Silent Scream

Chapter Twenty-one

Wednesday, September 22, 4:30 a.m.

David couldn’t sleep. He lay there holding her, pictures flashing behind his clenched eyes. Zell pinned, Kane dead. It could have been her. In the cacophony of his thoughts, it was the one that screamed louder than all the rest.

She wasn’t asleep either. She lay stiff in his arms, her breathing shallow. She shuddered out a breath and he touched his lips to her cheek, wet with tears. “Hey.”

“I keep seeing him there,” she whispered, her voice choked. “In the grass. I can’t believe this happened.”

He turned her in his arms and her fists clenched against his chest before her hands splayed flat, her fingers digging into his skin as another barrage of sobs tore through her. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Cry if you need to. I won’t leave you.” He stroked her hair until her sobs quieted and her breath hitched.

She rubbed her palm over his chest, swiping at the tears. “I got you all wet.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I need to think.”

“No, honey. You need to grieve, and that’s a long road. Kane was a good man, a good cop. He was your partner. You spent more time together than most people do with their spouse. He had your back and you trusted him. You loved him.”

“Yes.” It was a hoarse whisper. “I didn’t cry like this when my mother died.”

He heard the guilt in her voice. “You’re not a bad daughter because you didn’t.”

She lifted her head, peered at him in the darkness. “What?”

“You’re feeling guilty because you’re grieving Kane more intensely than your mother, right?”

She nodded, tears falling again. “She was my mother. I mean I cried, but this is different. I feel like my heart’s being ripped out of me. What kind of daughter does that make me, if not a bad one?”

“That night in Chicago, you told me you missed her, that you loved her.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you did. But I get the impression that things between you were never easy.”

She lowered her head to his shoulder with a sigh. “No, they weren’t. She loved me, I know she did. But I never seemed to make her happy. I could never do anything right. And sometimes she’d look at me like she hated me. I never understood why until I saw Mia for the first time.”

“At your father’s funeral.”

“I rushed to Chicago as soon as I heard he’d died and got there just in time for the burial. Mia was wearing her dress blues, standing next to the coffin with her mother. The cops folded the flag and gave it to the wife, then she turned and almost shoved the flag into Mia’s arms. I remember standing there, hating them both so much. Then Mia looked up and I couldn’t breathe. It was like looking in a mirror.”

“She was pretty shaken, too.”

“I know. It was at that moment I realized we must both look like our father.”

“You didn’t know what he looked like?”

“I never even knew his name. My mother never talked about him. When I was little, I’d imagine what he was like. I’d wonder if he was walking around somewhere with amnesia or something. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t want me.”

David had to swallow hard, picturing her as a child. “My parents loved each other and they loved us. I’ll always be grateful for that. I’m sorry you didn’t have that.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re grateful. I used to get so mad at kids who hated their fathers for something stupid, like not getting a car or clothes. I just wanted to have a dad. When I got older, I badgered my mother to tell me about him. Finally accused her of not telling him I existed. That’s when she lost her temper and told me that he was a cop in Chicago. He was married. He’d lied to her, said his wife had left him. That he’d promised to marry her when I was born. Then when I was, he decided to stay with his other family. His wife and kids. I didn’t know his name or theirs, but I hated them all.”

“How did you find out he’d died?”

“From my mother’s sister. I tried so many times to get my mother to tell me his name, but she wouldn’t. It was a big area of contention between us. Finally, she died without telling me. I thought I’d never know. But then I got a call from my aunt, who saw his obituary. My mother had confided in her, years ago. Made her promise not to tell me, but my aunt knew I needed the closure.” Her voice hardened. “Then I met Mia and found out I was better off with no father than the father she’d lived with. I was glad he didn’t want me then.”

“That was a hard few weeks for you,” he murmured and she lifted her head again.

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated. “I know about Doug. How he left.”

“Who told you?” Then her eyes narrowed. “Barlow. Damn his meddling.”

“I asked first. For what it’s worth, he feels horrible. When I heard the story, so did I.” She looked down, saying nothing and he felt compelled to fill the silence. “Olivia, your ex was an ass. But even though I know he hurt you, I’m glad he left. I’m glad I met you. I know you don’t believe me, but I’d been waiting for you. Maybe my whole life.”

She finally looked up, her eyes filled with hurt. “Then why did you say her name?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll never know. I do know that I only drank too much twice in my life. Once eighteen years ago, and then, that night with you. Maybe I was scared. I met you and I knew. I knew you were special. Maybe too special. It was like you could see inside me, and I didn’t want anyone that close.”

