Silent Scream (6 page)

His marks always believed they’d be free.
That I’ll be satisfied and go away
. But he never went away. He just quietly raised the price, and his marks always paid.

Because he chose his marks wisely, just as he’d done tonight. These four had parents who’d be willing to sacrifice a great
deal to keep their darlings from going to prison. And prison was exactly where they’d go. They’d been very naughty, setting
a bad fire. Two people were dead. Of course the guard belonged to him, but he was quite willing to give the College Four the
credit. They’d walked away from a screaming teen, left her to die. The cops would have no trouble believing they’d shoot a
guard, too.

Eyes on his TV screen, he watched, wincing when the burly Albert smacked the whiny Joel with his club.
Ouch.
He bet Joel had a hell of a headache right now.

He wondered if they’d started to turn on each other yet. They would, eventually, when the reality of what they’d done permeated
the shock. There was art in the timing of his initial contact. He wanted to let them stew long enough to be terrified of capture,
but not so long that they did anything stupid. Like confess. Especially Joel the Whiny.

Of course if he became too big a liability, Joel could be taken care of.

He rewound back to the point where Eric the Brain gave Albert the Muscle the order to smack Joel upside the head. There was
a coolness to Eric, a willingness to do what was necessary that could become quite an asset.

Because I’ve been thinking.
His investments had taken a beating in the stock market collapse. At the rate he was going, he’d hit forty before he rebuilt
his portfolio enough to support the lifestyle he’d been planning. He didn’t plan to wait anywhere near that long. He wanted
to be young enough to enjoy his ill-gotten gains.

For a long time he’d been thinking of hiring on. Expanding. But who to trust?

He’d been in the business long enough to know that a man was only as trustworthy as the length of rope tied around his neck.
This was equally true for women. Hell, especially for women. The rope had to be kept short, the knot too strong to slither
from. He watched Albert and Eric carry the unconscious Joel away, Mary trailing behind. Arson, murder… It made for a damn
tight knot and a very short length of rope.

He lifted his beer bottle in a toast. “To my new employees. May you make me lots of money.” He ejected the DVD from the player
and slid it into a paper jacket. Through the beauty of streaming video, Eric the Brain would soon know his dick was in a sling.

He smacked a kiss on the disk. “All of you,” he murmured, “are mine.”

• • •

Monday, September 20, 2:15 a.m.

Eric opened his living room window and let the breeze cool his overheated skin. It would be dawn soon. But he doubted the
morning light would produce any new options. He stared at the fire he’d lit in his fireplace. The dancing flames sickened
him.

Mocked him.
Murderer. Murderer. Murderer
.

Twenty-four hours ago everything had been golden. He’d been poised to do something great. Something that would evoke conversation.
For once
he
was going to make a difference, like Joel was always doing.
I was going to change people’s lives.

He laughed bitterly. That he had done. His life, the lives of the others… They’d never be the same.

What had she been doing there? He gritted his teeth.
Stop asking
. The answer was the same as it was the first hundred times he’d asked. Wrong place, wrong time.

What the hell was I thinking? I shouldn’t have listened to Joel. I shouldn’t have cared about his damn wetlands. He’s going
to talk. He’ll ruin everything.

He’s going to ruin my life. I never should have let him leave.

But he had. They’d all showered, washing the scent of the fire from their skin as best they could. Then the others had left.
Maintain your normal routine
, he’d told them.
Go home. Act naturally. Go to class today like nothing happened
. So they’d gone and now his apartment was empty, silent save the crackling of the flames.

He’d started the fire in the fireplace to mask the smell they’d brought back from the condo. Now he could say the odor of
stale smoke was from his fireplace, should anyone notice or think to ask.

You mean, if we get caught
. Which, Eric thought firmly, was unlikely. Nobody had seen them. He’d cut the camera feed himself. Hacking into the construction
company’s computer-controlled surveillance system had been child’s play. Rankin and Sons had automated everything so they
could cut back on manpower. Mistake number one.

