Silent Scream (4 page)

“Thanks,” she said to Barlow, then crouched next to the gurney, studying the hand Londo had bagged. The polish was the same
bright orange as the girl had used on her toenails. “You done with her, Londo?” When he nodded, she hesitated only a moment
before taking the victim’s hand and lifting it to the light. “Look at the decals on her nails. She’s not from around here.”

“G-A-T-O-R,” Kane read, then checked the right hand. “S-R-U-L-E. Gators Rule.”

“It’s an unfortunate truth,” Londo muttered. “I lost a bundle on last week’s game.”

“University of Florida Gators,” Olivia mused. “She doesn’t look old enough to be in college. Maybe she lived in Florida.”

“Maybe she was just a fan,” Kane cautioned and Olivia shrugged.

“Gotta start someplace. We’ll run her prints. If she’s got a record, hopefully it’s not sealed. If she’s missing, somebody
may have filed an Amber Alert or reported her to the Center for Missing and Exploited Children.”

“If she ran away, chances are good they haven’t reported her missing,” Kane said.

“I know. But her jeans are pretty new, and they’re not cheap. She hasn’t been on the run long. We’ll get her photo out there
and maybe we’ll get lucky.” Olivia placed the girl’s hand carefully at her side, then rose and looked down at the girl’s face,
pity stirring.
So young.
“Do we have any idea what she was doing up there?”

Barlow shook his head. “So far we haven’t found any evidence that there was anyone with her. As soon as the firefighters come
out, I’ll send them over to you.”

“If you’re done, I’ll take her to the morgue,” Londo said, and Kane nodded.

“Liv, let’s check out the guard.” He waited until they’d broken away from the group before murmuring, “You okay, kid? You
looked a little green getting out of your car.”

Olivia’s cheeks heated. “Yes,” she said curtly, embarrassed she’d let it show, even in front of Kane. “Let’s just get this
done.” Except it was never done. There would always be another kid in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Another kid with bruises. Another runaway. Another guy with a bullet whose wife they had to inform. It stuck in her throat,
choking her. “Come on. We’ve got one more body to process tonight.”

Monday, September 20, 1:20 a.m.

“Anything?” Jeff asked. They’d strapped their masks on and changed air tanks. The fumes generated by building materials were
often toxic, and David knew too many veteran firefighters with lung damage. He hated the mask, but he liked his lungs.

“No.” David swept the thermal camera over the central wall. Behind it was the ventilating shaft, a prime spot for hidden fire.
But there was nothing. They’d come up through the stairwell, searching the top three floors. They were now back on the fourth,
where he’d found the girl. So far, no fire and no more victims.
Thank you.

David turned to the window they’d cut through. Now that the smoke had dissipated, he could clearly see the palm prints she’d
left behind. He shone his flashlight along the floor, hoping to find a purse, a backpack, something to tell them who she was.

And then he blinked as his light was abruptly reflected back at him. “Zell, look,” he said, pointing the beam at a ball that
glistened as her handprints had. It was about four inches across and lay about two feet from where he’d found her. He’d taken
a few steps closer when he felt the wood floor go spongy.

He took a large step back, holding his breath until the floor felt solid again.

“David?” Zell had also frozen in place.

“I’m okay.” His heart raced from the adrenaline surge. Ignoring it, he once again shone his light on the glistening ball.
“Do you see that?”

“Yeah. What is it?”

“Don’t know, but it’s covered in gel.”

“Like her hands. I say leave it for the cops.”

“Agree.” He turned to the stairwell—then all he felt was air as the floor collapsed.
“Zell.”
On reflex, David spread his arms wide, hooking his elbows on the edges of the floor that remained. His body wedged in the
hole, his feet dangling. Below him, he saw only blackness. The third-floor fire had burned through the ceiling. If he let
go, he might land on solid floor, but chances were better that he’d crash through the third floor, too.

Jeff dropped to his stomach, the handle of his ax outstretched. “On three.”

David grabbed the ax handle with his left hand, keeping his right elbow anchored for leverage. On “three,” he threw his hips
up and over and a few seconds later lay on his stomach on solid floor, breathing hard, his eyes squeezed shut. More of the
floor had broken away when he’d pushed against it, widening the hole. Most of the condo’s living room floor was now gone.
Too close. That had been too damn close.

