Baltimore [3.5] Broken Silence

by Karen Rose

  Copyright © 2013 Karen Rose Hafer

  The right of Karen Rose Hafer to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2013

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN: 978 1 4722 1268 9

  Cover photograph © Shutterstock

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  338 Euston Road

  London

  NW1 3BH

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  About the Book

  Also By

  Praise

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  A note from Karen Rose

  Preview of Watch Your Back

  Can’t get enough of Karen Rose?

  Karen Rose was born in Maryland and was introduced to suspense and horror at the tender age of eight when she accidentally read Poe’s The Pit and the Pendulum.

  After marrying her childhood sweetheart, Karen worked as a chemical engineer (she holds two patents) and a teacher, before taking up a full-time writing career when the characters in her head refused to be silenced. Now Karen is more than happy to share space in her head with her characters and her writing has been rewarded with a series of bestsellers in the UK, the US and beyond.

  Karen lives in sunny Florida with her husband and their two children.

  From Sunday Times bestseller Karen Rose comes an intense, pulse-pounding novella, available exclusively in ebook.

  She needed help . . .

  Assistant State’s Attorney Daphne Montgomery has been told to take time off after recent personal trauma. But she refuses to sit on the side lines when she meets a six-year-old girl the police call Angel.

  She needed protection . . .

  Angel hasn’t spoken a word since she was found four days ago next to a burned-out car, frozen with shock, not far from the bodies of two adults who may or may not have been her parents.

  They needed to find the person responsible . . .

  FBI Special Agent Joseph Carter knows that helping Angel is exactly what Daphne needs. But when Daphne gets Angel to talk, a mysterious and chilling crime begins to unravel – one that will drive Daphne into the darkest corners of her past as she and Joseph track a ruthless killer.

  By Karen Rose and available from Headline

  Don’t Tell

  Have You Seen Her?

  I’m Watching You

  Nothing to Fear

  You Can’t Hide

  Count to Ten

  Die For Me

  Scream For Me

  Kill For Me

  I Can See You

  Silent Scream

  You Belong to Me

  No One Left to Tell

  Did You Miss Me?

  Broken Silence

  Praise for Karen Rose:

  ‘Fast and furious’ Sun

  ‘Rose delivers the kind of high-wire suspense that keeps you riveted to the edge of your seat’ Lisa Gardner

  ‘Rose juggles a large cast, a huge body count and a complex plot with terrifying ease’ Publishers Weekly

  ‘[Karen Rose’s] glossy blend of romance and crime is completely compelling . . . another enjoyable and page-turning novel from the queen of romantic suspense’ Crime and Publishing

  ‘Blistering, high-octane suspense that never lets up . . . Don’t miss it!’ Karen Robards

  ‘Gripping, chilling and utterly compelling, Karen Rose is a classy storyteller’ Lancashire Evening Post

  ‘A high-octane thrill ride that kept me on the edge of my seat and up far too late at night!’ Lisa Jackson

  ‘Don’t miss this perfectly pitched chill-fest with a human edge from a rising star in the thriller market’ Scottish Daily Record

  ‘A pulse pounding tale that has it all’ Cosmopolitan

  Chapter One

  Baltimore, Monday, December 23, 11:00 A.M.

  They wouldn’t stop talking. The people came into her room and talked and talked, but Lana didn’t talk back. Because she knew what would happen if she did.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been here. Her head hurt. It was hard to think.

  Especially because the people were still talking. This time it was the doctor and the lady who wasn’t a nurse. The lady was nice. Her name was Heidi. She’d brushed Lana’s hair and touched her face and smiled. Like Lana’s mama used to do. Before she got sick.

  The man was a doctor. Lana knew because he had a white coat and that thing he used to listen to her heart. The stethoscope. He’d held it in front of her and said, ‘steth-o-scope,’ slowly, like she was too dumb to understand. But I’m not dumb. I’m not. I know things.

  Like her name. Her birthday. She’d be seven years old soon. She knew that she was in the United States. And that she was in a hospital. And her hands had gotten frozen. Lana stared at her hands, all wrapped in bandages. They still hurt, but not so much as they did before.

  Lana knew that she had a sister. And that she didn’t have a mama. Not anymore. Or a papa. Papa. Mama. Please come back. Please don’t leave me here.

  But she knew that they were never coming back. Because they were dead.

  She wanted to cry, but she didn’t dare. Nurse was here. Nurse was always here. She didn’t dress like a nurse, not like she did before. When she took care of Mama. Here she dressed like a normal lady. Not mean. Not bad. She’d fooled everyone. But not me. I know who she is.

  Nurse didn’t come into Lana’s room. Except that one time. But that once was enough.

  Now Nurse stayed out in the hall, always walking by so slowly, her finger over her lips. Shhh!

  Don’t tell, Lana. Don’t tell. Or you know what I’ll do.

  Lana knew what Nurse would do. She knew what Nurse had already done.

  The doctor and the lady kept talking and Lana tried to ignore them. Please leave me alone. They thought she couldn’t talk. But it wasn’t true. Lana could so talk. She wanted to beg them to help her. But she could not. Because of Nurse.

