Silent Scream

Chapter Twenty-four

Wednesday, September 22, 1:00 p.m.

They shouldn’t have wasted their time with the registrar, Olivia thought grimly. Albert’s dorm hadn’t been very hard to find at all. It would be the one with all the police cars and the rescue squad in front. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said.

“Let’s hurry before they touch anything,” Noah said, already jogging.

A uniformed officer waited in the small sitting area of Albert’s dorm suite. “Body’s in the back bedroom. Roommate found him.” The officer pointed to a young man who stood to one side, his face pale. “He says he didn’t touch anything.”

“We’d appreciate it if you could talk to us,” Noah said to the kid. “Stay here, okay?”

“Dammit,” Olivia muttered when she stood in the doorway. A twin bed was situated against one wall and Albert’s large body dominated it. He lay on his back, much as Eric had, nude. A paramedic was kneeling on the floor next to him, packing up his kit.

“He’s dead, Detective,” the paramedic said. “ME can tell you for sure, but at least for a few hours. Looks like he took too many.” He pointed to the nightstand, where there was a small plastic baggie with a few pills remaining inside. “Percocet.”

Emotions churned inside her-frustration, but mostly impotent rage. Albert and Eric had hurt so many, but they’d never stand for their crimes.

Pushing the rage aside, she bent to study Albert’s pelvis, earning her a stare from the medic. “Right there,” she said. “Same needle hole as the others. Sonofabitch.”

“There’s a note on the desk,” the medic said. “Next to the printer.”

“But no laptop or cell phone,” Noah observed. “Big surprise. No signature on the note. It’s in French. Starts with Adieu. Ends in mon ami. The rest I don’t know.”

“My French is rusty,” the medic said, “but it’s basically ‘Good-bye cruel world. Soon I will be with you, my love.’ I guess you don’t buy the whole love-gone- sour suicide?”

“No,” Olivia said flatly. “We’ll take it from here, thanks.”

“And then there was one,” Noah murmured when the medic was gone.

Olivia looked at Noah grimly. “Mary killed them all?”

“She’s the only one left. Let’s talk to Albert’s roommate, but if he doesn’t know Mary, we’ll work the dorms to see who signed Joel in for visits.”

The roommate was visibly shaken, so Olivia gentled her voice. “I’m Detective Sutherland and this is Detective Webster. What’s your name?”

“B-Bill. Bill Westmoreland.”

“Did you know Albert well?” she asked him gently.

“No. He didn’t stay here very often. He had a relationship with a guy named Eric. Engineering major. Eric’s dad is loaded. He has his own place. Albert flopped there.”

“Did you ever see him with anyone else? Any girls?”

“Sure, sometimes. Not lately.”

“Were you here all morning?” Noah asked and Bill shook his head.

“I’ve got class at nine. He was here when I left. He’s been here a lot the last few days. I think he and Eric had a fight.”

“What makes you say that?” Olivia asked.

“Albert normally ignored me, but the last few days he’s been upset. I heard him Monday, no words, just his tone. He was angry. I stay out of his way when he’s angry.”

“Was he violent?” Olivia asked and Bill shrugged.

“Never hit me, but there were a few times I thought he might.”

“Did he know anyone named Mary?” Noah asked and Bill shook his head.

“When did you get back from class today?” Olivia asked.

“About eleven-thirty. His bedroom door was wide open. At first I was like, dude, put on some clothes, and then I saw he wasn’t breathing, so I called 911, then the RA.”

Olivia stood. “Thanks for your help. Is there anywhere you can stay?”

“I have a friend with a place,” he said. “I have an exam in two hours. This sucks.”

“I think maybe this’ll get you a makeup,” Noah said. “The officer will help you pack a bag. Not that we don’t trust you, it’s just procedure.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed, understanding dawning for the first time and with it a flare of fear. “He didn’t kill himself. Oh my God. He was murdered. Here, in my room.”

“We’re investigating,” Noah said calmly. “For now, don’t talk to the press. Please.”

Bill’s eyes flickered again, this time with canny greed. “Of course not.”

Out in the hallway, Olivia rolled her eyes. “Let’s find Mary before she reads her name on Yahoo! We need to update Abbott.”

Noah called Abbott while Olivia gave the first responder instructions. When they got in the elevator, Noah looked relieved. “They found Austin. They’re bringing him in.”

“Where’s he been?”

“Abbott hasn’t talked to him yet. He’ll call us when he has more. Said they weren’t going to announce he’s been found just yet, so we should keep it quiet. Abbott also wanted to know if Tracey Mullen’s mother ever got here from Florida.”