He rolled to his side, opening his eyes just as the slimy ball began to slide down one of the broken planks of the hardwood
floor, down into the hole. Again, sheer reflex had him stretching his arm out over the hole, and the ball plopped into his
glove.

“Safe,” he muttered and behind him Jeff laughed, a wheezing sound.

“That ball better be worth it, pal.”

David looked into the palm of his glove, then into the dark hole, trying not to let himself dwell on how close he’d come.
“Shit. Now what do I do with it?”

“Put it back where you found it. Cops’ll shit a ring if you take evidence.”

“I can’t put it where I found it. Where I found it is nothing but air.”

“Then take it with you. But the cops’ll still shit a ring.” Jeff tapped his radio. “Fourth floor has collapsed. Hunter and
I are unhurt. We’re coming back down via the stairwell.”

“Acknowledged,” came the crackled reply from their captain.

David pushed to his knees, the ball clutched in his glove. They crawled to the stairwell, not breathing easily until they
stood on solid earth. He ripped off his mask with his free hand, sucking in air. His knees were weak, but he’d never let anyone
see that.

“Hunter?”

MPD’s arson guy had arrived. David considered him a straight shooter. “Barlow.”

“I hear the floor collapsed. You two okay?”

“Yeah.” He held out his gloved hand, the ball still tucked in his palm. “I found this near where the girl died.”

Barlow’s brows shot up. “You disturbed the scene?”

“There is no more scene,” David said dryly. “The floor where I found her is completely gone. The ball was headed for the hole
and I grabbed it. Reflex.”

“It was a hell of a save,” Jeff put in. “Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, then
pow
. Hunter pulls it out. Then I pulled him out,” he added wryly. “Now he owes me big-time.”

David rolled his eyes. “Barlow, you want the damn ball or not?”

Barlow shook his head. “Come with me. You can give it to Homicide yourself. She’s not going to be happy that you disturbed
the scene.”

For the second time that night David had the sensation of free-fall.
She
. He only knew of one female homicide detective. He started walking.
Thank you.

Monday, September 20, 1:25 a.m.

Eric lifted his head from his hands, looking up as Mary came into the room, toweling her hair. She frowned over at his sofa,
where Joel lay motionless, eyes closed.

“He’s still out cold? Damn, Albert, you hit him too hard.”

Albert grunted from his chair. “He came to while you were using all the hot water.”

She shot Albert a hostile look. “Fuck off. My roommates would ask questions if I came home smelling like a goddamn forest
fire.” Gently, she sat on the sofa, hip to hip with Joel. “Come on, baby,” she said quietly. “You gotta snap out of this.”

Joel’s swallow was audible. “We killed her.”

Mary lifted a shoulder. “Yes, we did. And we’ll have to live with that. But we’re not telling anyone. We have to act like
everything’s normal, or we all go to jail.”

Joel nodded miserably. “I see her face. Pressed up against the glass.”

As did Eric. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was her mouth, open. Screaming. They hadn’t seen her when they
were pouring out the glue. She must have been hiding somewhere. Squatting. “She was in that building illegally.”

Joel’s laugh bordered on hysterical. “You can actually use the word
illegally
? So it’s not our fault? Is that what you’re saying? Do you honestly believe that shit?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Eric said firmly. They had to face facts, and the fact was, he wasn’t going to prison. “We
stand together, Joel.”

“But we killed her,” Joel whispered, his voice breaking. “We killed her.”

“Be a man, Fischer,” Albert snarled. “Yeah, we fucking killed her. Get over it.”

Mary’s eyes narrowed. “Leave him alone. He’s in shock and in pain. You didn’t have to hit him so hard.”

Albert’s face was darkly ominous. “I should have hit him harder. Then I wouldn’t have to listen to him whine.
We killed her
,” he mimicked cruelly. “So goddamn fucking what? We can’t change it, so tell your pussy boyfriend just to shut the hell up
about it or I’ll shut him up myself.”

White-faced with fury, Mary opened her mouth to deliver what would surely have been a diatribe every neighbor on Eric’s floor
would hear.

“Settle down,” Eric snapped. “We set out to make a statement. We wanted to send a message to the developers—keep away from
our wetlands. We sent that message.”

