Silent Scream (35 page)

Now, nobody would be looking for her for hours, maybe till morning. In the meantime, he didn’t want the interpreter’s body
found. It would tip off the cops that he knew about the boy they sought and that wouldn’t be constructive at all. He dragged
her body into the trees and rolled it into the shallow grave he’d dug while she slept off the ether with which he’d drugged
her. He covered her up with dirt and drove away.

• • •

Tuesday, September 21, 5:10 p.m.

When Olivia got back to Abbott’s office everyone was already seated—except for Special Agent Crawford who stood staring out
Abbott’s window. The room was very tense and Olivia was sure Crawford was the reason.

“Okay,” Abbott said, ignoring the Fed. “So where are we?”

“Lincoln is on his way to the psych ward,” Kane said. “When we’re done here, Liv and I can hit the Blue Moon bar and check
his alibi. I don’t think he did our fires.”

“But he did give us something,” Barlow said. He took one of the large etched globes from an evidence envelope, turning it
until the north pole pointed toward them. “VE, scratched into the glass, so light you’d miss it if you weren’t looking for
it.
Valla Eam.
”

Crawford slowly turned, his face expressionless. “What did you say?”

“VE,” Barlow repeated. “Where Lincoln said it would be. Scratched into the pole.”

Everyone was watching Crawford and the Fed clenched his jaw. “When did the suspect say that?”

“After you left,” Barlow said.

Crawford was at the table in three steps. “Give it to me.”

Barlow snatched the ball. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours,” he said coldly.

His jaw clenching even harder, Crawford grabbed his briefcase from the floor and set it on the round table with a bang. “I
don’t like the tone of your voice, Sergeant.”

“And I don’t care,” Barlow said evenly. “You held back information.”

“We didn’t want copycats, so we kept that detail from
the press.” Crawford passed the small evidence box he’d shown them that morning to Barlow.

“We aren’t the press,” Barlow snapped. “We’re investigating three homicides. You should have told us. We could have checked
this out this morning.”

“
I
looked at your damn ball this morning,” Crawford bit out. “I already knew.”

Abbott’s brows rose. “That’s simply… unpleasant, Crawford.”

Barlow shook his head, likely at a loss for words. “Can I see your glass, Micki?”

Micki gave him the small magnifying glass she carried and Barlow removed the smaller globe from its box and studied it. “Identical,”
he pronounced.

“When did you plan to tell us, Crawford?” Abbott asked mildly. Oh, he was pissed.

“When we took someone into custody. Until then, I was under orders to share that information on a need-to-know basis.”

Abbott was visibly trying to control his temper. “So, based on your need-to-know info, you’d already determined our arsons
were connected to yours.”

“I have been searching for these bastards for twelve years. That drooling psycho down there is guilty as hell,” Crawford said
between his teeth. “He knows where Moss is. He can identify the others who set my fire. Doesn’t that
matter
to you people?”

“It matters a lot,” Olivia said. “He and others caused the death of an innocent woman twelve years ago and he should pay.
But make him pay for what he did. If he’s not guilty of setting our fires, we’re wasting valuable time arguing.”

Crawford’s jaw closed with a loud clack. “Give me back my evidence.”

“After we photograph it,” Abbott said calmly. “I wouldn’t argue if I were you.”

Crawford seethed. “We are wasting time here.”

“Indeed,” Abbott said, deliberately misunderstanding. “Micki, what do you have?”

Micki glanced at the rigid Crawford from the corner of her eye. “Pictures from Tomlinson’s desk,” she said and spread them
out. “We recovered a few more pieces.”

“I’d hoped not to have to see Tomlinson having sex again,” Olivia said and sensed Micki was waiting for them to discover something
she’d already found.

“These weren’t taken at the same time,” Kane said. “Look at Tomlinson in this second one. He’s skinnier. Has muscle tone in
his torso. He was working out. Buffing up.”

“The timeline’s wrong,” Olivia said. She blinked hard, trying to make the pieces fall into place. “Mrs. T said she found out
about her husband’s infidelity and hired a PI.”

“On the recommendation of her friend,” Kane supplied.

“Right. She hired the PI and said she had photos…”

“A week later,” Kane murmured. “She said she copied her files the next day and that was June fifteenth according to the time
stamp on the files she gave us. So the earliest these pictures could have been taken was June eighth.”