“I need to check my messages. I’ll do it when we’re outside. I got no bars in this elevator.” Which moved in slow-mo. The elevator finally reached the ground and they stopped at the receptionist’s desk.

“Visitors have to sign in and I make a copy of their licenses,” the receptionist said. “Students swipe their ID card. Here’s everyone who’s been through in the last week.”

It was a thick printout that made Olivia’s eyes cross. “Can you check for a name? Joel Fischer?”

The receptionist typed, then shook her head. “Didn’t come in here.”

They thanked her and went outside into the sun. “I’ll get a couple of sandwiches from the food truck,” Noah said. “You check your messages.”

He jogged off to one of the silver food trucks and she listened to her messages. Paige. Paige again. Mia, three times. She’d heard about Kane and was coming to Minnesota. Olivia felt a tiny piece of her settle. Mia would understand. She’d lost a partner herself, years ago.

The last message was from David. Her eyes narrowed as she listened, saving his message just as Noah returned. She took one of the sandwiches he offered and made herself take a bite while turning back to Albert’s dorm, walking fast. “We got a last name on Mary. Mary O’Reilly. Let’s see if that nice receptionist can locate her for us.”

Noah was frowning. “Where did you get the last name?”

“From David, on my voice mail. And no, I don’t know how he knew. I suspect we don’t want to know. I’ll call him back in a few minutes. Let’s find Mary first.”

Noah sighed. “Eve’s got class all morning. She’s not involved, as far as I know.”

“That Chicago group is so used to skulking online, they do it without breathing.” But she smiled sadly. “Kane always thought that was so cool.”

“’Cause it is,” Noah said with a wry grin. “Always makes me hot to see Eve hack.”

She chuckled, and felt better for it. “I’m sure David’s story will be entertaining.”

They reentered Albert’s dorm, the receptionist looking up in surprise. “You’re back.”

“We are indeed,” Olivia said. “Can you find a student for us? Mary O’Reilly.”

“Mary Francesca O’Reilly,” the receptionist said after entering the name. “She’s a senior.” She produced a campus map. “Her dorm is a four-minute walk from here.”

Olivia gave her a smile while Noah called for backup. “Thanks.”

Wednesday, September 22, 1:30 p.m.

He pulled his van into his shop parking lot after driving around in circles to ensure he wasn’t being followed. Wearily he climbed the outside stairs to the apartment he kept above the shop, locked his door, and fell into his easy chair. He’d searched for the kid, but no luck. Cops had swarmed and he’d retreated.

Austin had not replied since telling him he’d run to the ice-cream shop, behind which he had not been. He sent the kid another text, from “Kenny’s” account.

Where the hell r u? Looked everywhere. Town crawling w/cops. Let me know u r ok.

There had been no reply, but so far the cops hadn’t found him either. He’d just have to wait for the kid to text back when he felt safe. His eyes fell on the other text he’d received and he opened the photo attachment again. Albert was dead. Just like Eric.

Just like Joel. All supposed ODs. Mary, Mary, Mary. He hadn’t thought she had it in her, but she was the only one left. If he released the tape now, the cops would be on her doorstep in five minutes. But her point last night was well taken. The video proved a fifth person at the scene-me. To think that the cops wouldn’t link a fifth person at the scene with the shootings of the guard and Detective Kane was simply foolish.

The video was useful only as long as it frightened the College Four into doing his bidding. But the four were down to one, and the one left was a fucking psycho.

Although he’d love to see her rot in a jail cell forever, at this point it made more sense to silence her forever. But his hands were shaking from lack of sleep. A few hours’ rest would be all he needed. Hopefully by then Austin would have contacted him.

And then he could finally give Mary the Bitch what she so richly deserved.

Wednesday, September 22, 1:30 p.m.

“She’s not here.” An officer met Olivia and Noah at the door to Mary’s dorm room. “That’s her roommate. Name’s Helen Sanford.”

A young woman sat on a sofa, her clasped hands between her knees. Olivia sat next to her while Noah searched Mary’s room. “Do you know where she is, Helen?”

Helen shook her head. “We aren’t friends. We don’t talk. Mary keeps to herself.”

“Any visitors?”

“Her boyfriend, mainly. She was really upset this week.”

“Upset? How so?”

“Cried for hours. I could hear her through the wall. Joel died Monday. Car wreck.”

“Does Mary have family in the area, anywhere she’d go?”

“She has a father and a brother who’s some doctor. I think her mother died.”

