Silence: The Faces of Evil Christmas Prequel

by Webb, Debra

  This was the best one he’d had in a very long time.

  8

  One day earlier...

  Ruckersville

  Pain.

  Jess told her eyes to open. Her throat ached. She tried to reach up and touch it but couldn’t. Her arms were too heavy. There was something she needed to remember but her head felt swollen and too much like cotton. Her mouth tasted salty.

  A low moan echoed around her.

  Had she made that sound? Where was she?

  She was supposed to...

  Her eyes opened and terror detonated in her veins.

  Zip Code Killer...Pritchard farm.

  Dead man...wheelchair.

  She tried to speak, but her mouth was stuffed with some kind of cloth. She tried to move. Couldn’t. Her hands were tied behind her back. Her legs were secured at the ankles. Her body ached.

  It was so cold.

  Assess your surroundings.

  Slowly, she quieted her breathing and let the thumping in her chest ease. The floor was cold and grimy. Not dirt or wood. It felt like concrete or maybe stone. She lay on her belly, her legs twisted to the right and her left cheek pressed against the chilly, unyielding surface. The room was dimly lit. Not the natural kind from the sun. Fluorescent lights, she decided, but not close. Across the room.

  There was that sound again. Small, weak... a moan.

  Rocking her body she managed to get onto her right side and raise her head. She’d expected to see stalls or farm equipment. But this didn’t seem to be the barn behind the house. Not like any barn she’d ever been inside.

  Basement? Maybe. The ceilings were lower than normal, six or seven feet. The walls were lined with shelves cluttered with canning jars and boxes.

  Don’t just lay there. Get up. Find a way to get loose.

  Her mind worked a little slow, felt a little groggy. She’d been drugged, no doubt. At least she was awake. Definitely a good sign. Judging by the condition of the man in the wheelchair if whoever had attacked her wanted her dead, she would be dead.

  Jess curled her knees toward her waist and rocked up onto her butt. The room did some spinning. Her stomach churned and bile roiled up into her throat. She tried to swallow it back. Puking would be a bad thing under the circumstances.

  Whoever had wrapped that rope around her neck and choked her until she lost consciousness must have used a fast acting drug to keep her that way. She wouldn’t have been out for so long otherwise. As sore and cold as she felt, this floor had been her bed for a couple hours anyway.

  The salty taste in her mouth suggested GHB, a too frequently used date-rape drug. Worked quickly and, depending on the dose, kept the vic down for a good stretch.

  Son of a bitch. Anger helped to clear her head. How the hell had her attacker sneaked up on her so easily? Had two months away from field work made her that rusty?

  Let it go. Get your bearings.

  All she could see from her position were the stocked shelves, a mountain of plastic containers and that fluorescent light fixture with its one working bulb. No windows and just one door.

  Get up! Get out of here!

  She braced for hitting the concrete face first as she attempted to shift onto her knees. With her head still reeling it wasn’t an easy feat but she managed. She listened for running footsteps or shouting. With all the grunting she’d done anyone nearby would have heard her.

  So far, so good.

  If she could just get this rag out of her mouth. She shuddered, fought the gag reflex. That quiet moaning started again. Jess stilled, the reality finally penetrating the fog in her brain.

  Someone else was here with her.

  She rested on her knees and focused on recapturing her balance. When she felt steady enough, she started to scoot. As she slowly made her way across the room, she twisted her wrists and pulled at the bindings there. By the time she reached the nearest wall, her stomach was lurching again. She rested her shoulder against a shelf and gave herself a second before attempting to get to her feet.

  With only one false start she was standing. She waited for the ground to stop tilting. A frown furrowed her forehead as she stared at her feet. Where were her boots? One of her socks was missing too.

  So that was the rag in her mouth. At least it was her sock and not someone else’s.

  Another survey of the room drew her attention to the ceiling. Floor joists and those crisscross braces verified her initial assessment: basement.

