Silent Scream (46 page)

Her lips tipped up sadly, so glad he was there. “The second one. Unless it’s below zero, I usually sleep in my skin.” He,
obviously, did as well.

His fingers were already freeing buttons. “I like feeling your skin against mine.” In less than a minute he had her naked
and cocooned in his arms. “Now I can sleep.”

Wednesday, September 22, 4:30 a.m.

D
avid couldn’t sleep. He lay there holding her, pictures flashing behind his clenched eyes. Zell pinned, Kane dead.
It could have been her.
In the cacophony of his thoughts, it was the one that screamed louder than all the rest.

She wasn’t asleep either. She lay stiff in his arms, her breathing shallow. She shuddered out a breath and he touched his
lips to her cheek, wet with tears. “Hey.”

“I keep seeing him there,” she whispered, her voice choked. “In the grass. I can’t believe this happened.”

He turned her in his arms and her fists clenched against his chest before her hands splayed flat, her fingers digging into
his skin as another barrage of sobs tore through her. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Cry if you need to. I won’t leave you.” He
stroked her hair until her sobs quieted and her breath hitched.

She rubbed her palm over his chest, swiping at the tears. “I got you all wet.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I need to think.”

“No, honey. You need to grieve, and that’s a long road. Kane was a good man, a good cop. He was your partner. You spent more
time together than most people do with
their spouse. He had your back and you trusted him. You loved him.”

“Yes.” It was a hoarse whisper. “I didn’t cry like this when my mother died.”

He heard the guilt in her voice. “You’re not a bad daughter because you didn’t.”

She lifted her head, peered at him in the darkness. “What?”

“You’re feeling guilty because you’re grieving Kane more intensely than your mother, right?”

She nodded, tears falling again. “She was my mother. I mean I cried, but this is different. I feel like my heart’s being ripped
out of me. What kind of daughter does that make me, if not a bad one?”

“That night in Chicago, you told me you missed her, that you loved her.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you did. But I get the impression that things between you were never easy.”

She lowered her head to his shoulder with a sigh. “No, they weren’t. She loved me, I know she did. But I never seemed to make
her happy. I could never do anything right. And sometimes she’d look at me like she hated me. I never understood why until
I saw Mia for the first time.”

“At your father’s funeral.”

“I rushed to Chicago as soon as I heard he’d died and got there just in time for the burial. Mia was wearing her dress blues,
standing next to the coffin with her mother. The cops folded the flag and gave it to the wife, then she turned and almost
shoved the flag into Mia’s arms. I remember standing there, hating them both so much. Then Mia looked up and I couldn’t breathe.
It was like looking in a mirror.”

“She was pretty shaken, too.”

“I know. It was at that moment I realized we must both look like our father.”

“You didn’t know what he looked like?”

“I never even knew his name. My mother never talked about him. When I was little, I’d imagine what he was like. I’d wonder
if he was walking around somewhere with amnesia or something. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t want me.”

David had to swallow hard, picturing her as a child. “My parents loved each other and they loved us. I’ll always be grateful
for that. I’m sorry you didn’t have that.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re grateful. I used to get so mad at kids who hated their fathers for something stupid, like not getting
a car or clothes. I just wanted to have a dad. When I got older, I badgered my mother to tell me about him. Finally accused
her of not telling him I existed. That’s when she lost her temper and told me that he was a cop in Chicago. He was married.
He’d lied to her, said his wife had left him. That he’d promised to marry her when I was born. Then when I was, he decided
to stay with his other family. His wife and kids. I didn’t know his name or theirs, but I hated them all.”

“How did you find out he’d died?”

“From my mother’s sister. I tried so many times to get my mother to tell me his name, but she wouldn’t. It was a big area
of contention between us. Finally, she died without telling me. I thought I’d never know. But then I got a call from my aunt,
who saw his obituary. My mother had confided in her, years ago. Made her promise not to tell me, but my aunt knew I needed
the closure.” Her voice hardened. “Then I met Mia and found out I was better off
with no father than the father she’d lived with. I was glad he didn’t want me then.”