“Detective Sutherland.” Noah was standing in the hall. “You need to see this.”

“Wait here,” Olivia said to Helen, then went to Mary’s room and looked inside the bureau drawer Noah had opened. “Two glass balls,” she said, “and baby diapers. That’s where she got the gel she used to keep the glass ball from cracking in the fires.”

“And look at this.” Noah lifted the lid of a small box. “Found it behind some books on the top shelf. It wasn’t hidden well, almost like she’d tossed it up there.”

Olivia sighed. “Her stash.” There was cotton and syringes and two worn metal spoons that bore the marks of being heated again and again. “She’s a user.”

“Let’s get her permanent address and send out a unit. She might have gone there.”

“Mary was at the fire,” Olivia said. “It was probably Albert on the dock and at the school. Which means Albert killed Kane.” Again she pushed aside the rage. “But we still have no connection to Barney Tomlinson or Dorian Blunt. It makes no sense.”

“We need to talk to Tomlinson’s wife. But first, let’s see if we can figure out where Mary would go. How did David know about her?”

“I’ll call David and find out.”

“And I’ll call in the BOLO on Mary O’Reilly.” Noah started dialing. “I’ll make sure the airports are also notified in case she decides to buy her own ticket on Air France.”

Wednesday, September 22, 1:30 p.m.

“Thanks for seeing me,” David said, settling into a chair next to Truman Jefferson’s big desk. He’d been shown in by a young woman who’d announced him as Mr. Smith, then discreetly closed the door behind them. “I know it was short notice.”

“Always a pleasure to meet new clients,” Truman said broadly, then winced when he saw David’s chin. “That’s quite a shaving nick you got there. Must hurt like the devil.”

“That it does.” It still hurt like hell and he was still dizzy if he moved too quickly.

His mother had been very upset when he’d tried to leave the house, going as far as to take his keys. The only way he’d managed to get here at all was to allow her to drive. Of course Glenn had come and the two of them sat in the front seat of his mother’s car, waiting for him to conclude his business with Lincoln’s brother. Then they were going to the hospital to see Jeff, who was finally conscious and taking visitors.

“So, how can we help you, Mr. Smith?”

David studied Truman’s face, his eyes. The family pictures on his desk. If he was schizophrenic like Lincoln, he masked it well. “Actually, my name isn’t Smith. It’s Hunter. David Hunter. I’m a firefighter. Yesterday your brother broke into my friend’s house.”

Truman’s brows snapped in a snarl. “What’s this about? If you’re planning to sue-”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Sir, your brother is not well.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Truman said bitterly. “They say he set fires with that terrorist Preston Moss. The FBI came to our house, upset my mother… Please leave my mother out of this. She’s not well either.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” David said. “I’m not here to cause your family pain. I’m here because I need to know who helped Lincoln find me yesterday.”

Truman’s eyes flickered in nervous fear. “Who said anyone helped him?”

“I’m not going to sue,” David repeated. “But I have a family, too. Lincoln came to my apartment house, asked a tenant where I lived. She told him I lived in a friend’s cabin. The owner isn’t listed in the phone book, but Lincoln managed to find the cabin quickly.”

“He’s not stupid,” Truman protested.

“No, but he’s mentally ill and at the moment, off his meds. I don’t believe he found my friend’s cabin alone. If you helped him, I need to know and I need to know why. If you didn’t, I need to find who did. If there’s another zealot out there who thinks I’ve besmirched the name of Preston Moss, I need to protect my family. If Lincoln had gone to my loft first, he would have found my mother, not me. He had a gun, Mr. Jefferson.”

Truman’s eyes fixed on David’s face, then looked away. “I want to say Lincoln would never hurt anyone. But obviously that’s not true.”

David frowned, then understood. “He didn’t do this,” he said, pointing to his chin. “This happened on the job.”

Truman sagged. “Thank God. I’ve been afraid of this, but getting him to take his meds… I even gave him a job here so that I could watch over him, but it’s hard. It’s killing my mother. I made her agree to let the system handle Lincoln this time.”

“Did you help him, Mr. Jefferson?” David asked. “Please, I just need the truth.”

“Yesterday Lincoln called me. He needed to find a man named Glenn Redman. He said it was about the Web site, that he needed to pay. Lincoln does Web site work for me. I thought this was about a bill.” He shrugged helplessly. “I was busy and told Mary to look it up. She gave me the address, I called Lincoln back, and the next thing I knew my mother was calling me crying because he’d been arrested.”

