Silent Scream (48 page)

“So, everything anyone could do,” she said quietly. “Everything I would have done.”

“We even had Bruce record a personal message, and we sat a sign language interpreter next to him,” Noah said. “Hopefully Austin’s
still alive to see it.”

“And Kenny?” she asked.

“His parents are here,” Abbott said. “They’ve agreed to stay in a safe house until we can arrange for more long-term protection
or until we catch the busy bastard.”

“Has anyone talked to him again? He was in the guy’s van. Maybe just a minute, but maybe he saw something that could help
us.”

“Not yet,” Noah said. “We can do that today, you and I.”

“Okay.” She looked down at the table, tried to organize her thoughts. “The hat you found at the scene last night. The one
the shooter left behind. Anything?”

“Yes,” Micki said. “A few hairs and face putty around the hat’s brim.”

“He changed his face,” Olivia said. “So even if we got a sketch artist with the dorm staffer or Kenny, it wouldn’t be accurate.
Joel Fischer was at the condo fire, but he was dead before the Tomlinson fire. Let’s find out who he hung with. What did you
find in his bedroom?”

“The glue on the shoes is definitely the carpet- padding adhesive used to start the condo fire,” Micki said. “He was there,
in the condo.”

“And he was hit on the head,” Olivia said. “Just like Weems. I think they carried him away from the condo because he was unconscious.”

“Which would explain only one set of tracks at the fence,” Micki murmured.

“Different agendas,” Donahue said thoughtfully. “Joel changed his mind.”

“Kane and I thought so,” Olivia said and the room went silent. She dropped her eyes for a moment, waited until her chest eased,
then lifted her eyes and forged on. “Kane found a note stuck in one of Joel’s textbooks. It was from a girl and it was signed
‘M.’ He also had a friend named Eric Marsh. Maybe either this girl or Eric know who Joel might have fallen in with. What did
you find on his cell phone and his laptop?”

Micki frowned. “We didn’t find a laptop in his room. Or a cell phone.”

“He would have had the cell phone with him when he died,” Noah said. “The morgue didn’t send one over with his clothes?”

Micki shook her head. “No, I’m certain they didn’t. No cell phone.”

“Let’s go to Joel’s classes,” Olivia said, “see who he
knew. He should be buried today. Maybe his friends will come to the service.”

“I had the cadaver dog at the fire scene last night,” Barlow said. “The dog’s handler is the daughter of the vet who took
the guard dog from Tomlinson’s. Brie said the dog’s going to pull through.”

“One bonus,” Olivia said, her smile wan.

“Oh.” Micki searched through her folder. “I got the lab results on the dog. He was given oxycodone. A lot of it.”

Olivia frowned. “Really? That’s what Ian found in Joel. Joel OD’d on oxy.”

“We didn’t find any evidence of drugs in Joel’s room,” Micki said. “We vacuumed every surface and haven’t gone through the
dust yet, but there were no visible signs. There were no pill bottles in his car either.”

“Somebody else had the pills,” Olivia said, “because they gave them to the dog Monday night. What if Joel didn’t take them
voluntarily either?”

“Sounds like we need to start with Ian,” Noah said. “Find out if it’s possible to know how he ingested the oxy that killed
him.”

Olivia winced. “The Fischers won’t be happy if we further delay Joel’s service, but if we can show he was drugged, it might
ease their minds.”

“You two focus on Joel. I’ll talk to Kenny,” Abbott said.

“What about Val?” Olivia asked. “We need to find her. Her family deserves that.”

“I’ll send Jack Phelps and Sam Wyatt,” Abbott said. “Where should they start?”

“She said she always went to a sub shop, three blocks from the school. It makes sense that the man
who… who shot Kane, also took Val. He was focused on finding out what we knew about Austin Dent.”

“We’ll trace her last movements, but we may not find her till we find him,” Abbott said. “So go find him.” He put up his hand
when they all moved to go. “Everybody wears vests. Everywhere you go. No arguments. Be careful.”

Outside Abbott’s office, Noah placed his hat on his head and after a moment’s hesitation Olivia did the same. “Don’t tell
me it’s very Ingrid Bergman,” she warned.

Noah’s mouth curved sadly. “I was going to say Kane would approve.”

Olivia gave him a hard nod. “Let’s get this done.”

Wednesday, September 22, 9:30 a.m.