  Oh no, no. Lana’s heart started to race. She’s here again. Nurse was outside the big window in Lana’s room, carrying the baby. Lana’s sister. Her sister didn’t know that Nurse was bad. She didn’t know about Mama and Papa. She was just a little baby.

  Nurse stopped in the doorway and brushed her fingertips over the baby’s pretty blond hair. Then pressed a finger to her lips and gave Lana ‘the look.’ Mama had thought Nurse was a good person, but Mama had been wrong.

  And now Lana didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that she couldn’t say a single word or her little sister would die. Nurse had said so and Lana believed her.

  ‘Sweetie?’ Heidi knelt next to the bed, holding clothes.

  Pants and a top. Shoes and a new coat. My size. They’re for me.

  Where is my coat? This coat was an ugly brown color. Lana’s coat was snowy white and had real fox fur. She and Mama had picked it out before they’d left home. I want to go home now.
Please, Mama. I want to go home.

  Heidi held up the top with a cheery smile. Lana nodded and Heidi pulled the hospital top off and tugged the new top on – and Lana understood. They were leaving the hospital.

  Lana’s heart began to race. Maybe Nurse won’t know I’m gone or where they take me. I can tell. I can get help.

  Then she looked up and her heart sank. Nurse was still there, standing at the window. Nurse’s eyes turned to slits and she shook her head slowly as she touched the baby’s hair.

  Lana nodded. She understood. She wouldn’t say a word.

  Monday, December 23, 11:50 A.M.

  It was good to be back.

  Assistant State’s Attorney Daphne Montgomery had said the words ten times in the last fifteen minutes – the length of time she’d needed to walk through Baltimore PD’s lobby, take the elevator, and navigate the hallway to the homicide department.

  Normally it took her half as much time. Then again, people didn’t normally stop her every other minute to tell her how good it was to see her back. Which was because she’d never been gone before. Since joining the prosecutors’ office a few years before, she’d rarely taken a vacation and even then she’d never been gone more than a few days. Certainly not two weeks.

  At least no one had asked for details. Or told her they were ‘sorry for her loss.’ She wasn’t sure she could handle either questions or condolences today.

  The crimes they’d uncovered two weeks ago . . . Daphne didn’t want to see the photos they’d found, not ever again. Not that she needed the pictures. She could see every one of the victims’ faces in her mind. Frightened, alone, in pain. Murdered and buried haphazardly behind a cabin in the West Virginia mountains. Two dozen unmarked graves. I’m so sorry.

  And then there was the one body the killer had buried but not photographed. But she didn’t need his picture either. Her own father’s face was forever etched in her memory. She grieved his death, her mother’s broken heart. She grieved for the lives the three of them should have lived. I’m sorry, Daddy.

  But she hadn’t been to blame. She’d been a child. A victim herself. She knew that. Knew it in her head anyway. It was her damn heart that was having a hard time keeping up.

  ‘Daphne? Are you okay?’

  She blinked, realizing she stood at the double doors to the homicide department, her hand tightened into a death grip on the door handle. Pasting a serene smile on her face, she looked up to find Detective JD Fitzpatrick coming out the other door, his eyes narrowed in concern.

  ‘I’m fine.’ More than a colleague, JD was a friend – one who knew her well enough to know she was lying through her teeth, but who cared enough not to call her on it. ‘How are Lucy and the baby?’ she asked, changing the subject, and he grinned, his happiness infectious.

  ‘Both doing great. We wish the baby would sleep a little more, but otherwise he’s perfect.’

  Her smile was real this time. ‘Trust me, he’ll be a teenager sleeping till noon before you know it. Seems like just yesterday Ford was a newborn.’ Her son was twenty now. And alive. She couldn’t let herself think about how close she’d come to losing him.

  ‘Jeremiah’s already growing too fast as it is. Don’t make him a teenager yet. Please.’ He checked his watch with an apologetic wince. ‘I have to run. They’re letting Stevie out of the hospital today and I’m taking her home.’

  Daphne’s heart lightened. ‘Oh, I’m so glad.’ The recovery of Detective Stevie Mazzetti, one of the victims of the violence that had changed their lives forever, was cause for celebration for everyone who knew her. But for Daphne, the news was especially profound. Stevie had been shot saving Daphne’s life, a debt Daphne could never repay. That Stevie would never expect her to made her sacrifice all the more meaningful. ‘Tell her I’ll bring muffins when she’s settled.’

  ‘She’ll like that.’ JD’s eyes went sly. ‘Lucy likes muffins, too. You might come by to see the baby and bring her some. And if you put in a few extra for me, I’d make myself eat them.’

  She laughed and swatted his arm. ‘Go. Tell your wife I’ll visit her soon too.’

  ‘I will. Now that you’re back, I have some cases to cover with you. See you later.’

  ‘But I’m not – ’

  JD was already gone, off like a shot, headed for the elevator before she could tell him she wasn’t really back. Not yet.

