Say No More

by Rose, Karen

  When he opened his arms, she leaned into him, returning her arms to his neck. ‘I’m sorry I yelled at you.’

  He stroked her hair, wishing there were more he could do for her. ‘It’s okay. I get it. It’s a shock and you need to process your grief the best way you know how.’

  She went still. ‘You sound like you know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I do. I lost someone I loved and it almost killed me.’ He remembered the day he’d found Bella’s body. That was twice that he’d thought of her in the last hour, after burying her memory so deep that he’d gone whole months without feeling the crushing grief. He thought about hiding it now, but Mercy deserved his honesty. ‘And I blamed myself, too. It wasn’t logical or reasonable, but it was my truth.’

  One of her hands let go of his neck, sliding down to cup his cheek. ‘What was her name?’

  He flinched, not expecting the question. But he should have. Mercy had seen more than he’d wanted her to in those weeks after the shooting, those weeks that she’d barely left his side. ‘Bella.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rafe.’

  ‘Thank you. It was about three years ago. I manage not to think about her when I’m awake.’ He had no control over his nightmares. They were more frequent than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

  ‘But not when you’re asleep,’ she said quietly, with an understanding that broke his heart all over again. He didn’t want to know Mercy’s nightmares, but he’d listen if that was what she needed. ‘How did she die?’

  He hesitated. ‘She was murdered.’

  ‘Rafe. Oh my God.’ She started to say more, then shook her head. ‘You don’t have to tell me. Unless you need to talk to someone. Then I’m here.’

  He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. ‘Not today. Today is about Farrah.’

  She shuddered against him. ‘When is André getting here?’

  ‘Any minute now.’ And as if on cue, the doorbell rang. ‘That’s probably him.’

  ‘Do you need to greet him?’ she asked.

  ‘No. Mom knows he’s coming to see Farrah. She knows he needs to give her the news alone. She’ll probably put them in Dad’s office.’

  ‘Maybe you can go anyway,’ she murmured. ‘Tell him that whenever she needs me, I’ll go to her.’

  He gave her a light squeeze, then tilted her chin so that he could see her face. ‘Do you really want time alone for yourself? I can go if you need me to.’

  She nodded, wincing guiltily. ‘Just a little time. I need to pull myself together. Farrah doesn’t need me to be a weepy mess. She needs me strong.’

  ‘Maybe. Or maybe she’ll want to cry it out with someone else who loved her aunt.’

  Mercy considered it, then dropped her eyes. But not before he saw her shame. ‘You’re right. This is one of those moments I wish I had a primer for social situations. I always pick the wrong thing to do or say.’

  ‘Hey.’ He waited until she looked at him. ‘You haven’t said the wrong thing to me. In fact, most of what you’ve said has been pretty damn perfect.’

  ‘No, it hasn’t been, but thanks for saying so.’

  ‘Mercy, don’t tell me what I think. I told you the truth.’ Thank you, Gideon. Thank you for reminding me to tell her the truth. ‘I will always tell you the truth.’

  She clamped a hand over her mouth again, but the whimper escaped. He grabbed the tissue box from the nightstand. ‘I’ll go down to talk to Holmes, but he probably has Farrah in the office already. You got your phone?’

  She shook her head. ‘I left it in the kitchen.’

  ‘I’ll send Gideon back with it. He’ll need to see that you’re okay with his own eyes.’

  Her mouth bent in a watery smile. ‘He will.’

  Hoping he wasn’t pushing too hard, Rafe dropped a quick, chaste kiss on her mouth. ‘Once you get your phone, text me if you need anything, okay? I’ll text you when Farrah needs you.’

  She was staring up at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted, looking a little kiss-drunk. He smiled down at her because the look on her face was kind of adorable and much easier to witness than the agonized guilt. ‘Rest. Sleep if you need to.’

  ‘Wait.’ She rose gracefully. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. Then she pulled his head down for another kiss, this one deeper, longer. Better. So much better. ‘Thank you,’ she repeated huskily. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  It was Rafe’s turn to be kiss-drunk and he backed out of the bedroom, stumbling and nearly falling on his ass. Luckily Gideon was there to keep him upright.

  ‘You okay, Rafe?’ he asked.

