Silent Scream

Chapter Seven

Monday, September 20, 2:25 p.m.

Olivia frowned at the address David texted. It was a rural area twenty minutes away from the city. Why there?

“What’s wrong?” Kane asked.

“Oh, nothing.” She put her phone away and went back to studying the map of the lake. “We’ve covered the cabins with views of the condo. Nobody saw Tracey Mullen.”

“Or will admit to it. Something’s going on at the condo. Give me the field glasses.”

Olivia patted her pocket, then groaned. “I forgot them earlier. I handed them to David and forgot to get them back. I’ll get them for you tonight.”

He started to speak, then thought better of it. “I think the dog is here,” he said instead.

Olivia strained to see across the lake. “I wonder if it’s the arson dog or the SAR.”

They’d told Barlow the girl had been with a man before the fire started. He’d already called for the state’s arson dog but said he’d get a search-and-rescue team, too.

“Since we have no field glasses,” Kane said, “let’s drive over and find out.”

When they got to the condo, a search-and-rescue team stood ready to work. The dog was a German Shepherd and its owner a tall woman whose red hair hung down the middle of her back like a flame. Olivia knew only one person with hair that color.

“Barlow called Brie,” she said, satisfied. “I wasn’t sure he would.”

“That’s your doggy-day-care friend?” Kane asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Her real business is training dogs for search, rescue, and detection.” She sped up her pace. “Barlow and Brie and I all graduated from the academy together. For a while, we were all close.” The three of them and Barlow’s best friend, to be accurate. “Barlow and Brie used to be a couple. Engaged, actually.”

“Them, too?” Kane asked carefully. He rarely referred to her failed engagement and never referred to Doug by name, which was just fine by her.

“Them, too,” she said. “Engagement didn’t work out for them either. But Barlow knows Brie’s good. She did SAR before she left the force. Her dad’s a vet.”

“Dog vet or army vet?”

“Both. Takes care of the dogs in her training center and the day care in addition to his own practice. Mojo loves him, even when he’s getting a shot.” She waved. “Brie!”

Brie Franconi waved back. “Get a move on. GusGus is missing his soaps.”

When Olivia got close, she made the introductions and Brie shook Kane’s hand with a warm smile. “I’ve heard so much about you,” Brie said. “Good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Kane said. “I seem to have heard a lot about you. Especially today.”

“Our female victim had a cochlear,” Olivia told her quietly.

Brie’s bright brows went up. “That’s interesting.” Her speech was clear, mostly because she’d been deafened as an adult, but partly because the implant allowed her to continue hearing. Not as well as she had before, but well enough to function in the world she’d made for herself after leaving the force.

It had cut Brie deep, resigning her badge. Olivia couldn’t even fathom it. But she’d been there for her, as had Paige, who Olivia had drawn into their circle back in the academy days. I’m lucky, Olivia thought, thinking of Paige that morning. I have good friends. They’d gotten each other through many a tough patch. She thought about meeting David Hunter tonight. If it went badly, she might need her friends again.

“That’s how we ID’d her,” Kane said. “Serial number on the device. Very handy.”

“Good to know,” Brie murmured. “Just in case I ever get caught dead without ID.”

Kane grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… hell. I’m sorry.”

Olivia elbowed her, hard. “She’s teasing you, Kane. Leave him alone, Brie.”

Brie’s brown eyes twinkled. “Sorry, Detective. I couldn’t resist.” Then Barlow walked up and Brie’s expression went bland. To strangers, they appeared professional, but Olivia knew that under Brie’s veneer, resentment toward Micah Barlow still brewed. “Sergeant Barlow says we may have another victim in the structure,” Brie said briskly.

“Perhaps. We’re not sure if he got away. If so, we want him as an eyewitness. If not, we need to identify his remains as well,” Kane said.

“But if he got away and we can track where the girl came from,” Brie said, “then you may be able to track your eyewitness.”

“Exactly.” Olivia looked at Barlow. “Did you get her clothing from the morgue?”

Barlow held up an evidence bag. “Can we check for the unidentified male’s remains first? One of the investigators is inside, Brie. He’ll walk you through.” His smile was tight. “Wouldn’t want you and GusGus to fall through any of the holes.”

“Thanks,” Brie said, whipping her bright hair back into a ponytail. She tightened her hold on the dog’s leash. “GusGus, time to work.”

