Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (27 page)

“And we’re sure we don’t want to just play it safe?”

She maintained eye contact as she reviewed their options again. Playing it safe didn’t really seem to translate into staying safe; it just meant staying in the dark.

“I’m sure,” she sent finally. “Are you?”

His smile softened into something a bit more genuine, and he nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go get something to eat and then see whether Kendall is up for visitors. Food court or Steak ‘n Shake?” Jemma took Jack’s hand and laced her fingers through his as they made their way out of the store.

“Let’s do the one with the milkshakes and swing by my house before we investigate,” sent Jack with a tendril of amusement at his word choice.

“Sounds like a plan,” sent Jemma, blinking as they stepped back out into the light.

***

“Stop here.”

Jemma complied with Jack’s silent request, pulling the car to the side of the road and parking just behind a rusty pickup truck. About half a block ahead of them was the street on which Marcia and Kendall lived, and Jemma stared down it as far as she could. The neighborhood was quiet, a few kids running barefoot along the sidewalk. Cars were rusted, some on cinder blocks, but one or more vehicles were present at each house. The houses themselves were old but seemed sturdy, whether from original construction or regular maintenance unclear. A few roofs were visibly patched, a sight that wasn’t too uncommon in any part of the hurricane-prone city.

Jemma checked her side mirror for traffic and then opened her door, closing it behind her and wincing at the noise. A few dogs started barking, and Jemma closed her eyes, opening them again when she heard Jack’s door shut, too.

“I forget that animals can still make noise,” she sent, and Jack nodded.

“It can be jarring. I’d thought about getting a dog for Dad, but he said the noise would give him a heart attack.” Jack’s grin was a bit off-center, amusement tinged with clear realization that his father’s words might not have been as much of a joke as they should have been. He ran a hand through his hair, then jerked his head in the direction they needed to go. “Ready?”

Jemma rubbed her shoulder and nodded, joining him on the sidewalk. They clasped hands, just a couple out for a walk, enjoying the nice, evening weather.

“So, any reason you don’t have a cat?” sent Jack.

Jemma looked over at him, seeing his eyes scanning their path, alert in contrast to shoulders he kept low, to the thumb he was running absently along hers once more.

“Why
would
I have a cat?” she sent with a wave of surprise.

“You just seem like maybe you should have a cat. You’ve mentioned you like them, you own your home, and you don’t have a roommate who might object.” He gripped her hand more tightly for a moment as they made the turn onto Marcia’s street. “Just sort of expected you to have one.”

“I like cats fine,” said Jemma, pausing to check street numbers and count which house they were heading for. It was on their side of the street, and she could see the driveway, but most of the house was obscured by its neighbors. “I haven’t been on my own for too long, not somewhere I could have a pet. Besides, Jilly already likes to tease me that I’m gonna be the crazy cat lady, living alone, working in a library, never doing anything, you know?”

“You’re nothing like that stereotype,” sent Jack, mental tone firm. He let mild amusement show through, and she broke her stare to glance at him, seeing a grin on his face. “Besides, ‘never doing anything’? We’re here on a covert mission, investigating.” He waggled his eyebrows, and she felt a hint of smile forming despite herself.

Before she could respond, a splash of color drew her attention back to their surroundings, and she paused, Jack following suit. The house they were looking for was a bright purple, with colorful accents. The yard was manicured, flowers neatly surrounding the house.

“Well,” sent Jack, “that’s not exactly what I’d pictured.”

Jemma sent a wave of acknowledgment. “Do we… I mean, do we look around, or do we just go right up to the door and knock?”

“Knock, I think. We’ve still got at least an hour before sunset. That makes sneaking a bit trickier than it needs to be.”

“Good point.” Jemma rubbed her shoulder again, then let go of Jack’s hand, running hers along her upper arm, feeling the need to be in control of as much as of the situation as was possible. She took a deep breath and continued down the sidewalk, branching off to approach the house, walking along the empty driveway toward the bright white door that had a pink flower painted in the center. The windows facing the front of the house were covered by thick curtains, drawn tightly closed. Jack by her side, Jemma took one last breath in front of the door before she raised her hand and knocked.