  When she felt confident enough, she started to hop. Three or four falls onto her knees had tears burning her eyes. She ignored the pain. Had to loosen these bindings enough to free her hands. While she was at it, she needed to find where the moaning was coming from.

  Beyond the stack of plastic containers were two massive wooden posts in the middle of the room. There was a door to the left and a steep set of stairs to the right. She opted for the stairs. It was slow going but only one fall before she reached the first of the two posts that stood between her and that potential escape route.

  She leaned against the post for a second. A couple of big rusty nails protruding at just about chin level gave her an idea. Not allowing herself time to think twice, she opened her mouth wide and lowered it over one of the nails, just far enough to try snagging the sock. The first effort failed, scratching the inside of her cheek. She grunted a muffled curse.

  She’d have to update her Tetanus vaccination once she was back home. Refusing to give up, she went for another attempt. A few flakes of rust later and the sock snagged on the nail. Rearing her head back, the cotton and nylon blend sock was pulled from her mouth. A coughing, spitting fit followed.

  “Yuck.” She shuddered.

  God, what she wouldn’t give for a big tall glass of water about now. Better yet, her Glock and her cell phone. Fat lot of good the cell phone would do her. Service sucked out here. What she really wanted was her hands free and to find her weapon—or any weapon.

  With no handy sharp objects on which to attempt cutting her bindings, she tugged harder and twisted her hands to get some slack in the ropes. The binding felt like the same cotton type rope around her ankles. Lucky for her, cotton stretched.

  The moaning started again. Jess stilled. The sound came from the direction of the door on the other side of the room. Despite never having had ballet or yoga classes, she managed to hop that way while simultaneously twisting her hands.

  She turned her back to the door and grabbed hold of the knob. She gave it a turn and shuffled forward, awkwardly pulling the door open. When she executed an about face the smell hit her, made her gag hard.

  That moan came again, louder this time.

  The possibility that one or more of those missing women could still be alive had her heart pounding even harder.

  The room was dark except for the meager glow that followed Jess from the other room. She squeezed her eyes shut and then blinked rapidly to focus. The stench of decomposition was irrefutable. Someone was here and alive... but there was death down here too. Her stomach did some major protesting. She feared this would be the kind of scene no agent looked forward to discovering.

  Jess hopped forward, lost her balance and hit the floor again. Her knees throbbed. She struggled upward and started moving again. She kept at the bindings around her wrists, stretching and twisting. Something dragged across her face. Felt like a spider web. She jerked back, almost fell again. She peered at what she decided was a string. The string led up to a light fixture.

  Using her teeth, she got a hold on the string and pulled. Light filled the space, making her squint against the brightness.

  Another moan, louder, more frantic. Other side of the room. Jess twisted in that direction. Her breath fled her lungs. She stilled as her brain assimilated what her eyes saw.

  Cages... four—no, five of them.

  Bare skin... arms and legs. Long dark hair... blonde hair. Blood.

  “Oh my God.”

  “Help us.”

  The dark-haired woman raised
her head. Sunken, red-rimmed eyes stared out at Jess.

  Adrenaline seared through her. She jerked at her bindings, somehow squeezed her hands free, then reached down and loosened the ropes around her ankles. Fighting back the nearly overwhelming urge to heave, she rushed to the cages.

  “Marie Duncan?” Jess dropped to her knees, winced, and inspected the padlock on the cage door.

  The dark-haired woman nodded. “Please,” she pleaded, “you have to help my sister.”

  Jess gave her the most reassuring smile she could muster. “That’s why I’m here. To help you.”

  She needed a key. Dammit! She needed to call for help. Moving quickly, she checked the next two cages, careful of the body fluids that had spread across the floor. Shawna Johnston. Deceased. Her state of decomposition suggested she’d been dead several weeks.

  Larissa Stone, deceased as well. Looked as if she had been dead for nearly as long as Johnston.

  The fourth and fifth cages were empty.

