Karen Rose - Silent Scream

“So, everything anyone could do,” she said quietly. “Everything I would have done.”

“We even had Bruce record a personal message, and we sat a sign language interpreter next to him,” Noah said. “Hopefully Austin’s still alive to see it.”

“And Kenny?” she asked.

“His parents are here,” Abbott said. “They’ve agreed to stay in a safe house until we can arrange for more long-term protection or until we catch the busy bastard.”

“Has anyone talked to him again? He was in the guy’s van. Maybe just a minute, but maybe he saw something that could help us.”

“Not yet,” Noah said. “We can do that today, you and I.”

“Okay.” She looked down at the table, tried to organize her thoughts. “The hat you found at the scene last night. The one the shooter left behind. Anything?”

“Yes,” Micki said. “A few hairs and face putty around the hat’s brim.”

“He changed his face,” Olivia said. “So even if we got a sketch artist with the dorm staffer or Kenny, it wouldn’t be accurate. Joel Fischer was at the condo fire, but he was dead before the Tomlinson fire. Let’s find out who he hung with. What did you find in his bedroom?”

“The glue on the shoes is definitely the carpet- padding adhesive used to start the condo fire,” Micki said. “He was there, in the condo.”

“And he was hit on the head,” Olivia said. “Just like Weems. I think they carried him away from the condo because he was unconscious.”

“Which would explain only one set of tracks at the fence,” Micki murmured.

“Different agendas,” Donahue said thoughtfully. “Joel changed his mind.”

“Kane and I thought so,” Olivia said and the room went silent. She dropped her eyes for a moment, waited until her chest eased, then lifted her eyes and forged on. “Kane found a note stuck in one of Joel’s textbooks. It was from a girl and it was signed ‘M.’ He also had a friend named Eric Marsh. Maybe either this girl or Eric know who Joel might have fallen in with. What did you find on his cell phone and his laptop?”

Micki frowned. “We didn’t find a laptop in his room. Or a cell phone.”

“He would have had the cell phone with him when he died,” Noah said. “The morgue didn’t send one over with his clothes?”

Micki shook her head. “No, I’m certain they didn’t. No cell phone.”

“Let’s go to Joel’s classes,” Olivia said, “see who he knew. He should be buried today. Maybe his friends will come to the service.”

“I had the cadaver dog at the fire scene last night,” Barlow said. “The dog’s handler is the daughter of the vet who took the guard dog from Tomlinson’s. Brie said the dog’s going to pull through.”

“One bonus,” Olivia said, her smile wan.

“Oh.” Micki searched through her folder. “I got the lab results on the dog. He was given oxycodone. A lot of it.”

Olivia frowned. “Really? That’s what Ian found in Joel. Joel OD’d on oxy.”

“We didn’t find any evidence of drugs in Joel’s room,” Micki said. “We vacuumed every surface and haven’t gone through the dust yet, but there were no visible signs. There were no pill bottles in his car either.”

“Somebody else had the pills,” Olivia said, “because they gave them to the dog Monday night. What if Joel didn’t take them voluntarily either?”

“Sounds like we need to start with Ian,” Noah said. “Find out if it’s possible to know how he ingested the oxy that killed him.”

Olivia winced. “The Fischers won’t be happy if we further delay Joel’s service, but if we can show he was drugged, it might ease their minds.”

“You two focus on Joel. I’ll talk to Kenny,” Abbott said.

“What about Val?” Olivia asked. “We need to find her. Her family deserves that.”

“I’ll send Jack Phelps and Sam Wyatt,” Abbott said. “Where should they start?”

“She said she always went to a sub shop, three blocks from the school. It makes sense that the man who… who shot Kane, also took Val. He was focused on finding out what we knew about Austin Dent.”

“We’ll trace her last movements, but we may not find her till we find him,” Abbott said. “So go find him.” He put up his hand when they all moved to go. “Everybody wears vests. Everywhere you go. No arguments. Be careful.”

Outside Abbott’s office, Noah placed his hat on his head and after a moment’s hesitation Olivia did the same. “Don’t tell me it’s very Ingrid Bergman,” she warned.

Noah’s mouth curved sadly. “I was going to say Kane would approve.”

Olivia gave him a hard nod. “Let’s get this done.”

Wednesday, September 22, 9:30 a.m.

David had cleared his maintenance duty list, cooked breakfast for the team, called the hospital once again to check on Jeff-no change-and cleaned the kitchen.

There were no more tasks keeping him from calling Dana’s husband. With a sigh and an inward curse at his own issues, he pulled out the card Tom had given him and stepped out into the truck bay, half hoping for the station’s call tone to peal.

Ethan Buchanan answered on the first ring, almost as if he’d been expecting the call. “What can I do for you, David?” he asked.

“I guess I want to hire you,” David said, rubbing a tense muscle in his neck.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Hunter. What do you need, for God’s sake?”

That was better. Warm and fuzzy would have been way too awkward and former Marine Ethan Buchanan was one of the few who could have delivered on that threat.

“I had an intruder yesterday.” He explained the situation to Ethan who said nothing until he was finished. “I want to know who helped this guy, because I don’t want to worry about anyone coming back and hurting anyone in my building. The idea of insane zealots with guns being angry with me has me a little rattled.”

“I understand. I felt that way over in the Gulf,” Ethan said wryly, “and I had bigger guns. How are the cops involved?”

“The cops have bigger problems. They don’t have the resources to work this right now. Except that I know that one of the Web site visitors is on Olivia’s radar-Joel Fischer. He died two days ago. Drove his car off the road and into a couple trees.”

“Why’s he on Olivia’s radar?”

“He was at the first fire.”

“Got it. So we’ll be giving her what we turn up?”

“I don’t know. Will we get arrested?”

“You wound me. We can make an anonymous contribution. Usually all we provide is a lead versus solid proof for a jury. E-mail me the phone numbers you couldn’t trace. Give me a few hours. I’ll call you.”

“Thanks, man.” The call siren squealed. “I have to go, we have a call. I’ll send the phone numbers when I get back. Thanks, Ethan.”

Wednesday, September 22, 9:45 a.m.

Austin nodded to a man coming out of the gas station convenience store as he went in. He was down to twenty bucks, which wouldn’t buy much. Luckily his mom kept her tank filled. He had enough fuel to make it the rest of the way.

He grabbed a cola, trying to play it cool even as he wondered if anyone was saying anything behind him. If someone was calling the cops this minute. Then he lifted his eyes to the television mounted behind the register and froze.

My face. That’s my face. The tiny screen was filled with last year’s school picture, his hair bright red and curly. There was no captioning, so he had no idea if they wanted to arrest him or wanted to keep him safe. Fuck. He turned away, pretending to examine the selection of wiper blades. His face was on the fucking television. At least he had his hoodie on and it covered most of his hair. He rubbed his cheek, relieved at the stubble that scratched his fingertips. At least he didn’t look like a high school kid.