  Rafe nodded, licking his lips and finding that her taste had lingered. ‘Yeah. What’s up?’

  ‘Holmes is here,’ he said. ‘And Mercy’s phone was ringing so I brought it to her. I think it was John.’

  ‘I told Mercy that I’d text her when Farrah was ready to see her. Go on now. She’s expecting you.’

  Rafe made his way back to the kitchen, still dazed by that kiss. Sasha, Daisy, Erin, and his father wore matching looks of devastation and his mother’s face was set firmly as she put together a tea tray. Strangely the sight of his mother’s capable hands arranging teacups soothed his aching heart. He didn’t know how many times in his life he’d watched her doing the same thing when one of them had received bad news. Teen breakups, lost sports tournaments, failing grades, skinned knees. Irina’s answer was always a cup of tea and cake.

  Another wave of love bubbled up, making his chest so tight he could barely breathe. She looked up and smiled sadly. ‘I already made a tray for Farrah and her captain. This one is for Mercy.’

  ‘She . . . she asked for a little quiet time. Gid’s in there with her now.’

  Irina lifted a brow. ‘Thus a tray, Raphael. She can drink all the tea she wants alone, because I am taking her a tray.’

  Unbelievably he smiled. ‘I love you, Mom.’

  She sniffed. ‘So you have said.’ Then she blinked, sending fresh tears down her cheeks. ‘I love you too, sinok rodnoy moi. You have a good heart. But terrible table-waiting skills, yes? I remember the job you lost because you spilled an entire tray of drinks on that poor woman. So I will carry this tray myself.’

  Rafe’s laugh was more like a hiccuped sob. ‘You’re not wrong, Mom. Thank you.’ He wanted to say so much more, but he didn’t even know where to start. But he didn’t think he needed to when she kissed his cheek on her way out.

  Rafe sat between his father and sister with a sigh.

  ‘This day sucks,’ Sasha said sullenly.

  ‘We need to cancel the interview,’ Daisy said, stroking Brutus like her life depended on it.

  ‘Let’s let Mercy decide that,’ Karl said. ‘I made the mistake of assuming I knew her mind yesterday. Let’s not do that again.’

  Personally, Rafe wanted to cancel the interview as well. He wanted to protect Mercy from the prying eyes that would, no doubt, translate to disgusting comments on social media, no matter what she said. But his father was right. Mercy had the right to make decisions for herself.

  She was strong enough to hold her head high and deal with anything life threw at her. Stronger than me.

  So he nodded to his father. ‘You’re right. We have a few hours before the interview. Let her make up her own mind.’

  Sacramento, California

  Sunday, 16 April, 5.35 P.M.

  ‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Bunker. I am Special Agent in Charge Molina.’ The stern woman at the head of the interrogation table pointed to the man sitting beside her. ‘This is Special Agent Hunter. I understand you have information for us.’

  Stomach quaking, Jeff nodded at Molina and Hunter. I’m sitting at an interrogation table. I’m being interrogated. By the fucking FBI. This nightmare keeps going from bad to worse. He startled when his mother nudged him. ‘Oh, um, yes. Yes
, ma’am.’

  Molina didn’t smile. She studied him closely, making him wish that he hadn’t eaten before he’d come. And making him grateful that his mother had come with him, even though he was sixteen years old and should have been able to do this alone. No matter what the law said.

  ‘Tell me your story,’ Molina said briskly, almost as though she thought he was lying before he even got started.

  He wiped his damp palms on his jeans. ‘Okay.’ He looked away, trying to slow his pulse. ‘Sorry, I’m nervous.’

  Molina said nothing, but his mother squeezed his knee. ‘Try to relax,’ his mother murmured. ‘The worst is over.’

  Jeff wasn’t sure about that. ‘Okay, um . . . okay. I’m a communications major at Sac State, concentrating in journalism. I got a job with Gabber. It’s a . . .’ Piece of trash? Shit? ‘A gossip blog.’

  ‘When was this?’ Molina asked.

  ‘About three months ago. I mostly did stupid little stories, like parades or New Year’s resolutions of sorority girls, that kind of thing. But then that serial killer was caught back in February, you know?’