Mistake two—uploading the security guard’s route to their server. And mistake three, not hiring a five-year-old to try to
hack in. They’d left the door into their system wide open. It had almost been insulting.
We took every precaution. Nobody saw us
.

Except the girl and she was dead. He could see her face, every time he closed his eyes. Screaming, her hands sliding down
the window.

Eric narrowed his eyes. The guard was inept—he should have known the girl was there.
It’s not our fault.
She wasn’t supposed to be there to start with.

“It’s not our fault,” he said out loud, and thought maybe if he said it another million times he might actually start to believe
it.
We killed her.
It was the truth. The ugly truth.

But no one knows. Unless Joel tells them
. Eric thought about Albert’s whispered words as he’d left the apartment.
I should have hit him harder. I still can.

Eric had told him no, in no uncertain terms. But if Joel didn’t pull himself together, then what? His stomach churning, he
sank into the chair next to the television.

What a mess. What a goddamned mess. All because of some stupid waterfowl.

“To hell with the birds,” he muttered, turning the television on. The anchorwoman stared into the camera and Eric bet she
secretly got a charge from the excitement.

“Firefighters are in cleanup mode at this time. Damage
to the condo is estimated to exceed fifty million dollars. But the true loss is in the two victims.”

Eric snapped to attention.
Two? What the hell?

“Sources tell us that one of the victims was a female who was discovered on the fourth floor.” The screen switched to show
the picture window where the girl had stood, screaming. A large jagged hole had been cut on the far end. “The second victim
is a male in his midfifties. Police are withholding his name pending notification of his family. But our source tells us the
man was shot to death.”

For a moment Eric was too stunned to do anything but stare. Shot to death? No. Albert hit him. Just hit him. None of them
had guns. What the fuck was this?

He jumped when his cell phone buzzed on the table next to him. He stared at it, waiting. For what? Hell if he knew. But his
heart was pounding, hard, slow and his hand moved as if through molasses. He flipped the phone open and his pounding heart
stopped as his lungs froze at the text that popped up.

i know what you did.

Eric continued to stare and the phone vibrated again as a new text popped up.

need proof?

There was a link and, dread mounting, Eric clicked it. It was a video. He saw himself and the others staring up at the burning
condo. Then the camera panned up to the girl in the window, her mouth open on that silent scream that still filled his mind.
Then it was back on them and he was nodding at Albert as they held the struggling Joel. Albert struck Joel and they dragged
him away. The video lasted only thirty seconds.

But it was enough. They’d been seen. They were fucked.

Hands shaking, Eric’s thumbs somehow hit the right keys.
Who are you?

your master
.

His whole body shook now, violent trembles.
What do you want?

don’t worry. will tell you soon enough. will text address when im ready. be waiting. tell no one. yes or no?

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Could only stare.

A minute later another text popped up.
im losing patience. you think prison will be fun? ur awful cute. dont drop the soap. yes or no?

Eric took several deep breaths, nausea mounting with each one. There was only one answer.
Yes
, he typed, then closed the phone. He stood, carefully placing the phone back on the table. Then he ran to the bathroom and
threw up.

He sat back in his easy chair, the grin nearly splitting his face when Eric’s reply popped up.
Yes.
Of course he’d say yes. “Take that, rich boy. Your ass belongs to me.”

Monday, September 20, 3:30 a.m.

Austin Dent froze, one leg over his windowsill, the beam of a flashlight blinding him. His hand sliced through the air. “Stop.”

Austin climbed through the window, closing it behind him. He was in no mood for his roommate’s stupid questions, but it didn’t
look like Kenny was going to let it go.

Kenny’s finger wagged, side to side. “Where were you?”

Austin climbed into bed, ignoring him, but Kenny
wouldn’t leave him alone, sniffing. “What is that? Smoke? Fire?”

“Shut up.” Austin buried his face in his pillow. He could smell the smoke on his skin. The dorm staff would smell it tomorrow.
They would know. Everyone would know.

It didn’t matter. Tracey was dead.

Oh God.
A sob built in his chest and he fought it back, but it burst out and his shoulders shook.
She’s dead. Oh God. I promised I’d take care of her and she’s dead.

