Baltimore [3.5] Broken Silence
Copyright © 2013 Karen Rose Hafer
The right of Karen Rose Hafer to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2013
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN: 978 1 4722 1268 9
Cover photograph © Shutterstock
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Can’t get enough of Karen Rose?
Karen Rose was born in Maryland and was introduced to suspense and horror at the tender age of eight when she accidentally read Poe’s
The Pit and the Pendulum
.
After marrying her childhood sweetheart, Karen worked as a chemical engineer (she holds two patents) and a teacher, before taking up a full-time writing career when the characters in her head refused to be silenced. Now Karen is more than happy to share space in her head with her characters and her writing has been rewarded with a series of bestsellers in the UK, the US and beyond.
Karen lives in sunny Florida with her husband and their two children.
From Sunday Times bestseller Karen Rose comes an intense, pulse-pounding novella, available exclusively in ebook.
She needed help . . .
Assistant State’s Attorney Daphne Montgomery has been told to take time off after recent personal trauma. But she refuses to sit on the side lines when she meets a six-year-old girl the police call Angel.
She needed protection . . .
Angel hasn’t spoken a word since she was found four days ago next to a burned-out car, frozen with shock, not far from the bodies of two adults who may or may not have been her parents.
They needed to find the person responsible . . .
FBI Special Agent Joseph Carter knows that helping Angel is exactly what Daphne needs. But when Daphne gets Angel to talk, a mysterious and chilling crime begins to unravel – one that will drive Daphne into the darkest corners of her past as she and Joseph track a ruthless killer.
Don’t Tell
Have You Seen Her?
I’m Watching You
Nothing to Fear
You Can’t Hide
Count to Ten
Die For Me
Scream For Me
Kill For Me
I Can See You
Silent Scream
You Belong to Me
No One Left to Tell
Did You Miss Me?
Broken Silence
‘Fast and furious’
Sun
‘Rose delivers the kind of high-wire suspense that keeps you riveted to the edge of your seat’ Lisa Gardner
‘Rose juggles a large cast, a huge body count and a complex plot with terrifying ease’
Publishers Weekly
‘[Karen Rose’s] glossy blend of romance and crime is completely compelling . . . another enjoyable and page-turning novel from the queen of romantic suspense’
Crime and Publishing
‘Blistering, high-octane suspense that never lets up . . . Don’t miss it!’ Karen Robards
‘Gripping, chilling and utterly compelling, Karen Rose is a classy storyteller’
Lancashire Evening Post
‘A high-octane thrill ride that kept me on the edge of my seat and up far too late at night!’ Lisa Jackson
‘Don’t miss this perfectly pitched chill-fest with a human edge from a rising star in the thriller market’
Scottish Daily Record
‘A pulse pounding tale that has it all’
Cosmopolitan
Baltimore, Monday, December 23, 11:00
A.M.
T
hey wouldn’t stop talking
. The people came into her room and talked and talked, but Lana didn’t talk back. Because she knew what would happen if she did.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been here. Her head hurt. It was hard to think.
Especially because the people were still talking. This time it was the doctor and the lady who wasn’t a nurse. The lady was nice. Her name was Heidi. She’d brushed Lana’s hair and touched her face and smiled. Like Lana’s mama used to do.
Before she got sick
.
The man was a doctor. Lana knew because he had a white coat and that thing he used to listen to her heart. The stethoscope. He’d held it in front of her and said, ‘steth-o-scope,’ slowly, like she was too dumb to understand.
But I’m not dumb. I’m not. I know things
.
Like her name. Her birthday. She’d be seven years old soon. She knew that she was in the United States. And that she was in a hospital. And her hands had gotten frozen. Lana stared at her hands, all wrapped in bandages. They still hurt, but not so much as they did before.
Lana knew that she had a sister. And that she didn’t have a mama. Not anymore. Or a papa.
Papa. Mama. Please come back. Please don’t leave me here
.
But she knew that they were never coming back. Because they were dead.
She wanted to cry, but she didn’t dare. Nurse was here. Nurse was always here. She didn’t dress like a nurse, not like she did before.
When she took care of Mama
. Here she dressed like a normal lady. Not mean. Not bad. She’d fooled everyone.
But not me. I know who she is
.
Nurse didn’t come into Lana’s room.
Except that one time
. But that once was enough.
Now Nurse stayed out in the hall, always walking by so slowly, her finger over her lips.