“That was a hard few weeks for you,” he murmured and she lifted her head again.

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated. “I know about Doug. How he left.”

“Who told you?” Then her eyes narrowed. “Barlow. Damn his meddling.”

“I asked first. For what it’s worth, he feels horrible. When I heard the story, so did I.” She looked down, saying nothing
and he felt compelled to fill the silence. “Olivia, your ex was an ass. But even though I know he hurt you, I’m glad he left.
I’m glad I met you. I know you don’t believe me, but I’d been waiting for you. Maybe my whole life.”

She finally looked up, her eyes filled with hurt. “Then why did you say her name?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll never know. I do know that I only drank too much twice in my life. Once eighteen years
ago, and then, that night with you. Maybe I was scared. I met you and I knew. I knew you were special. Maybe too special.
It was like you could see inside me, and I didn’t want anyone that close.”

“Because they’d find out what you didn’t want anyone to know.”

He nodded. “Olivia, Dana was never more than a fantasy. She made things happen, she stood for the same people I’d been working
to help for years. She was a crusader. But I never had anything else in common with her. We never stayed up all night talking
about everything under the sun. I certainly never told her about Megan. I don’t know why I said her name that night. I can
only tell you that after I met you, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

She held his eyes in the darkness. “And if she were to suddenly become free?”

And come back, like her fiancé’s old love had. “I wouldn’t go. Because I’m not free. I wasn’t from the moment I met you.”
He traced his fingertips over her cheek, her lips. “You might not believe that now. But if you give me time, heart, trust…
you will.”

Her lips curved, so slightly he might have missed it had he not been so focused on her face. “Helluva line, David.”

“No line. You’ll see. I’ll show you.” He cradled her head in his palm and pulled her back to his chest. “Go to sleep. I’ll
be here when you wake up.”

Wednesday, September 22, 6:25 a.m.

He pulled into his parking place behind the Deli, annoyed. Austin hadn’t texted back and Kenny’s cell phone account had been
frozen. He entered through the kitchen to find his staff already at work preparing breakfast sandwiches. He grunted a greeting
and they grunted right back, just as they did every morning. Important to keep a routine in case anyone became suspicious.

He’d left his hat behind. He still couldn’t get over that stupidity.

He switched on the television behind the counter and stood watching the news. Last night’s fire was big news. Four dead. Several
injured, including a firefighter. Then came the bomb scare at the school and the death of Detective Kane.

He made a mental note to cut back on his pastrami order.

The next segment was Captain Abbott delivering a message to Austin, complete with interpreter, begging Austin to contact them.
My priority is finding Austin before the cops do.
Using one of his disposable cells, he entered Austin’s number.

It’s Kenny. New account. Cops took old fon. Where r u? I have place you can hide.

He hit
SEND
, then started another.
Cops?ed me all night. Know about u. I didn’t tell, swear. They lie. Don’t trust them.
And he hit
SEND
again.

He closed his phone, slipped it in his pocket. He wouldn’t panic. If the cops knew about him, they’d have been here waiting
in full SWAT gear. He clipped his mike tuner to his belt, put the bud in his ear and hoped Austin checked his messages soon.

Wednesday, September 22, 7:00 a.m.

Olivia must have slept because a trilling cell phone alarm woke her up. She lay spooned against David, not opening her eyes
as he reached over her to silence the alarm. He ran his hand up her arm, cupping her neck and massaging the base of her skull
with his thumb. “We have to get up.”

The events of the night replayed in her mind and a wave of raw grief washed over her. “I don’t want to,” she whispered. “This
hurts.”

“He was a good man. A good cop. You loved him. It’s going to hurt.”

Her eyes burned. Stubbornly she held them closed. “Can we pretend it’s not morning for five more minutes? Please?”

“Sure.” His voice was husky but sweet and suddenly not what she needed.

He’d put distance between their bodies and she knew why. She pressed back against him, feeling him hard and ready.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I can’t help it, though. Not when I wake up with you.”

