Silent Scream

by Karen Harper

  Still, Nick berated himself, he should have demanded to know more about Claire’s work. But Kris was there, others too, he told himself again. So why did he feel she was in danger just became she was late? It seemed she attracted trouble. Hell, he had too over the years. At least the kids were safe, but what would he ever do without Claire?

  “Steady,” he told himself as he had to stop at another red light. “Steady.” He hoped—he prayed—that it would turn out everything was fine, that he could give Claire the news that the senator knew Marian, had proximity, opportunity to harm her—but would a probably faked photo on LinkedIn taken in front of the Vances’ former home be a possible connection to Cyndi Lindley?

  * * *

  Claire knew she was doomed and there was only one way to save herself—well, two. Talk Brad out of this or fight him somehow, and he outweighed her by far, not to mention he had the gun. But he was shaking, literally terrified.

  “You do know that your little squeeze Yi Ling planned to tell the dig team and Kris about her affair with you—about the drones you’ve tried to kill people with.”

  “Nice try. Been eavesdropping?”

  “No, Yi Ling was in tears and blurted it out, so I told the team to be prepared for her confession. I think they’ll take her to the police to tell her story so she doesn’t have to return to China. At least, you didn’t seem to be planning to plant her in the bog—or were you hoping to bring down her international flight with a drone?”

  “Very funny. Just shut up! You know too damn much!”

  “The police believe—and will prove,” she went on, though her voice was trembling, “that the person who killed Marian also murdered Cyndi Lindley. They’ll figure out it was you.” He shoved her with the gun again and she had no choice but to start out on the plank walk over the bog,

  “No, that would be Dale Braun,” he insisted. His voice had gone up to almost high-pitched. Somehow she had to use his fear of this place with its hulking trees and growing darkness to feed his fears, because hers were out of control.

  “Were the two women working together to interest you in buying or helping them get access to Twisted Trees with its Nazi mini-museum? Not only to preserve historic property, but as a source of money for the Black Bog project? Great name for this place with its grasping, clinging peat and twisted trees. Everything seems to just close in here.”

  “I said shut up! Maybe Andrea and Kris were right to hire you to get answers, so here’s a couple. Like I said, Cyndi made the big mistake of trying to push me around for support to set up a real estate firm. She had followed Andrea here one day and figured out we were digging for something, said she was taking it to the papers. She told me she had the keys to not only two Braun houses, but the mansion. She had Marian on her side by then. I met Marian at Twisted Trees, just like I’d met Cyndi—at her request—at the house next to Dale Braun’s. The little blackmailer threatened to go public about our project here—which Marian had surmised and blabbed, though she had the details wrong—and I had to stop Cyndi. Eventually, had to stop both of them.”

  “Why the freezer?” she asked, trying hard to keep ahead of him and steady her feet on the slightly bouncing boards. “Why didn’t you just get rid of Cyndi’s body or put it in Dale’s house?”

  She had to keep talking and walking. Soon they’d be to the platform where the dig team worked, and there was no safety beyond that in the very center of the bog. If he pushed her in—he surely didn’t want his bullet in her—could she grab a board or the platform to keep from sinking? But no one would be out here until maybe tomorrow, and she’d seen from buried bodies how the peat pulled a person down. And down.

  “Ah, the freezer,” he said finally. She could tell it was actually calming him down now to talk, maybe to keep his mind off the clasping, suffocating feeling here. She sensed it too.

  He went on, “I needed to make it look like Dale Braun had stashed the body not in his house, but to keep it for now, move it later. The keys to both the house and the mansion’s garage were in Cyndi’s purse so I took them, being careful with fingerprints. I kind of liked the idea of preserving that poor, pushy little redneck in the freezer, though not the way my bog people were preserved. And Cyndi had told Marian about our bog work. Marian insisted that she and her committee come in on the action—use the profits and the precious information that should have been all mine—and Andrea’s, of course.”

  She turned to face him at the end of the platform she had just helped to move earlier today. At least it was more stable than the pathway of planks. She had tried to keep control, but terror was taking over. She saw Nick’s face and those of her beloved children, then the forms and faces of the dead—of Reaching Woman caught between the two men she loved.

  But Brad looked terrified too. Ashen and trembling. He lifted his hand with the gun but did not shoot. “I’m sorry,” he said, then lunged at her, shoved her.

  She grabbed for his arm, seized it, trying to right herself, save herself. She went down, rear end first, into the muck.

  She spread-eagled her legs and thrust out her arms, rather than letting herself be pulled down more easily by going feet first, but already she felt the pull of it. She took a huge breath, tried to blink mud from her eyes.

  And then she saw he had toppled in too, panicked, thrashing, going down.

  36

  Claire realized her attempt to spread herself out horizontally wasn’t working. Neither would trying to swim to stay afloat because that’s what Brad was doing, and he was going down fast, maybe because he weighed more. She let her lower body sink so she was more upright to hold her head up longer.

  If she wasn’t so terrified, she would have laughed because the murderer thrashing next to her, trying to reach the platform, was screaming for help. His claustrophobia would make this the ultimate just death for him. One victim strangled, enclosed in a freezer, the other strangled, consumed by flames—and he would suffocate in the heavy grasp of the bog.

