Erica Spindler - In Silence

I'm just-" She crumbled the tissue. "Frankly, I can't believe he did this. He didn't leave a note. In our conversations, and we spoke often, he gave no indication of being so depressed that he might take his own life."

Another man mighthave been offended, might have thought she was questioning his skill or professionalism; Dr. Harris was sympathetic. She suspected he dealt with grieving family members a lot.

"The Cypress Springs police did a thorough investigation. As did I. Dr. Sands is a top-notch forensic pathologist. Toxicology revealed nothing but the Halcion. I found nothing about the body to suggest homicide. Neither did Dr. Sands. Friends and neighbors described him as acting strangely for some time before his death. Reclusive. Depressed. That behavior seemed consistent with suicide. I understand, too, that your mother had died recently."

"A year ago," she murmured, shaken.

He got what he deserved.

You will, too.

Avery pressed her lips together.

He sat forward. "Is there something you think I should know? Something you're not saying?"

She met his eyes.What would he think if she shared her anonymous caller's message? Would he call it a sick joke-or a serious threat?

She shook her head. "No. Nothing."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely." She stood and held out her hand. "You've been very helpful, Dr. Harris. Thank you for your time."

He followed her to her feet, took her hand. "If you need anything further, just call. I'm mostly here."

She started for the door. He called her name, stopping her. She looked back.

"I hope you'll forgive an old man for meddling, but I've done this job for a lot of years. Talked with a lot of grieving family members. I understand tow difficult it is to accept when a loved one takes their own life.The guilt you feel. You tell yourself you should have seen it coming, that if you had, your loved one would be alive.

"The ones who do the best get on with living. They accept that the act wasn't about them, that it wasn't about anything they did or didn't do." He paused. "Time, Ms. Chauvin. Give yourself some time. Talk to someone. A counselor. Clergyman. Then get on with living."

If only it were that easy. If only it all didn't feel so wrong.

She forced a small smile. "You're very kind, Dr. Harris."

"Just so you know, I intend to tell your sister the same thing."

She stopped. Turned. "Excuse me?"

"Your sister. She called after you did. She's coming at three." At her expression, he frowned. "Is something wrong, Ms. Chauvin?

"I don't have a sister, Dr. Harris."

Avery waited in the parking lot beside Dr. Harris's office, the SUV's windows lowered to let in the mild March breeze. She'd positioned the Blazer at the edge of the lot, alongside a dilapidated Cadillac Seville.

At two fifty-five, another vehicle pulled into the lot, a woman at the wheel. Avery slid low in her seat, not wanting the woman to spot her-yet. Not until she couldn't avoid coming face-to-face with Avery.

The woman parked her Camry, never even glancing Avery's way. She flipped down her sun visor, checked her appearance in the lighted mirror, then snapped it shut and got out of the vehicle.

Only then did Avery get a clear view of her. A small sound of surprise slid past her lips.

The woman from her father's wake. The one the group of men had been staring at.

Avery threw open her door and jumped out, slamming it behind her. The woman stopped. Turned toward her. Her face registered shock. Then dismay.

Avery closed the distance between them. "We need to talk."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't be coy. You were at my father's wake. And now you're here. Claiming to be my sister. I think you'd better tell me why."

She opened her mouth as if to deny the allegations, then shut it. She motioned to the picnic table at the rear of the building, set up under a sprawling old oak tree. "Over there."

They sat. The woman met her eyes. Tall and slender with short, curly blond hair, Avery judged her to be about the same age as she was.

"My name's Gwen Lancaster. I'm sorry if I've upset you. I know this is a difficult time. I…I lost my brother not long ago."

Avery gazed at her, unmoved. "Did you know my father?"

"No, I didn't."

"May I ask then, why you attended his wake and why you're here today?"

She paused a moment before answering. "I'm new to Cypress Springs. Pretty town."

"Yeah, it is." Avery narrowed her eyes. "Friendly, too."

Her lips twisted slightly. "Doesn't look so friendly from where I'm sitting."

"Do you blame me?"

She laughed, the sound short. Tight. "Actually, I don't." She glanced away, then back at Avery. "I've come to Cypress Springs to do some research. I'm working on my Ph.D. in social psychology. From Tulane University."

"Good for you," she said flatly. "So, what does that have to do with my father's death?"

"If I tell you, will you promise to keep an open mind?"

Avery leaned toward her. "I'm not promising you anything. I don't think I should have to."

Gwen held her gaze, then nodded. "At least allow me to begin at the beginning."

"Fair enough."

The woman folded her hands and laid them on the table's top, over a set of initials someone had carved in the wood. "I'm writing a thesis titled "Crime, Punishment and the Rise of Vigilantism in Small-Town America."

She paused. Avery wondered if she used the time to collect her thoughts-or to manufacture her answer. Avery had earned her right to suspicion, earned it through years of interviewing people with agendas that ran counter to the truth, people who manipulated and manufactured. People, she had learned, lied for a variety of reasons. Because it was easier than telling the truth. Or to shield themselves from punishment or incrimination. They lied to protect their reputations. Or as a way to keep from revealing who they really were.

"In my undergraduate studies, I became fascinated with the psychology of groups and group dynamics. What motivates a seemingly average, law-abiding citizen to take on the role of crusader? To take the law into their own hands or act outside the law?"

She lowered her eyes a moment, then returned them to Avery's, her blue gaze unblinking. "Vigilantes are strong believers in law and order. They're usually patriots and highly moral. It's a form of extremism, of course. And like all extremists, they turn their beliefs inside out and upside down."

Avery acknowledged being intrigued despite herself. "Like Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City bomber."

"Exactly. He fit the profile to a T, although he acted alone. Remember, the thing that makes these people so dangerous is that they absolutely believe in their cause and are willing to die for it. Their beliefs aren't a way to justify their acts, in their minds those acts are justified by their beliefs."

Avery nodded, understanding. "So, you'd lump all extremists in this same category? Religious groups like Afghanistan's Taliban, political extremists like Al-Qaeda?"

"And white supremacists, survivalists or any other group that pushes its ideology to the extreme. No country, religion or race is immune. History is riddled with the bodies of those killed in the name of a cause."

"Why are you here?"

"A bartender told me a story about this picture-perfect Louisiana town.The town began to suffer an increase in crime. Instead of combating it through traditional law enforcement, they took the law into their own hands. They organized a group that policed the behavior of its citizens. They nipped in the bud behavior they con-sidered aberrant. The crime rate fell, further justifying their actions in their own minds. I did some digging and found information that seemed to corroborate the story."

She was talking about Cypress Springs. Avery stared at her, waiting for the punch line. When it didn't come, she laughed. "A vigilante group? In Cypress Springs? You can't be serious."