She and the dog started into the building and Kane’s brows went up. “GusGus?”

Olivia smiled. “Yeah, like the mouse in the Cinderella cartoon. GusGus. He’s certified as a cadaver dog and SAR and a list of other things as long as your arm.”

Kane sighed. “She’s addicted to cartoons, too? What were they serving in the academy canteen when you all came through?”

“Cartoons can be brilliant social commentary,” Olivia said archly, knowing Kane was teasing. Mostly anyway. “And sometimes,” she added quietly, “it’s just escape.”

“That I’ll buy,” he replied, just as quietly.

Some women craved ice cream. When Olivia was stressed, a few episodes of the Road Runner relieved her tension. Something about that anvil crunching the Coyote’s umbrella made her laugh, every time.

She’d watched a lot of the Road Runner over the last seven months. It had become habit during the weeks of informing the families of the victims they’d found in the lime pit. Come home, walk Mojo, slide her “Best of Road Runner” DVD in the machine, then sit and stare at the screen until she’d fallen asleep.

Their killer had kept their driver’s licenses as souvenirs, making initial identification a lot easier. The killer had been quietly murdering women for decades.

Sometimes the families had moved. But focusing on details like tracking next of kin kept Olivia from focusing on the horror of finding the remains of victim after victim. At times it ran like a slide show in her mind. Bones, bones, and more bones.

The bones actually weren’t so bad. It had been the first bodies they’d pulled from the pit that had been the worst. Lime decomposed a body in a matter of days. But the killer had killed too many at the end. Decomposition was slowed for those final victims.

She briefly closed her eyes, remembering the rotting flesh. How it would simply… fall off the bones as the body was moved.

If there was a body in the burned-out condo, there wouldn’t be much left. It would look like them. Her anxiety returned in a harsh wave and with it, the fierce need to run away. But she didn’t, forcing herself to stand her ground. It would get easier. It had to.

She wondered how Kane coped, but he’d never shared, so she’d never asked. He’d just done his job. Like me. Because that’s what we do.

“We know where the arsonists exited,” Barlow said. “The arson dog sniffed a trail of accelerant to that door.” He pointed to a stairwell door, on the same side of the building as the window on which David had first spotted the girl’s shiny handprints.

“Did you find footprints?” Olivia asked, but Barlow shook his head.

“Only smudges. The arsonists stepped in the carpet adhesive and tracked it to the door. Unfortunately, the adhesive on their shoes picked up dirt, so the impressions aren’t crisp. No tread, no feel for shoe size even, although there do appear to have been two individuals.”

“So if we find their shoes?” Kane asked.

“You’ll find traces of the accelerant and the glue,” Barlow said. “If there’s any ash or dirt still mixed in with the adhesive, we’ll be able to match the composition to what we found here, so we can place them at the scene. The dog tracked the accelerant trail across the construction yard to that cut in the fence.” He pointed to one of the three slices in the fence that Micki had told them about, the one closest to the road.

“So they escaped by the road,” Kane said, frowning. “Not by the lake. Henry Weems’s killer shot him while standing between Henry and the lake.”

“I thought of that. The handler took the arson dog around the condo, including the area on the other side of the building where Henry Weems was shot. No accelerant on the ground, anywhere. His shooter might have left by the lake, but it’s equally possible he walked back around the building to join the others, escaping by the road.”

“So,” Olivia said, “whoever shot Henry didn’t step in the adhesive or was never in the condo to begin with.”

“Could have shot Henry, then gone into the condo to set the fire,” Kane theorized.

“If Weems inhaled no smoke, that’s a possibility,” Barlow said. “But if Ian finds smoke in his lungs, it would have to be after.”

“Ian’s doing the cut this afternoon,” Olivia said. “If Weems was killed after the fire started, and there were two arsonists inside, then we have at least three arsonists. The question is, were Tracey and her sex partner involved with them?”

“And is her sex partner still alive?” Barlow added.

“And if the arsonists came out through that side door,” Kane continued, “did they go in the same way? How did Tracey Mullen get in?”

“The side door lock hadn’t been tampered with,” Barlow said, “but that doesn’t mean anything. On a construction site, people prop doors open all the time.”

“That should have been something the guard checked, right?” Olivia asked.