  ‘Yes,’ Molina said mildly. ‘I know.’

  Jeff knew that she did. She’d been on the scene the night it all went down. ‘I read about the three women who escaped and I figured that was the story no one was really telling. Well, until CNN told it last week. But at first, nobody was really talking about the women who lived, just the killer himself and the women who died. And I wanted to know more, especially about Mercy Callahan.’

  Molina tilted her head to one side. ‘Why Miss Callahan?’

  ‘Because she intrigued me. I saw the footage taken at the hospital when she was abducted. It was like she’d gone catatonic and I wanted to know why.’ He’d seen that same look when she’d nearly been abducted the night before and for some reason, it made his chest hurt. Now, he knew why. Now he knew that she was a victim of sexual assault. And I’m the scum of the earth.

  Because of him, Mercy was having to relive her assault again. I am the worst.

  But he was trying to make it better. That counts, right?

  ‘So what did you do?’ Hunter asked, even though the man had to have known the answer.

  ‘I started researching her. I found out where she lived, where she went to school, and that she’d grown up in the foster system here in California, but moved when she aged out.’

  Agent Hunter narrowed his eyes. ‘How did you know that she was in the foster system?’

  Because it hadn’t been in any of the newspapers or online rags. ‘I, um, talked to her next-door neighbor. In New Orleans.’

  Molina’s expression never changed. ‘You followed Miss Callahan all the way to New Orleans.’

  ‘Um, yes, ma’am. Gabber said they’d reimburse me for my travel, so I took a few days and went out east. My mother didn’t know. She’s not involved in any of this. I told her I was with my study group on campus.’

  Molina was scarily silent, not even an encouraging nod. So he focused on Agent Hunter, bothered by the knowledge that he’d seen this man before, but couldn’t remember where or when. ‘I started out at the university in New Orleans, asking people in her department if they remembered her. I thought it was worth a try because it had only been four years since she graduated. Most of the staff did, but nobody would talk about her. They all scowled at me and told me to leave, that they didn’t talk to gossip magazines. I was about to leave when this woman called me over. She said that she’d taken classes with Mercy and that she was a “stuck-up bitch”.’ His glance flitted to Molina. ‘Sorry, ma’am. That’s a quote.’

  Molina lifted one eyebrow, making her look like a female Spock. ‘Continue, Mr Bunker.’

  ‘Oh, okay. She said that if I really wanted the true story of Mercy Callahan to talk to Stan Prescott, that he’d been her boyfriend in college. She even gave me the guy’s address.’

  ‘And that didn’t strike you as odd?’ Agent Hunter asked.

  Jeff shrugged. ‘Not really. I know lots of girls like her. You keep your back to the wall, if you know what I mean.’ He mimed a stabbing motion, then remembered where he was and dropped his hands into his lap. ‘I wouldn’t date one and I wouldn’t trust one with my secrets, but they tend to be good sources of information. So I took the address and went to visit the ex. He had a lot to say and none of it was good. He painted Miss Callahan as a party girl who liked to put out. He even had a video.’ Jeff shifted in his chair, his cheeks heating with shame. ‘It was only a clip, like maybe ten seconds.’ He closed his eyes. ‘She was naked and on a bed, but nothing else happened in the clip.’

  Molina rapped her knuckles on the table. ‘Look at me, please, Mr Bunker. Thank you,’ she said when he obeyed. ‘The video posted online was four minutes long. How did you get from a ten-second clip to a four-minute video?’

  ‘He said that if I wanted it, I’d need to pay for it. I asked how much and he said five thousand. I laughed at him, told him no way my boss would allow that. He kind of shrugged and said he’d take three thousand. I asked my boss, expecting him to say hell no, but he agreed. I was shocked.’

  ‘And did you pay him?’ Molina asked.

  ‘Yes. Well, half. It was half up front, then the other half on publication of my article. He was cool with that and gave me the video after I gave him fifteen hundred. He also told me to look up Peter Firmin, another of Miss Callahan’s exes, so I did. He told the opposite story, that she was frigid and cold and he’d kicked her to the curb. I told him that I had a video of her partying and he kind of laughed and said that if he’d known she’d needed a roofie to put out that he would have kept trying, but then quickly said he was joking. I put all that into the article, but I removed that comment and Stan Prescott’s story entirely before I sent it in to my editor. And I never sent him the video. I swear it.’