Joel sat up, gingerly pressing his fingertips to the knot on the back of his head left by Albert’s club. “Don’t kid yourself.
Nobody’s going to hear our message. All anyone will remember is that girl
died
. Because of
us
, she is no longer alive.”

“A regrettable loss,” Mary said, smoothing Joel’s hair. “You said that this is war.”

Joel closed his eyes. “I know what I said. That was before. We killed a human being, Mary. The cops aren’t going to ignore
this. They’re going to hunt us down.”

“They wouldn’t have had to hunt far if we’d let you call 911,” Albert muttered.

“Albert,” Mary hissed. “Shut. Up.”

Eric felt a childish yearning for a redo button. But there were no redos here. They’d done what they’d done. Now they had
to stay under the radar.

“All of you, just be quiet. We need to be calm or we’ll all end up in prison.” He turned on the TV and started changing channels.
Then flinched when the fire scene filled his fifty-inch screen. “Let’s see what the press is saying. Then we’ll figure out
what, if anything, we need to do next.”

Monday, September 20, 1:30 a.m.

L
iv. Wait.”

Olivia had been walking at a near jog around the burned-out building but stilled at the sound of Kane’s steady voice behind
her. She’d been curt with him when he’d only been trying to help. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have bitten
your head off.”

“I’m used to it,” he said in the singsong tone that always reminded her of Eeyore and made her smile. He smiled back. “There
we go. I knew your mouth could bend. It doesn’t do that so much lately. Look… I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

Olivia’s shoulders sagged. “I’m doing my job, Kane.”

“I know you are,” he said, his voice soothing without being patronizing. “The department shrink isn’t helping?”

“I don’t need any damn shrink.” Her voice sounded childish to her own ears and she sighed. “Dammit, Kane. I just need some
time.”

“Then take some time. But promise me something. If it’s not any easier by the new year, tell me. I know a shrink who might
be able to help. One I bet you’ll like.”

She knew why he’d picked that date. New Year’s Eve was his last official day on the job. Kane was retiring after nearly thirty
years on the force. Olivia didn’t want
to think about it. Didn’t want to think about breaking in a new partner. But she knew he worried about her, so she nodded.
“Okay. Now can we get to the dead guard?”

They turned the corner and immediately saw the body of security guard Henry Weems illuminated by the CSU spotlights. He was
lying on his stomach, one arm beneath him, the other outstretched. His pistol lay a few inches from his fingertips. The back
of his uniform was dark with blood, the exit wound bigger than Kane’s fist.

Next to his body was a gurney with an unzipped body bag. Londo’s partner, ME tech Dale Eastman, waited patiently as CSU’s
Micki Ridgewell snapped pictures.

“Hollow-point bullet?” Olivia asked.

“Likely,” Micki said. “We’re still looking for the slug. As soon as we’re done with the body, we’re going to run a metal detector.
But with so much construction crap, it could take a while. We found blood on the ground near the back door, the one that exits
lakeside, so that’s probably where he was hit on the head. By the amount of blood on the ground, I think he lay there for
several minutes, at least. Let’s roll him.”

Kane and Dale did so. The front of the guard’s uniform was completely blood-soaked, but a small entry wound was visible, right
at his heart.

“Shot to kill,” Kane remarked. “How long has he been dead?”

“A couple of hours, tops,” Dale said. “Doc’ll get you a tighter time window.”

Olivia picked up the guard’s gun and sniffed. “Hasn’t been fired, but he was ready. Safety’s off. If he was knocked out, maybe
he came to and surprised the arsonist?”

“Who was standing between him and the lake when the shot was fired.” Kane pointed to the lake. “There are
two ways to get out of here fast—through the front gate then getaway by car or via the lake by boat. Let’s check the fence
for cuts, Mick.”

“Already did. We found three. One there by the dock, one off to the side”—she pointed away from the building—“and one on the
same side as the girl was found. We’ll test the wire for oxidation to determine when each cut in the fence was made.”

Olivia looked way up. A security camera was mounted on the corner pole of the fence. “You heard about the cameras?”

“Yeah.” Micki looked very unhappy. “Frickin’ inside job.”

“We’re getting the personnel records,” Kane said. “How hard would it have been to turn off the cameras?”