“It was on his route. First stop would have been the camera console in the construction trailer, then a check of all the doors from the outside, then a walk around the perimeter. But Weems was struck as he exited the back door. He never got a chance.”

Olivia looked at Kane. “We gotta check him out,” she said. “Weems.”

Kane nodded. “I know. We can’t ignore that he might have known they were coming and they killed him to keep him quiet. Let’s pull his financials. But discreetly.”

“No need to add any more grief to the family unless we have to,” Barlow murmured. “Did you catch Weems’s daughter on the news?”

In his eyes Olivia saw the compassion she’d seen so often in the past. Except when I needed him most, and then he was an arrogant bastard. “What did she say?”

For a bittersweet moment it was like they were still friends. “She sang our praises, Liv.” He met her eyes then, held them. “She was stronger than I might have been, considering she’d just lost her father. I wouldn’t want to do anything I’d… regret.”

Olivia nodded. She’d lost her own father the same night her friendship with Micah Barlow had crumbled into pieces. Because Barlow had been an arrogant, meddling bastard. Today, his words might be an apology, or the start of one. She’d have to see.

“We’ll be careful,” she said. “We just want to rule him out as an… accomplice.”

She could see he got her double meaning, just as she’d gotten his.

“Good enough.” Barlow looked away. “It’ll take Brie’s dog a while to cover the whole structure. I’ve got the personnel files for Rankin and Sons’ construction personnel in my car. We can go over them while we’re waiting. Maybe something will pop.”

Monday, September 20, 2:40 p.m.

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Dent.” Mr. Oaks, the principal, signed to his mother, then threw Austin a harsh look. All three of them were deaf and their signing flew fast and in his mother’s case, very furious. “Your mother drove a long way.”

“Three hours,” his mother signed. “But this is a mistake. Austin doesn’t smoke.”

“The dorm RA smelled smoke this morning,” Oaks signed, “after the smoke alarm started flashing. When he went in Austin ’s room, Austin had the lit cigarette in his hand.”

His mother’s face went pale. “Why, Austin? Just tell me why.”

Because I took Tracey to that condo. I wanted to take care of her.

Now she’s dead. And it’s my fault. The stairwell had been full of smoke. She was behind me. I know she was behind me. He’d made it outside, but Tracey hadn’t.

“Sorry,” Austin signed. But it wouldn’t bring Tracey back. She was gone.

Oaks frowned. “ Austin is suspended for five days. He can return next Monday.”

Austin closed his eyes. He hated this, lying to his mother. But if he told her… He remembered the man in the boat. He’d shot that guard. If he knew I saw…

Austin had been ready to tell the truth so many times. But as the shock over losing Tracey had worn off, he started remembering the way the guard’s face looked as he fell. And the way the shooter’s teeth had gleamed in the moonlight as he’d smiled.

And every detail of the shooter’s face when he’d pulled off his ski mask.

He’d been ready to tell. But if he did, the man might kill him, too.

People who get involved, who tell the truth, get hurt. What do I do?

His mother stood up, her back hunched over. “Get your backpack,” she signed.

His backpack. He’d left it behind, in the fire. It had some of his books, his papers. Tracey’s things. My hearing aid. He only hoped the fire had been hot enough to burn all the papers up. He didn’t want anyone to know he’d been there. But he needed his hearing aid. His mom didn’t have the money to buy a new one and they’d lost their insurance a long time ago. What am I going to do? For now, nothing.

He stood. “Lost it,” he signed back carelessly.

His mother looked at him, defeated. Not again. He knew she wanted to say it, to scream it. But she just shook her head, her signing weary. “Let’s go home.”

Monday, September 20, 3:25 p.m.

Brie stopped at Barlow’s car where Olivia, Barlow, and Kane read personnel files. “He must have escaped,” Brie said. “There were no human remains in the structure.”

“Then we have a witness to the fire at least,” Olivia said. It was more than they had after reading through Rankin’s personnel files. There were a few performance reviews. One or two drug tests. Nothing popped. So knowing Tracey’s partner hadn’t died with her was the best news they’d had all day.

Barlow handed Brie the bag containing Tracey’s clothing. “Can we track the girl?”

“Of course,” Brie said formally.

Olivia put the file she’d been reading in the box in Barlow’s car. “Can I watch?”

