Silent Scream

Chapter Seventeen

Tuesday, September 21, 7:30 p.m.

Hi, Tom.” It was squealed by two pretty college girls outside the university gym, where David and Glenn had found David’s nephew Tom finishing basketball practice. Glenn’s head turned as he watched the girls’ heart-arresting, hip-swinging departure.

“Put your eyes back in your head, old man,” David said, amused. “I don’t carry a defib around on my back, you know.”

“Youth is wasted on the young,” Glenn grumbled and Tom chuckled.

“Sorry about that,” Tom said. “Let’s get away from the gym. Draws the groupies.”

David knew Tom was aware of his star-athlete status, but he was relieved that his nephew tried to stay humble.

“I don’t know,” Glenn said. “I kind of like drawing the groupies.”

Tom’s grin flashed as he led them down a sidewalk toward his dorm. “Me too.”

“As long as you only look,” David advised, as he always did. “Don’t touch.”

“I know, I know,” Tom said. “I’m not stupid, David.”

“Never thought you were.” He’d met Tom when the boy was fourteen and terrified. His mother, Caroline, had gone missing and Evie had just been rushed to a Chicago hospital, fighting for her life. Tom’s biological father, a true monster, had found them after Tom and Caroline had successfully remained hidden for years. David’s older brother, Max, in love with Caroline, had saved the day and later adopted Tom, loving him as if he’d always been a Hunter. They all did.

What David always remembered most about those horrible hours when they feared Caroline dead was the almost unnatural maturity Tom maintained. When the adults around him were losing it, Tom stayed calm, focused. Since then, David had watched him grow into a young man who made the family proud.

They stopped at a picnic table and Tom perched on it, propping one of his huge feet on his basketball. “So, beyond ogling girls, what brings you two here?”

David sat on the table, Glenn on the bench. “We need a hacker,” David said baldly.

Tom laughed, then sobered. “You’re serious.”

“Oh yeah.” David told him what happened and Tom paled.

“I had lunch with Grandma at the Deli and she never mentioned any of this.”

“It hadn’t happened yet,” David said. “It was at about two.”

“When she was back at your place.” Tom shook his head. “My God, if she’d been in your place and if that crazy guy had gone there.”

“Exactly,” Glenn said, all of his prior levity gone. “That’s why we’re here.”

“We want information on the Moss Web site,” David said. “Who designed, owns, maintains it. Who’s visited it. Do you have any geek friends who can help us?”

Tom nodded grimly. “Hell, yeah. You’re looking at him.”

David’s eyes widened. “You? No way.”

“Me.” He aimed a sidelong glance at David. “I told you I was bagging groceries last summer when I went home for summer break. And I did, part-time. The rest of the time I worked for Ethan. I actually worked for him the past few summers. He pays really well. I made double working for him compared to bagging groceries, in half the time. Sorry.”

David sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t see much need to. Salt in the wound and all that.”

His shoulders sagged. “You knew?” Who hadn’t known he was in love with Dana?

“Sorry. It was kind of obvious. Only if you were looking, of course.”

David’s face heated. “Well, hell.”

Glenn cleared his throat. “I take it Ethan is the husband of the unrequited thing?”

David rolled his eyes, thoroughly embarrassed now. “Yes. God. Back to our point. You can find out all we want to know about the Moss Web site?”

“And nobody will even know I’ve been there.”

“What is this Ethan?” Glenn asked. “Some CIA spy guy?”

“Kind of,” David said uncomfortably. “Does network, shadowy, PI kind of stuff.”

“Ooh.” Glenn winced. “Tough competition.”

David scowled down at him. “Thank you.”

“Just getting back for the defib comment,” Glenn replied cheerfully. “So, young man, you won’t get caught?”

“Nope. I’ve got a study date at eight, but I’ll do it when I’m done and call you.”

“Thanks, kid.” David stood up and met his nephew’s solemn blue eyes. “You’re sure? I don’t want to drag you into anything dangerous. Your mother would kill me.”

“Everybody says that, but Mom wouldn’t. She was doing the dangerous work all those years, picking up families in bus stops in the middle of the night. Hiding them from abusive dads.” He shrugged. “This is nothing compared to that.”

Glenn’s eyes had gone wide. “You have to tell me about this.”

