone bad. “I said someone else’s name that night. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry. But I need to know if I did anything else.”

She frowned at him, Brie’s and Paige’s words coming back. I wonder what he thought he’d said. Or done. “Like what?”

“Like, get rough. Or ask for something you didn’t want to do.”

And? So it really hadn’t been a statement of disregard. “No,” she said softly. “What did you think you did, David?”

He gripped the edge of the counter with both hands, bowing his head. “I didn’t know. At first I thought you were just embarrassed, but you never called and months went by. I wondered if I’d done something to… turn you off.”