Silent Scream

Chapter Sixteen

Tuesday, September 21, 5:55 p.m.

Olivia and Kane found Ian staring at skull X-rays on the morgue’s light board.

Olivia winced. The skull shown was crushed in several places. “What’d he hit?”

“His steering wheel, his windshield, the frame of his car as he rolled down an embankment, and then, I think, three trees. He was brought in on Monday.”

“Why are we looking at him?” Kane asked.

“You remember last night, when you were checking that camp and I told you to leave, that I had another autopsy to do? That was this guy. Joel Fischer. No history of smoking. Then I did the cut. He had damage to his upper airways. Smoke inhalation.”

The hairs rose on the back of Olivia’s neck. “What kind of smoke?”

“First I thought he’d inhaled smoke at the accident scene, but I checked-there was no fire. Then his urine tox came back loaded with oxycodone. I’m surprised he was even able to drive the car. On a hunch, I ran a blood test. Traces of cyanide.”

“He was poisoned?” Kane asked and Ian shook his head.

“Not in this case, especially because he’s also got high levels of carbon monoxide. He inhaled burning plastic.”

“A structural fire,” Olivia said. “Oh my God. And Tracey Mullen’s blood screen?”

“Acute cyanide toxicity. It doesn’t mean they were in the same fire, but they were in the same type of fire. A burning building with carpet, furniture, something polymer based.”

“He was there,” Kane said. “Sonofabitch. So how does the X-ray fit it?”

“Glad you asked.” Ian put another skull X-ray next to Joel Fischer’s. The second film showed a single crack at the base of the skull. “Look at the same place on Joel’s skull.”

Kane leaned forward. “Same crack, although it gets lost in all the other damage.”

“Which is why I didn’t catch it the first time,” Ian said. “This second X-ray belongs to Henry Weems, the security guard. It’s not conclusive, but I’d say it’s highly possible they were struck by the same weapon, by the same person.”

“Did Joel Fischer have gunshot residue on his hands?” Olivia asked.

“No. I checked,” Ian said. “He could have cleaned it off, but I found no trace.”

“Do you still have this Fischer kid’s body?” Kane asked.

“I do, and it’s causing me quite the headache. The Fischers are Orthodox Jews and had his funeral and burial set up for this afternoon. They had to cancel because I wouldn’t release the body until I got this blood test back. They are very upset with me.”

“They’ll be more upset with us,” Olivia predicted grimly. “This is good, Ian. Gold.”

“Here’s the Fischer kid’s info,” he added, handing her a printout before she could ask. “I’ve released Weems’s body and it’s gone. What’s the status on the Mullen girl? Her dad ID’d her last night. She’s free to go.”

“Mom was supposed to claim her today. Last I heard, her flight was delayed,” Olivia said. “I have a cell number. I’ll find out where she is. There’s still the question of who caused Tracey’s abuse injuries. I don’t want to lose that in all the rest of this.”

“I never thought you would. The mom might come straight here from the airport. You want me to stall her until you two can get here?”

“Definitely,” Kane said. “We need to see her and her new husband’s faces when we tell them about her injuries.” They said good night to Ian and left the morgue. “So which first? Blue Moon for Lincoln’s alibi or Joel Fischer’s house?”

“Blue Moon. Then we can get Crawford off Abbott’s back.”

“All that’s going to do is show if Lincoln was involved in our fires,” Kane disagreed. “Crawford’s not going to give up that our fires are domestic terrorism until we prove that they’re not. Which they could still be. These arsonists knew about the mark on the North Pole. And if a university kid was there…” He opened the morgue door for her.

“Yeah, except for the fact that Tomlinson’s missing his face,” she said, drawing a deep breath of fresh air. She took her hat off, sniffed it. “Morgue stink is in my hat.”

“It’ll pass,” Kane said. “Otherwise Jennie would make me keep all my hats in the garage. We’re going to want to search Joel’s room.”

Olivia looked at Joel’s personal info. “Lived with his folks. I’ll call the assistant DA. Hopefully what we have will be enough for a warrant.”

Tuesday, September 21, 6:10 p.m.

