Baltimore [3.5] Broken Silence

by Karen Rose

  Joseph went still. ‘That’s where Amber will go – she’ll take Lana back to where she was found. She must think the jewelry is still there somewhere, that we haven’t found it, either.’

  ‘I’ll get backup to the site where they found Lana,’ Kate said. ‘I’ll meet you there.’

  Joseph grabbed Daphne’s hand and ran for her truck. ‘You can drive. Let’s move.’

  Tuesday, December 24, 1:00 P.M.

  ‘Walk faster, you little shit! You’ve kept me here long enough. I do not have all day.’

  Lana fell to her knees in the snow. ‘I don’t know,’ she whimpered. ‘Please, stop.’

  Nurse grabbed her coat, yanked her to her feet. ‘Liar. Show me where you put them.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lana moaned. ‘I’m not a liar, I’m not. I really don’t know.’

  ‘Do you love this baby?’ Nurse asked coldly.

  Lana looked up, squinting because the sun was in her eyes. Nurse had the baby in her arms. Zarya would be cold. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. She’d promised her mama that she’d always watch over her, once her mama had gone to live in heaven with the angels. ‘Yes, I love her.’

  ‘Then you will remember where you hid your mama’s necklace or I will kill this baby. You need to believe me, Lana. I have nothing to lose.’

  Lana believed her so she made her feet walk, hoping someone would come. Maybe the nice lady with the pony. Lana prayed to her mama and papa and the angels. Please help us.

  And then a glimmer of color caught her eye. Pink. Bright pink against the white snow.

  The pony lady’s coat was pink. Then she saw the pony lady hiding behind a tree, tapping her finger to her smiling lips. Thank you, Mama. Lana kept watching for pink, even when Nurse shoved her again, making Lana walk. The pony lady was walking, too, hiding behind the trees.

  Then everything happened fast – a man’s voice was behind them, deep and sounding mean. But he was talking to Nurse. He was speaking English, but Lana heard two words she understood. Stop and police. Then she was snatched into warm arms and carried into the trees.

  Pink coat. The pony lady had her. Lana started to cry and the pony lady rocked her, saying words she didn’t understand but she knew she was safe. ‘Zarya,’ Lana whispered.

  ‘Sestra?’ The pony lady asked, then pointed.

  Another lady wearing a black suit had Zarya. And the pony lady’s man was putting handcuffs on Nurse.

  Safe. She and Zarya were finally safe.

  Tuesday, December 24, 9:30 P.M.

  ‘So this is what you call leave?’ Senior Assistant State’s Attorney Grayson Smith demanded to know. Daphne’s boss stood beside her, frowning at Amber through the two-way glass of the interview room. He was every bit as big as Brock had been, but Grayson had a heart of gold. With a gooey marshmallow center.

  The thought made Daphne smile. ‘Hey, I met the letter of the law. I didn’t come into the prosecutors’ office.’

  ‘No, you just assisted VCET in solving a double homicide and put your life at risk.’ He glared at Joseph as he said it. On the other side of her, Joseph just cocked a brow. He was cool in the face of Grayson’s wrath as only a brother could be.

  ‘I invited her down here for lunch,’ Joseph said. ‘It ran a little long.’

  ‘A two-day-long lunch,’ Grayson grumbled. ‘You purposely violated my leave order and that’s the best excuse you can think of? Dad will be so disappointed in you.’

  ‘Dad wouldn’t have made an excuse at all. He would just tell you to stop trying to be the boss of everyone,’ Joseph shot back, amused.

  ‘But I am her boss,’ Grayson insisted. ‘She needed to rest.’

  ‘I’m her fiancé,’ Joseph said with a shrug. ‘I disagreed.’

  ‘See?’ Daphne said, wriggling her fingers to derail the argument. ‘Pretty, shiny diamond.’

  ‘So you got Grandma’s ring out of the safe. Sweet,’ Grayson said. Then rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. I’ll let you have this skirmish, for an engagement present. Congratulations,’ he added in a disgruntled voice, then gave Daphne a wink.

