Erica Spindler - In Silence

Avery had argued this one before and knew she couldn't win. And a part of her knew Cherry spoke the truth. The current truth. But she was idealist enough to believe there was another way. "The only way to fight violence is with violence, that's what you're saying? React to force with greater force until we've blown the entire planet to hell?"

"The one with the biggest boom wins."

Moments later, Avery drove off. She glanced in her rearview mirror. The sun was setting behind her, the sky a palette of bloody reds and oranges. Cherry stood where she had left her, standing beside her car, staring after Avery.

Her outing with the younger woman had left her feeling uncomfortable, as if she had been party to something unclean. As if she had witnessed something ugly and had done nothing to stop it.

The things Gwen Lancaster had told her about The Seven played through her head.

Anyone whose actions fell outside what was considered right, noral or neighborly was singled out and warned. Before it was all over, they'd broken the civil rights of their fellow citizens in the name of righteousness, law and order.

Could the woman she had just spent the past hour with be party to that?

Absolutely. Avery didn't have a doubt about it. What she was less certain of, however, was how to reconcile the Cherry Stevens she had been witness to today with the one who had brought her breakfast her first morning in Cypress Springs. The one who had been caring, sweet-natured and sensitive.

Today, nothing about Cherry had rung true to her, from the things she had said about Elaine St. Claire to the subtly sly tone she had assumed with Avery.

But why would she have affected such an attitude with her? It didn't make sense. Why either alienate her or, if part of The Seven, be so open about her beliefs? Surely those involved hadn't maintained their anonymity with such transparency.

Avery drew to a stop at the crossroads, stunned with the course of her own thoughts. She was thinking as if The Seven was a given. As if they had and did exist, as if anyone could be a part of their numbers.

An ill feeling settling in the pit of her stomach, she dug through her purse, found the card with Gwen's phone number on it. She punched the number into her cell phone; on the third ring the woman's recorder answered.

"It's Avery Chauvin," she said. "You've got my attention now. Call me." She left the number for both her cell and parents' home phone, then hung up.

Through the open window came the sound of a gun discharging. Avery jerked at the sound. She closed the window against it and the sour-smelling breeze.

The Gavel entered the war room. It had been difficult to get away this Friday evening-he was late. His generals were all in place, assembled around the table. Two held the rapt attention of the others as they complained about the Gavel's leadership and the way he had handled Elaine St. Claire.

One by one they became aware of his presence. Nervous silence fell over them. Guilty silence.

He crossed to his place at the table's head, working to control his anger. He shifted his gaze from one of his detractors to the other. Their discomfort became palpable. "You have a problem, Blue? Hawk?"

Blue faced him boldly. "The situation with the outsider is worsening. We must take action."

"Agreed." He turned his gaze to the other. "Hawk?"

"The handling of St. Claire was a mistake."

Shock rippled through the group. Hawk was the Gavel's biggest supporter. His ally from the beginning. His friend.

Fury took the Gavel's breath. A sense of betrayal. He kept a grip on his emotions. "What should we have done, Hawk? Allowed her to continue to sully the character of this town? To tear at its moral fiber thread by thread? Or allowed her to go to the authorities? Have you forgotten our pledge to one another and this community?"

The other man squirmed under his gaze. "Of course not. But if we'd…taken care of her as we have the others, no one would be the wiser. To have so openly disposed of her-"

"Has sent a message to others like her. We will not be discovered, I promise you that."

Hawk opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it and sat back, obviously dissatisfied. The Gavel narrowed his eyes. He would speak with him privately; if he determined Hawk a risk, he would be removed from the high council.

"What of the reporter?" Blue asked.

"Avery Chauvin? What of her?"

"She's been talking to the other one. The outsider."

"And asking questions," another supplied. "A lot of questions."

He hesitated, surprised. "She's one of us."

"Was one of us," Blue corrected. "She's been away too long to be trusted. She's become a part of the liberal media."

"That's right," Hawk supplied. "She doesn't understand what we cherish. What we're fighting to save. If she did, she would never have left."

A murmur of agreement-and concern-went around the table. Voices rose.

The Gavel struggled to control his mounting rage. Although he didn't let on, he had begun to have doubts about Avery Chauvin's loyalty as well. He, too, had become aware of her snooping. Nosing around things she didn't-and couldn't-understand.

But he was the leader of this group and he would not be questioned. He had earned that right. If he determined Avery Chauvin represented minimal risk, he expected his generals to fall in line.

He held up a hand. His generals turned their gazes to his. "Must I remind you we are only as strong as our belief in our cause? As our willingness to do whatever is necessary to further that cause?

Or that dissension among our number will be our undoing? Just as it was the undoing of our fellows who came before?"

He paused a moment to let his words sink in. "We are the elite, gentlemen. The best, the most committed. We will not allow-I will not allow-anyone to derail us. Even one of our own sisters."

The generals nodded. The Gavel continued. "Leave everything to me," he said. "Including the reporter."

Avery had expected Gwen to return her message Thursday evening, within hours of her leaving it. Instead, the next day came and went without word from her, and Avery began to worry. She tried her again. And left another message.

Just as she decided to pay a visit to The Guesthouse, her doorbell rang. Certain it was Gwen, she hurried to answer it. Instead of the other woman on her doorstep, she found Buddy.

He smiled as she opened the door. She worked to hide her dismay even as she scolded herself for it. "Hello, Buddy. What a nice surprise."

"Hello, baby girl." He held up a napkin-covered basket. "Lilah asked me to run these by."

She took the basket, guilt swamping her. "What are they?"

"Lilah's award-winning blueberry muffins."

Even as he answered, their identifying smell reached her nose. Her mouth began to water. "How is she?"

"Better. Back in the kitchen." He mopped the back of his neck with his handkerchief. "Hot out there today. They say it's going to break records."

"Come on in, Buddy. I'll get you a cold drink."

"I'm not going to lie, some ice water would be great."

He stepped inside; she motioned for him to follow her. The air conditioner kicked on. He looked around as they made their way to the kitchen, obviously taking in the disarray, the half-emptied shelves, the stacks of boxes. "Looks like you're making some headway," he said.

"Some." She reached into the freezer for ice, then dropped a couple cubes into a glass. She filled it with water and handed it to him. "I'm not spending as much time on it as I should be. The Realtor is champing at the bit. She has a client looking for a house like this one."

He took a long swallow of water. "It's a great house. Great location. I hate to see-"