  Dear God, what if they never found either of them—or when they did, far in the future, would they be just more bog bodies to study? Claire stopped trying to move, held her legs and torso steady. Her arms and shoulders were still above the dark surface. Her descent to death slowed a bit.

  Her thoughts came scattered in her shock and panic. Surely, Reaching Woman, Hunter and Leader had been dead when they were interred. If only one of the dig team would come back. Kris could save her. Andrea had cancer when her own husband had really been the cancer in her life.

  She tried to stay very still. She panted, filling her lungs with air. Lexi’s smiling face floated before her. How desperately she wanted to hold Trey again. What would their lives be like without her?

  And her beloved Nick. Not enough time together. He was right to be possessive, want to keep her home... Darcy, their mother... And really, finally, no thought of Jace but that she hoped he would be happy with Brit.

  Brad’s cries had finally stopped, but he was sucking in huge sobs, nearly up to his chin in black muck.

  She looked toward the heavens, praying wordlessly. The sky was blue but clouds were frowning. The trees leaned in, but much too far away to grasp.

  Her chin hit the surface of the bog. She tipped her head up to keep her face free.

  Brad screamed once, sobbed, then gurgled. She could not look at him, only at the sky as she tried to concentrate on those she loved.

  * * *

  Nick finally thought he was in the right place. An unpaved lane heading west—second one he’d tried just now—had a barrier and a little guard house, other buildings behind it in the growing shadows.

  Yes! Claire’s car was there. But why hadn’t she headed home by now?

  He jumped out, vaulted the barrier and ran up to the closest door of the sprawling building. Or should he try the house? One car was there. Kris’s Jeep nowhere.

  The door was locked. He saw a
n entry card slot.

  He ran around the building toward a short boardwalk. So that was the bog beyond. It looked dark but placid and benign. Could she be out there?

  “Claire!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Claire!”

  * * *

  Strange how she thought she heard Nick’s voice. It echoed, echoed. It must be just that she was thinking of him, loving him at the last. Brad had disappeared, and she would too. She was dreaming she was on dry land, in their backyard, holding Trey with one arm around Lexi and Nick touching her... She gave a silent scream and then one that had her very soul in it.

  Her feet hit something. Her eyes, nose and mouth were still above the surface. But surely the bottom of the bog was farther down. Brad was taller and he was gone.

  She jerked alert. Had she hit bottom? She was standing on something. A bog body? It seemed to be something sturdy, something that did not suck her down, though she could feel the pull of the bog everywhere.

  “Claire!”

  Nick? Was she dreaming or was she dead? She felt then that Reaching Woman had once belonged to Hunter but loved Leader. In the end, had she chosen wrong and killed herself? Claire knew that ancient woman did not want to die. She did not want to die either.

  “Claire! Claire, are you out here?”

  She finally dared to turn her head, nearly slipped off whatever she was standing on.

  It was Nick! Nick, really here, running on planks to the platform. Didn’t he know to be careful? She tipped her head back farther to shout to him.

  “Brad threw me in and he fell in! He’s gone!”

  “Never mind him. Can you raise an arm? I’m going to swing a board out to you. If you can’t, I’ll sit on planks and come in.”

  “No! It sucks you down! I’m standing on something solid! Brad killed them, both women!”

  “Claire, shut up and reach for the board!”

  She feared the effort would make her slip and pull her under, her last bit of air gone. But she couldn’t have Nick in this deadly bog too. She sucked in a huge breath and tried to lift her arm closest to the heavy plank he extended. He was on his stomach on the platform, grunting, straining.

  “Come on. Hold it,” he shouted. “Now lift the other arm and grip it with that hand too!”

  She tried hard. She had to or he’d come in. She knew Nick. He’d die for her, and she had to tell him not to, to live for Trey and Lexi. She gasped for air, trying so hard to get free of this drowning destroyer and preserver of people.

  Her hands slipped off. Splinters in her palm. She grabbed at it again and tried to hold tight. Slippery grips. He pulled her closer, closer. Her feet left her platform. Slowly, heavily, she moved toward Nick. He was reaching out toward her because he loved her, because he wanted to save her, the way Reaching Woman had done for the ones she loved.

  Nick had a fistful of her slick, slimy hair. Her scalp hurt, but she was so hysterically grateful for his touch she didn’t care. He grabbed for her under one armpit. She slipped away, but he seized her again.

  He grasped her muddy wrist so hard her hand went numb but he pulled her closer to him, closer. Finally, he had her by her T-shirt and a belt loop on her jeans. He half dragged, half lifted her onto the platform to her waist while her legs still dangled. Her chin scraped the wood. He reached down and yanked her up by her jeans, then laid her on her back like some slimy mermaid pulled from a prehistoric sea.

  He laid beside her to embrace her as if they were in their very own bed, safe and so very much in love.

  37

  One Month Later

  Kris hugged Claire, then sat beside her on the couch in the Markwoods’ crowded Florida room. They were hosting an open house for their friends with no worries that a drone would come smashing through the plate glass window.