David’s mother waved at Evie and Noah, who were standing outside the restaurant. “I hope they haven’t been waiting long.”

“I don’t think they minded, Ma,” David said dryly, parking his truck. The couple had been holding hands, smiling sappily into each other’s faces and the sight hit David with a wave of longing. He didn’t begrudge Evie a single moment of happiness. She’d been through so much. She deserved to be happy with Noah forever.

David just wondered when it would be his turn.

“You have to meet them, Glenn,” she declared. “Help me down, David. I don’t want to twist my ankle jumping out of this truck in these silly high heels.”

But Noah helped her from the truck before David could get out. He glanced at David curiously, then kissed her on the cheek. “Phoebe, you’re looking beautiful tonight.”

“And you’re a charmer,” she said. “Evie, come here. Meet Glenn.”

Evie looked different tonight. She smiled a lot since meeting Noah, but tonight her smile was brighter. Something good was brewing. Friends for years, David and Evie were more like siblings. Evie had been brought into the family through his brother Max’s wife, Caroline. Through whom he’d met Dana and fallen head over heels in love.

Which seemed like a lifetime ago, now. Thoughts of Dana, images of her in the arms of another man, used to make his heart physically hurt. Now, nothing.

Time did heal wounds. And sometimes it revealed that what a man thought he wanted so desperately wasn’t necessarily the thing he should have.

His mother had her arm around Evie’s shoulders. “Glenn, this is Evie. I told you about her. And this is Noah, her boyfriend. Evie, this is Glenn. He rents from David.”

Glenn had extricated himself from the backseat of the truck and shook Evie’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, young lady.” He then lifted her hand higher, a broad smile on his grizzled face. “Is this rock what tonight’s all about?”

Evie met David’s eyes. “We were going to tell you first, but you’ve been busy.”

He had to swallow the lump in his throat as he grabbed Evie up in a bear hug. “Congratulations,” he managed gruffly. “I couldn’t be happier. Really.”

“Thank you,” she whispered fiercely. “Really.”

He put her down, the grin still on his face. “Congratulations, Noah.”

His mother was crying, hugging Evie so hard he thought she might break her. Because this wasn’t simple joy over an engagement. His friend had suffered so much, surviving attacks on her life, brought back from the edge of death twice. She’d almost given up. But not quite. Here she was, beaming like a star. David felt his own eyes sting.

“So when’s the date?” he asked Noah whose eyes were also suspiciously bright.

“We don’t know yet,” Noah said. “Eve just wants to be passed around and fussed over for a while, which is fine with me.” Noah shifted his weight so that he leaned closer to David while the women chattered happily. “Why did you drive Phoebe?”

Noah was no fool, as David had quickly realized seven months before when the dark, brooding detective had led the investigation against the serial killer who’d murdered so many. He’d trusted Noah almost immediately and they’d become friends. That Noah and Olivia were also friends was damn convenient, too. Noah had been one of David’s best sources on Olivia over the last seven months.

“Glenn and I were talking about Lincoln, the guy who broke into the cabin.”

“I heard about him.”

“He did some complex thinking to find me. We’re wondering if he was alone.”

“I wondered the same thing as I was driving home. You want me to drop Phoebe off at your place later?”

“She’s going to stay with you tonight, if that’s okay.” David took her bag from the backseat. “I’m going to be a little late tonight and I’m on shift tomorrow at eight. I keep thinking that if Lincoln had gone up to the loft first…”

“Well, he didn’t,” Noah said practically. “Do you or Glenn have any thoughts on who might have been helping this guy?”

“No. Do you?”

“Not yet. I’ll make sure Olivia knows about this.”

David hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m supposed to see her tonight. I’ll tell her then.”

Noah gave him an impatient glance. “It’s about damn time, Hunter.”

“I know, I know. I’ve gotta go. Just keep an eye out for Ma.”

“You know I will.”

David started to go, but Evie stopped him. “Wait.” She wrapped her arms around his neck in a big hug, then whispered in his ear, “You pushed me to take a chance on Noah and on myself. Told me the chance might not come again. Do you remember?”