“Unrequited Thing ran a secret shelter for battered women leaving their spouses,” David explained. “Caroline, Tom’s mother, was her right hand and Evie worked for her, too. Olivia’s sister, Mia, was also in on it, but more discreetly, being a cop. They gave lots of women new starts-new IDs, job skills. Even money.”

“And what did you do?” Glenn asked.

David smiled, but sadly. “I fixed the roof, her car, and anything else that broke.”

“I see,” Glenn said, quietly now, and David thought he probably did.

“Who’s watching Grandma?” Tom asked.

“Noah and Evie.” David’s brows lifted. “And I’ve got news.”

Tom’s face broke into the high-wattage grin that made college girls swoon. “Noah finally popped the question, huh?”

“Yeah. And Evie’s smiling.”

Tom’s grin dimmed and he swallowed hard. “Good. That’s good.” Abruptly he hopped off the table and took off, waving good-bye over his shoulder. “I’ll call you.”

David watched him go, once again feeling his own eyes sting.

“And?” Glenn asked. “That was?”

“Family,” David said thickly. “Evie is Tom’s oldest friend. They grew up together, in Unrequited Thing’s shelter. Her happiness has been on his wish list for a long time.”

“Does Unrequited Thing have a name, son?” Glenn asked gently.

“Dana,” David said, then smiled. “I used to dread hearing her name after she married Ethan, dreaded saying it even more.”

“And now?”

“Now… it’s okay.”

“Sounds like this Dana was dedicated to serving others.”

“She was, to the exclusion of everything else. Used to make me nuts, her going after those families in the middle of the night at the bus station in downtown Chicago. Sometimes the husbands would come after her, threaten her, but she didn’t seem to care if she lived or died. But that was then.”

“What changed?”

“She met Ethan. Figured out that there was more to life than…” He stopped, then sighed. “Than helping other people.”

“At the exclusion of everything else,” Glenn murmured.

“I bet you think you’re pretty clever, old man.”

“Yep.” Glenn stood, stretched his back. “I do.”

Tuesday, September 21, 7:40 p.m.

It didn’t take long to find Joel’s shoes. They were in his closet, under a pile of dirty laundry. “Kane,” Olivia said. She held up one of the shoes, sniffed it, then turned it over. “Smells like smoke and looks like glue.”

“Then he was there,” Mr. Fischer said faintly. He stood in the doorway. Mrs. Fischer had stayed in the living room with the rabbi. Olivia couldn’t say she blamed her.

“It looks like it, sir.”

“I don’t see any pill bottles,” Kane said, looking through Joel’s drawers and under his mattress. “CSU can search for residue, but…” He let the thought trail. Usually a kid who did drugs left some evidence behind in his room and Kane was good at finding it.

“Did he ever stay anywhere else?” Olivia asked Mr. Fischer.

“No. He wanted to live at the dorm and we said he could in his third year.”

Kane held up a thick textbook. “Environmental Ethics. What was his major?”

“Philosophy,” Mr. Fischer murmured.

Kane leafed through the book and his brows rose. “Did Joel have a girlfriend?”

“No. He was busy with his studies. He said he was waiting for a Jewish girl.”

“Who were his friends?” Olivia asked.

Fischer closed his eyes. “The Feinsteins’ and Kaufmans’ sons, from Hebrew school. And Eric. Eric Marsh. They’ve been friends since kindergarten, first grade.”

Kane wrote down the names. “Would these boys know about Joel’s interests?”

“I don’t know. Kaufman’s son is going to school out West somewhere. Feinstein’s son is still in town. I don’t know if Joel saw them often. Eric is an engineering student at the university. I think they had lunch sometimes. Eric was always the one to keep Joel steady. Showed him the problems in all the wacky plans he came up with over the years.” His face fell. “I don’t even know if anyone’s told Eric about the accident.”

“Okay,” Kane said. “Here we go.” He’d been going through Joel’s stack of school papers and held up a bound folder. “‘Preston Moss-hero or monster?’ On the last page Joel concludes he was a hero.”

A strangled breath came from Fischer. “Son, what have you done?” he whispered.

Olivia looked around Joel’s room. One wall was covered in plaques, honoring community service, which made her think of David’s bedroom in Chicago. He hadn’t had any plaques or mementos. David didn’t do his service to be noticed. Teshuvah. David was making amends, but for what sin? What about Lincoln had he understood?