  Jess moved back to the first cage. “Marie?” She waited until the woman was looking at her. “I’m going to find the key so I can get you out of there. Okay?”

  Marie shook her head. She stared down at the woman in her arms. “You have to help my sister first.”

  Jess’s heart fell. The sister was dead. How did she get the poor woman to understand? She thought of Lily. If she and Lil were in those cages and—

  A scream filled the air.

  Jess whipped around. The gun registered first... then Delia Potter’s face rushing toward her.

  9

  Christmas Eve

  Birmingham, 8:40 p.m.

  The second glass of wine on top of the beer she’d had at the pub was a bad idea.

  Exhaustion. Dehydration. No dinner. Jess was already down three strikes before she started and still she hadn’t said no. That was the problem, when it came to Dan she’d never been able to say no.

  Otherwise she wouldn’t be here in his urban apartment, snuggled on the worn comfortable leather sofa listening to him talk about his work.

  “I kept both the mayor and the chief of police out of trouble on that one. Not an easy task, I can tell you. But I love it.”

  Jess laughed, knowing that was what he expected. Truth was she wasn’t even assimilating the words. She was too busy watching his face, listening to his voice.

  It was just plain wrong that after a whole decade he could mesmerize her as if she were seventeen again. As if they’d never fallen apart.

  “I’m not saying another word,” he announced, that smile teasing her.

  She blinked. Had she missed something? “What?” She sipped her wine. Hoped she hadn’t ignored a response cue.

  “I’ve spent the last half hour talking about nothing but work—my work.” He poured himself another glass of wine, set the nearly empty bottle back on the coffee table. “You’re supposed to be telling me about you.”

  He grinned and her heart squeezed so tight she feared it would just stop beating altogether. “You said you’d just gotten a big promotion. I want to know what’s it like to be Special Agent Jess Harris, field investigator for the F...B...I.”

  While she struggled to summon the ability to speak, he freshened her glass, emptying the last of the wine from the bottle. At this rate she’d need a cab to get to Lil’s.

  “Actually,” she said finally, “I’m a profiler now.”

  “Hey! That’s the job you always talked about.” She didn’t miss the glimmer of regret in his eyes before he smiled. “Congratulations.” He tapped his glass to hers.

  The sincerity in his voice made her happier than she would admit in a million years despite that fleeting look of regret she was sure she’d seen. Whatever else he felt, somehow his approval still meant a great deal to her. Not a good thing. “Thank you.”

  “Well?” he prompted, a big grin stealing her breath all over again. “Tell me more.”

  Surrendering to the inevitable, she kicked off her shoes and curled her feet under her to get more comfortable. She told him about BAU and her boss, Gant. The more she talked the more she had to say. It was as if they were back in college sharing future plans. The words poured out of her.

  When she finally shut up he just stared at her. During that seemingly endless moment she wanted more than anything in this world for him to be proud of her.

  “Jess.” The pride that filled his eyes made her pulse flutter erratically. “I am genuinely happy for you.” He stared at his glass for a moment and she knew he was remembering. “You knew what you wanted and you made it happen. You said you would and you did.”

  She’d had just enough to drink to admit that something else she’d always wanted was him... but she would take that secret to her grave. She touched her throat. Almost had.

  “Sometimes,” she confessed, “I wake up and I have to remind myself it’s real.” Images and voices from cases she had worked passed through her mind. None were pretty. But they represented success and accomplishment, two things that meant a great deal to her. More importantly, they meant justice for the innocent.

  “You have a boyfriend?” One corner of his mouth quirked. “A husband I haven’t heard about?”

  She downed a big gulp of wine before she attempted to answer that one. The sweetness fizzed in her throat. Her head spun just a little. “No boyfriend. No husband.” She’d noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. And the tour of his place hadn’t revealed any indications of a female presence. “What about you? Wife? Kids?”

  The idea that he might have a child pained her somehow.

  Dumb, Jess.