  Brad was dead, and Yi Ling had been charged with multiple counts of attempted murder for helping him to try to bring down the helicopter. A phone call from the manager of the Fort Lauderdale antique store had tipped Brad off that someone who flew in via helicopter from Marco Island knew too much about what to ask for. The man had followed Jace and Brit back to the executive airport. According to Yi Ling, who was even more terrified of being deported back to China than of being sent to prison here, Brad had thought the couple must be Claire and Nick—and he’d tried to stage an “accident” with a drone to eliminate them.

  It turned out that Brad and Yi Ling had not been having an affair, though he’d convinced the girl that if she didn’t go along with his plans, she could be deported. Andrea was insisting on testifying on Yi Ling’s behalf, however weak she was from her radiation treatments for cancer. She had not been charged, as she could not be linked to Brad’s actions or plans and insisted she knew nothing about anything beyond his having copies made of artifacts for sales to support their huge, important project.

  “Claire found a unique way to discover more bog bodies,” Kris announced to everyone. “Get thrown in by a murderer, then stand on one of their most precious relics, a ‘Rosetta stone’ to their ancient culture. She left not only no stone unturned but no bones unturned. We have finally recovered the stone and will begin to study it soon—with Claire’s help. And former Senator Bradley Vance got a chance to rest in peat before his body was recovered—with difficulty—by the dig team while the police looked on. Sorry for the sick jokes, but Brad Vance was a very sick man.”

  Claire just shook her head at the gallows—that is, bog—humor. But Kris wasn’t done yet.

  “And here—Andrea said it’s okay to show everyone—is the large artifact-relic we finally dug out that saved you from going all the way under, Claire. She wanted to show you she will totally share all artifacts with you to study.” Kris motioned to Mitch and Jace, hovering in the doorway, to bring something in.

  The two men, who had just finished early training in DC for flying into hurricanes, came in lugging what looked like a—Well, what was it?

  Jace and Mitch put the stone carefully on the tile floor in front of the couch. It was about the size of a small bed pillow and covered with carvings. Claire leaned down and patted it. “Well, it did save my life—and of course Nick had a little something to do with that,” she added, smiling up at him. “And I’m so glad to see we can now study these relics in person, so to speak.”

  Claire had been so busy working with the police and testifying that she hadn’t heard what the new dig team had resurrected from the spot where she had almost drowned. She gasped when she saw what was carved on top.

  Everyone came over, huddled, looking down at the stone, now cleaned of its mud and peat. It was covered with deep primitive carvings, including one which took Claire’s breath away as she reached down to touch it. For there, in stark carved relief was a woman with her arms raised. It was as if Reaching Woman had reached out to save her, held her up when she could have been sucked down by the bog. And next to her were carved two men kneeling before her in obvious deference or even worship.

  Claire held her breath for a moment. Her beloved Reaching Woman had lived a triumphant but tragic life. She could tell everyone was waiting for her to say something. She wanted to say That stone was her gift to me. But she said only, “They really weren’t prehistoric if they worshipped a woman, now were they? That makes them sound pretty advanced to me.”

  Nick smiled but rolled his eyes as he leaned down to touch the stone. Jace elbowed Mitch. Nita and Gina grinned.

  “Actually,” Claire went on, her voice more quiet, “I believe the woman was some sort of goddess. I believe she belonged to both men—or they belonged to her somehow. I also theorize that Hunter was forbidden to her or beneath her, and that he paid for their love by being executed by his people. Not to go into the details with everyone here now,” she said with a glance at Lexi, “let’s just say, their form of justice was the price he paid. Yet, in more ways than one, Reaching Woman kept his heart. The
tall man called Leader loved her too, and perhaps she loved him. I suppose he either died of a broken or weak heart but, when her people or herself saw her weakness and humanity, they let her do away with herself and buried her with both men—or she decreed it that way. In my own heart, I believe all that. But as for in my head—there’s still much to be found and figured out at Black Bog.”

  Lexi broke into their huddle around the stone and got on her knees to study it. “This lady reminds me of you, Mommy. Like when I do things you don’t like and you just raise your hands like you are really ticked off but don’t know what to do.”

  “That’s my girl,” Jace said with a little laugh. “The small one, that is,” he said and took Brit’s hand to raise it to his lips, the hand with the diamond engagement ring.

  “And my girl too,” Nick said, and ruffled Lexi’s hair. Everyone laughed, even Nita, who was living with a beaming Bronco in their new house and had finally learned to smile again. And to put up with Betty Richards who had followed every word of the national and worldwide news that she herself had helped to break by being nosy enough to read license plates at night.

  It seemed the bog people had finally had their revenge for being disturbed and disinterred. Former and now deceased Senator Bradley J. Vance was guilty not only of selling ancient, protected items on the black market but of two murders and a third attempted one, besides his trying to eliminate those in the helicopter. Documents he had left behind indicated he felt vindicated to do anything to protect what he considered his great gift to mankind.

  Nick had said earlier that it was a good thing Brad had died in Black Bog because that was far better than having to face the two revenge-bent hellions from small-town Georgia, let alone a lifetime in prison or even the death penalty—which Brad had managed to dole out to himself.