She turned to Joel’s father. “I’m betting more than he originally bargained for.”

Fischer’s eyes were anguished. “Oh, God. He did this thing. This terrible thing.”

“I am so sorry, sir,” she said. “We’re going to need to bring in our crime scene unit.”

He nodded unsteadily. “I understand.”

His color worried her. He’d turned gray. “Can I get you anything?”

“No. Nothing.” He turned away then, his back hunched and Olivia heard the familiar muted howl of agony. It was raw grief and always tore at her gut.

“Dammit,” she muttered.

“You did all you could, Liv,” Kane said quietly. “More than most would. How did you know all that about the… What did you call it? Teshu…?”

“Doing Teshuva,” she said with a sigh.

“You didn’t pick that up from dropping by your neighbors for the occasional wake.”

“No. When I was in college, I had a few years of soul searching,” she admitted. “You know, why are we here? I looked into a lot of religions. I really liked my neighbors. They were a happy family. I thought maybe it was their faith. So I went to Temple near campus for a long time. I was curious. Kind of like Joel.”

Kane held up the textbook. “He did have a girlfriend. I found a note, with hearts, x’s and o’s. ‘Meet me by the library.’ Signed, M.”

She picked up one of the pillows on Joel’s bed. “Pink smudge. Lipstick.” She sniffed it and her mind flashed back to David’s words. I thought I’d dreamed you, then I smelled you. On my pillow. Her heart fluttered. “Perfume. Faint, but there.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time boys and girls sneaked behind their parents’ backs.”

“I’ll give Micki a call, get a crew out here.”

“It’s late,” Kane said, “and I’m beat. It’s been a long day. Once CSU gets here, let’s go home, recharge, and come back at this in the morning.”

She thought of David, waiting for her at the cabin. Wondered again at what he might have done, then thought about all he’d done since and wondered what the past mattered. He’d proven the kind of man he was, time and again. He was waiting for her and he’d promised answers. She’d been waiting for two and a half years. “All right.”

Tuesday, September 21, 8:55 p.m.

“It’s about closing time, sir,” he said to Dorian Blunt, who sat alone at a table, his eyes on the door. The wayward accountant had been there for almost an hour, jumping every time the bell on the door jingled.

Poor Dorian was waiting for the man who’d contacted him via e-mail about an accounting position in a new company. There was just enough verifiable detail to make Dorian believe in the job and just enough promised to make him desperate for the position.

Because Dorian needed a new job very badly. Especially now. The job he’d taken after leaving his old firm after embezzling all that money had not been successful, and the Blunt household’s finances were suffering. So much that Dorian might start dipping into his ill-gotten gains any day now.

Which wouldn’t do at all. Because I took every cent.

Of course there was no job. There is just me, playing with Dorian a little. Not wanting to harm Mrs. Blunt or their child, he’d needed a way to lure Dorian out of his house, and promising a job interview was better than most. Having him wait for an hour, watching the door?

Now, that was a strategy he’d learned from a real master. Honed right here in his shop. The serial killer unceremoniously dubbed “The Red Dress Killer” by the press had lured his female victims from their homes with the promise of a hot date in a public place. He’d made them wait, demoralizing them, then when they’d given up on Mr. Right, the killer had followed them home and performed his dastardly deeds.

He’d lured his third victim here. Right under my nose and even I didn’t suspect a thing. Not until the police flashed the victim’s picture all over the media. He’d recognized her immediately then. He’d even chatted with her the night she’d disappeared. The police had tracked her here, asking for video of the dining area, but he’d lied, telling them he only had video of the cash register.

For a very brief moment, he’d considered blackmailing Pit-Guy but quickly decided against it. The man had been a serial killer, for God’s sake. There was no way he was getting involved with that. And as for helping the police? He let them figure it out on their own. That’s what they were paid for.

Eventually they had figured it out and Pit-Guy’s full story had been revealed. He’d had more than three dozen bodies stashed in the pit in his basement. So my instincts were right. Don’t mess with a man with three dozen bodies in his basement. The video of Pit-Guy watching his victim, following her out that night, was one of his treasures.

And whenever he needed a lesson in discretion, he watched it. Pit-Guy got cocky, then careless, then caught. Now he was dead. I don’t intend to get careless.