David had cleared his maintenance duty list, cooked breakfast for the team, called the hospital once again to check on Jeff—no
change—and cleaned the kitchen.

There were no more tasks keeping him from calling Dana’s husband. With a sigh and an inward curse at his own issues, he pulled
out the card Tom had given him and stepped out into the truck bay, half hoping for the station’s call tone to peal.

Ethan Buchanan answered on the first ring, almost as if he’d been expecting the call. “What can I do for you, David?” he asked.

“I guess I want to hire you,” David said, rubbing a tense muscle in his neck.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Hunter. What do you need, for God’s sake?”

That was better. Warm and fuzzy would have been
way too awkward and former Marine Ethan Buchanan was one of the few who could have delivered on that threat.

“I had an intruder yesterday.” He explained the situation to Ethan who said nothing until he was finished. “I want to know
who helped this guy, because I don’t want to worry about anyone coming back and hurting anyone in my building. The idea of
insane zealots with guns being angry with me has me a little rattled.”

“I understand. I felt that way over in the Gulf,” Ethan said wryly, “and I had bigger guns. How are the cops involved?”

“The cops have bigger problems. They don’t have the resources to work this right now. Except that I know that one of the Web
site visitors is on Olivia’s radar—Joel Fischer. He died two days ago. Drove his car off the road and into a couple trees.”

“Why’s he on Olivia’s radar?”

“He was at the first fire.”

“Got it. So we’ll be giving her what we turn up?”

“I don’t know. Will we get arrested?”

“You wound me. We can make an anonymous contribution. Usually all we provide is a lead versus solid proof for a jury. E-mail
me the phone numbers you couldn’t trace. Give me a few hours. I’ll call you.”

“Thanks, man.” The call siren squealed. “I have to go, we have a call. I’ll send the phone numbers when I get back. Thanks,
Ethan.”

• • •

Wednesday, September 22, 9:45 a.m.

Austin nodded to a man coming out of the gas station convenience store as he went in. He was down to twenty bucks, which wouldn’t
buy much. Luckily his mom kept her tank filled. He had enough fuel to make it the rest of the way.

He grabbed a cola, trying to play it cool even as he wondered if anyone was saying anything behind him. If someone was calling
the cops this minute. Then he lifted his eyes to the television mounted behind the register and froze.

My face. That’s my face
. The tiny screen was filled with last year’s school picture, his hair bright red and curly. There was no captioning, so he
had no idea if they wanted to arrest him or wanted to keep him safe.
Fuck.
He turned away, pretending to examine the selection of wiper blades. His face was on the fucking television. At least he
had his hoodie on and it covered most of his hair. He rubbed his cheek, relieved at the stubble that scratched his fingertips.
At least he didn’t look like a high school kid.

I have to get rid of the hair. It’s like a fucking neon sign.

He looked around the store, unwilling to draw attention to himself by buying scissors and not seeing any anyway. He settled
on a cheap souvenir Swiss army knife and a three-pack of razors. On a whim he grabbed a roll of cough drops, hoping that would
keep anyone from questioning why he didn’t talk.

He dumped his purchases on the counter, keeping his eyes down and trying not to wince at the total. He had less than two dollars
left. Faking a cough, he kept his
hand over his mouth and pointed to the toilet key, hanging from an old license plate.

Bored, the guy behind the counter handed it to him.
So far so good
.

Wednesday, September 22, 9:45 a.m.

Olivia stopped the car at the Fischers’ curb. “I wish we could have told them that Joel was injected or something.”

“Me too,” Noah said, “but you can’t argue with stomach contents. Ian found the binders from the pills still in his lining.
Joel swallowed the oxy.” He started to get out of the car but settled back when she didn’t move. “What?”

“I was wondering why I’m still on this case.” She’d been thinking about it since morning meeting was over. “I would have thought
Abbott would pull me off.”

“He did think about it,” Noah said. “I told him I thought it would be the wrong thing. You have the background and all the
data. And you held yourself together pretty well with Kenny. A lot of cops would have been tempted to tear his arm off.”

“I was.”

“But you didn’t. That alone scored you the most points. So keep it together, Sutherland. You’ll find this guy and the system
will make him pay.”

“Okay. Let’s go talk to the Fischers. Take your shoes off at the door.”

Mr. Fischer greeted them at the door before they could knock. “My son’s burial is today,” he said harshly. “Why are you here?
And who is this man?”