  ‘Why did you delete Prescott’s story?’ Molina asked.

  Jeff frowned. ‘It didn’t feel right. I saw that catatonic look on her face in the hospital surveillance video from February and it didn’t match with Prescott’s description. I told my editor, Nolan Albanesi, that I was removing some content before I sent it in. I have all my files, ma’am. I can prove to you that I didn’t send what got printed under my name.’

  Molina nodded coolly. ‘And we will look at those files, Mr Bunker. If you didn’t give Mr Albanesi the video, where do you think he got it?’

  ‘From Stan Prescott, I think. He knew my source’s name because he’d needed a name and a phone number for accounting purposes. Or so he said. I think he called him and got the video straight from the source.’

  Molina nodded once. ‘All right. Apparently you also visited Miss Callahan’s apartment.’

  ‘I never went in,’ Jeff protested.

  ‘How did you get her address?’ Agent Hunter asked. ‘She’s gone to great pains to protect her privacy.’

  Because of the roofie guy, Jeff thought glumly. ‘I asked the second ex – Peter Firmin – if he knew where she worked and he told me to check out the NOPD lab, so I went there and waited until she came out. Then I followed her home. The next day, I got into her building and figured out which apartment was hers and started knocking on her neighbors’ doors. That’s how I met Miss Romero.’

  ‘The deceased,’ Agent Hunter clarified.

  ‘Right. I pretended to be selling magazines and talked to Miss Romero for about twenty minutes. She gave me some cookies and told me that Mercy was a good person. That she took Miss Romero to the doctor and made her dinner and baked cookies for all the people in the building. That just left me with more questions, because Miss Romero’s description was nothing like the others. I thanked her and left. That was Thursday afternoon. The next day, this past Friday, I went to the NOPD lab and asked to see Miss Callahan, but I was told she’d taken some personal leave for a family emergency. That was one more thing that didn’t fit, becau
se Miss Romero didn’t mention it at all. So I went back to see the nice old lady.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I was about to knock on her door when I heard a noise inside the apartment. I guess I must have been twitchy, because I ducked around a corner into a hallway. A second later, a man came out of it. He was smiling, but it wasn’t a nice smile. Kind of like the Grinch before his heart grew, y’know?’

  Molina still didn’t react. ‘Would you characterize the man’s smile as evil?’

  ‘At that moment, more creepy. After I saw Miss Romero dead on the floor, definitely.’

  ‘You went into her apartment?’ Hunter asked.

  ‘Yeah. Stupid of me. I thought maybe she’d gotten robbed, but the guy who left didn’t look like he was carrying anything. He might have had jewelry stashed in his pockets, but nothing that I saw.’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘For a minute I just stood in the hallway and stared. Then I got worried about the old lady and knocked on the door, but it swung open. He hadn’t pulled it closed. I went in and saw her on the floor, just crumpled in a heap. And I . . .’ He looked up at his mother for courage and she gave him a supportive nod. ‘I picked her up. I thought maybe she’d passed out, so I put her on the sofa and tried to find her pulse. I started to call 911, then realized she was dead.’ He dropped his gaze, ashamed once again. ‘I panicked, plain and simple. I thought the police would blame it on me.’

  ‘So you ran home,’ Hunter said.

  Jeff lifted his gaze to Hunter’s, surprised to see compassion in the man’s expression. ‘I did. All I wanted was to get away from New Orleans, so I got a ticket on the first flight out the next morning.’ He shuddered. ‘And I saw the man on the plane with me. I was so scared that he’d recognize me. I didn’t move the whole flight. Just kept my head down and pretended to sleep. But I couldn’t sleep. All I could see was poor Miss Romero on the floor.’

  ‘And when you landed?’ Molina prompted when he went silent.

  ‘I went straight home and worked on my article. I worked up until seven last night, and then Nolan Albanesi called and demanded that I send in whatever I had written, because Miss Callahan was in the news again, because of the attempted abduction. That’s when I edited out the parts from the exes and sent it in. I never had the video on my laptop or put it on the Gabber server.’