He did. She’d challenged him to stop watching his own life go by that same night seven months ago. “Yes. It was my fee for fixing your roof.”

“You fixed my life instead. Now I’m returning the favor. Do not let this opportunity get away. Promise me you will tell Olivia how you feel. And soon.”

He started, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Noah made me sign up for another self-defense class. Rudy told me.”

David laughed. “That guy’s a damn weasel.”

“No, he’s not. He’s a sweetheart, and the best source of gossip in town.” She sobered. “Promise me, David.”

“I promise.” He let her go and waved to Glenn. “Let’s go. I’ve got an appointment to get my ass kicked at the dojo and I’m going to be late.”

Tuesday, September 21, 6:20 p.m.

He’d decided how to get Kenny out of the well-secured residential dormitory. Except the timing was wrong. If he could have set his plan for Kenny in motion later, say around midnight when the cops and rescue teams would be busy at the fire Albert was planning, success would be virtually guaranteed.

But Sutherland and Kane were due back at the deaf school at 7:00 p.m. He needed to get his hands on Kenny before the cops got him to talk. Even though the timing was wrong, he didn’t have a choice.

Make the call. He’d dialed the first few digits of the school’s main phone number, wondering who would pick up this time of the evening. Campus security, most likely.

And then the interpreter’s phone jingled a little tune. Detective Olivia Sutherland, once again. Abruptly he canceled the call he was about to make. Sutherland wasn’t at the school yet, because he was, sitting down the street in his van. Why was she calling?

He held his breath, waiting for the call to go to voice mail. He gave it a minute, then dialed the interpreter’s voice mail and listened.

He let out the breath he held in a whoosh of relief. Something else had come up. They wanted Val back here tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. Everything would be totally fine now.

Smiling, he typed a text. 10 is fine. will see you then.

He needed to get back to his shop. This was the third Tuesday of the month, when the local book club met. Luckily they talked more about their own lives than the books they’d read. He’d managed to snag quite a few new clients based on their gossip alone.

Tuesday, September 21, 6:30 p.m.

“That was nice,” Glenn said quietly.

David glanced over at him before returning his gaze to the highway, where traffic was stop-and-go. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized the older man had been as well. “Yes, it was.”

“Your mother just took that girl under her wing. Evie, I mean.”

“That’s how it is back there, in Chicago. Our family is bigger than just blood relatives. And we take care of each other.”

“And yet you left.”

“Yeah. I did.”

“Because of the name you said during… you know.” Glenn cleared his throat. “The unrequited thing.”

David found himself smiling at Glenn’s embarrassment. His own father would have been the same way. “You ready to talk about Lincoln Jefferson?”

“I think that’s wise,” Glenn said, relief in his voice. “Your cop friend back there didn’t have any ideas?”

“No. But I was wondering why someone would want to help Lincoln. What would they get out of it? Lincoln said he broke into your place to find proof I’d been paid or commanded to lie, to set Moss up.”

“Which is crazy.”

“It is, because Lincoln is. Who else would be upset that we’d sullied Moss’s name?”

“Moss, for one. If he’s still alive. Or one of his other followers. There were a hell of a lot of them,” Glenn said. “You’d have to find the one who had contact with the schizo.”

“One might have that,” David said slowly, “if one had checked Lincoln’s cell phone.”

Glenn’s brows shot up. “And who might have done a thing like that?”

“Me. I checked his pockets after I tied him up. I was making sure he didn’t have any other weapons while I waited for the cops.”

“Prudent.”

“I thought so. I found Lincoln’s cell, checked the log, and wrote the numbers down.”

Glenn laughed. “I stand corrected, boy. You did good.”

“We’ll see if the numbers yield anything. The other thing I was thinking about was the Moss Web site.”

“That piece of trash,” Glenn muttered.

“True, but somebody put hours and hours into building and maintaining that site. Somebody who treasured Moss and wouldn’t want to see him linked to two gunshot murders. I’m wondering how to track ownership of that site.”

“Wouldn’t the FBI already have done that?”

“I would have thought so, but Lincoln seemed to have passed under their radar.”

