Silent is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  “Don’t run. Stay. Let me help you.”

  Elly wanted to help her. Shouldn’t she stay? This wasn’t something she could do on her own, especially with a baby.

  But the killer knew this place. He’d come in the back door, so he must’ve had a key, right?

  Maybe if she stayed close to Elly, she’d be okay. Safety in numbers.

  That theory hadn’t worked so well for Jessie.

  Before she could decide, Betty bustled back in the room, one of the older boys in tow. She came to one side of Elly, while the boy took the other and the two of them half helped, half dragged Elly into the living room.

  Monica trailed slowly, the bread still in her hand, but no decision in her mind.

  They lowered Elly onto the sofa, where she collapsed against the cushions.

  “Now I’m gonna get you a blanket. You rest and we’ll take care of everything, you hear?” Betty’s voice was stern and compassionate… but not surprised.

  Did Elly get sick like this a lot?

  The room emptied of everyone but Elly and her. Should she stay? The longer she stood here, the more likely that man – or the police – would show up.

  No. She needed to get out of here.

  She’d sneak upstairs, steal a shower, and leave as quickly as she could.

  Decision made, she headed for the door and had almost made it when Elly’s voice came from behind her.

  “Monica? Don’t go.”

  It was the exact same request she’d made of Elly earlier. Her steps stalled. Elly had done as she’d asked.

  But Elly didn’t have a killer after her.

  “I have to.”

  “I can help you.” As weak as Elly’s voice was, the idea of her helping anyone right now was almost laughable.

  Too bad Monica didn’t feel like laughing. “No one can help me.”

  “If you ever need a place to go, you can stay with me.”

  Tears stung. How nice it would be to accept that offer. She wished with everything in her that she could.

  It was better if she didn’t speak.

  Besides, she didn’t trust her voice to not give her away.

  She slipped into the hallway, almost running into Betty, who carried a blanket in her hands.

  “Monica! Oh dear, I’m so glad to see you’re still here.” Betty measured her, her eyes moving over the loaf of bread to Monica’s matted hair and dirty and worn clothes. “Would you like to clean up? I can find you a fresh change of clothes, I think.”

  Clean clothes? That would be nothing short of amazing. “Can you?”

  “Of course. Just let me put this on Elly, then we’ll see what we’ve got in the closet, shall we?”

  A meal, a shower, and clean clothes. Coming here had been risky, but so far it was worth the risk.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Zander pulled his ringing cell from his pocket.

  Betty. Maybe she had a lead for them on Jessie’s murder.

  “Hi Betty.”

  “Oh dear. Zander, you need to hurry.” Betty’s words were quiet, lined with an urgency he’d never heard from her before.

  “What’s happened?” Had the killer returned? Was someone else hurt or dead? Had something happened to one of his boys or to Bill?

  Or Elly?

  “Monica’s here. She’s cleaning up now, but that girl’s half a step from running again, I can see it. You’re going to miss her if you don’t get it in gear.”

  Monica.

  He scanned the crime scene in front of him.

  Stay with the hot scene or chase after a potential witness for a case that grew colder by the second?

  There were enough people here, including Morgan, who could run the scene in his sleep. This might be their only shot at Monica.

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Just do whatever you can to keep her there.”

  Zander ended the call and strode to where Morgan stood speaking with the waitress who’d phoned it in.

  He flashed the bottle-blonde a smile. “Excuse us for just a second, will you?”

  A frown creased Morgan’s forehead. Yeah, he never was one to like being interrupted.

  They took a few steps away and Zander relayed Betty’s phone call.

  Morgan dug the keys to their department sedan from his pocket. “Go. Just be sure you come back and get me when you’re done.”

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Monica stepped under water so hot it was almost scalding.

  Just how she liked it.

  She closed her eyes. This was a little piece of heaven in her not-so-heavenly world. If only she could stay here forever.

  But she couldn’t.

  She snapped her eyes open.

  The police were looking for her. Even though she hadn’t done anything wrong, they’d want to question her about Jessie’s murder and that was too dangerous. The man in the uniform might be one of them.

  No doubt Betty had already called them. She had to hurry.

  She snatched the bar of soap off the ledge and scrubbed her skin, then lathered a generous amount of shampoo on her hair.

  After toweling off, she dressed in the new clothes. The jeans and pink t-shirt were a little large on her, but that was okay. It gave her room to grow.

  Her fingers brushed her stomach. And she would grow. What would she look like a month from now? Two months? Four?

  Assuming she lived that long.

  A tremor shook her fingers. She had to get out of here. Now. Before the police arrived.

  She grabbed her old clothes, and the loaf of bread that Betty hadn’t taken away, and slipped out of the bathroom.

  The hallway was empty.

  She darted toward the main stairs, pausing at the end of the hall to listen.

  Voices came from the lobby below. Betty’s voice and one other. A man. She strained to hear the words.

  Too faint. Drawing a breath, she eased her face around the corner.

  Betty’s back was to her. In front of her, a Hispanic man in slacks and a blue button-down shirt, no tie. A badge was clipped to his waistband and a gun hung in a shoulder holster.

