Silent Scream

Prologue

Minneapolis, Minnesota, Monday, September 20, 12:00 a.m.

They’d shown up. He had to admit he was surprised. He didn’t think they’d had the cojones, especially the girl. Of all of them, he hadn’t thought she’d follow through.

Four college kids, all dressed in black. Four college kids with way too much time. Two of them with way too much of their daddy’s money. If all went according to plan, a great deal of their daddy’s money would soon belong to him.

It was rule number one of his world-if people didn’t want to be blackmailed, they shouldn’t do bad things. Rule number two-if they did bad things, they should be smart enough not to get caught. The four college kids weren’t very smart.

From the cover of the trees the condo developer had taken such pains to preserve, he watched the four approach, while he filmed every step they took. Their faces were plainly visible in the moonlight, and although he’d bet their daddy’s money they believed they were being stealthy, they moved with enough noise to wake the dead.

“Wait.” One of the four stopped. His name was Joel, and of the three young men, he had been the most enthusiastic proponent of their plan. “Let’s think this through.”

Interesting. Conflict always added a little excitement. Unseen, he kept filming.

“No waiting,” the girl said. Her name was Mary, and she was a bitch. “We agreed. All of us, Joel. This condo has got to go. We have to send a message.”

“She’s right.” This from Eric, the so-called brains of the group. As if. “This is our one chance to make a difference to these wetlands. If we do nothing, this whole lake will be nothing but condos.” He turned to the large brute standing behind him. “The guard will be doing his outside sweep in two minutes. He’ll exit the building from the service door in the back. You know what to do. Come on, people. Let’s roll.”

The brute was Albert, pronounced without the t. French Canadian, he was at the university on a hockey scholarship. Right wing. Hell of a checker. Albert set off around the building, obediently. His research had revealed that Albert had been quite the juvenile delinquent, back in the day. He was quite certain Albert would know exactly what to do.

The show was about to begin. Hurry, he told himself, taking his second camera from his pack. This was his stationary camera and was attached to a small tripod which he stuck into the soft ground, positioning the lens just in time to capture Mary, Eric, and Joel entering a stairwell door on the east side of the condo.

The door had been propped open with a rock, probably by a construction worker who’d wanted to save a little time and effort. The best security system in the world could be neutralized by lazy workers. Apparently the College Four had done their homework and knew exactly which door would be open. Kudos to them.

Leaving his stationary camera running, he moved the way Albert had gone, arriving just as the guard exited, right on schedule. Five seconds later the guard lay unconscious on the ground. A satisfied Albert slid a small club back into his pocket.

All caught on my tape. Albert’s family was dirt poor, so there was no money now, but there was a good chance that Albert would someday have an NHL salary ending in lots of zeroes. I can wait. Eric and Joel both had daddies rich enough to fill his bank accounts for now. As for Mary’s daddy… some paybacks didn’t require a dollar sign.

Some paybacks are personal.

Within another minute, Mary emerged from the side entrance and joined Albert. Both stared up at the windows, waiting.

He waited with them, from a safe distance away. He saw the first wisps of smoke rise in the upper floors. Mary threw her fist in the air with a whispered, “Yes.”

Minutes later there was lots of smoke, on every floor. But the side door had not opened again. Mary took a step forward, the triumph on her face turned to concern, but Albert stopped her, his beefy hand closing around her arm.

“They’re still inside,” she said, yanking at her arm. “Let me go.”

Albert shook his head. “Give them another minute.”

And then the door burst open, both Eric and Joel gasping for breath. Mary and Albert ran to the wheezing boys, pulling them away from the building.

“Goddamn idiot,” Eric snarled, jerking in huge breaths. “You nearly got us killed.”

Joel fell to his knees, spasms of coughing shaking his body. He looked up, his eyes terrified, desperate. “She’ll die.”

Mary and Albert shared shocked looks. “Who will die?” Albert asked carefully.