“True. Didn’t you tell me your friend Evie did Web site work? A little hacking?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to drag her into this. She’s finally got her life steady.”

Glenn waited a full minute while David frowned. “And? Who else, boy?”

David sighed. “I know someone in Chicago who’s great with Internet spying, but I hate to ask him for anything.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s the husband of the unrequited thing.” Who, to David’s constant consternation, was a hell of a nice guy. He’d always wanted to hate Dana’s husband but had never been able to summon it.

Glenn winced. “Oh. What about that nephew of yours? He goes to college. I bet he knows something about the Internet.”

“I’m sure Tom knows quite a lot, but he’s not the hacker type. He might know someone who is, though. I’ll call him.”

“You do realize you aren’t going to make your karate class tonight?”

David sighed. Traffic was snarled. “I got a decent workout this afternoon with Lincoln, so I can miss once. I’ll call Paige and tell her I’m not coming.”

“Then we can work on those phone numbers and the Web site.”

“I was thinking that.”

Tuesday, September 21, 6:30 p.m.

Austin Dent paced his bedroom floor, checking his phone every few minutes. School had been out for three hours. Three hours. Where the hell was Kenny? All he had to do was get to the mailbox in the middle of town and drop a goddamn letter in.

Getting to town was no problem. The two of them had done it dozens of times when they’d been given off-campus public-library passes. That was one of the perks of being in high school. You got more freedom than the little kids who lived on campus.

He stopped pacing, raked his hand through his hair. Why hadn’t Kenny texted?

Trying to calm down, Austin slumped onto the worn-out sofa in the living room and turned on the television news. And frowned. The closed-captioning sucked on this channel. They used some kind of computer speech detector and it was always getting the words wrong. Half the stories made no sense.

He switched to the national cable station where the captioning was more consistent. It was annoying to have to depend on the captioning. A lot of kids he knew didn’t bother with the news. But Austin wanted to know what was happening in the world because one day he’d go to college, make something of himself.

He shook his head. College? Yeah, right. There was no money for college. And after this suspension? He could kiss the scholarships he’d been trying for good-bye. If they think you did that fire, you’ll go to jail and nothing else will matter.

But I didn’t do it. I was only trying to protect Tracey. His chest hurt to even think of her, which meant it hurt all the time. She trusted me. I promised to help her.

Why didn’t I do something? He remembered the bruises with vivid detail. He’d picked her up at the Omaha airport and had wanted to kill someone.

“Let me take you to a hospital,” he’d begged her but she’d refused.

“They’ll make me go back.” Her eyes had been so determined, even as she signed with one hand, because her hand was sprained. Sprained.

Austin had never felt such hate before, but he did when he thought of a monster twisting her arm until it fractured and her hand until it sprained. Someday, when all this died down, he’d make sure the monster paid. But it wouldn’t bring Tracey back.

And then, there she was. Her picture on the news. A scream rose from deep within him, but he kept it chained. Silent.

She was only sixteen. A runaway from Gainesville, Florida, the captioning read. But she’d been so much more. She’d been sweet and smart and funny. And scared. She’d been so scared. I promised her she’d be safe.

A second picture joined Tracey’s on the screen and Austin flinched. It was the guard he’d watched get shot in cold blood. Henry Weems.

Fuck, he thought, his heart plunging as he read the captioning flowing across the screen. A retired cop. They’ll want revenge. They’ll take it out on me.

He jumped to his feet, turning his back, unable to watch any more. He turned off the television, then went back to pacing. Kenny, where the hell are you?

Tuesday, September 21, 6:50 p.m.

Olivia brought the car to a stop. “I thought the Fischers’ house would be bigger.”

“Me too,” Kane said. “Mr. Fischer is a rich man.”

She bit at her lip thoughtfully. “I wish we had a warrant. They’re going to be mad enough that Ian put the skids on Joel’s burial. I don’t think we’ll find them terribly cooperative. I’ll call the ADA one more time.”

“He’s gonna yell,” Kane said glumly.

Olivia’s lips twitched as they did whenever he used that tone. “Let him yell.” She dialed Brian’s phone, prepared for the yelling.