I intend to hang everything on Mary and Albert. Especially Mary. He had a score to settle with her. But for now, he had a score to settle with Mr. Dorian Blunt. Pay me a fraction of what you owe. Foolish. Between Tomlinson and Blunt, he’d have enough visual aids to convince his other clients to pay on time. And if not, he’d kill them, too.

He looked up at the clock. He needed to finish with Dorian so that he could deal with that kid Kenny at the deaf school and find out what he knew that he wasn’t telling the cops. He’d snip those loose ends and then he could get back to business.

“Sir,” he called out. “We’re closed now. You have to leave.”

Dorian stood, his briefcase clutched in his sweaty hand. “Just a few more minutes? This meeting is very important.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m ready to lock up. You may want to wait outside for a few minutes. Just in case.”

Dorian did just that, which he’d known he would. He locked up and went to get his van. Soon, Dorian Blunt would wish he’d just paid his bills on time.

Tuesday, September 21, 9:05 p.m.

David stood on the edge of Glenn’s dock, his face lifted into the cool wind coming off the water. It was after nine and Olivia hadn’t called.

He’d almost given in and called her, but stopped himself. The ball was truly in her court now, he thought. No pun intended. She could be busy. She could be tied up with a suspect and unable to call. Or, she might have simply changed her mind.

He looked down at his fishing rod and tackle box that lay on the dock, unused. He’d brought them out here, intending to try for another walleye, but had ended up standing here, contemplating. Everything.

He thought about what Evie had said about missed opportunities, about Glenn’s paralleling his life to Dana’s. Service, at the exclusion of everything else. Dana’s had been penance for the guilt she felt over her mother’s murder at her stepfather’s hand.

Mine… Megan’s death and the deaths of her entire family. Also at the hand of a stepfather. Funny how he’d never stopped to consider the parallels before. But they’d always been there, plain for anyone to see. If anyone knew the truth.

Which brought him back to Olivia’s big question-who are you? He still wasn’t sure what he’d answer, if she ever got here.

He turned his mind to Lincoln and his phantom helper, who might not even exist.

He hoped Tom was making more progress with the Web site than he had with the phone numbers he’d found on Lincoln’s call log. The only calls that showed up in any of the reverse lookups he’d done were cell phones for Lincoln’s mother and his brother, Truman. The other number Lincoln had called matched nothing. It might be a disposable cell. He’d gone as far as picking up a disposable cell phone of his own on his way up to the cabin, but he’d stopped short of calling the numbers.

If one of them was important, he wouldn’t want to tip them off.

Whoever “they” might be. Because even though he was pretty positive Lincoln had help, David still had to ask why? Why would anyone not crazy want to find me? All I did was catch the damn ball.

A noise caught his ear, faint, but it got louder and his heart began to pound. A car. Either Olivia had just forgotten to call again or someone else had come to search the place. He grabbed his fishing gear and jogged back up to the house, stowing his things on the back porch. He strode through the small living area. He’d set the table again and restored order to Glenn’s desk. The house was ready for Olivia.

But was she ready? Am I?

Hands unsteady, he wrenched open the door, only to find her on his doorstep, her fist poised to knock. Slowly she lowered her fist to her side, her eyes locked to his, and he had to force himself to breathe.

She wore a beige trench coat, cinched tightly around her waist. But peeking out from beneath it he could see the dress from last night. The one she’d worn the first night he’d met her. She wore ridiculously high heeled shoes that made her legs look incredible. He lifted his eyes back to her face, hoping he was reading the right words between the lines, because on her head she wore a fedora, the brim pulled low.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He stepped aside and she entered, her eyes drawn to the table. She looked up, her mouth slightly curved. “Just like last night.”

“I was hoping…” The words trailed away, his thought unfinished. She stood before him, looking good enough to eat and every muscle in his body clenched. He shoved his hands in his pockets lest he reach out and touch. “I’d take your coat,” he said roughly, “but once I touch you, I won’t be able to stop.”

Her eyes heated and he could see her pulse fluttering at the hollow of her throat. She tugged at her belt, then pulled the buttons free, shrugging out of the coat on her own. She laid her coat across the arm of the sofa, carefully placed her hat on top of it, and looked back up at him. Deliberately she extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Olivia Sutherland. It’s nice to meet you.”