Brie smiled at her. “Of course,” she said, her voice substantially warmer.

Kane dropped his file in the box. “I’m in.”

Brie pulled Tracey’s shirt from the bag and let GusGus sniff it. “GusGus, it’s time to work.” The two set out, the dog’s nose to the ground.

Olivia and Kane followed, Barlow a few paces behind them, video camera in his hand. GusGus led them to the other side of the condo, where Weems’s body had been found. He picked up the scent, winding through the trees, stopping at the chain-link fence. It was another one of the three slices in the chain link that CSU had found.

“We can keep going,” Brie said.

“Please do,” Barlow said. “I’d like to see how they accessed the property. From here, you can’t get to the dock. Lots of thorns.”

Brie nodded. “If you pull back the fence, Liv, we can move through.”

Olivia did and GusGus and Brie kept going and they followed. A few times the dog lost the scent, but Brie would let him sniff the shirt again. Finally the dog sat, abruptly.

They stood on a bank of the lake. A deep crease in the mud ran into the water.

“They had a boat,” Kane said, crouching to examine the track in the mud. “Small. Wider than a canoe. Probably a small rowboat.”

“Somebody had to know about this little stretch of beach,” Olivia said. “The shoreline between here and the dock is covered in thorn bushes, just like you said, Barlow. This is the closest place to land a boat, other than the dock.”

“Tracey wasn’t local,” Kane said, “but the guy she was with might have been.”

“Or at least has stayed at one of these cabins at some point.” Olivia strained to see across the lake. “For now, let’s assume Tracey’s guy is local. If we can’t find him, we can broaden the search to cabin renters-permanent and the holiday crowd.”

Brie was staring at the mud. “He pushed this boat into the water, but I don’t see any footprints. We got a good crease of the boat’s keel. We also should have a shoe impression. Unless he came”-she handed the dog’s lead to Olivia and walked a wide half-circle around them-“from this way,” she finished. Gingerly she moved the thick bushes aside. Then looked up with a grin. “Shoeprint. Score.”

Kane followed her path and looked over her shoulder. “Size ten shoe. Nice.”

The single word was high praise from Kane. Brie turned to search the area. “See the path, the trampled twigs and leaves that stop ten feet farther than he wanted to be?”

“He was scared,” Olivia said quietly. “Running from a burning building. I wonder if he knew Tracey hadn’t made it out.”

“Oh.” Barlow put down his camera and stared at Brie’s profile. “I know what else he was.” He walked to Brie’s side and bent slightly, his gaze focused on her ear.

Stiffening, Brie pulled away and glared at him. “What?”

Barlow straightened and looked at Olivia. “Cochlear processors worn behind the ear don’t have ear molds,” he said. “I can’t believe I forgot that.”

Olivia frowned. Then understood. “Oh. God. You’re right. As many times as I’ve seen you hook that on your ear, Brie… I can’t believe I forgot, too.” She glanced up at Kane. “Brie’s processor is held in place by a little hook that grabs here,” she explained, touching the topmost fold of her ear. “Not a pink mold like David found in the rubble.”

“Molds are used by hearing aids, not implants,” Brie said. “You found a pink mold?”

“In the rubble,” Barlow told her. “The ear mold was still recognizable.”

“She wouldn’t have a hearing aid and an implant at the same time?” Kane asked.

“Perhaps,” Brie said, understanding now as well. “Some people use both, depending on the kind of hearing loss they have. What kind did the victim have?”

“According to mom, Tracey was profoundly deaf, but her father refused to consider the cochlear implant. They’d tried hearing aids with Tracey, without any benefit.”

“He’s deaf, the father?” Brie asked. “The controversy against implanting kids isn’t as hot as it used to be, but it still exists. Many deaf people don’t see their deafness as something that needs to be ‘fixed.’ They’re protective of their culture, their language, and many see implants as a threat.”

“I got that when I talked to the dad,” Kane said, “even through the relay operator we had to use. He was angry, especially at his wife. Of course he was grieving, too, and it was almost impossible to get any nuance over the phone.”

Brie’s mouth curved ruefully. “It gets easier, with practice. Next time, use a videophone operator if you can. If the father has a videophone, he can sign to the operator instead of typing into the TTY. That way the interpreter’s voice can give you some of the emotion, because they’re seeing the signer’s face. I’ll show you how to connect.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Kane said.