  She was too late! The cops were here already.

  She pulled back.

  The front door wasn’t an option. How could she get out of here?

  Surely a place like this would have a back set of stairs. Or a fire escape. Some other way for her to get away.

  She ran down the hallway, her shoes squeaking softly on the hardwood floor.

  An exit sign glowed from the ceiling at the end. She headed for it.

  Stairs. No sign saying that an alarm would sound.

  Well, if it did, it would provide extra cover for her escape. She tried the handle and pushed the door open.

  No alarm. A breath eased from her.

  She hurried down two flights of stairs, pausing at the bottom. Two doors. One had a sign that an alarm would sound. That would lead to freedom, but would let everyone know which way she’d gone.

  The other went back into the center, where she might be seen.

  What should she do? Set off the alarm and hope she could get away before someone caught up to her? Or take her chances inside?

  Exterior. The alarm would provide at least momentary chaos.

  And she was good at running.

  Seven

  Zander crossed the threshold of the youth center and looked around the lobby. Empty. Probably not too surprising for this time of day.

  Certainly no sign of Monica. Not that he’d expected her to be waiting with a smile.

  He just hoped Betty had successfully kept her here.

  Betty emerged from the kitchen. “I was just starting lunch preparations.”

  Lunch?

  He looked at his watch. Huh. It was a little after eleven. Where had the morning gone? “Is she still here?”

  “As far as I know. She went upstairs to take a shower about twenty minutes ago.”

  Twenty minutes? Plenty of time to shower and run. “Can you check?”


  “Sure.” She put her hand up as he started to follow her. “You wait down here. She needs to feel safe here and I’m not sure she would if she opens the door and finds a cop standing there.”

  He nodded. Sure, he could push the point, but she may be right.

  Sitting in the living room talking would be a whole lot less intimidating than being ambushed as she walked out of the bathroom.

  Betty headed up the stairs. Slowly.

  Didn’t she realize that every second counted?

  He looked away. Watching and wishing she’d hurry wasn’t going to do anything but frustrate him.

  “Monica?”

  He turned back to the stairs as Betty’s voice echoed down the hallway on the second floor.

  “Monica, dear, where are you?”

  A siren blared.

  What…?

  That sounded like an emergency exit alarm.

  Monica.

  He raced toward the sound. Down the hallway, past the security room, through a door labeled emergency exit.

  A exterior door stood open directly in front of him, sunlight bathing the alley beyond. He burst into the alley, whipping his head side to side.

  Empty.

  To his left, the alley led to the street in front of the building. To his right, it intersected another street.

  Which way would she have gone?

  Well, if she had seen him, she probably wouldn’t head to the front of the center where she might run into him or another cop.

  Zander ran right.

  The alley spilled onto a street with countless cars and even more people.

  He scanned the heads. Lots of dark haired people, but were any of them the right one?

  No one was running. In fact, no one seemed to even notice his presence.

  After a minute of searching, he turned and headed back to the center. Betty waited in the doorway of the emergency exit, which was now silent.

  “Any sign of her?” Betty wrung her hands as her eyes beseeched Zander to say yes.

  He shook his head. “She wasn’t upstairs?”

  Stupid question.

  Betty answered it anyway. “The bathroom was empty. I was calling for her when that horrible alarm sounded.”

  Standing out here wasn’t going to do them any good. He needed to get as much information from Betty as he could. Maybe Monica had let something slip. “Let’s go inside.”

  Betty closed the door behind them and reactivated the alarm before leading the way into the kitchen.

  “Why was she here?”

  “Oh dear.” Betty rubbed her forehead. “I don’t really know. Elly fed her–”

  Really? Zander lifted his eyebrows. Kids helping themselves to food in the kitchen was against Betty’s rules.

  Betty held up her hands. “I know, I know. But the poor little thing looked half-starved. I even let her take the rest of the loaf of bread.”

  Now that was almost unheard of.

  “So she came here for food and a shower?”

  Betty hesitated. “I–I don’t know. I got the feeling there was something else.”

  “What did she say?”

  “To me? Not much. But I found her with Elly. It seemed like maybe there was something going on there.”

  Elly.

  Her name made his heartbeat pulse in his ears.

  Ugh. This was the last thing he needed. “I’ll need to talk to her. See if she can give us something we don’t know.”

  Betty shook her head emphatically, hands planted on her hips as though she could stop him. ”You’ll have to wait. Poor thing is exhausted.”

  Exhausted at eleven in the morning? What was this, a daily occurrence for her?

  Maybe she was sick. Terminally ill or something.

  Sure, she’d given some story about prayer, but maybe that was a cover because she didn’t want to talk about what was really wrong.

  Well, that wasn’t his concern.

  Right now, his concern was finding Monica and Elly was his best chance to do that. “Please Betty. This is important. It could help us find her.”

  Betty’s tight lips softened. “Well, if Elly’s awake and feels up to it…”

  Sheesh. Was Betty this protective about everyone?

  Or was there something special about Elly?