It took a second for the detail to sink in, but when it did David lurched to his feet. “Your secretary is Mary? O’Reilly?” Truman stood as well, uncertainly.

“Why yes, of course. Mary Fran’s been with me since last summer. Why?”

Without answering, David threw open the office door. “Oh my God.” Glenn lay lifelessly on the floor, blood oozing from his head. Truman’s secretary leaned over him, pushing at his body, but at the sound of the door opening she wheeled around, her face white. She held a gun in her hand.

David leapt after but she scrambled back, and holding the gun in both hands, fired. The shot went wide and she ran from the office. David ran after her, then ducked behind a car when she fired a second time. The shot pinged off the car next to him, wide again.

“Stop!” he shouted and barreled forward, but she was fast.

Then sheer terror grabbed his throat when she wrenched open the passenger door of his mother’s car and jumped inside. Mary looked straight at him as she put the gun to his mother’s head. He saw her mouth move. A single word. “Drive.”

His mother shrank back, but Mary shoved the gun harder and the car began to move. “No. Mom, no!” he screamed and hurled himself at the back bumper.

And came up with a handful of air and a mouthful of gravel. He pushed himself to his feet and ran, but the car was screeching out of the parking lot.

He had no keys. He had no car. He spun around and ran back to Truman’s office, where the man knelt next to Glenn, openmouthed and in shock.

“Your keys. Goddammit, give me your keys!”

Stunned, Truman handed them over and David ran outside, yelling, “Call 911.” He started Truman’s car and took off after them. Pulse hammering, he fumbled his phone as he punched the gas, fishtailing in the road.

He couldn’t see her car. Goddammit, he could not see his mom’s car. Hand shaking he dialed 911, driving faster and cursing himself for even allowing her to come.

“What is the nature of your emergency?”

“My mother has been kidnapped. She’s in a green Ford Taurus, heading north toward 35W.” He pictured his mother’s car in his mind and recited the license plate. “Her name is Phoebe Hunter. She’s been taken by Mary O’Reilly who has a gun.” His head was pounding but he managed to keep his voice level. “We also need a rescue squad at Presidential Realty. Sixty-two-year-old man, head wound. He’s unconscious.”

“Where are you, sir?”

“Chasing my mother’s car,” he said, his voice cracking. “Just hurry, and inform Captain Bruce Abbott and Detective Olivia Sutherland.” He came to an intersection and realized he had no idea which way they’d gone. “I don’t see them. Not anywhere.”

“Sir, please return to the scene. I have help on the way.”

David pulled into a gas station. He covered his mouth with his hand, unable to think. Unable to breathe. He stared at his phone, willing it to ring, jumping when it did. Olivia.

“Oh God,” he said weakly, staring at the intersection in front of him. “She’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?” Olivia asked sharply. “David? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t know. Dispatch wouldn’t have had time to call her. “My mother. She’s been abducted.” His voice sounded thin, unreal. “By Mary O’Reilly.”

“What? Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” He looked around, saw the signs, drew a breath and gave her the intersection. “I have to go back. Glenn’s hurt.”

“David. Stop and talk to me.”

But he was turning Truman’s car around and heading back. “Did you get my message before, about Mary O’Reilly?”

“Yes. We’re looking for her. How did you find out about her?”

“Why are you looking for her?” he asked dully, blinking hard to focus on the cars.

“How did you learn about her?”

She hadn’t answered his question and his blood went even colder. “Lincoln is the webmaster for that Moss Web site I found. Mary O’Reilly paid his Web expenses.”

She was quiet a moment. “Okay. Where did you find Mary?”

“I went to visit Lincoln’s brother, Truman. He helped Lincoln find Glenn’s cabin yesterday. Mary is his secretary.” He’d arrived back at Truman’s realty office, his body numb. “Glenn’s hurt. I don’t know how bad. I have to go. I called 911.”

“All right,” she said calmly. “Where are you?”

“Presidential Realty.” He stumbled through the door. Truman knelt next to Glenn, pressing a towel to his head. “I have to go.” Blindly he set his phone aside and pressed his fingers to Glenn’s neck where an unsteady pulse stuttered.

David rolled Glenn to his side. And saw what Mary had been trying to get.

“Her purse,” Truman murmured. “Your friend grabbed her purse. Why?”

David shoved the purse aside. “Tell me about Mary O’Reilly. Pull her personnel file so you can give it to the cops when they get here.”