“Getting back to the mold?” Barlow asked impatiently. “Was it the girl’s or not?”

“If she was born profoundly deaf,” Brie said, “and wasn’t wearing it before the surgery, chances are good it didn’t belong to her. You’ll have to confirm that.”

“If it wasn’t hers, the backpack we found may not have been hers either,” Kane said. “And the hearing aid may belong to whoever she was with before the fire.”

“We know from the hair he left on Tracey’s body that he’s Caucasian with dark hair. He’s probably local, probably deaf or hearing impaired,” Olivia said. “Narrows it down.”

Brie nodded. “And if he’s her age, you’re in more luck. He’ll be enrolled in school, and the district will have paperwork on his disability.”

“Where should we start?” Olivia asked.

“I’d start with the school for the deaf.” Brie checked her watch. “School’s out for the day. Some of the kids live in the dorms, so you could check there, but you’re going to want to go through the principal, whose name is Oaks. I’ve found him very helpful.”

“You went there?” Kane asked. “I thought you lost your hearing as an adult.”

“I did, so no, I didn’t go to that school. I work with the school’s vocational program, teaching a vet-tech class. When they graduate, the kids have a skill.”

“So you know these kids,” Kane said.

“Some of them. They also have classes in cooking, mechanics, and farming. A lot of teens think they want to be a vet, but transfer when they have to sweep out kennels. Those kids usually go into cooking.” Brie smiled. “It’s sugar to shit, just in reverse.”

Kane chuckled. “So can you help us talk with these kids?”

Brie hesitated. “My signing is slow. You should get an interpreter and try on your own first. It’s possible the male you’re looking for isn’t local or is graduated already, but the deaf community is close-knit. If he still lives here, somebody will know him. You just may need to be patient. They’re sometimes protective of their own.”

“Kind of like cops,” Kane said.

“Exactly.” Brie looked at Barlow, her brows lifted. “Anything else, Sergeant?”

“No,” Barlow said, his manner as stiff as hers. “Thank you and your dog.”

“You’re welcome. Call me, Liv. We can grab Paige and go to Sal’s for a drink.” She took the dog’s leash from Olivia with a pointed look. “Like old times.”

Like old times. Before Pit-Guy. Before I started avoiding my friends. “I promise.”

“I have witnesses,” Brie warned. “Come on, GusGus. Let’s go home.”

Olivia turned to Barlow, who looked grim. And as tired as she felt. Earlier he’d extended an olive branch… Well not a branch. More like a twig. She’d up the ante a bit. “You did the right thing by calling Brie. I know it wasn’t easy.”

Barlow’s smile was tight. “I didn’t at first. The first four SAR teams I called weren’t available.” He let out a breath. “How do you want to go forward?”

“We’ll look for Tracey’s partner,” Kane said. “You keep working the inside angle, checking the personnel. See if any of the employees were suspicious.”

“Or deaf or hearing impaired,” Olivia said. “What if the guy Tracey was with worked for Rankin and Sons? What if he was letting her hide there? He may have had a key.”

“Good point,” Barlow said. “What about the Feds? Did Abbott hear from Agent Crawford?”

“If he had, he would have called. Hopefully he’ll hear something by five,” Olivia said. “What about the size ten shoeprint in the mud?”

“I’ll get CSU to take a plaster cast of the print and the keel crease,” Barlow said.

“And we have just enough time to check with Ian before our five o’clock meeting,” Kane said. “He should be done with Weems’s autopsy by now.”

It was a few minutes till four. A trip to the morgue, an afternoon command meeting, back to the morgue to stand with Tracey’s father during the official ID, then…

Up to David, who would be waiting at a cabin on a different lake, a half hour away. Why there? Because he wants to take up where we left off.

Which was damn appealing, both for her bruised ego and her lonely libido. Still, she clearly remembered the single name he’d groaned that night they’d spent together. And it wasn’t mine. If he did want a rerun, she wasn’t anywhere close to knowing how she’d respond. Well, girl, you’ve got about two hours to figure it out.

Monday, September 20, 4:35 p.m.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked the lady at the counter while he kept watch on the rest of the shop from the corner of his eye.

She looked up from her BlackBerry, a dreamy smile on her face and a twenty in her hand. “No, this will be fine. You have a nice day.”