“No,” the assistant DA said without preamble. “Judge said no.”

“No way,” Olivia whined. “Really?”

“Look, I’m sorry. You need to get more before we have cause to search.”

“Okay. Thanks for trying.” She hung up and looked at Kane. “No warrant.”

“I got that,” Kane said dryly. “At least we can tell Abbott that Lincoln’s clean of these two fires.”

“Luckily Blue Moon had video showing Lincoln there until closing both nights. I don’t think Crawford would have believed the bartender’s word on it.”

“We’ll still want him for B and E and attempted assault on Hunter, but on the fires, Lincoln is the Fed’s problem. Joel Fischer is ours.” Kane got out of the car, tossing back a careless, “It’s your turn.”

“It is not. I did Louise Tomlinson. The Fischers are yours.”

Kane made a face. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Have I ever?” she asked as they walked up the Fischers’ driveway.

“Not once.”

Olivia stopped him before he knocked on the door. “Wait. Take off your shoes.”

Kane frowned. “Why?”

“They’re not sitting shiva yet, because the burial was delayed. But the house may be prepared. No leather shoes. It’s just respect.”

“How do you know this?” Kane asked, toeing off his shoes.

“Our next-door neighbors growing up were Orthodox. When they had a family death, my mom and I visited, took food. Take off your hat.” She did the same.

He obeyed. “Look, Liv, if you know all this, maybe you should take this one. It’ll go smoother if I’m not bungling it out of ignorance. I’ll take the next two. I promise.”

She shot him a disgruntled look. “I hate it when you make sense. All right.” She knocked and waited, dread mounting. Informing parents was never easy. When the deceased was a potential suspect… This wasn’t going to be pretty.

The door opened, revealing a man with a full beard, wearing a black suit. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to intrude. I’m Detective Sutherland and this is my partner, Detective Kane.” She flashed her badge. “We’d like to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Fischer.”

“They are in mourning. They cannot be disturbed.”

Olivia put her hand on the door as it began to close. “Excuse me,” she said. “This isn’t a social call. We realize they are in mourning, but we must speak with them. Now.”

Displeased, the man opened the door. “I am Rabbi Hirschfield. Come in.”

“Thank you.” Olivia sat down on the love seat the rabbi indicated, Kane at her side. In a moment a red-eyed couple joined them, sitting on the adjacent sofa. The rabbi stood in the doorway to the kitchen, almost as if standing guard.

“We’re the Fischers,” the man said indignantly. “Are you going to release his body now? We’d like to bury our son.”

“I know this is difficult,” Olivia began. “The medical examiner found something in your son’s autopsy that required further investigation. That’s why we’re here.”

Mrs. Fischer lifted her chin. “We’ve already been told about the narcotics supposedly found in our son’s body. We don’t believe it.”

Oh, great, Olivia thought. They’re going to believe this even less. “We are very sorry for your loss, ma’am. The medical examiner has no reason to lie.”

Mrs. Fischer flinched slightly. “I didn’t say he lied. He made a mistake. My son was not some druggie. He was a good boy. With a good family.” Her voice broke and tears rolled down her cheeks. “He was the champion of causes, not some junkie.”

“What kind of causes, Mrs. Fischer?” Olivia asked gently.

“All kinds. He raised money for AIDS-ten thousand dollars in his senior year of high school. All by himself. We said we’d give him the money, but he said he wanted to raise it himself. He worked for charities. He volunteered in Temple.” She was sobbing. “He wanted to make the world a better place and I won’t let you tear him down.”

Her husband gathered her close and frowned at them. “You have to leave.”

“Not yet,” Olivia said soothingly. “Please, try to listen to me. I need your help.”

“With what?” Mr. Fischer snapped as his wife tried to stifle her sobs.

“Sir, was your son involved in any on-campus groups? Clubs?”

“No.” Mr. Fischer looked confused. “Why?”

“Did he ever talk about wanting to save animals, wetlands, the environment?”

“Of course.” Mr. Fischer was patting his wife’s shuddering back. “He cared about all those things. Why?” he repeated, more suspiciously.

