Karen Rose - Silent Scream

Noah did. “Bruce, we have a fifth person involved…” He listened with a frown. “How did you know?” He looked at Olivia. “Austin Dent is in the precinct. Abbott showed him pictures of Joel, Eric, and Albert, and he said the man he saw wasn’t any of them.”

Olivia gathered the contents of Mary’s purse. “Tell him we’re coming in.” She looked up at David. “Should I have someone drive you to the hospital to meet Glenn?”

“No, I need to talk to Lincoln. If I don’t do something, I’ll go insane.”

She nodded, hoping Abbott and Donahue would concur. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Wednesday, September 22, 2:25 p.m.

Slow down,” Mary snapped and Phoebe flinched. They were the first words the young woman had uttered in almost half an hour. They’d kept to side roads and had passed only a few cars. “Stop behind that car.” There was a black Lexus abandoned on the side of the road ahead.

Phoebe obeyed, hardly daring to breathe. “I won’t tell anyone when you’re gone.”

Mary scoffed. “No, you won’t because you’re coming with me.”

Phoebe closed her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I may need you.” She shoved the gun against Phoebe’s ribs. “If you want to see that handsome son of yours again, you will do as I ask. Get out of the car.”

Phoebe obeyed, her legs like rubber. “I can help you. You don’t have to do this.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Walk.” Phoebe walked, Mary trailing about two feet behind. “Now on your knees next to the driver’s door and feel underneath. There will be one of those magnetic boxes with a key. Take the key out and throw it at my feet.”

Conscious of the gun pointed at her head, Phoebe knelt.

“Speed it up a little or you die here,” Mary said impatiently.

“I’m old,” Phoebe said curtly. “I move slow.”

“Move faster or you’ll get no older.”

Phoebe reached under the car, sending the small medallion she wore around her neck swinging on its chain. Hoping the police would find it and her, she gave it a yank, letting the chain fall in the dirt as she reached for the key. She thought of tossing the key away, but decided against it. Mary had killed two men. Phoebe had no doubt she’d kill her, too. David, where are you?

Phoebe struggled to her feet and held out the key. “What would your mother say about you kidnapping an old woman, Mary?”

Mary flinched, then snatched the key. “My mother is dead,” she snapped.

Phoebe drew a quick breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Maybe I killed her, too.” Mary unlocked the passenger car door. “Get in. Then shut up and drive.”

Phoebe got in and scooted to the driver’s side, Mary crawling in behind her, the gun still pointing… at me. Heart pounding, Phoebe took the key Mary thrust at her.

“I need to know. Did you kill your mother, Mary?”

Mary shook her head, but her voice trembled. “No. It wasn’t my fault. Now drive, or it won’t be my fault again.”

Phoebe gave her a little nod, then started the car. Dear God. Now what do I do?

Wednesday, September 22, 3:30 p.m.

David sat in the chair at Olivia’s desk, his eyes fixed on the window into Abbott’s office. She was in there, with Noah, Abbott, Barlow, and Micki, rereading texts from the cell phones and reviewing the video they’d found in Mary’s purse. Periodically she’d lift her eyes, meet his through the window, and shake her head. No news.

Noah dragged a white board into the office and David could see they’d developed a timeline. Each arson, each murder. But only one thing mattered anymore.

His gut was in constant churn. He tried not to think about the pictures he’d seen, the bodies of the two college students Mary had killed, but they filled his mind. Tracey Mullen’s death had been an accident, but the others… Mary was a killer.

And she has my mom. It had been almost two hours. They could be anywhere. He’d filled her gas tank earlier, enough fuel to reach Canada before they had to stop.

Behind him, Tom paced frantically. David had called the boy from Olivia’s car on the way from Truman’s office and Tom had been waiting for him here, white-faced and terrified.

“I can’t believe I took her with me,” David murmured. “That I let this happen.”

Tom sighed heavily. “Shut up, David. You didn’t make this happen. You didn’t make any of this happen. Bad shit happens around us and we make it stop.”

“I should have made her stay home.”

Tom dropped into Kane’s chair. “She wouldn’t have listened. Did you check Truman Jefferson before you drove out there?”

“Ethan did. Truman’s a solid businessman, never been in trouble.”

“Then you had no reason to think it would have been dangerous. It was a real estate office, for God’s sake. I swear to God, sometimes I think you think you are.”

David met Tom’s angry eyes with a frown. “I think I’m what?”

“God.” Tom hit the desk with his fist. “You can’t always be the goddamned hero.”

David blinked at Tom’s fury, unexpected and… incorrect. “I’m not.”

“Whatever.” Tom drew a breath, let it out. “I shouldn’t have yelled. You couldn’t tell Grandma what to do. Nobody can. Stop blaming yourself and start using your brain.”

David closed his eyes. The kid was right. “What do we know about Mary O’Reilly?”

“Besides that she’s a card-carrying whack job?” Tom patted his computer bag, his mouth flattening to a grim line. “Let’s get out of here and find out.”

“Let me tell Olivia,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” David tapped on Abbott’s door and she came out, motioning him into an empty conference room, closing the door.

“Nothing new,” she said. “Every available body is looking. IT’s tracing texts from Mary’s phone and e-mails from the laptop we found in her car outside the realty office.” She looked up, her blue eyes intense. “We’ll find your mom. Mary has nothing to gain by harming her.”

“What about the cell phone number?” he asked hoarsely. “The one Lincoln called?”

“It was Mary’s phone, in her purse. We’ve called your mom several times, but it goes to voice mail. We can’t track a GPS signal, but we’ll keep trying. We’ve got detectives talking to anyone who knew Mary in the dorm, anyone who sat next to her in class. Trying to find out where she might have gone.” She lifted her hand to his cheek. “I’d tell you to go rest, but I know you won’t.”

He turned his face into her hand. “I can’t think,” he admitted. “I can’t breathe.”

Her thumb caressed his lips, soothing, not sexual. “Then let me think for you, for just a little while. Go see Glenn. I promise I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

“What about Lincoln?”

“Dr. Donahue’s with him. They sedated him this morning. He overheard two guards talking about another arson and he lost it. She says when he’s lucid, she’ll arrange for me to talk to him. I’ll call you, so you can be there.”

He pulled her to him, holding on tight, his voice breaking as the words tumbled out. “I keep seeing her with that gun to her head.”

“I know,” she whispered. She held on a moment more, then pulled away. “I’ve got to get back. I will call you the second I hear anything. We will find her, David.”

He knew she would do anything in her power to keep her word, but he couldn’t sit idly. Steeling his spine, he returned to Tom. “Let’s go, kid. Show me what you can do.”

Wednesday, September 22, 3:45 p.m.

Olivia stood at Abbott’s window, watching David and Tom walk to the elevator. “I hate this,” she murmured. Two priorities. A man who shot bullets and a woman who shot drugs. Both were killers. But the woman had a hostage.