“Because they’d find out what you didn’t want anyone to know.”

He nodded. “Olivia, Dana was never more than a fantasy. She made things happen, she stood for the same people I’d been working to help for years. She was a crusader. But I never had anything else in common with her. We never stayed up all night talking about everything under the sun. I certainly never told her about Megan. I don’t know why I said her name that night. I can only tell you that after I met you, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

She held his eyes in the darkness. “And if she were to suddenly become free?”

And come back, like her fiancé’s old love had. “I wouldn’t go. Because I’m not free. I wasn’t from the moment I met you.” He traced his fingertips over her cheek, her lips. “You might not believe that now. But if you give me time, heart, trust… you will.”

Her lips curved, so slightly he might have missed it had he not been so focused on her face. “Helluva line, David.”

“No line. You’ll see. I’ll show you.” He cradled her head in his palm and pulled her back to his chest. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Wednesday, September 22, 6:25 a.m.

He pulled into his parking place behind the Deli, annoyed. Austin hadn’t texted back and Kenny’s cell phone account had been frozen. He entered through the kitchen to find his staff already at work preparing breakfast sandwiches. He grunted a greeting and they grunted right back, just as they did every morning. Important to keep a routine in case anyone became suspicious.

He’d left his hat behind. He still couldn’t get over that stupidity.

He switched on the television behind the counter and stood watching the news. Last night’s fire was big news. Four dead. Several injured, including a firefighter. Then came the bomb scare at the school and the death of Detective Kane.

He made a mental note to cut back on his pastrami order.

The next segment was Captain Abbott delivering a message to Austin, complete with interpreter, begging Austin to contact them. My priority is finding Austin before the cops do. Using one of his disposable cells, he entered Austin’s number.

It’s Kenny. New account. Cops took old fon. Where r u? I have place you can hide.

He hit SEND, then started another. Cops?ed me all night. Know about u. I didn’t tell, swear. They lie. Don’t trust them. And he hit SEND again.

He closed his phone, slipped it in his pocket. He wouldn’t panic. If the cops knew about him, they’d have been here waiting in full SWAT gear. He clipped his mike tuner to his belt, put the bud in his ear and hoped Austin checked his messages soon.

Wednesday, September 22, 7:00 a.m.

Olivia must have slept because a trilling cell phone alarm woke her up. She lay spooned against David, not opening her eyes as he reached over her to silence the alarm. He ran his hand up her arm, cupping her neck and massaging the base of her skull with his thumb. “We have to get up.”

The events of the night replayed in her mind and a wave of raw grief washed over her. “I don’t want to,” she whispered. “This hurts.”

“He was a good man. A good cop. You loved him. It’s going to hurt.”

Her eyes burned. Stubbornly she held them closed. “Can we pretend it’s not morning for five more minutes? Please?”

“Sure.” His voice was husky but sweet and suddenly not what she needed.

He’d put distance between their bodies and she knew why. She pressed back against him, feeling him hard and ready.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I can’t help it, though. Not when I wake up with you.”

Last night she’d maneuvered around her own grief. Now she needed him to make the day go away, for just a few minutes more.

“David, if last night hadn’t happened, how would you have woken me up?”

She heard the sudden intake of his breath. “I’d be inside you.” And then he was, hard and full, stretching her, making her gasp. “Like that.” He splayed one big hand across her abdomen to pull her closer, pushing deeper.

“And then?” she whispered.

“And then I’d ride you hard.” And he did, making her moan, writhe. Beg for more. His pace was fast and furious and when his thumb found her most sensitive place she went up like a rocket, light bursting against her closed eyelids. He followed with a groan, his body going rigid, his hands gripping her hips as he ground himself into her.

They lay shuddering together, panting like sprinters. Later she might worry over how he’d gotten so good, but for now she was grateful he’d pushed the day away a few more minutes.

Her breathing returned to normal, bringing with it the knowledge she could put the day off no longer. They both had jobs to do. She opened her eyes, their two cell phones on the nightstand the first thing she saw.

And something clicked.

“He takes their cell phones,” she murmured and felt David stiffen in surprise.

He leaned up on his elbow and stared down at her. “Excuse me?”

She looked up at him urgently. “This guy takes their cell phones. Tomlinson, Val, and now Kenny. He’s taken all of their phones.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know yet.” She pulled him down for a hard kiss. “I have to go.” She rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, then stopped, another truth asserting itself. She looked over her shoulder, saw he’d realized it, too. “We, um, forgot something this time.”