“We need to talk to you about your son. This is Detective Webster. He’ll be working this case with me from now on.”

“What happened to the other detective?”

She lifted her chin. “Detective Kane was killed last night in the line of duty.”

Fischer looked as though he’d been slapped. “Oh no. Come in. I didn’t know,” he said when they’d deposited their shoes at
the door and entered. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said. “Is Mrs. Fischer available, too?”

“I’ll get her. Please sit down.”

They did, Olivia scanning the room. Twelve hours ago, everything had been different for her, but not for this family. They’d
been living with their grief for two days.

“They have a daughter, too,” Noah murmured, pointing to the kitchen door. A girl of about sixteen stood there, watching them,
a mixture of caution and anger on her face.

“I didn’t know that last night,” Olivia murmured back. “We’ll want to talk to her, too.”

The Fischers came to the living room, Mrs. Fischer frowning slightly. “Go back to your room, Sasha. I’ll come get you when
they’re gone.”

Sasha obeyed and Mrs. Fischer settled herself on the sofa next to her husband. “We’re sorry about your partner, Detective,”
she said stiffly.

“Thank you. This won’t be an easy conversation and I’m going to apologize in advance, but we need to talk to you about Joel’s
overdose.”

Mrs. Fischer’s lips thinned. “I told you he was no druggie.”

“And I believe you,” Olivia said gently. “But there
were drugs found in Joel’s system and we need to know where he got them.”

“We think he got them from someone else who was at the fire,” Noah said. “The same drug was found elsewhere Monday night,
after Joel was gone.”

“The drug was oxycodone, also called Percocet,” Olivia said. “It’s prescribed for pain. Sometimes it’s bought off the street.
Did Joel have friends who might have—”

“No,” Mrs. Fischer exclaimed, starting to rise. “Now get out.”

“Norma,” Mr. Fischer said quietly, putting pressure on her thigh until she sat back down. “No, Detective, we don’t know anyone
who would have those drugs.”

“All right,” Olivia said. “We’ll talk to his friends, then. We also need to ask you about Joel’s girlfriend. She wrote a note,
signed it ‘M.’”

“He didn’t have a girlfriend,” Mrs. Fischer insisted. “He would have told us.”

“No, Mama.”

The adults whipped their gazes to the right, where Sasha stood in the hallway, clenching her hands together. “Sasha, go to
your room,” Mrs. Fischer commanded.

“No, Mama.” Sasha came forward, her lips quivering, her eyes dark against a face drained of color. “Joel had a girlfriend.
I heard him talking to her on the phone.”

“When, honey?” Noah asked softly.

“Lots of times. I never met her.” The teen looked miserable. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

“Why didn’t he tell us, Sasha?” Mr. Fischer asked, pain in his eyes.

Sasha hesitated. “She wasn’t Jewish.”

“What makes you think that?” Noah asked her.

“On the phone once, Joel was explaining why he
couldn’t meet her. He sounded like he was trying to calm her down. It was at Shavuot and he had to go to Temple.”

Noah glanced at Olivia. “It’s a holiday,” she murmured. “Late spring.”

“So Joel knew her that long ago,” Noah said. “When did you last hear them speak?”

“Last Thursday. I wasn’t eavesdropping, but the wall is thin. I just… heard.”

“What exactly did you hear, Sasha?” Olivia asked, and the girl blushed a dark red.

“I can’t. I can’t say.” She darted a panicked look at her parents. “Please.”

Olivia remembered the lipstick on the pillow and understood. “It’s all right, honey.”

“No, it’s not,” Mrs. Fischer cried. “What’s going on here?”

“Were you home on Thursday night, ma’am?” Olivia asked.

“No. Thursdays we play bridge.”

“We found evidence Joel had a girl in his room. We need to find this girl.”

Mrs. Fischer closed her eyes. “We don’t know her. Please, just leave.”

“Ma’am,” Olivia said urgently, “these arsonists set a fire last night that killed four more people. Innocent people. A firefighter
was critically injured. Later last night a boy Sasha’s age was almost kidnapped by one of them. My partner
died
saving that boy’s life. We need to stop them and if this girlfriend can help us, then we need to find her.”

“What do you want us to do?” Mrs. Fischer asked dully.

“We haven’t recovered Joel’s phone,” Noah said. “Do you have it?”