Erica Spindler - In Silence

She became aware of his presence and looked at him. The barest of smiles touched her mouth. "It's going to storm."

He crossed to stand beside her. The wind had begun to blow, he saw. Dark clouds tumbled across the evening sky. "It's spring. We need the rain."

"I suppose."

He touched her cheek lightly. "Are you all right?"

"Hanging in there." She tilted her head into his hand. "Hungry?"

"Starving. We could order out."

She shook her head. "I have eggs. And cheese."

"Sounds like an omelette."

They worked together, playfully arguing over what ingredients to include. Onions were out. Bell peppers in. Mushrooms were a must. Lots of cheese. A bit of cayenne pepper.

"I'll make toast," he offered.

"I have English muffins. In the fridge."

"Even better." He retrieved them along with the orange juice and butter. After splitting two of the muffins and popping them into the toaster, he rummaged around in the cabinets and drawers, collecting flatware, plates, glasses and napkins.

Hunter carried them to the oak table. He moved the phone and newspaper; as he did, he saw it was the issue of the Gazette that had reported her dad's death. He frowned, shifting his gaze to the spiral notebook that lay beside it. A column of names with a date beside each ran down the page. Pat Greene. Sal Mandina. Pete Trimble. Kevin Gallagher. Dolly Farmer. Her father's name was there. At the bottom, Trudy Pruitt's.

"What's this?"

She didn't look at him. "Something I'm working on."

"Working on?" he repeated. "It looks like a list of people who have died in-"

"The past eight months," she finished for him. "Here in Cypress Springs."

She wouldn't have the list out if she hadn't wanted him to see it. "This is about those things Trudy Pruitt said to you, isn't it? About your dad being involved in Sallie Waguespack's death?"

She turned the omelette. "Yes. And about the clippings I found in his closet. And two murders and two disappearances in the past six weeks. And a group called The Seven."

He frowned. "I'm not going to be able to deter you from this, am I?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. "No."

Determined to the point of pigheaded. She wouldn 't let this go until she was satisfied she knew the truth. Beyond-a-shadow-of-a-doubt truth.

No wonder she was such a good investigative reporter.

"Dammit, Avery. You drive me crazy."

She lifted a shoulder. "Forget it then if it'll make you feel better."

"Like hell. You think I'm going to leave you to track down a killer yourself? Two women have already been murdered. I don't want you to be the third."

She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him in exaggerated coquetry. "That's so sweet, Hunter."

"This isn't funny. There's a killer out there."

"That's right. And he may have killed my father."

"Would you like my help?" he asked, resigned.

She thought a moment, then nodded. "I think I would. Eggs are ready."

She slid the omelettes onto plates. He buttered the English muffins and set them on the table. While they ate, Hunter curbed his impatience. This was her party, after all.

When they had finished, she stood, cleared the plates then sat back down. She met his eyes. "As you know, last night I went to Trudy Pruitt's trailer. The woman had accused my father of being involved in Sallie Waguespack's murder. Of helping the police to frame her sons. She said she had proof, but she was killed before she could give it to me."

"So you went looking for it. Gwen Lancaster was with you."

"How did you-?"

"Good guess."

"What you don't know is that Gwen had interviewed Trudy about The Seven just hours before Trudy's death."

Hunter straightened. "She interviewed Trudy Pruitt?"

"Yes. The woman confirmed the existence of The Seven. She claimed the group was responsible for Elaine St. Claire's murder."

"Avery," Hunter said, frowning, "word is, the woman was an unstable drunk. Because of her boys, she had an ax to grind with this town. I wouldn't put too much stock in what she had to say."

"You sound like Matt. Buddy, too."

"They're right. You should listen."

She looked frustrated. "What about Gwen? Her place was ransacked. All her notes stolen. Someone lured her out to a hunting camp off Highway 421 and No Name Road. They left her a gutted cat."

"Try that again."

"A woman phoned Gwen. She told her she had information about Gwen's brother's disappearance. She arranged a meeting at the hunting camp."

"But she didn't show."

"Right. Instead, Gwen found the cat. It was a warning. To cease and desist. That's the way The Seven works. One warning, then they act."

Hunter listened, his sense of unease growing. "How do you know any of that's true, Avery? She could have ransacked her own place, lied about the cat, the phone call and notes. All in an effort to convince you it was true. To gain your trust."

She shook her head. "I was at The Guesthouse when she returned. She was frightened, Hunter. Terrified."

She slid the piece of newspaper across the table. "Last night Gwen and I found this. On Trudy Pruitt's bedroom floor."

Hunter gazed at the clipping. The woman had drawn devil horns and a goatee on the picture of Avery's father, yet Avery seemed so matter-of-fact about the item it was as if finding such an upsetting thing in a murdered woman's bedroom was an everyday occurrence.

"Look here, in the margin," she continued. "She was tallying something, keeping score."

"All but two,'" he murmured. "What do you think it means?"

"I believe she was counting the dead so far. My dad was number five."

"Plus two equals seven."

"I noticed that."

"Okay, you have my full attention."

She tapped the page. "The way I figure it, these were either people she believed had been involved in the cover-up of Sallie Waguespack's murder or ones who knew the truth about it."

"Presuming there was a cover-up."

"Yes." She stood and began to pace. "You're a lawyer… Who would have been involved in the investigation?"

"I'm not a criminal attorney, but obviously you've got a murderer and a victim. Person or persons who discovered the body. First officer. Detectives, criminalists. The coroner or his deputy."

"Witnesses, if any."

"Right."

"Your dad let me read the file," she said. "Officer Pat Greene was out on patrol. He saw the Pruitt boys leaving Sallie Waguespack's. The boys had a history of trouble with the law, so he decides he'd better check it out. He finds the woman dead, then calls Buddy."

She stopped, expression intent, as if working to recall the exact sequence of events. "From Pat's description, Buddy figures it was the Pruitt brothers Pat saw. He and Pat go looking for them. The meeting ends in a shoot-out that left the boys dead."

"They left the murder scene untended?"

She thought a moment. "I can't remember. They may have waited for the coroner, but I don't think so. According to the file, no other officer was called to the scene."

"Go on."

"The murder weapon was found in the ditch behind the Pruitt's trailer. Donny's prints were on it. One of the boys had the victim's blood on his shoe. They opened fire on the police when approached and Pat Greene had already placed them at the scene. Case closed. No need for further investigation, nice and neat."

"Too nice and neat, you're thinking?"

"Maybe"

"What about the autopsy? As I understand it, an autopsy is always requested in a murder case."

"It wasn't in the file. Buddy thought it had been misplaced and promised to locate it for me. I'll give him a call tomorrow."

Silence fell between them. Hunter sensed her doing the same as he, considering the possibilities, doing a mental tally. The numbers didn't add up.

"Let's count who could have been involved," he said. "You've got two officers at the scene, Dad and Pat Greene. You've got the coroner. That's three. Throw in the victim and the Pruitts you've got six. Your dad could be number seven, though how he fit in I'm not certain."