His gray eyes were intense, even though his cheeks had reddened beneath his morning stubble. “You’re safe with me, Olivia.”

Her own cheeks heated. It was an awkward conversation, to say the least. “Me too. They checked me six ways to Tuesday when I donated my kidney to Mia, and there hasn’t been anyone since. But… I’m not on the Pill. I should have been more careful.”

Still lying on his side, he ran his palm lightly down her arm, intertwining his fingers with hers. “I waited for you for a long time. I’m not walking away.”

She swallowed. “It’s just… I grew up without a father. I should have been careful.”

“I understand that,” he said steadily. “But I’m not walking away.” He pressed a kiss to her palm. “Now go, get in the shower or we’ll both be late for work.”

Wednesday, September 22, 7:30 a.m.

Austin Dent opened his eyes. The sun was up. He’d slept a little. Worried a lot.

His mom would be worried sick, even though she’d been the first and only text he’d sent when he got away. I’m ok. Borrowed your car. Didn’t do anything wrong. Sorry.

His heart still thundered when he remembered watching the police car pull into his driveway. Run. Cell in hand, he’d grabbed a hoodie from a chair and escaped through his bedroom window. He’d run through the woods, not looking back until he’d come to a neighbor’s house. The neighbor had left a bicycle outside and he’d taken it, riding as fast as he could to the truck-stop diner where his mother slung hash all night. Her car was there. Luckily, his keys and wallet had been in his pockets when he’d run.

He’d taken her car, driving north, intending to slip across the Canadian border.

But what good would that do? That was crazy thinking. He needed to find a way to make this stop. He needed to think. He’d needed to sleep. Luckily there were more places to hide up here in the northern woods than anywhere he knew. He’d tucked the car into a clearing and managed to get a little rest.

But now the sun was up and he needed to make some choices. Where do I go? Who do I trust? He picked up his cell phone. He’d removed the battery while he slept, not really sure if anyone could use it to find him.

He replaced the battery, then blinked when he saw all the texts. People had been trying to reach him for hours. His mother. Trust the police.

Kenny. Believe the police.

The police. We’re not going to hurt you.

And Kenny again. Cops took my old fon. They lie. Don’t trust them.

Austin turned off his phone, scared and confused, but knowing nothing was going to change if he sat here. Answers were in Minneapolis. So that’s where he’d go.

Wednesday, September 22, 8:00 a.m.

David was surprised to find Tom waiting for him in the firehouse lounge. His nephew lurched to his feet, his face bent in a frown. “Are you okay?” Tom asked.

David signed in and headed straight for the coffee. “Hard night, but I’m fine.”

“I heard on the TV about Zell. Any news?”

“I called the hospital on my way in. They said he was unchanged.” David poured them both cups of coffee and handed one to Tom. “I guess we won’t know anything for a day or two. You remember Detective Kane, Olivia’s partner?”

Tom nodded, his frown deepening. “I heard it on the news. They said he was saving some kid from getting kidnapped.”

“Which is all mixed up in this glass-ball craziness.” And that a ball had not been found at last night’s scene had been nagging at him.

“Poor Olivia. She’s got to be crushed.”

“She is, but she’ll stand.” And so will I. She’d turned to him that morning, needing him. He’d been afraid that in the light of day he’d see contempt in her eyes. But she’d taken the worst secret he owned and put it in the past. He’d find a way to do the same.

“I know. But still…” Tom sighed. “I’ve got a nine o’clock class, so I don’t have much time. I found a few things on that Web site we talked about. Can we talk here?”

It was very quiet in the firehouse that morning, the mood depressed, common when one of their own was injured. Everyone was going about their business and nobody was paying attention to them. “Good a place as any. What do you have?”

“The Web site’s domain name is registered to a guy named Hubert Leeds, established ten years ago.”

“Two years after the last Moss fire. Who is Hubert Leeds?”

“Professor Leeds. Taught at the same university as Moss. They were pals, according to a few articles I found.”

“Taught? Leeds retired?”

“No, he’s dead. Died of an aneurysm eight years ago.”

“So the Web site just lived on?”

“Not exactly. I’m not sure when the content was uploaded-you know, the speeches, the recordings, the pictures of Moss. But somebody has been renewing the domain registration. You can’t just let your URL expire or somebody could snap it up and use it for their own Web site. It was last renewed six months ago-and registered out for nine years. That’s the max.”

“Who paid for it?”

“Good question. That would have required a little deeper digging than I was comfortable doing. Credit cards and things like that.”

“So we’re going to need help,” David said unhappily and Tom shrugged.