There was no response. After several seconds, Jack reached forward and rang the bell, his other hand twitching slightly at the noise.

Nothing happened. For a moment, Jemma opened her mouth to shout for Kendall, then closed it again. She felt a wave of understanding from Jack.

“I almost tried to yell, too,” he sent. “Maybe she isn’t home.”

Jemma looked to her left just in time to see a curtain fall back into place.

“She’s here. She was at the window.” Jemma knocked again, harder. If they couldn’t talk to this woman, where would they go next? How could they find out how to keep themselves from being taken, let alone find out what had happened to Marcia? They’d made it pretty obvious they were looking, coming here to this house; what if they disappeared before they could do anything else reckless? What if—

There was a loud crash from inside the house. Jack looked at her, then tried the knob, looking unsurprised when it was locked.

“Let’s try the back. We don’t know if she’s hurt or if…” He trailed off, sending worry and frustration.

They walked quickly to the unfenced backyard, and Jemma knocked on the sliding glass door and then tried to open it.

It was locked, too.

“What do we—” Her message to Jack was interrupted as the blinds blocking the door flew open, revealing a thin, blonde woman who glared at them with red-rimmed eyes.

“What are you, stupid?” echoed a stranger’s voice, and a glance at Jack showed he heard it, too. “I don’t want to see you! Just go away, and don’t ever come back!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:

To Meet You

“Wait,” sent Jemma, reaching back along the connection Kendall had established. “We have information about Marcia.”

The woman stilled, narrowing her eyes further. “How do I know this isn’t a trick? What if you’re working for
them
?”

“Do you know where Marcia is?” Jack sent.

Kendall’s eyes moved to his. “I don’t—” She looked back at Jemma, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. “She’s—” Tears filled her eyes. “They took her, didn’t they?” She reached forward and unlocked the door, then seemed to crumple, sitting back on her heels on the floor and covering her face.

Jemma glanced at Jack and then opened the glass door. The younger woman reminded her of Jilly, and it was almost instinctive for her to kneel down and put an arm around her. Unsure of whether it would work, Jemma tried sending reassurance.

Kendall stiffened. “Don’t. I don’t know you. Sending your feelings like that, it’s just…” She leaned away from Jemma, who let go of her and stood. “I never expected to get that from anyone but Marcia.”

Jemma rubbed her arm and watched as the woman rose, wiping her eyes and taking deep breaths. Despite the crash they’d heard, Kendall didn’t appear injured. She turned, grabbing a tissue from a nearby box, giving Jemma a chance to look around. They were in a small kitchen, counters and appliances old but functional-looking. The walls were teal, with flowers stenciled near the ceiling and placed at what seemed like random intervals around the room. The kitchen opened up into a living room sporting a hodgepodge of furniture.

Jack shut the door behind him before moving further into the kitchen, putting his hand briefly over the one Jemma was running over her arm. She stopped the movement, breathing in and out once, relaxing as best she was able.

Kendall faced the two of them, leaned against the counter, and crossed her arms, her posture that of giving self-comfort rather than of defiance, her shoulders slumped and her eyes still watery. “You’re Jack and Jemma, right? She said she was gonna go warn you. We looked you up after…” She shook her head. “First, tell me what happened to Marcia.”

Jemma saw Jack look her way, then back at Kendall. “She came to warn us, like you said,” he sent, his tone comforting without projecting the emotion. “Then people came and took her and her car. She didn’t seem to be injured, and they didn’t use a lot of force. We let the police know what happened.”

“They won’t help.” Kendall wiped at her eyes again. “We tried to talk to them. They’re just too busy to care.” She looked between Jack and Jemma, then nodded toward the living room. “Let’s go sit. I want to hear more, and then what I have to say might take a while.”