Last night she’d maneuvered around her own grief. Now she needed him to make the day go away, for just a few minutes more.

“David, if last night hadn’t happened, how would you have woken me up?”

She heard the sudden intake of his breath. “I’d be inside you.” And then he was, hard and full, stretching her, making her
gasp. “Like that.” He splayed one big hand across her abdomen to pull her closer, pushing deeper.

“And then?” she whispered.

“And then I’d ride you hard.” And he did, making her moan, writhe. Beg for more. His pace was fast and furious and when his
thumb found her most sensitive place she went up like a rocket, light bursting against her closed eyelids. He followed with
a groan, his body going rigid, his hands gripping her hips as he ground himself into her.

They lay shuddering together, panting like sprinters. Later she might worry over how he’d gotten so good, but for now she
was grateful he’d pushed the day away a few more minutes.

Her breathing returned to normal, bringing with it the knowledge she could put the day off no longer. They both had jobs to
do. She opened her eyes, their two cell phones on the nightstand the first thing she saw.

And something clicked.

“He takes their cell phones,” she murmured and felt David stiffen in surprise.

He leaned up on his elbow and stared down at her. “Excuse me?”

She looked up at him urgently. “This guy takes their cell phones. Tomlinson, Val, and now Kenny. He’s taken all of their phones.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know yet.” She pulled him down for a hard kiss. “I have to go.” She rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, then stopped,
another truth asserting itself. She looked over her shoulder, saw he’d realized it, too. “We, um, forgot something this time.”

His gray eyes were intense, even though his cheeks had reddened beneath his morning stubble. “You’re safe with me, Olivia.”

Her own cheeks heated. It was an awkward conversation, to say the least. “Me too. They checked me six ways to Tuesday when
I donated my kidney to Mia, and there hasn’t been anyone since. But… I’m not on the Pill. I should have been more careful.”

Still lying on his side, he ran his palm lightly down her arm, intertwining his fingers with hers. “I waited for you for a
long time. I’m not walking away.”

She swallowed. “It’s just… I grew up without a father. I should have been careful.”

“I understand that,” he said steadily. “But I’m not walking away.” He pressed a kiss to her palm. “Now go, get in the shower
or we’ll both be late for work.”

• • •

Wednesday, September 22, 7:30 a.m.

Austin Dent opened his eyes. The sun was up. He’d slept a little. Worried a lot.

His mom would be worried sick, even though she’d been the first and only text he’d sent when he got away.
I’m ok. Borrowed your car. Didn’t do anything wrong. Sorry
.

His heart still thundered when he remembered watching the police car pull into his driveway.
Run
. Cell in hand, he’d grabbed a hoodie from a chair and escaped through his bedroom window. He’d run through the woods, not
looking back until he’d come to a neighbor’s house. The neighbor had left a bicycle outside and he’d taken it, riding as fast
as he could to the truck-stop diner where his mother slung hash all night. Her car was there. Luckily, his keys and wallet
had been in his pockets when he’d run.

He’d taken her car, driving north, intending to slip across the Canadian border.

But what good would that do? That was crazy thinking. He needed to find a way to make this stop. He needed to think. He’d
needed to sleep. Luckily there were more places to hide up here in the northern woods than anywhere he knew. He’d tucked the
car into a clearing and managed to get a little rest.

But now the sun was up and he needed to make some choices.
Where do I go? Who do I trust?
He picked up his cell phone. He’d removed the battery while he slept, not really sure if anyone could use it to find him.

He replaced the battery, then blinked when he saw all the texts. People had been trying to reach him for hours. His mother.
Trust the police
.

Kenny.
Believe the police.

The police.
We’re not going to hurt you
.

And Kenny again.
Cops took my old fon. They lie. Don’t trust them
.

Austin turned off his phone, scared and confused, but knowing nothing was going to change if he sat here. Answers were in
Minneapolis. So that’s where he’d go.

Wednesday, September 22, 8:00 a.m.