His eyes dropped to her hand and he swallowed. Hard. She was offering him the chance to start over. To get it right this time. Slowly he watched his hand take hers, his large and dark, hers small and pale. Nearly fragile. But he knew she was anything but. She was strong and kind and beautiful and he was shaking like a teenager.

“I’m David Hunter.” He leaned closer until he could see every eyelash framing her blue eyes. Until his mouth was a whisper from hers. “And I want you more than I want to breathe.”

“Oh.” It was more an exhale than a word. Her eyes slid closed, her chest barely moving with the shallow breaths she drew, as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. He didn’t know who moved first, and then he didn’t care. Her arms were locked around his neck and his mouth was on hers, savage and bruising, but she met him full force, openmouthed and so damn hot.

His hands were everywhere, her back, her breasts, her round butt that filled his palms like she was made for him. “What do you want?” he managed.

“You.” She punctuated her words with hard kisses. “Now. Please.”

He should stop this. She’d wanted to talk. Needed her answers. But he didn’t think he could stop this if his life depended on it. He lifted her dress, running his hands up her legs and then he groaned when his fingers went from silk to bare skin. She wore real stockings. “Where’s the zipper on this thing?” he rasped, searching her back.

“No zipper.” Her hands were busy on the buttons of his shirt. “Just… take it off.”

He yanked the dress over her head and let it land where it would. And then he stared. Silk and lace covered very little. His eyes dropped to a miniscule thong. Very, very little. He thought his heart might explode. He was sure other parts of him would. He cast his eyes at the sofa, tempted, but she tapped her finger against his mouth.

“You said,” she said in a husky murmur that sent every drop of blood rushing out of his head, “you needed more space for what you wanted to do to me.” She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and brushed his mouth with hers while his hands cruised the skin she’d bared. “For me. In me. No sofa, David.”

He was going to die. “Fine,” he ground out, and lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He took two steps toward the bedroom when his mouth found her breast through the lace and she arched against him, her body lithe and beautiful. He stopped where he stood, sucking hard and making her whimper, loving the sound. He shifted her, claiming the other breast so he could hear it again.

“Hurry,” she urged. “Please. Please.”

It was a desperate chant as he obeyed, laying her on the bed, then ripping the tiny panties down her legs, pushing her shoes off her feet in one motion. Before she could draw another breath his mouth was on her and she moaned, just like he remembered.

She tasted… just like he remembered. And her hands dug into his hair, pulling him closer, just like he remembered. “Please, please.” She was chanting it again, begging for more, begging him to take her there, as if she wasn’t certain he would.

So he sucked and nipped and licked, finally stabbing his tongue deep and her body went taut, her head flung back and a strangled cry ripped from her arched throat as she came with a force that stunned him.

But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop, and she shuddered again, his name on her lips.

He pushed to his knees, staring at her, his body throbbing. “Olivia, look at me.”

She blinked, finally lifting her eyelids. She was beautifully dazed.

He placed his hands on either side of her face, leaning close. “I am thinking of you. Just you. Only you. Olivia.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Then her lips curved. “You’re still dressed.”

Her hands reached for him, but he grabbed her wrists, twining his fingers through hers. “If you touch me, I’ll come.”

“I want you to. I need you to.”

“I need to, too, but I want it to last more than thirty seconds. So give me a minute.” He dropped his brow to hers. “I dreamed of your taste. You’re better than I dreamed.”

She twisted up into him. “David, please.”

He let her go, backing up before she could touch him. He peeled the stockings from her legs slowly, one then the other, then stood next to the bed and shrugged out of his shirt. “Take off the bra.”

She sat up and unhooked the frothy lace that hardly covered enough to earn the term. She let the straps slide down her arms and quite suddenly, took his breath away.

“You’re beautiful.”

She dropped her eyes to her hands as she worked his belt free. “So are you.”

David’s hands stilled. She knelt on the edge of the bed, her gaze dropping as she reached for the button on his trousers. He covered her hands with his, stopping her. “No. Look at me, Olivia.”

She looked up until she met his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything.” He cupped her face tenderly. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“Because you want me more than you want to breathe.”

“And that’s because you’re beautiful. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, Olivia. I tried. For months and years I tried and nothing worked. Nobody worked. I kept seeing your eyes when we talked and your face when you smiled.”

Something shifted behind her eyes and he knew he’d never convince her with words alone. He let his trousers drop to the floor and pushed his boxers down with them and felt a wave of satisfaction when her eyes widened, heating again.