Olivia placed the before and after pictures of Tomlinson side by side. “So he’s white and doughy and then he’s white and toned.
It must have taken him months to get this toned. In this ‘after’ picture his skin should be tanned because the PI would have
taken it a few weeks ago at the
latest. Tomlinson played golf all summer. These ‘before’ pictures were taken long before June eighth. That means Mrs. Tomlinson
is lying.”

Micki looked impressed. “Wow. I didn’t see that.”

Olivia looked at her, surprised. “Then what did you see?”

“The mistress’s shoes.”

Noah chuckled. “It’s always the shoes with you, Mick.”

Micki arched a brow. “I was right on your case.” Micki had correctly predicted the Pit-Guy’s shoe fetish by studying victim
photos. “And I’m right again.”

Olivia gave both pictures another look and sighed. “Yes, she is. Look at the pile of clothing on the floor. You have to squint
unless you’re the shoe queen.”

Micki pretended to buff her nails. “The shoe queen rules. Those are snow boots on top of her parka and long underwear. It
was too warm for those clothes in June.”

“Let’s talk to Louise Tomlinson,” Kane said. “And find out what’s really true.”

“Nice job,” Abbott said. “What else, Micki?”

“We pieced together some papers from the backpack the firefighters found at the condo. It’s a page from a book. I Googled
the phrases. It’s from
Ethan Frome.
”

“Required reading for high schoolers,” Abbott said. “My daughter has to read it. Any scraps with a student’s name?”

“Not yet. We’re still sifting through rubble. We took soil samples around the path the arsonists took away from the condo.
It’s strange. We found two sets of foot smudges coming out of the condo. The arson dog picked up the accelerant close to the
fence where they escaped, but found evidence of only one pair of shoes.”

“One of them took off his shoes?” Olivia asked.

“Don’t know. That’s why we took the soil samples. We’re back to shoes again.”

Abbott’s mouth turned up. “Keep me updated. Noah?”

“No news on Camp Longfellow,” Noah said. “I contacted the state troopers to check the campsite, but it’s not staffed right
now. I left voice mails all over. I’ll keep trying.”

“What about the background checks on the condo construction workers and Tomlinson’s employees?” Kane asked.

“No one common to both,” Noah said. “I tracked the girl Tomlinson was having the affair with. He had the deed for one of his
properties transferred to her name, a house out in Woodview. The bank started foreclosure on the property last month.”

“When did Tomlinson transfer the deed?” Olivia asked.

Noah’s brows went up. “Last December.”

“The shoe queen rules,” Micki crowed. “Snow boots do not lie.”

Abbott’s grin was quick, but genuine. “You go, Mick. Noah, keep working on the camp. We need to know who that girl might have
met at camp this summer.”

“Kenny, the sixteen-year-old at the school, definitely recognized her,” Olivia said. “We’re going back tonight to talk to
him again.”

“Check Lincoln’s alibi first,” Abbott said, looking at Crawford who stood like a statue. “I want to either connect Lincoln
or clear him. And I want that eyewitness to the condo fire.” He waved them out. “Tomorrow, here, oh-eight.”

Back at her desk, Olivia checked her cell phone, then frowned. “Val texted. She’s got another commitment. We have to get another
interpreter. Dammit.”

Kane sighed. “I’ll call in the request on the way to Blue Moon.”

“This will set us back hours,” Olivia grumbled, straightening up her desk. Her fedora still covered her goddess statue’s face.
After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up her hat and placed it on her head. “Well?”

“Looks good.” He adjusted it on her head with a critical eye. “Very Ingrid Bergman.”

“She
vanted
to be alone, right?”

Kane sighed. “No, that was Garbo. Bergman still had Paris with Bogart. Someday you’re going to stop watching cartoons and
start watching grown-up movies.”

“Not any time soon, old man.” The phone on her desk rang. “Sutherland.”

“It’s Ian. I have something down here you need to see.”

Tuesday, September 21, 5:25 p.m.

David’s mind was still spinning as he climbed the steps to his loft apartment. He was happy to see no reporters out front
but suspected they’d be back. He wasn’t sure what it mattered anymore. He was happier to see his mother’s car parked out front.