  “No wife. No kids. Not even a girlfriend.” He looked away a moment. “I had a very unpleasant divorce a few months ago.” He shrugged, made a disparaging sound. “The good news is I lived through it and life goes on.”

  Seemed an odd way to describe surviving a divorce. “It does indeed.” No one knew that better than her. A subject best left alone. She cleared her throat. Time for a less sensitive topic—if not a less painful one. “How’s your father and... your mother?”

  He smiled. “Nice of you to ask, Agent Harris.”

  Jess couldn’t help a chuckle. “Despite popular opinion, I would never wish your mother ill will.”

  “Katherine is Katherine,” he said. “She stays busy with one charity event or another and that makes her happy. My father and I are both grateful.”

  “I’m certain she’s pleased to have you helping out whenever possible.”

  “More importantly,” he countered, “I’m pleased. When Mother isn’t consumed with a project, she’s lining up social activities for my father or, worse, playing matchmaker for me.”

  That shouldn’t have bothered Jess but it did. “She wants her only son to be happy.” There was no ignoring the hint of bitterness in her tone and she hated herself for letting it show. “Lil does it to me all the time,” she added for cover, hoping he wouldn’t notice her slip.

  “That’s what mothers and sisters do I guess.” He set his glass on the table. “My father’s doing great. He’s thinking of retiring.”

  Dan senior was too young for retirement. Worry cleared the resentment she felt whenever Katherine Burnett came to mind. “Is he okay?”

  “A mild heart attack a few months ago but he’s good now. He’s following the doctor’s orders. I’d be willing to wager he’s in better shape now than me.”

  Why hadn’t Lil told her? Then again, she hadn’t mentioned Dan’s divorce either. Possibly Lil hadn’t mentioned anything related to the Burnett family because Jess had told her over and over that it had been ten years. She had moved on. Lil was only honoring Jess’s wishes.

  Still made her mad. How ridiculous was that?

  “I’m glad he’s doing well.” Wow. It seemed impossible they were talking about Dan’s father and a heart attack. As the saying went, time marched on and everything changed. People grew older. Lil’s kids hardly knew their Aunt Jess.

  The surge of regret that accompanied th
at last thought had her wishing she hadn’t let so much time pass without spending more of it with the people she cared about.

  “Don’t do that.”

  She frowned before she could stop the reaction. “Do what?” She savored more of the wine, pretending not to know what he meant. She couldn’t change how much time she’d let slip by but she was here now, she told herself for the tenth time.

  “Don’t beat yourself up for not being around,” Dan said gently. He knew her too well. “You went after your dream and you made it happen. You did it, Jess. I guess you didn’t need me after all.”

  For about five seconds she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. His words stabbed through her and the ability to respond deserted her.

  “This was nice, but I do have to go.” Somehow she was on her feet. She placed her glass on the table next to his, grabbed her purse and hurried across the room for her coat. Why in the world had she let this happen? This visit was about her sister and her family. Taking this unexpected detour was ridiculous and selfish. Foolish tears stung her eyes.

  Oh hell. He’d done it now. Dan caught her at the door. She jerked away from his touch. “I’m sorry, Jess. That was my guilt talking. It was me. Not you.”

  All this time he’d wished they could make amends and the first chance that comes along he screws it up! Had to be the wine or just plain stupidity.

  “Don’t leave like this,” he pleaded. The last thing he wanted was for another ten years to pass with these bad feelings standing between them.

  She held up a hand in a stop gesture. The anger in her eyes shouted clearly and loudly that she wanted away from him. “It was good to see you, Dan. But I really do have to go.”

  Jesus Christ. He’d done it. Hurt her all over again. He was a damned fool. “I understand.”

  She reached for the door. “Good night.”

  But he couldn’t let her go without trying to make this right. He put his hand over hers when she would have opened the door. “Merry Christmas, Jess. Seeing you tonight means more to me than you will ever know.”

  She hesitated and then looked up at him with those sweet brown eyes. His heart lurched. “Merry Christmas,” she murmured.