  Daphne winked back. ‘We not only solved the double homicide, we also saved two little girls.’ Svetlana and Zarya were in emergency foster care, waiting for relatives who were en route from Moscow. ‘And given the opportunity, I’d do that two-day-lunch again in a heartbeat.’

  Grayson sighed. ‘I know. I don’t know who I thought I was fooling with all this leave stuff. Or that I was your boss, or that you’d do what I said, or anything like that.’

  ‘I’ll bring you muffins when I come in to the office tomorrow,’ Daphne said with a smirk.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said wryly. ‘But I won’t be here tomorrow. Today’s Christmas Eve, Daphne.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, dismayed. ‘I forgot. And I’m not even close to finishing my shopping.’

  Grayson grinned. ‘I guess that’s punishment enough for defying my leave order.’ Then he sobered when Kate sat at the table opposite Amber. ‘Bring me up to speed.’

  Daphne gave him a fast summary of the facts. ‘We heard from Mayo Clinic. Tatiana Smirnov had been a patient, but Amber wasn’t affiliated with them in any way. The Smirnovs hired her through a private nursing agency in Minnesota, primarily because Amber is fluent in Russian. She was raised by a grandmother who’d come over from Russia during the 1940s. Amber had been a nurse at another hospital previous to the private agency, but was let go for stealing from a patient. Because someone didn’t want to “destroy her career” she was allowed to resign instead of being officially terminated and the theft wasn’t on her record. When we started asking questions, one of her former colleagues came forward with the information. But I think you’ll agree that theft is the least of Amber’s crimes.’

  ‘Why was Mrs Smirnov at Mayo?’

  ‘Cancer. It was diagnosed in Moscow, but she was pregnant with Zarya and if she’d had treatment, it would have killed the baby. She chose to wait until Zarya was born to start chemo, but it was too late. Mr Smirnov was rich and desperate. He brought his wife to the U.S. for treatment, but it was a long shot from the get-go. The clinic had told Mrs Smirnov to get her affairs in order. Lana indicated that her father wanted them to return to Russia, but Amber had been entertaining her and her mother with stories about growing up on the Virginia coast, playing on the beach, and seeing the ponies on Assateague Island run. Mrs Smirnov wanted to see the ocean and the ponies before she died. At least Amber let her have that.’

  ‘Mr Smirnov was killed by Brock. Who killed Mrs Smirnov?’

  ‘Probably Brock as well,’ Joseph said. ‘We found a pillow in the back of the Mercedes that was stained with blood. Amber claims that Brock suffocated Mrs Smirnov and pointed out that had she wanted to, she could have suffocated her at any time. But even if she didn’t do it herself, we can still charge her, because she was part of the conspiracy.’

  ‘She definitely terrorized Lana,’ Daphne said. ‘We got video footage from the hospital showing Amber holding Zarya, standing outside of Lana’s room. She’d told nurses that she’d come to visit someone on another floor and was just walking her baby to get her to sleep. She never stayed long – just long enough to scare a six-year-old into silence.’

  ‘Bold,’ Grayson said.

  ‘She had to take the risk,’ Joseph said. ‘Because her attempt to drug Lana was unsuccessful. We found a stain on the Mercedes carpet – turned out to be juice laced with sedatives. We asked Lana about it and she said Amber had given it to her but she’d accidentally spilled it and was afraid to say anything to Amber. Had Lana drunk it, she wouldn’t have been able to run away and we’d never have known who the Smirnovs were.’

  ‘Big consequences for a little juice spill,’ Grayson said. ‘So, why did Amber ditch Brock?’

  ‘That we don’t know,’ Joseph said. ‘Either there was trouble in paradise or she decided she didn’t want to share the spoils. Brock may have been prone to rage. We found needles and a supply of anabolic steroids in the Mercedes
and it looked like he was on a high dose. Which explains how he walked through the pain of being shot without slowing down.’

  ‘What about the kids? What was she going to do with them?’

