Debra Webb - The Longest Silence

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Epigraph

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

About the Publisher

“Do not tell secrets to those whose faith and silence you have not already tested.”

—Queen Elizabeth I

1

Westwood, Kansas

Friday, March 4, 8:30 a.m.

Ellen Schrader only wanted a gallon of milk.

How was she supposed to feed her children breakfast without milk? Now her son was late for school. All because she’d needed that damned milk. What she got instead was rear-ended by an old man who couldn’t see his hand in front of his face and suddenly somehow it was all her fault. No one had said as much but why else would that young officer be sending her so many suspicious glances? He and the old man had been huddled together talking for far too long.

Probably whispering about her.

Ellen braced her hip against the police cruiser. The officer had told her to wait right here next to his cruiser. All those flashing lights from not one but two police cruisers as well as the ambulance were making her head swim. She’d already told the paramedic that she wasn’t hurt. She was fine. Perfectly fine. Now he, too, was in deep conversation with the officer. For Pete’s sake, you would think she was some sort of criminal. This was what she got for attempting to obey the speed limit. Everyone else, including the old fart who’d hit her, wanted to fly like they were in a race against time.

The officer peered suspiciously in her direction once more.

This was ridiculous! Her hair was damp from the rain that continued to sprinkle just enough to be ignored by every single person except her standing on the side of this godforsaken road. On top of that she was freezing and no one appeared to care. The officers who were so kind at first now appeared too busy taking the old bastard’s statement and shooting those wary looks in her direction. He sure as hell had no right to cry whiplash. He was the one who hit her for God’s sake!

Neither of the cops had offered to have her wait in one of the police cruisers or in her car. She groaned as she considered the ugly way the tailgate of her Mercedes was crushed. That old pickup had done a number on her SUV.

Where the hell was Art? The officer who’d taken her report had called him. Her husband would be livid. The Mercedes was barely a year old. God, this was all she needed. Ellen closed her eyes and tried to keep her body from swaying. The spinning eased a bit and she hugged her arms around herself to try and control the shivering. The rain made the cool morning air feel even colder.

“Ma’am.”

Reluctantly she opened her eyes, grateful for the vehicle at her back since the whole world seemed to have joined the spinning in her head. “What now, Officer...?” She frowned. What was his name? She blinked to clear her vision and stared at his chest. The two blurry name tags finally blended to become one. “Officer Edwards?”

“I’m afraid I’ll need you to take a Breathalyzer test, ma’am.”

His words hit her square in the stomach, making her sway again. “Are you suggesting I’ve been drinking?” She made a scoffing sound. “It’s not even nine o’clock on a school day. Please.”

For some unexplainable reason her knees began to shake.

“Ma’am,” he said a bit more firmly, “you have the right to refuse, but then I’ll have no choice but to arrest you.”

The rain was coming down harder now. Ellen hugged herself more tightly. This could not be happening. Thank God Art’s minivan pulled up behind the cruiser. As if the officer had only then realized they were all standing in the rain, he asked, “Mrs. Schrader, would you like to sit in the squad car?”

What difference did it make now? She was soaking wet already. Before she could say as much, Art shouted, “Ellen! Jesus Christ, are you all right?”

She tried her best to summon a smile for her husband but somehow her lips wouldn’t make the transition. There was something she should remember but whatever it was her mind refused to cooperate. Her head automatically moved up and down in a nod that she was okay. Her knees tried to buckle. The officer—Officer Edwards—steadied her.

What was wrong with her?

Before she could explain to her husband that she really was perfectly fine except for the fact that the careless old man hunkered under his little umbrella with its one broken rib had ruined her car, Officer Edwards pulled him aside. Art would be very upset that Alton was late for school and that their daughter hadn’t had her breakfast yet. It didn’t help that Ellen wasn’t feeling so well. She swayed again. She really needed to sit down.

Art looked from the officer to Ellen, fear or dismay claiming his handsome face. As if he’d only just realized that his wife could have been seriously injured in the accident, he rushed over to her and took her by the shoulders. Rather than pull her into his arms to comfort her, he shook her hard and for the first time in their ten years of marriage Ellen felt afraid.

“Where are the children?” he demanded, his voice an icy roar.

Ellen frowned. What did he mean where were the children? The two officers were back at her SUV, searching around inside. This made no sense.

Art shook her again. “Ellen, where are the children?”

“I...” She licked her lips. Her mouth felt so dry. “They’re at home, of course. I wouldn’t take them to the store with me when...” The rest of what she needed to say eluded her. Why hadn’t she brought the children with her?

“Who’s watching them?” he shouted.

“Art, please.” She pulled free of his punishing grip and bumped against the cruiser. “The children are fine. I just had to run to the store for milk. I would have been home already if not for—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish.

Her husband rushed back to his minivan and drove away, tires squealing. One of the officers followed in the second cruiser.

Officer Edwards took Ellen by the arm, his grasp firm. “Why don’t we take that test now, and then we can drive to your home and make sure the children are okay?”

At this point the entire situation felt surreal, like a very bad dream. This couldn’t be happening. She didn’t understand all the fuss. Of course the children were okay. She would never allow them to ride with her when—when she’d been drinking.

Drinking. That was the thing she’d forgotten. She’d been drinking all morning. Something she’d seen on the news had upset her but she couldn’t remember what it was. Ellen shook off the idea; she didn’t want to think about that or the vodka she’d chugged as if her life depended on it.