The bed shifted as Kenny slid down to the floor, patting his shoulder. Austin lifted his face and stared his friend in the
eye. Kenny looked scared. “What did you do?”

Austin rolled over so that his hands were free. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Tell them what?”

“That I wasn’t here. That I came in through the window. That I smell like smoke.”

Kenny looked more scared now. “What the hell did you do?”

Austin shook his head hard. “You’re my friend. You have to help me.”

Kenny stared a minute, then pushed the window open. “Get rid of the smell.”

“They’ll smell it tomorrow.” Panic grabbed Austin’s chest. “What do I do?”

Kenny lifted his mattress and pulled out a flattened pack of cigarettes. “Is what you did worse than getting caught smoking?”

Austin thought of Tracey, trapped. He thought of the dead guard and the man who’d shot him. Miserably, he nodded and in the
darkness saw Kenny flinch.

“Smoke one,” Kenny said. “Breathe out the window or it’ll set off the sprinklers. Tomorrow morning, smoke
another. They’ll think the smell comes from these. You’ll get busted for cigarettes and nobody will know.” Kenny produced
the matches he’d hidden. “Give me a cigarette, I’ll light it for you. Your hands are shaking. You’ll drop the match and burn
the place down.” Kenny’s brows crunched. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

No
, Austin thought numbly, flinching as the flame flared.
It’ll never be okay again
.

Monday, September 20, 4:30 a.m.

O
livia pummeled the bag with a barrage of short jabs that left her knuckles aching, but pain was easier to deal with than the
howl she’d kept restrained since walking away from Mrs. Henry Weems’s heartbreaking sobs.
I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am
.

The grunting bodybuilder next to her paid her no attention as he did his reps, which was why she came to the gym this time
of the morning. People who were here at this hour came to work out, not to be seen. There was a certain anonymity in that.

There were days she craved anonymity, especially from herself. Especially after telling another grieving family she was sorry
for their loss. She’d done that a lot in the past months, walked away from a lot of sobbing parents, brothers, sisters.

We found your daughter’s remains in a bone pit. No, you can’t identify her. I’m sorry for your loss
. Such inadequate bullshit. And it never ended.
Your husband is dead. He was shot to death by an arsonist. I’m sorry for your loss.

Frustration surged and Olivia tore into the bag again, then collapsed against it. “I’m sorry for your goddamn loss,” she muttered,
spent.

“Easy, tiger.”

Olivia shuddered at the calm voice. “What are you doing here?” she asked wearily. Paige Holden wasn’t on duty till eight.
Which was precisely why Olivia had come now.

“Making sure you leave some of Jasper for everyone else,” Paige said dryly.

Olivia pushed away from the bag that took the name of Paige’s old boyfriend after each breakup. “He’s Jasper now?” Olivia
had lost count of all the names Paige’s punching bags had borne in the fifteen years they’d been friends. “What did Jasper
do?”

“Left me with the check as he ran off to a client for the very last time.”

Olivia once again marveled at how smart women could be so stupid when it came to men.
Present company totally not excluded
. “Filet and a hundred-dollar bottle of wine?”

Paige shrugged. “Close enough. Speaking of dinner, when did you eat, Emo-girl?”

Olivia shot her a dirty look. “Dinner.”

“Which was?” Paige pressed.

Olivia closed her eyes, digging deep for patience. “Salad.”

Paige pulled a PowerBar from her pocket. “You need protein, even if it’s not meat.”

Olivia took the bar, knowing it would taste like cardboard. All food tasted like cardboard since the Pit. Meat was especially
hard to stomach. Just thinking about it brought the memories back. Flesh falling off the bone. She shook her head to clear
it.

“What are you doing here?” Olivia asked again.

“A little bird told me you were here, knocking the stuffing out of Jasper.”

Olivia looked over her shoulder to the man behind the counter who had muscles on his muscles. Caught watching them, Rudy suddenly
developed an interest in the sign-in sheet. “Son of a gun,” Olivia muttered. “Freaking little weasel.”