  If he had to guess, he’d say the latter.

  “Can we check on her? See if she’s up to talking?”

  Betty narrowed her eyes. “If she’s sleeping, you won’t be waking her.”

  It was almost funny. He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m serious, Zander. The only way she recovers is from rest.”

  Well, since she’d opened the door… “So this happens often?”

  Betty slowly led the way toward the living room. “Not often, really. Every now and then. I don’t really understand it myself but she’s always fine once she rests.”

  Curious.

  They stepped into the living room. Elly faced them, eyes closed and curls wild around flushed cheeks. Soft wheezing rattled through her teeth and the occasional shiver rocked up her body.

  This was more than just a headache and fatigue like what he’d witnessed the night before.

  Betty approached and placed a hand lightly on Elly’s forehead. With a small shake of her head, she turned and shooed Zander out of the room.

  “You’ll have to ask her later. That poor girl needs her rest.”

  “Fever?”

  Betty nodded. “Pretty high one, I’d say.”

  “Look, don’t you think you should call the doc? Between last night and now this, there could be something serious going on.”

  “Elly asked me not to. From the day she started out here, she told me things like this would happen sometimes and to just let her sleep it off. She specifically said no doctors.”

  “So if she was dying you’d just let her die?”

  “She’s not dying.”

  “You don’t know that. What if she slips into a coma or something?” He wasn’t sure if that could happen, but this stubborn refusal of help was concerning.

  That Betty would agree with it was even more concerning.

  “If she doesn’t want medical attention, it’s none of our business.”

  Betty was right. Why was he so worked up about it anyway? “Fine. I need to get back to my crime scene. Can you call me when she’s up?”

  “Sure, hon.”

  He slipped out the front door, his eyes scanning the street for Monica. Why had she come here? More importantly, would she return?

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Great. The gawkers had arrived.

  Zander parked on the outskirts of the crime scene and forced his way past the dozen or so people with nothing better to do than stare at police officers doing their jobs.

  Surveying the onlookers, he picked out the ones he’d bet money were members of Alma Negra. Was the killer standing here, too?

  He’d have to make sure the crime scene photographer got pictures of these people.

  Morgan turned as he approached. “You find her?”

  “Negative.” All the frustration he’d pent up the last half hour came out in the word. “We’re pretty sure she ran out an emergency exit.”

  “Pretty sure?”

  “I never saw her, but the pieces fit. Betty says she spoke to Elly so I told Betty to call me when Elly’s available.” It was easier to say it that way than to explain that Elly was passed out with a high fever. “What’ve we got here?”

  “Our vic is Hector Gutierrez. No sign of a murder weapon yet, although we’ve got guys combing the dumpster to be sure.”

  Oh, the glamor of crime scene investigation. “Any preliminary findings on the body?”

  Morgan snorted. “You know Eisen. If there is anything, he’s not telling.”

  Sounded like Eisen, all right. The guy was a heck of a coroner, but refused to speculate or even say anything until the autopsy was done.

  “The gang unit have anything to add?” With the
obvious gang ties, Morgan surely would have talked to someone there.

  “Confirmed ID on the vic. They’ve suspected him of running drugs and underage prostitution out of an undisclosed location, but they can’t prove it.”

  “All of which fits with a ranking Alma Negra member.”

  “What’s that mean, anyway?” Morgan assessed him.

  “Alma Negra? It means black soul.” Fitting, too, given the kinds of crimes these people committed. He didn’t know how many murders could be tied back to them, but it was a lot. And that didn’t even cover their other offenses, like prostitution, drugs, and assaults. He still couldn’t believe Javier had gotten mixed up with people like that.

  “Least it’s appropriate.”

  “Get anything from the waitress?”

  “Not much.” Morgan’s gaze drifted across the street to the restaurant, where more people watched the investigation in progress. “She said she was clearing a table and saw movement in the alley. At first she thought it was a fight, then saw the one guy hurry away with something shiny in his hands and the other guy slumped against the wall. Thought it looked suspicious so she phoned it in.”

  “Something shiny? Like a gun?”

  Morgan shrugged. “She didn’t know. She thought it was silver, though, so could’ve been a knife.”

  You’d think a guy walking down the street carrying a weapon would attract some attention. Although this was one of those areas in town where everyone claimed to see nothing. “She get a good look at the guy running away?”

  “Nope. Said he was tall, wearing a dark colored uniform.”

  That was it? That description fit thousands of men in the city. Heck, it fit the image of Jessie’s killer that they’d gotten off the security camera. “Hair or skin color? Weight?”

  “Nope. She thinks he was white with brown hair but she’s not sure.”

  Maybe she was being purposely forgetful, too. Witnessing a gang murder was a scary thing, especially if the killer had rival gang ties. “You believe her?”

  “Yeah, I do. I think she didn’t really pay attention to the guy.” He nodded to the north. “She said he went that way. There’s a bank about a block up. I’m going to try to get a look at their footage to see if they caught our guy on camera.”

  Be nice if it was that easy, but he suspected it wouldn’t be. It rarely was.