Shhh!
Don’t tell, Lana. Don’t tell. Or you know what I’ll do.
Lana knew what Nurse would do. She knew what Nurse had already done.
The doctor and the lady kept talking and Lana tried to ignore them.
Please leave me alone
. They thought she couldn’t talk. But it wasn’t true. Lana could so talk. She wanted to beg them to help her. But she could not. Because of Nurse.
Oh no, no
. Lana’s heart started to race.
She’s here again
. Nurse was outside the big window in Lana’s room, carrying the baby. Lana’s sister. Her sister didn’t know that Nurse was bad. She didn’t know about Mama and Papa. She was just a little baby.
Nurse stopped in the doorway and brushed her fingertips over the baby’s pretty blond hair. Then pressed a finger to her lips and gave Lana ‘the look.’ Mama had thought Nurse was a good person, but Mama had been wrong.
And now Lana didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that she couldn’t say a single word or her little sister would die. Nurse had said so and Lana believed her.
‘Sweetie?’ Heidi knelt next to the bed, holding clothes.
Pants and a top. Shoes and a new coat.
My size. They’re for me
.
Where is my coat?
This coat was an ugly brown color. Lana’s coat was snowy white and had real fox fur. She and Mama had picked it out before they’d left home.
I want to go home now. Please, Mama. I want to go home
.
Heidi held up the top with a cheery smile. Lana nodded and Heidi pulled the hospital top off and tugged the new top on – and Lana understood. They were leaving the hospital.
Lana’s heart began to race.
Maybe Nurse won’t know I’m gone or where they take me. I can tell. I can get help
.
Then she looked up and her heart sank. Nurse was still there, standing at the window. Nurse’s eyes turned to slits and she shook her head slowly as she touched the baby’s hair.
Lana nodded. She understood. She wouldn’t say a word.
Monday, December 23, 11:50
A.M.
It was good to be back.
Assistant State’s Attorney Daphne Montgomery had said the words ten times in the last fifteen minutes – the length of time she’d needed to walk through Baltimore PD’s lobby, take the elevator, and navigate the hallway to the homicide department.
Normally it took her half as much time. Then again, people didn’t normally stop her every other minute to tell her how good it was to see her back. Which was because she’d never been gone before. Since joining the prosecutors’ office a few years before, she’d rarely taken a vacation and even then she’d never been gone more than a few days. Certainly not two weeks.
At least no one had asked for details. Or told her they were ‘sorry for her loss.’ She wasn’t sure she could handle either questions or condolences today.
The crimes they’d uncovered two weeks ago . . . Daphne didn’t want to see the photos they’d found, not ever again. Not that she needed the pictures. She could see every one of the victims’ faces in her mind. Frightened, alone, in pain. Murdered and buried haphazardly behind a cabin in the West Virginia mountains. Two dozen unmarked graves.
I’m so sorry
.
And then there was the one body the killer had buried but not photographed. But she didn’t need his picture either. Her own father’s face was forever etched in her memory. She grieved his death, her mother’s broken heart. She grieved for the lives the three of them should have lived.
I’m sorry, Daddy
.
But she hadn’t been to blame. She’d been a child. A victim herself. She knew that. Knew it in her head anyway. It was her damn heart that was having a hard time keeping up.
‘Daphne? Are you okay?’
She blinked, realizing she stood at the double doors to the homicide department, her hand tightened into a death grip on the door handle. Pasting a serene smile on her face, she looked up to find Detective JD Fitzpatrick coming out the other door, his eyes narrowed in concern.
‘I’m fine.’ More than a colleague, JD was a friend – one who knew her well enough to know she was lying through her teeth, but who cared enough not to call her on it. ‘How are Lucy and the baby?’ she asked, changing the subject, and he grinned, his happiness infectious.
‘Both doing great. We wish the baby would sleep a little more, but otherwise he’s perfect.’
Her smile was real this time. ‘Trust me, he’ll be a teenager sleeping till noon before you know it. Seems like just yesterday Ford was a newborn.’ Her son was twenty now.
And alive
. She couldn’t let herself think about how close she’d come to losing him.
‘Jeremiah’s already growing too fast as it is. Don’t make him a teenager yet. Please.’ He checked his watch with an apologetic wince. ‘I have to run. They’re letting Stevie out of the hospital today and I’m taking her home.’