“Ethan’s not a bad guy, David.”

“I know, I know. Never mind. What else did you find?”

Tom’s brows lifted. “You’re welcome.”

David smiled. “Thank you. What else did you find?”

“I got into the Web site pretty easily. I figured somebody had to be updating it and it was just as likely to be that Lincoln Jefferson guy as anyone. I played with usernames and passwords until I got it right. Didn’t take long. His username is AbeThomas, all one word. And three guesses to his password.”

“Valla Eam,” David said.

“You got it. I’m betting Lincoln worked with Professor Leeds to build the site. The professor probably gave him access to all the admin stuff-the registration, the site itself. Then when he died, Lincoln kept it.”

“While he grew crazier and crazier,” David said. “So this Web site has been sitting there all this time? Don’t you have to pay for server space?”

“This one’s hosted at one of these freebie places. The account’s in Leeds’s name. I checked hit activity and the site had a low level of visitors for the first half of last year. The real activity started last April, right about when the domain was renewed.”

“So who’s been visiting?”

Tom drew a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Names I was able to track. The rest are IP addresses I couldn’t track. You’re back to asking Ethan for help on those.”

David read the list, then frowned at a name that kept appearing over and over again. “This name I know. Joel Fischer. Why do I know that name?” He closed his eyes, concentrating. “Oh yeah, I remember now. It was Monday when I was listening to the news reports on the condo fire. Joel Fischer died on Monday. Car accident.”

“I remember him now, too.” Tom looked thoughtful. “He went to the university. The heavy Web traffic in April was probably research for a spring semester class.”

He was at the fire, David thought. Then he’d driven his car off the road, unable to deal with the guilt. Joel’s home was the visit Olivia had made right before she’d come to the cabin last night, before everything hit the fan. “He’s important.”

“And you’re not going to tell me how,” Tom said flatly. “Uncool, David.”

David leaned over, murmuring, “He was at the condo fire, okay?”

Tom’s brows shot up. “Really? He doesn’t seem like a smart criminal, then. He didn’t try to hide his visits to this site and he visited a lot. Of course, hits to the site have gone off the charts since yesterday when the story of the glass ball broke.”

Olivia needed the information, but David wasn’t sure how he’d tell her where he got it. He scanned the list again. There was a name that was noticeably absent.

“Lincoln’s name isn’t anywhere,” David said thoughtfully. “No wonder that Fed was so pissed. Lincoln’s been there, right under their noses for twelve years, keeping up the Web site. But they had to have known Professor Leeds had died. Why not investigate?”

“If no new content was added after Leeds died, they may have assumed it was a static site. Maybe they stopped checking it. That’s all I got. Talk to Ethan about the credit card payment for the domain re-up. He has ways of tracking stuff.”

“I don’t think all his ways of ‘tracking stuff’ are completely legal,” David murmured.

“So? You want legal or you want to keep Grandma safe at your loft?”

“You’re right. I’ll give Ethan a call. Thanks for your help, kid.”

“Anytime.” Tom gave him a quick one-armed hug, then stepped back, amused. “You need to lay off the honeysuckle perfume, David. People will talk.”

David’s cheeks heated. Olivia had jumped into the shower without her shampoo. He’d pulled back the curtain to give it to her and found her crying, a new wave of grief having hit when she’d found herself alone. He’d held her while she cried, washed her hair because he knew the massage calmed her. Then one thing had led to another and he’d made the day go away one more time.

Tom barked a laugh. “You should see your face. I have to get to class. Call me if you need me.” He handed David a card. “Ethan’s cell.”

David took the card. “Thank you. I mean it.”

“No problem. Grandma’s still with Evie?” Tom asked and David nodded.

“Yeah. Noah had to work last night, after Kane…” He sighed. “Anyway, she called Glenn and he stayed there during the night. I assume he’s still there.”

“I guess it’s about time for Grandma, too. She’s been alone a long time.”

It still made him wince. “Yes, she has.”

Tom shrugged. “Hey, I had to watch my mom fall for your brother.”

“But it turned out okay.”

“Sure it did. And this will, too. You shouldn’t be complaining. If he’s good enough to be your friend, then he’s okay for your mom.”

“You’re right. Hey, you know you could have called me with all this information.”

“I know,” Tom said. “But I saw the fire on the news during the night and heard one of the firefighters was hurt. Grandma called me, told me it wasn’t you, but”-he shrugged uncomfortably. “Guess I needed to see for myself that you were all right.”

David felt his throat close once again. “Well, I am. Get to class. And thanks.”