Shaking, Truman did as he was told, opening a file cabinet, removing a folder. “She applied for a job last summer. Our old receptionist died unexpectedly. One day Mary showed up to fill out an app. I was relieved. I didn’t even have to place a want ad.”

David’s blood ran cold. “Your receptionist died? How?”

“She fell down some stairs. She was older. Lost her footing.” Truman’s eyes grew more fearful. “Why? Mary’s always been a good worker and she’s good with Lincoln.”

“How was she good with Lincoln?”

“She calmed him when he got agitated. Sometimes on a slow day, they’d talk.”

Keeping pressure on Glenn’s head, David made himself think. “What did they talk about?” Although he bet he could guess. Preston Moss.

“I don’t know. I was just happy Lincoln was quiet so I could work.” Truman sat back on his heels, bewildered and afraid. “This is about Lincoln. What’s going on?”

David could hear sirens. “That’s what we all want to know,” he said grimly.

The medics rushed in. “What happened?”

Truman pointed to the floor near Mary’s desk. “I think she hit him with that.” It was a trophy for sales performance. It had traces of blood on one side.

Giving the medics room to work, David searched the desk without touching anything. “Glenn must have come inside. He can never sit still. He must have seen this.” It was a pay stub, with Mary’s name clearly visible. “He knew it was her.”

Truman was staring at the desk phone. “She had the intercom on, listening to us. She knew you were asking about Lincoln. What the hell is going on here?”

David stared at the pay stub, terror stealing his breath. “She’s got my mom.”

Wednesday, September 22, 2:00 p.m.

Phoebe clenched the wheel and tried to stay calm. Difficult when a gun was pointing at her head. The woman was young, early twenties. She’d run out of the realty office only to realize she was parked in. Phoebe had been ready to move her car when the woman jumped in, pointed a gun, and told her to drive.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Shut up and drive,” the young woman snapped.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The young woman laughed bitterly. “Do you want me to?”

“Not particularly. My friend was in there with my son. Did you hurt him?”

“I didn’t kill him, but if you don’t shut up, I will kill you. Up here, turn right.”

Phoebe obeyed, her eyes darting around for any way she could stop the car.

“I don’t recommend you do that,” the woman said quietly. “Really.”

Phoebe drew a breath. “I’ll give you the car and my phone. I won’t call the police.”

“Too late. Your old man already tried. But I will take your phone.” Mary pawed through Phoebe’s purse, found her phone, pulled out the battery, and threw it in the backseat. “Now they can’t track you.”

Phoebe thought of how many times her family had been in trouble over the years, how many times they’d nearly been killed. She’d always thought in some ways it had to be harder, to have to sit and wait for news. To pray. I was wrong. But her family had always kept their heads, had played it smart, buying time until help arrived. So will I.

She began to pray, silently mouthing the words that she’d said so often for others.

“What are you saying?” the woman snapped.

“I’m praying.”

“Well, stop. Nobody’s going to hear your prayers anyway.”

“I’ll know,” Phoebe murmured. “That’s enough.” They’d be looking for her, she knew. She wouldn’t let herself fear. Instead she’d focus on landmarks so that when she got away, she could find her way back.

The woman turned on the radio, tuning it until she found the news.

“Two college students were found dead today,” the announcer reported soberly, “one in his apartment, the other in his university dorm. Police are searching for Mary O’Reilly for questioning regarding these deaths. If you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of Mary Francesca O’Reilly, please call the police.”

Phoebe glanced at the woman. “I’m assuming you’re Mary.”

Mary’s jaw was taut. “Shut. Up. And. Drive.”

Wednesday, September 22, 2:15 p.m.

Olivia found David sitting on the floor of Jefferson’s realty office, his face pale beneath his tan. A nasty row of stitches lined his jaw. There was blood on his shirt.

She crouched beside him. “Are you all right?”

His eyes were blank. “Glenn saw Mary’s name on her pay stub and she hit him. I chased her and she shot at me. She’s not a good shot.”

Olivia touched his wrist, felt his pulse racing wildly. “David, are you all right?”

He closed his eyes. “I chased them, but I wasn’t fast enough. She took my mother.”

She slid her hand over his forearm. “Is this your blood on your shirt, or Glenn’s?”

“Glenn’s.”

“I thought you were on duty today.”

His mouth quirked bitterly. “If I had been, this wouldn’t have happened. Damn cat.”

“You’re not making any sense, David.”

“OTJ accident. Mom and Glenn picked me up at the firehouse. I was supposed to rest, but I didn’t listen. I got information on Lincoln’s Web site. He’s had it for ten years under a dead professor’s name.”