  Daphne hadn’t dared approach her own desk in the prosecutors’ offices today. The last time she’d tried, she’d been turned away a foot inside the front door by a well-informed and dutiful receptionist. Her boss, Senior Assistant State’s Attorney Grayson Smith, had made it known that she wasn’t to show her face there for two weeks, because, like it or not, she was on leave.

  Daphne grimaced. Leave. The very word left a bad taste in her mouth. Her extremely well-meaning boss had called it ‘bereavement leave,’ but she knew the truth. This was mental health leave. Because of what she’d been through.

  Trouble was, being on leave left her brain with nothing to do, so it remembered. Constantly. She suspected this was an intended outcome, to give her time to deal with her grief and shock. But she knew herself. She dealt by keeping busy, even if ‘busy’ only involved doing lunch.

  Drawing a bolstering breath, she pushed open the door to Homicide and found it buzzing with activity. Having said ‘It’s good to be back’ several more times, she came to the corner of the bullpen commandeered by VCET – the Violent Crimes Enforcement Team.

  VCET was a Baltimore PD/FBI task force and she could always tell which team members were the Feds. The severe black suits and ugly shoes gave them away every single time.

  ‘Daphne!’ Special Agent Kate Coppola beamed as Daphne approached her desk. ‘It’s good to have you back.’

  ‘I’d say it’s good to be back, but I’m not really. Not yet. I keep trying to go into the office, but my boss put me on leave.’ She hadn’t explained this to the other well-wishers, but, like JD, Kate knew details nobody else knew.

  Because Kate had been there at the end, when the man who’d terrorized Daphne and her son had been . . . neutralized. A picture flashed in her mind. His brains . . . On my hands . . .

  Breathe. Think of the horses, imagine the barn. Daphne had experienced panic attacks since she was eight years old, spawned by a childhood trauma that had spanned years. As a terrified child, caring for horses had brought her calm. As an adult with a job and a son to raise, she hadn’t always found it possible to be with horses, so she’d learned to picture herself there, to imagine the sounds and the smells . . . She reached into her handbag and pulled out a towel from the barn and brought it to her nose. Drew a breath and felt her pulse gradually slow.

  ‘I was so sorry to hear about your father,’ Kate said. ‘I heard they found his body after I left the scene. Are you okay?’

  Daphne’s throat tightened. ‘If I said yes, would you pretend to believe me?’

  ‘I guess that was a dumb question. I didn’t realize you were still on leave. For how long?’

  ‘Until January 1.’ Daphne glared. ‘I tried to go into the office to do paperwork, but I’m not even allowed to do that. He wants me to rest. Can you believe it?’

  Kate’s brows lifted. ‘What a silly man. It’s not like you had a gun held to your head by a mass murderer or anything. Or that you just found out your father didn’t run out on you and your mom when you were a kid, but was murdered. Oh, right, and by the same killer who kidnapped you as a kid and tortured and killed your cousin. And you found all this out while rescuing your son from being kidnapped by a guy who was in cahoots with the original killer. Why make you rest? Why not make you come back to a high-stress job prosecuting dangerous killers when just the sight of cops triggers a panic attack? I say we throw you right into the fray and let the nervous breakdowns fall where they may. Maybe we can all watch. Hell, maybe I could sell tickets and get rich.’

  Daphne shot her a sour look. ‘If I’d wanted sarcasm, I’d have stayed home. My mo
ther already gave me the same speech, except in a West Virginia twang.’

  ‘And you didn’t listen to her either,’ Kate said tightly.

  Daphne realized the Fed really was upset. Puzzled, she squeezed Kate’s hand. ‘I’m okay, really. The panic attacks are nothing new. I’m used to dealing with them. Look, I’m here because I needed to get out of the house. I was going stir-crazy.’

  Kate forced a smile. ‘Most women would go shopping, but you came in here to slum with us, all dressed up and making the rest of us look dowdy.’

  ‘Sugar, that suit and those shoes make you look dowdy. I got nothin’ to do with it.’

  Kate snickered and the tension was broken. ‘It’s true, so true.’

  ‘Plus, I had to get dolled up. I’m having lunch with Joseph.’

  Special Agent Joseph Carter was the new head of VCET, handpicked by his predecessor who was retiring soon. Joseph was also Daphne’s . . . Well, she wasn’t sure what to call him. At thirty-five, divorced and with a grown son, she felt too old the use the term ‘boyfriend.’ The fact that he’d led the investigation that saved her son and solved the mystery of all those missing girls and her father certainly made him important to her. But that wasn’t the reason she loved him. What she felt for Joseph was a connection . . . a knowing that went deeper than anything she’d ever experienced before.

  They’d agreed they wanted a long-term commitment and for both of them that meant marriage, but they weren’t rushing. For now, that he slept in her bed and that her closet had an entire section of severe black suits and ugly shoes was more than enough.

  Kate leaned closer. ‘Everyone’s commented on how pleasant Joseph’s been lately,’ she whispered conspiratorially. ‘Whatever you’re doing, sugar, keep on doing it.’

  Daphne’s cheeks heated at the memory of the things she and Joseph had done. In some ways it seemed like she’d known him forever, even though they’d been together only a few weeks. In other ways . . . like in bed . . . it was all brand spankin’ new.