Joel scrambled to his feet. “A girl. She’s trapped. We have to get her out.” He started to run. “Dammit,” he cried when Eric and Albert dragged him back. “Let me go.”

Mary grabbed Joel’s face. “There’s somebody in there?” She flashed a panicked glare at Eric. “You said nobody would be in there. You said it was safe.”

“Nobody’s supposed to be in there,” Eric gritted through clenched teeth. “Joel didn’t see anything. Let’s go before somebody sees the smoke and calls 911.”

“She’s in there,” Joel insisted, hysterical now. “I saw her. Look!”

As a group they looked up and he followed suit, pointing his lens upward as a collective gasp rose from the group. In that moment, he saw her, too. A girl, her fists banging on the window that had been designed to provide a view of the lake, not an escape. She was young, a teenager maybe, her mouth opened on a terrified cry they could not hear. Her fists pounded weakly now, her face pressed to the glass. Then her hands flattened against the window as she slid from their sight.

Joel gave a final, desperate yank. “She’s going to die. Don’t you care? Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Let me go. I’ve got to get her out.”

Mary grabbed his hair. “Stop it. You go back in there and you’ll both be dead.”

Joel was sobbing now. “Then call 911. Please. Dammit, please.”

“Listen to me,” Mary said, her voice low and urgent. “If we call 911, we all go to prison. Prison, Joel. That’s not going to happen. Stop this, right now.”

But Joel wasn’t listening. He thrashed, trying to escape their grip like a man possessed. Behind his head, Eric gave Albert a grim nod. Albert pulled the club from his pocket and a second later Joel collapsed, just as the guard had done.

“Let’s go,” Eric said tersely and he and Albert picked Joel up and carried him through the woods to where their car was parked.

Mary gave a final look back, up at the now-empty window. “Shit,” she hissed, then turned and ran, passing the struggling boys to pull at the chain-link fence they’d cut on their way in. “Hurry. Shove him through.”

Well. He lowered his camera, watching as the taillights from their car disappeared. That had been a lot more exciting than he’d thought it would be. A simple arson would have been good for years of blackmailing fun. But murder trumped arson and just about anything else. He had several clients who would agree to that.

He quickly packed his two cameras and the tripod. Smoke was billowing into the sky and he heard the pop of glass as windows began to burst. The authorities would soon be here. And I will be long gone. Hefting his backpack, he jogged around the building to the lake side where he’d left his boat tied to the dock.

“You there. Stop.” It was a thin, ragged cry, but he heard it. Spinning around, he found himself face-to-face with the security guard, who staggered forward, dazed. Blood oozed from the open wound on his head. Albert hadn’t hit him hard enough. The man held his radio in one bloody hand, a gun in the other. “Stop or I’ll shoot. I will.”

Not today, Pops. Calmly he drew his own gun and fired. The guard’s mouth fell open in shock. He dropped to his knees, then collapsed for the second time that night.

“Shoulda stayed down, Pops,” he muttered. He ran to his boat and dropped his pack inside. With a quiet roar, the motor engaged. Quickly he pulled off the ski mask he wore. If anyone saw him now he could claim he’d seen the smoke and was coming to help, versus trying to flee. But nobody saw him. Nobody ever did.

Which made listening to their whispered secrets so much easier. He patted the cameras in his pack. Which made taking their money so much easier still. I love my job.

Oh my God oh my God oh my God. From behind the tree where he’d hidden, Austin Dent watched the small boat speed away, his hands pressed to his mouth. The guard was dead. That man had shot him. Dead.

They’ll say I did it. Run. I have to run. He took a few unsteady steps backward, lifting his eyes to the burning building once again.

Tracey. She’d been behind him as they’d run from the building. But when he got out, she wasn’t behind him anymore. And when he’d turned back… All he could see was smoke. A sob of anguish rose up in his chest. Tracey.

In the distance he could see the lights flashing. They were coming. The cops were coming. They’ll take me away. Put me in a cage. No. Not again. I can’t do that again. He stumbled back a few more steps, then turned and started to run.