As they walked, Jemma focused on Jack’s connection, noticing that her connection with Kendall faded much more drastically without concentration than she was used to. “It feels odd, Talking to a complete stranger,” she sent Jack, watching Kendall for any reaction. There wasn’t one. She felt a wave of agreement from Jack. In the living room, Kendall curled up in a battered armchair, wrapping her arms around a throw pillow. Jack and Jemma sat across from her on the loveseat.

“Before she stopped Talking, she said, ‘Tell Ken.’” Jemma paused. “She could have spoken to you directly from there, right? So we thought she wanted us to let you know what happened, or to come talk to you. It seems like you two had more information than we do, though.”

Kendall nodded. “I’m not sure how much. I didn’t want to look into it at all, you know? I just wanted to pretend like everything was normal, just make it all go away. If we couldn’t pretend here, we could’ve just left everything behind and gone… I don’t know. Anywhere. Somewhere where people weren’t watching us. But Marcia, she said she couldn’t just leave, that we couldn’t empty our savings if it was all just coincidence.” She looked up from the pillow. “I’m not sure I’m making any sense. I’m sorry. I just…”

“You just found out something happened to someone you care about,” sent Jack. “It’s normal to be upset.”

“We started dating a few years back,” said Kendall. “We’ve lived together for two years, and we’re… we’re not officially engaged, but we’ve talked about it, you know? Getting married.” Her face crumpled again, and she looked back down at the pillow, hair not quite obscuring the tears that fell. “I just don’t know what I’m gonna do if she doesn’t come back.”

Jemma picked at the seam near her knee, not sure how to help, wanting to press for information without making the understandably shaken woman even more upset. She felt Jack take her hand, stilling her nervous movements, and she squeezed his hand in return.

Kendall’s shoulders were still lifting periodically when she resumed Talking, her body language and rough breathing telling Jemma her words would be interrupted by sniffles were she speaking aloud, but Kendall’s mental tone was even. “We knew we were being watched,” she sent, “or at least, we were pretty sure. Stuff added up, and it just kept getting worse, like whoever was watching us was getting desperate. We tried the cops, but we didn’t have any proof, and they basically said unless someone was right there pointing a gun to our heads, they couldn’t do anything to help. So we just kept doing what we always do. She went to work and made sure someone walked her to her car if it was after dark. My work didn’t really have to change since I do my paintings at home. We could have just pretended everything was normal, but every night she had to try to figure out what was going on.

“We didn’t even realize that our Talk was anything special at first. I mean, of course we could Talk, right? Why wouldn’t we be able to. But then we started noticing the emotion thing, especially when we had more physical contact going on. Then I tried Talking to her when I thought she was still in the room with me while I was painting. Turned out she’d left and was all the way in the kitchen, but she heard me and responded fine. I know it isn’t a big house, but it was a lot further than we should’ve been able to Talk.”

Kendall hugged the pillow more tightly. “She found these forums where people were talking about the people who could Talk better. Nobody admitted they could, obviously. By this point, people had been taken pretty openly for it. But Marcia’s always been good at making friends, even online, and we found out a little more. People in a bigger city with more missing, they managed to put it together, find a connection.” She looked up at them. “Blood banks. There’s this national company that handles collecting blood and donating it to where it needs to go, not the Red Cross, but a smaller company that has a few different blood banks.”

“What?” Jemma spoke in surprise, not having intended to interrupt. She did try to donate blood when she could, but it had never occurred to her to see whether Jack did, too.

“Seriously?” added Jack. “That place over by the mall? That’s the only one I’ve donated at that wasn’t just a bus.”

Kendall nodded. “She asked around and found someone who worked there who agreed to tell her the names of the people whose donations got handled differently. He was texting us the names one at a time. I don’t know why. He said there were seven of us locally. Sent my name first, then Jemma’s, then Jack’s. Then he stopped texting. He stopped responding, didn’t show to work. Marcia decided that meant someone had found out he was giving her information, and she panicked. She said we needed to warn you that they had your name, that they knew you could Talk even if you were hiding it. I tried to talk her out of it.” She hid her face again. “That was… Our last conversation was a fight. I wanted to ignore it, stop looking into it, just make everything go away. And now she’s gone.”