“You said Mary paid some of Lincoln’s bills. You tracked her credit card?”

“Yes. And then I called you with the information. Hours ago.” His tone took a slightly accusing edge and he looked away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” she said gently. “How did you know about Lincoln’s brother?”

“Lincoln called his cell yesterday.”

Oh. “You checked Lincoln’s cell log while you waited for us yesterday, didn’t you?”

He nodded, unrepentant. “Priorities. Yours was catching a killer. Mine was making sure there wasn’t another Lincoln out there to come to my place, hurt my people.”

He would do that, protect his people. “When did you find out Mary was the secretary?”

“Truman mentioned her name when we were meeting. I didn’t know before. I would have called you. I wouldn’t have put my mother and Glenn in danger.”

“I know. We’ve got the state police helicopter in the air, searching for her car.”

He pinned her with his gaze. “Why were you looking for Mary? Tell me.”

Olivia sighed. “We think she killed at least one of the arsonists, maybe all three.”

David closed his eyes, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “With the gun?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. She couldn’t shoot worth a damn. That’s the only thing that’s keeping me going, knowing she’s not comfortable with that gun. Maybe she won’t…” He stopped, battling for control. “Oh God. She’s got my mother.”

“I know,” Olivia murmured. “We’ll find her.”

“Mary applied for the job here to get close to Lincoln. Truman says their last receptionist tumbled down some stairs.”

“Oh no.”

He opened his eyes, terrified but functioning. “She talked to Lincoln. That must be how she found out about the glass balls, about the VE scratched in the pole.”

“How did she find him?”

“Through the Web site, I guess. Let’s ask Lincoln.”

She nodded. “I will.”

“I’m coming.” The look he flashed her was full of fury. “Don’t consider telling me no. You might need me again.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “I’m the cat-saving fireman.”

“Olivia.” Noah was standing at Mary’s desk, studying the contents of her purse. Noah was also pale. Phoebe Hunter was like Eve’s mother. But Noah had proven himself under pressure. Olivia knew he’d keep it together. “Phones. Lots of phones.” He held up an MP3 player in his gloved hand, turned it around. “It says, ‘number one.’”

“Play it,” David said tersely.

Noah did, while Olivia and David watched, huddled around the earpiece that was connected. A tinny rendition of the Mission Impossible theme could be faintly heard, then Olivia saw the first photo and understood.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “It’s Tracey Mullen.” It was her face in the condo window, her mouth open on a silent scream as she pounded the glass.

“Somebody videotaped this,” David said, horror in his voice as Tracey slipped from view, her hands trailing down the glass. “I saw the tracks of her hands on the window.”

The camera panned back to four figures, their faces clearly visible in the moonlight.

“Joel, Mary, Eric, and Albert,” Olivia said. “Joel’s fighting to get back inside. Eric and Albert hold him back, then Albert hits Joel in the head.”

“Then Albert and Eric drag Joel away,” Noah said. “Just like we thought.”

Olivia watched Mary take a last look up at the window, then follow Albert and Eric to the fence where they shoved Joel through. “Just like we thought,” she murmured.

“Someone videotaped this,” David repeated. “They just watched while Tracey died.”

Noah blew out a breath. “We have a fifth man.”

The video changed. “Tomlinson’s warehouse, before the fire,” David murmured.

“This is the connection,” Noah said. “The fifth man was blackmailing them.”

The video stopped and the three of them stood for a moment, silent. Then Olivia sorted through the phones until she found one that said “#2” on the back.

“Lots of texts. Attachments. Photos. Tomlinson’s warehouse burning, Eric’s body, just like we found it.” She opened the next attachment.

“Dorian Blunt’s house,” David said. “Before the neighborhood went up in flames.”

“And one of Albert, dead,” Olivia said. “The text says ‘Fuck you.’ I guess Mary was tired of being pushed around. This is how they’ve been communicating with the blackmailer. We need to call Abbott.”

Noah did. “Bruce, we have a fifth person involved…” He listened with a frown. “How did you know?” He looked at Olivia. “Austin Dent is in the precinct. Abbott showed him pictures of Joel, Eric, and Albert, and he said the man he saw wasn’t any of them.”

Olivia gathered the contents of Mary’s purse. “Tell him we’re coming in.” She looked up at David. “Should I have someone drive you to the hospital to meet Glenn?”

“No, I need to talk to Lincoln. If I don’t do something, I’ll go insane.”

She nodded, hoping Abbott and Donahue would concur. “Okay. Let’s go.”