  Daphne’s blood went cold. ‘We found phone numbers in Brock’s wallet. One was a fence – they planned to sell the jewelry to him. One was a lawyer who specializes in “private adoptions,” particularly to wealthy people who can’t pass the background checks for legitimate adoption. That would have been Zarya. The third . . . It’s good I’m on this side of the glass. Amber is evil.’

  ‘Down, girl,’ Joseph said, but she knew he was equally enraged. ‘You’ll get your chance at her in court. One of Brock’s contacts was a man the FBI has been watching for producing and distributing child porn. That Brock had made a note that the man would take Lana for a certain price allowed the Minneapolis field office to get a warrant. Brock’s friend is now in custody.’

  Grayson shook his head. ‘You think you’ve seen everything, every low-life scum on the planet, but there’s always one more who comes crawling out from under his rock.’ He gave Daphne a steady look. ‘Thanks for not listening to me about the leave. You did good, sugar.’

  She smiled, bumping him lightly with her shoulder. ‘Thanks.’ They watched a while in silence as Kate crossed all her t’s, ignoring Amber’s crocodile tears. Grayson was right. There would always be Ambers who would target the vulnerable. And even when the good guys won a battle, there were always casualties. Like little Svetlana, Daphne thought, a child who’d always bear the emotional scars of the unspeakable violence she’d seen. Like me. Like far too many others.

  There would always be social workers who’d try to help, to heal the emotional scars. Like Heidi Breckenridge, Daphne thought, swallowing hard.

  But as dedicated as they might be, there weren’t enough healers for all the casualties of this war. We need more healers. The excitement she’d felt that morning was renewed.

  ‘I’m starting a foundation,’ she announced with a nod. ‘For children victimized by violence. We’ll do equine therapy for free. We’re going to start by spring. I have a plan.’

  ‘Oh,’ Grayson said, unsurprised.

  ‘Good,’ Joseph said.

  She looked at one brother, then the other. ‘Oh? Good? That’s all you have to say?’

  ‘We all knew you would,’ Joseph said. ‘You support women’s issues. It was only a matter of time before you turned your do-gooder sights on the small fry.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Who’s this “we all” who know my mind before I do?’

  ‘Me and Paige,’ Grayson said. Paige was his fiancée and Daphne’s best friend. ‘Clay, too.’ Clay was another true friend. ‘JD and Lucy. Joseph, of course. You know. All your friends. The people who love you. So, does your new foundation have a name?’

  Her eyes stung. ‘I was thinking about “Healing Hearts through Horses.”’

  Grayson turned back to the glass. ‘That sounds pretty damn good to me.’

  Joseph slid an arm around Daphne’s waist and pulled her closer. ‘Sounds like you’ll be busy, getting this ready before spring. I guess this means more take-out and less home cooking, huh?’

  ‘Maybe we’ll eat take-out, but I still have plenty of aprons,’ she whispered.

  Joseph kissed her forehead. ‘I can live with that.’

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you’ve enjoyed Broken Silence.

  When I finished writing Did You Miss Me?, I had the nagging feeling that there was more, that Daphne’s story wasn’t yet complete. I realized that although she had faced the demons of her past, she hadn’t yet reached closure. Broken Silence gives Daphne that closure. You’ll read more about her equine therapy program in my next novel, Watch Your Back.

  If you like this world, you also might want to check out my novella Dirty Secrets (which was originally published as part of the anthology Hot Pursuit, but will be available as a stand-alone eBook in January 2014). I wrote this novella several years before I began the Baltimore series, but found that the characters in Dirty Secrets also connected to those in Watch Your Back.

  They’re all in the same world of Baltimore cops and prosecutors who are featured in my novels You Belong To Me (2011), No One Left To Tell (2012) and Did You Miss Me? (2013). If you’d like a sneak peak at their world, read on!

  Best,

  Karen Rose

  Turn the page for an exclusive preview of the first chapter from the upcoming

  Out in hardback and eBook on 7th November 2013

  Go to www.headline.co.uk to learn more about pre-ordering your copy

  Prologue

  Eight years earlier, Baltimore, Maryland, Thursday,

  March 15, 5.45 P.M.

  I can’t. I can’t do this.