He paused at the first landing, a sudden thought making his knees go momentarily weak. His mother. What if Lincoln had come
here first? He exploded up the stairs but was stopped again by the voice of Mrs. Edwards, who stuck her head out from 2A.

“Thank you, David. They delivered the refrigerator this morning. We appreciate it.”

“Are the girls all right?” Lincoln had talked to one of the girls in 2A and David hadn’t checked to be
sure everyone was all right.
What the hell was wrong with me?

“Lacey and Tiffany? Why wouldn’t they be all right?”

“I’ll explain later.” He charged up the stairs, unlocking his door and shoving it open in one motion. Then he stopped once
more, stunned.

Glenn and his mother stood close together. His mother held her hair off her neck as Glenn fumbled with her necklace. They
twisted toward the door like guilty teenagers.

Glenn’s face was the color of a ripe tomato. “She’s going out to dinner. Asked me to help with this confounded thing.” But
he hadn’t moved, his fingers still clutching his mother’s necklace. And if David wasn’t mistaken, the expression he’d worn
when David barged in had been uncharacteristically tender.

Hell
. Glenn was falling for his mom.

“I can do it.” David managed the clasp and stepped away. “You look nice, Ma.”

“Thank you. Glenn stopped by to make sure I heard the latest news.” She gave him a pointed look. “Before it hit the news.
I hear you had another eventful day.”

David grimaced. “I’m sorry. What did you two hear?”

Glenn glared. “That somebody broke into
my
cabin. Were you going to tell me?”

“Of course I was. I should have called you both. I’m sorry, okay? Who called you?”

“The local sheriff’s office. Told me not to worry, that you had it all under control. That you’d taken the gun away from the
guy. And I said, ‘What guy? What gun? What the hell?’” He looked at David’s mother. “Excuse me, Phoebe.”

She nodded. “No problem. I said the same thing. So what the hell, David?”

David sank into his easy chair and pulled his hands over his face. “It’s like this….” He told them the story, watching his
mother’s face. She was scared, but handling it. Glenn, on the other hand, grew angrier with each word. “And that’s all of
it,” David finished.

“Where is this Lincoln Jefferson now?” Glenn asked, very carefully.

“In the psych ward at the jail. He’ll be charged with B and E on your property and assault on me. The Feds will have their
go at him for the arsons twelve years ago. Olivia and her partner were going to validate his alibi tonight for the latest
fires.”

“And he never gave up Moss?”

“No. I don’t think he knows where Moss is.”

“Let me get this straight,” Glenn said acidly. “He heard about the glass ball on TV, so he asked firefighters who caught it
and, not suspecting he was a fucking lunatic, they told him it was you. He made it out here in time to hear me tell the reporters
that you didn’t live here. Then he talks to one of the girls in 2A and they tell him about my cabin. He gets the address for
my
unlisted
property, breaks in and searches the place. And all before two o’clock. I’d say we have a damn smart schizo.”

David pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think through the headache that had started to pound. “He’s been under psychiatric
care for more than ten years, Glenn. He is schizo.”
Always there. Always there
. David fought a shiver. “But you make a good point. That’s a pretty organized line of logic for a man with a mental illness.”

Glenn folded his arms over his chest. “Did he have help?”

“I guess it’s possible. Maybe even probable.”

His mother sat on the arm of his easy chair and patted David’s shoulder. “You’re okay, and that’s the important thing. I’m
glad you can take care of yourself.”

“No, the important thing is that someone else might have helped this vile piece of murdering shit,” Glenn said and his eyes
narrowed. “Who you seem to
pity
, David.”

“No.” David shook his head in denial. “Okay, yes, I felt pity, but not like you think.”

“Then explain it to me,” Glenn growled.

“Glenn,” his mother said, rebuke in her tone.

“Phoebe,” Glenn shot back. “This so-called schizo could have come up
here
. You would have been here, not your black-belt son who can defend himself. That guy had a goddamn gun and he would have gone
after
you
. Did you even think about that, David?”

Glenn stood, fists clenched, chest heaving from his outburst. Wordlessly David rose from his chair and motioned Glenn to sit,
but Glenn shook his head hard.

“What kind of pity did you feel?” Glenn asked, more quietly, but no less intensely.