Heather Graham - The Silenced

Great-Aunt Genevieve was long gone now, but he always remembered her with a smile. She’d made it to ninety-five, full of laughter and vigor to the end.

She’d assured him she wasn’t coming back. She’d lived a long life—and she knew the light was waiting for her.

“You and Meg have similar pasts,” Adam said, returning Matt’s mind to the present.

Had Meg grown up with imaginary friends, as well? Unlike Meg and him and the rest of the Krewe, Adam’s background was somewhat different. His son, Josh, had been granted the gift—or the curse—of precognition; he’d known what might happen. He’d known what people were thinking. He’d been ill throughout his life, and he’d died young. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason when it came to paranormal ability. Matt felt sad that there were people worldwide who kept their secret, trying not to give themselves away in case the world considered them crazy.

There was a knock at the door. Agent Murray was certainly punctual.

Matt remained by the window, staring out as Adam invited her inside. He turned, curious about the young woman. She could be no more than midtwenties, but she carried herself with a grace and poise that belied her age. Her dark hair was pulled back and she seemed even more attractive than he had realized. Today she was wearing a medium-length business skirt and matching jacket, and he couldn’t help noticing that her legs were wickedly long and well shaped. There was an unselfconsciousness about her, and he sensed that she had no idea of her own appeal.

“Meg, come in. I have a few more of our local Krewe working this. They’ll be getting onto research, credit card trails and the like. I think you and Matt should start at the source. Head over to Congressman Walker’s office. I’ve arranged that he’ll be ready for you at ten,” Adam said.

“She’s dead,” Meg told him.

“You know that?” Adam asked.

Meg nodded, glancing at Matt as if she didn’t want to speak in his presence.

“I know she must be dead, yes.”

“You saw her?” Adam asked.

Meg glanced at Matt again and lowered her head in a nod.

“It’s all right, Meg. You can speak freely. Don’t worry, Matt has friends around the city who only appear to him. I’m just so sorry that we won’t find your friend alive,” he said very softly.

She’d been crying, Matt saw. He felt a tug of sympathy.

It hurt so badly to lose people.

“You’re absolutely sure?” he heard himself say. He didn’t mean to doubt her; he sincerely hoped she’d been wrong. His voice sounded rougher than he’d intended.

She turned to him. “Agent Bosworth,” she said coldly. “I never say that someone is dead unless I believe it to be true.” He could tell he’d offended her. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; anger helped dissipate pain.

“Until we find her, you can’t be certain,” he said, then asked, “You’ve never had a living person in desperate trouble try to reach you?”

“No,” she said, the one word like a cube of ice in the room.

“Did she speak to you, Meg?” Adam asked.

Meg hesitated. “She couldn’t quite manage to speak, but...I think she asked me to find her. And I—I believe she wants us to find her body.”

Matt felt that Meg Murray had no intention of giving his opinions any credence, but he didn’t feel the need to respond. He’d been around for a long time—as an agent and as one who knew the existence of a sixth sense. She’d learn.

The other agents arrived then.

Adam rose to make introductions. Jackson Crow had come in with Angela Hawkins, Will Chan and Katya Sokolov.

“Agent Murray will be joining this office,” Adam said. “This, as you can appreciate, is a difficult time for her. Meg, everyone’s been briefed on the situation with Lara Mayhew and the two murders. Agent Crow is your boss and I never interfere. Okay, I seldom interfere. Agent Hawkins sorts through our many requests and tries to send out the right people. Since we’re near Washington where everything seems a bit unusual, we’re quite busy here. That was a joke—or an attempt at a joke, anyway. Agent Sokolov is a medical examiner as well as an agent. She’ll visit Wong today and inspect the bodies.”

Meg solemnly shook hands with everyone. She asked Will Chan, “What’s your specialty?”

Will smiled. “I was an illusionist,” he told her.

“I see,” Meg said in a pleasant tone that nonetheless relayed her confusion.

Will’s smile grew wider. “My specialty is film, sound, cameras—and now and then, a bit of a performance if necessary. Although occasionally we all have to perform. In any case the team you see here will be working with you on this particular case.”

“Can you play the message your friend left?” Matt asked, not meaning to be churlish, but they weren’t at a getting-to-know-you cocktail party.

“Yes.”

She pulled her phone out of the black leather tote she carried and set it on speaker. They heard a woman’s voice.

One that sounded breathless—and scared.

“Meg, it’s me, Lara. I wanted to let you know I’m going home. Home, as in getting out of DC and heading for Richmond. I’m going as soon as it’s daylight. I’ll talk to you when I can. Love you. Don’t say anything to anyone else, okay? I have to get out of here. Talk soon.”

Meg played the message twice.

Jackson cleared his throat. “She did say she was leaving in the morning.”

“And I wanted to believe it,” Meg said.

There was an awkward silence. Matt wasn’t convinced, but Adam had faith in her conviction.

And they all had faith in Adam.

“So, you see,” Meg said, “something happened during the day or that night that made her want to...run.”

“And meet up with our killer?” Will murmured.

“Or another fate,” Matt replied.

“In other words, you think there might’ve been a different motive to get rid of Lara Mayhew—and she was killed by a different perp?” Angela asked.

“Entirely possible,” Matt said. “But Ian Walker isn’t known for being...”

“Slimy?” Kat supplied.

Matt looked at Meg. “Did she ever suggest that there was anything going on between her and the congressman?”

“No. But... I haven’t spent much time with her since I started at the academy. We talked every other day, but I’ve only actually seen her twice. As far as I knew, Lara adored him, as a father figure. She lost her parents when she was eleven. I think she saw Walker as a fine man, the way she’d seen her dad.”

“Maybe Walker will solve the mystery,” Jackson suggested.

“Doubtful,” Will Chan said.

“And...” Kat began, before hesitating.

“And?” Adam repeated.

“To the rest of the world, the idea that something’s wrong is...mere supposition. She’s a young woman who became disillusioned with politics and left DC.”

“There’s another message,” Adam reminded them.

Meg pressed her phone again. All they heard was a whooshing sound—like the wind—and then a thump.

And the phone went dead.

“I’ll check with her cell phone company,” Angela said. “Meg, I’ll need your phone for the next few hours. We’ll have techs try to decipher those sounds.”

“Of course.”

“You’ll be with Matt if we need to reach you for any reason. We’ll get the recording and return your cell as soon as possible.”

“Whatever it takes,” Meg said.

“And you’re off to see Congressman Walker!” Angela looked from Meg to Matt. “I don’t envy you. Interviewing a politician. I don’t think many of them are capable of telling the truth, even when they’ve got nothing to hide!”

Matt liked Angela. She was down-to-earth, pleasant under the most trying circumstances—and skilled at figuring out past sins that might have emerged in the present. Attractive, in her early thirties, she was light-haired and light-eyed. She was married to Jackson. Matt hadn’t been around when they’d done the deed; they’d slipped quietly away for a small private wedding. In this “special” unit, agents being married to each other was acceptable. Will and Kat were a couple, too.