He made change that she didn’t bother to count. “You do the same. Buh-bye.”

He watched the woman go, no doubt in his mind what had put the dreamy smile on her face or where she was headed. He wondered if her husband knew that she was cheating on him or that the phone she clutched in one hand held her lover’s e-mails expressing his undying ardor, demonstrated at the local motel every Monday after work.

Breaking into her e-mail had been child’s play. Every time she waited in line, she checked her e-mail, just like three-quarters of his customers did. Everyone seemed to have one of those handy smartphones these days, and the lure of free Internet was too sweet to pass up as they waited in line.

Of course, anyone logging in to the “free” wireless Internet service he offered also received a sweet little Trojan that mined all of their e-mail passwords, bank account passwords, contact lists, anything they had stored on their cell phone or laptop.

He’d latched on to several of his current clients by stealing their e-mail info and logging into their accounts. My, my, the e-mails people sent, and kept. They were enough to make him blush. Hot, hot, hot. And perfect blackmail fuel. Cheating on your wife? For shame. Pay me and no one need ever know. It was so damn easy.

It had taken him only a few of Eric’s e-mails to realize he’d hit a gold mine. Eric and Joel had already been e-mailing back and forth about their anger over the condo development and how it encroached on the wetlands. Eric hadn’t seemed the type to care about wetlands, but through their e-mails, he could see how Joel had reeled him in.

Joel was an enthusiastic do-gooder, but he also knew which of Eric’s buttons to push. For once in your life, live, Joel had written. Take a risk. Be a champion. Do something that will make a difference. My father says you’re boring and safe. Is that how you want to live your life? Do you want to become like our fathers?

Who were both incredibly, stinking rich.

Too bad Joel had a conscience. He could have become a great salesman. Eric, on the other hand, had little imagination but a very thorough mind. Once led to a point, he’d run with it, just as he’d run with the idea of being a hero for once in his life.

Eric had become the leader, and quickly the plan had taken form. He’d enlisted help from Albert, his lover who’d gone along for the ride, probably for lots of reasons, most of them selfish. Then Joel brought in his own lover, a name that stopped me in my tracks. Mary. It was a name he hadn’t seen in some time. One he could have gone a lifetime without seeing again.

He might have left her alone forever if she’d stayed put. Worked her little job. Taken her frivolous little classes. But she hadn’t stayed put. She’d met Joel and had gotten involved in this delightfully escalating disaster. As soon as he’d seen her name in Joel’s e-mail, he’d known this was far bigger than blackmail. This was revenge.

And that the girl in the window had died? It made the pot all the sweeter.

Unfortunately, though, the girl’s death was bad for business today. He’d had the normal crowd at the counter and the register had been ringing almost nonstop, but the fire and the girl’s death were dominating all the “private” conversations. People said the damndest things in public, believing no one could hear them, that no one paid attention.

But I’m always paying attention. That’s why I’ll be rich. Nonchalantly, he drew his remote from his pocket. It looked like an iPod, from the circular thumb wheel on the device to the earbud he wore in one ear.

It wasn’t anything so frivolous as an iPod, although he, too, enjoyed his tunes. Just not when he was working. He spun the wheel with his thumb, rotating through all the hot zones. He’d wired the whole place and with his handy surveillance gadget could listen to any conversation. It was like an auditory zoom, an indispensable piece of equipment for any blackmailer, and a real steal on eBay.

He got most of his tips through listening in on conversations. Then he hacked into their e-mail to get the real goods-the documentation that would make his marks pay and pay again. Unlike Barney Tomlinson, the majority of his marks paid.

But like Tomlinson, when they didn’t, he took care of them. Permanently.

His shift would be over soon and he could take care of Tomlinson, then pick his spot to watch the College Four Minus One in action. He leaned down to close his laptop and jumped, startled when his pocket buzzed. It was one of the disposable cells in his pocket. It was Eric, he saw, once he’d found the right phone. He flipped the phone open to read the text.

Joel is dead. There are only three of us. Job on schedule.

Eric was taking him at his word, afraid the video would be leaked if all four of them didn’t show. The boy was afraid. That was good. By tomorrow, he’d be terrified. That was better. For now, he’d play with them a little bit, get that hook set in even deeper.

how do i know you’re telling the truth? he typed. prove it.