She ran a fingertip down his length, then ran her hands down his sides, grasping his hips. He knew what was coming, but still nothing prepared him for how utterly incredible it felt when her mouth slid over him, wet and warm. His head fell back, his eyes closed and a guttural groan escaped his chest.

It was heaven. But he didn’t want to come like this. Not tonight.

“Stop.” Summoning every ounce of strength, he dug his fingers through her hair and pulled her away so that he could see her face. “To you, for you.” He dragged her up, ground his mouth on hers, fiercely satisfied when her arms came around his neck and she pressed her breasts into his chest, kissing him back. “In you.” Blindly he reached into the bedside drawer for a condom. “I want to be inside you.”

“Then hurry,” she whispered, yanking him down to the bed with her. Fragile she certainly was not. She snatched the packet from his hand and he had to clench his teeth to hold back when she slid it over him, her hands like little licks of fire.

He rolled her to her back, determined to do all the things he should have done before, praying he had the strength to hold back, to give her what she deserved. But when he pushed into her she was hot and wet and so damn tight. He stopped midway and shuddered, holding to his control by a thread. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She met his eyes and he could already see the pleasure he’d hoped to put there. “More.” She rocked up into him, pulling him deeper. “God, please. David. More.”

His control snapped on the first more and he drove deep, making her gasp. But there was no pain on her face, only a growing sensual need as he moved, harder, deeper. Faster. She met each thrust as he watched her climax build. He could feel the orgasm tingling at the base of his spine and fought it back. Not yet. Dammit, not yet.

Then her short nails dug into his back and once again she went taut. He plunged harder, recklessly driving them higher until she screamed and the blistering wave hit and everything went black, her name on his lips as he fell.

Tuesday, September 21, 11:30 p.m.

All systems were go. He sat in his van a block away, watching the house Barney Tomlinson had purchased for his whore. Its destruction would mean more insurance money for Mrs. Tomlinson and it was one last way to stick it to Barney, in memoriam.

Dorian was currently sprawled facedown on Barney’s desk inside the house. Minus his face, of course. That would give the cops a fun puzzle to solve. How did Dorian and Barney connect? They didn’t of course, except through me.

The beauty was that the money he took from both men had been held in offshore accounts that nobody would know to look for. No connection.

There were Albert and Mary. Right on time. They’d argued earlier about this job. Their voices had come through loud and clear via the mike he’d hidden in their phone.

Albert had been furious with Mary over the glass balls. Mary had been furious for his having lied to her about Tomlinson being an environmental villain. Neither one seemed terribly upset over Eric’s demise. Mary hadn’t wanted to do this job. Albert had threatened to break her neck and throw her in the Mississippi River. It had been most entertaining. But after all that, here they were. And from the looks of them, still arguing.

He tuned the receiver clipped to his belt to their frequency and listened. Albert had the disposable in his shirt pocket, so his voice was loud. Mary held her own, though.

“Goddammit, woman, shut up,” Albert growled. He was speaking with his French accent. Maybe he hadn’t faked it after all. Maybe he’d been trying to get back at Eric.

Given Eric’s present state of death, I’d say he did that pretty well.

“This is stupid,” Mary hissed. “We’re just digging ourselves in deeper.”

“And if we refuse?”

“So he publishes the video. We’ll say we were Photoshopped in. Besides, he’s the one who has the girl on tape. It proves he was there, not us.”

Mary had a point, but Albert wasn’t buying it. “Just do what I say or the fishes will love you. Big nasty ones in that dirty river of yours.”

“I hate you.”

“Good thing you don’t need to like me. You just need to do as you’re told.”

You go, Albert. Somebody should have smacked that girl down a long time ago.

He videotaped them as they entered the house and were quickly out again. In minutes the fire was raging. The kids were getting pretty good at this. Albert pulled the cell from his pocket and snapped a photo, then the two of them ran for Eric’s car.

They drove away and he started his van, taking off in the other direction. He needed to get to the deaf school. He had a date with Kenny that the boy didn’t yet know about. He glanced behind him at the plastic dry-cleaner bag containing his costume. He’d have to do a quick change when he got there. His shirt was the wrong style, as was his hat, but he was betting Kenny wasn’t familar with the exact uniform worn by the Minneapolis PD.