“The thing the medical examiner found was lung damage to your son’s airways. He’d been in a building fire. Recently. Within twelve hours of his death.”

There was a moment of tense silence, then Mrs. Fischer pulled away from her husband, her eyes now wide, horrified, and angry. “He was not. I know what you’re saying, that he somehow started that fire that’s been in the news. Where that girl died. But he didn’t. He was not in a fire.”

Olivia stayed calm. “Yes, ma’am, he was. The medical examiner wanted to be very sure. He tested Joel’s blood and found traces of cyanide. That happens when someone breathes in burning plastic, as in a structural fire. We’d like to understand what happened. Did Joel seem upset Monday morning?”

Mrs. Fischer was shaking her head. “He was not in a fire. He was here. With us.”

“All night?” Olivia asked.

Mrs. Fischer’s chin lifted again. “All night,” she insisted.

But Mr. Fischer’s eyes had skirted away.

“Is that right, Mr. Fischer?” Olivia asked quietly.

“Yes,” he said. But it wasn’t a firm reply.

Olivia glanced at the rabbi, who now looked more worried than affronted. “Would it be all right if we looked in Joel’s room?” she asked.

“Leave,” Mr. Fischer demanded. “Or I’ll report you for harassment.”

Olivia and Kane stood. “My partner has been very patient with you, sir,” Kane said sternly. “Denying the facts will not change them.”

“If he set that fire in the condo, we’ll get to the bottom of it,” Olivia said, still quietly. “I can’t begin to understand what you’re feeling, but if it were my son, I’d want to know. We will find out, with or without your help.”

“A girl died in that fire,” Mr. Fischer said unsteadily. “You want our help pinning her death on our son? What do we look like to you?”

Olivia glanced at the rabbi, then turned to look at the mirrors covered with black scarves, the low stools set to the side in preparation for shiva. “You look like people who would do the right thing. The moral thing.” She let the comment stand for a moment. “Last night I stood beside the father of the girl who died while he identified his daughter’s body. He cried, too. He wants answers and I will get them for him.”

“We will be back,” Kane promised. “With a warrant if necessary.”

“You said your son was a good boy,” Olivia said. “A good man. It’s possible he started out wanting to do the right thing and it got away from him.” Uncertainty shadowed both Fischers’ faces and Olivia knew she’d hit a nerve. “Were he here, I’m sure he’d want to do the right thing. Do Teshuva.”

Mr. Fischer met her eyes. “But he’s not here.”

“But you are,” Olivia said with a sad smile. “You’ve spent your life following the law, honoring the Talmud. If your son were a child and did a sin, you’d be guiding him through the steps of Teshuva right now. Admit he’s wrong, ask forgiveness. Make amends. He can’t do that, but you can. Let us look at his room. We need to find out what happened-for the girl who died, for Joel, and for your family.”

Mr. Fischer appeared to be wavering. “But the guard. He was shot.”

“The medical examiner checked for traces of gunshot residue on Joel’s hands, but found none,” Kane said, his tone a shade gentler. They’d honed their partner rhythm well. “It doesn’t appear Joel fired a weapon.”

“The medical examiner also found evidence that Joel was struck in the head with a blunt instrument. He might not have known…” A detail clicked in her mind. Two sets of prints leaving the condo, only one at the fence. Her own voice echoed in her mind, in response to Donahue’s profile of the arsonists. Different agendas.

“He might not have known what?” Mrs. Fischer asked, her voice strained.

“He might not have known what the others had planned,” Olivia said.

Mr. Fischer paled. “Joel would never kill. Not on purpose. I know my son.”

“But you don’t know what he actually did. It’ll be worse, not knowing,” Olivia said. “Please. We need to see his room.”

Mr. Fischer looked at his rabbi. Rabbi Hirschfield shrugged. “It’s your choice.”

“And if it were your son?” Mrs. Fischer asked him, crying again.

Hirschfield’s shoulders sagged. “Then, God help me, I would hope I’d say yes.”

Mr. Fischer let out a long breath. “All right. You can look.”

Olivia met his eyes. “Thank you. We’ll try to be quick.”