Erica Spindler - In Silence

Avery did. Nothing had been taped to either receiver or cradle. She made a sound of frustration and looked at Gwen. "No good."

"Tom had the service," she murmured. "He programmed it into his-"

"Speed dial," Avery finished for her, glancing at the phone. Sure enough, the phone offered that feature, for up to six numbers. She tried the first and was connected to the Hard Eight.

She gave Gwen a thumbs-up, then tried the second programmed number, awakening someone from a deep sleep. She hung up and tried again.

The third proved the winner. A recording welcomed her to "her memory call service."

"Got it," Avery said, excited. "Take a guess at a password."

Avery punched it in and was politely informed that password was invalid. She tried the same combination, backward. She punched in several random combinations.

All with no luck. She hung up and looked at Gwen. "What now?"

"Most people choose passwords they can easily remember, their anniversary, birthday, kid's birthday. But we don't know any of those."

"Oh yes we do," Avery murmured. The date Trudy Pruitt had never forgotten. The one she might use as a painful, self-mocking reminder. "June 18,1988. The night Sallie Waguespack was murdered and her sons were killed in a shoot-out with the police."

Avery connected with the answering service again, then punched in 0-6-1-9-8-8. The automated operator announced that she had five new messages waiting and one saved message.

Avery gave Gwen another thumbs-up, then pressed the appropriate buttons to listen to each. The recording announced the day, date and time of call, then played the message. The woman's boss at the bar, pissed that she hadn't shown up for work. Several hangups. A woman, crying. Her soft sobs despairing, hopeless. Then Hunter. He said his name, gave his number and hung up.

Avery's knees went weak. She laid her hand on the counter for support. Hunter had called Trudy Pruitt the last afternoon of her life. Why?

"What's wrong?"

Avery looked at Gwen. She saw by the other woman's expression that her own must have registered shock. She worked to mask it. "Nothing. A…a woman crying. Just crying. It was weird."

"Replay it."

Avery did, holding the phone to both their ears, disconnecting the moment the call ended.

"The woman who called me sounded as if she had been crying," Gwen told her. "What if they were one and the same?"

"What time did she call you?"

Gwen screwed up her face in thought. "About five in the afternoon."

Avery dialed, called up the messages again. The woman had called Trudy Pruitt at four forty-five. Avery looked at Gwen. "A coincidence?"

"A weird one." Gwen frowned. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know. I wonder if the police have listened to the messages."

"They could be retrieving them directly from the service. After all, the calls could be evidence."

"Or the police might have missed them, same way we almost did. Let's get out of here," Avery said.

They left the way they'd come, reaching the SUV without incident. Avery started the engine and they eased off the road's shoulder. She didn't flip on her headlights until they'd gone a couple hundred feet.

She couldn't stop thinking about Hunter having called Trudy Pruitt. Why? What business could he have had with the woman? And on the last day of her life? And why hadn't he mentioned it when they'd discussed the woman's death?

The answers to those questions were damning.

"Something's bothering you."

She glanced at Gwen. She should tell her. They were partners now, in this thing together. If Gwen had been one of her colleagues at the Post, she would.

But she couldn't. Not yet. She had to think it through.

"I'm wondering why people like Trudy Pruitt stayed in Cypress Springs? Why not leave?"

"I asked her that. She said some did leave. For others, for most, this was their home. Their friends were here. Their family. So they stayed."

"But to live in fear. To know you're being watched. Judged. It's just so wrong. So…un-American."

Avery realized in that moment how carelessly she took for granted her freedoms, the ones granted by the Bill of Rights. What if one day they were gone? If she woke up to discover she couldn't express her views, see the movies or read the books she chose to. Or if skipping worship Sunday morning or drinking one too many margaritas might land her on a Most Wanted list.

"It's not been until recently that things have gotten really weird," Gwen continued. "For a long time before that it was quiet."

"Recently? What do you mean?"

"In the last eight months to a year. About the time the accidents and suicides began. Trudy said that after Elaine disappeared she thought about going. But she couldn't afford to leave."

Avery hadn't considered that. It cost money to pick up and move. One couldn't simply carry a trailer on their back. Apartments required security deposits, first and last month's rent, utility deposits. Then there was the matter of securing a job.

Not like the moves she had made, ones where she'd lined up a job, and her new employer had covered her moving expenses. She'd had money in the bank to fall back on, a father she could have turned to if need be.

To a degree, people like Trudy Pruitt were trapped.

Now she was dead.

"According to what Trudy told me, most of the citizens fell in like sheep. They were frightened of what Cypress Springs was becoming, only too happy to head back to church, rein in their behavior or spy on their neighbors if it meant being able to leave their house unlocked at night."

"What about her? She didn't fall in line with the rest."

Gwen's expression became grim. "I don't think she knew how to be any different. And…I don't think she felt any motivation to change. She hated this town, the people. Because of her boys."

"But she didn't say anything about them? About their deaths, Sallie Waguespack's murder?"

"Nothing except that they didn't do it. That they were framed."

"How about Tom? Did she say anything about him?"

"I asked. She didn't know anything about him but what she'd read in the paper. She told me she didn't have a doubt The Seven killed him."

"He hadn't interviewed her?"

"Nope. She found me, actually."

Avery pulled to a stop at a red light. She looked at Gwen. "Did she say who The Seven were?"

"No. She said revealing that would get her dead."

She got dead anyway. The light changed; Avery eased forward.

The square came into view up ahead. "Drop me at that corner," Gwen said.

"You're sure? I could park around the corner, give you a hand cleaning up?"

"It's better this way. The less possibility of us being seen together, the better."

Avery agreed. She stopped at the next corner. "Call me tomorrow."

Gwen nodded, grabbed the door handle. "What's next?"

"I'm not sure. I need to think about it. Lay out the facts, decide which direction to go."

Gwen opened her car door and stepped out. Avery leaned across the seat.

"Gwen?" The other woman bent, met her eyes. "Be careful."

She said she would, shut the door and walked quickly off. Avery watched her go, a knot of fear settling in her chest. She glanced over her shoulder, feeling suddenly as if she was being watched, but seeing nothing but the dark, deserted street.

But they were out there. The Seven, their spies. A killer.

Being careful wasn't going to be enough to keep either of them safe, she thought. Not near enough.

The Gavel stood alone in his dark bathroom. Naked. Trembling. He stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. The man who stared back at him barely resembled the one he knew himself to be.