  The words thundered in John Hudson’s mind, drowning out the beep of the cash register at the front of the convenience store. The customer at the counter paid for her purchases, then left, oblivious to the fact that the guy standing in front of the motor oil was a cold-blooded killer.

  But I’m not a killer. Not yet.

  But you will be. In less than five minutes, you will be. Desperation grabbed his throat, churned his gut. Made his heart beat too hard and too fast. I can’t. God help me, I cannot do this.

  You have to. The small print on the back of the bottle of motor oil he pretended to study blurred as his eyes filled with hot tears. He knew what he had to do.

  John put the bottle back on the shelf, his hand trembling. He closed his eyes, felt the burn as the tears streaked down his wind-chapped cheeks. He swiped a knuckle under his eyes, the wool of his gloves scraping his skin. Blindly he chose another bottle, conscious of the seconds ticking by. Conscious of the risk, of the cost if he followed through. And if he did not.

  The text had come that morning. There had been no words. None had been needed. The photo attached had been more than sufficient.

  Sam. My boy.

  His son was no longer a boy. John knew that. At twenty-two his son was a man. But John also knew he’d lost the best years of his son’s life because he couldn’t recall much from that time. He’d spent them snorting and shooting up, filling his body with what he couldn’t live without. Even now, standing here, he was high. Just enough to be borderline functional, but not enough to dull the horror of what he was about to do.

  His addiction had nearly killed him too many times to count. It had pushed him to beat his wife in a frenzied rage, nearly killing her. Now it was killing Sam.

  His son had pulled himself out of the neighborhood, kept himself clean. Straight. Sam had a future. Or he would, if John did what he was supposed to do.

  God. How can I? His hand trembling, John flipped his phone open to the photo that had been texted to him that day – his son bound, unconscious, a thin line of blood trickling from his mouth. Tied to a chair, his head lolling to the side. A gloved hand holding a gun to his head.

  How can I? How can I not?

  The assignment had originally come via text yesterday morning from a number John had hoped he’d never see. He’d made a desperate deal with the devil and payment had come due. His target had been identified, the time and place specified.

  The target came to this store every evening on his way home from work. John just had to show up. Do the job. Make it look unplanned. Wrong place, wrong time.

  But he hadn’t been able to do it yesterday. Hadn’t been able to force himself to walk inside the store. Hadn’t been able to force himself to pull the trigger.

  So the ante had been upped, the second text sent, this time with the photo. And Sam was the pawn. Son. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

  John heard the quiet beep of the door as it opened. Please don’t let it be him. Please don’t let him stop here today. Please.

  But if it’s not him, you can’t kill him. And then Sam will die.

  ‘Hey, Paul.’ The greeting had come from the cashier, a fifty-something African-American woman who greeted several of her customer
s by name. ‘What’s shakin’ in the hallowed halls?’

  John’s heart sank. It’s him. Make your move.

  ‘Same old, same old,’ Paul replied, a weariness to his voice that somehow made John’s task seem even worse. ‘Cops put them in jail, we do our best to throw away the key. Most of the time they’re back on the street so fast, the door doesn’t even hit them in the ass.’

  ‘Damn defense attorneys,’ the cashier muttered. ‘Same old, same old on the numbers, too?’

  ‘My mother is a creature of habit,’ Paul said, his chuckle now rueful.

  ‘You’re a good boy to pick up her lotto tickets every day, Paul.’

  ‘It makes her happy,’ he said simply. ‘She doesn’t ask for much.’

  Just do it! Before he makes you like him even more.

  He edged to the end of the aisle, closer to the cash register. Pretending to scratch his head, he reached up under his Orioles baseball cap to yank down the ski mask he’d hidden under it to cover his face. It could be worse. The three of them were the only ones in the store. If he had to dispose of a lot of witnesses . . . That would be much worse.

  ‘That’ll be ten bucks,’ the cashier said. ‘How’s your wife, Paul? Pregnancy going okay?’

  His wife is pregnant. Don’t do this. For the love of God, do not do this.

  Ignoring the screaming in his head, John wheeled around, drawing his gun.

  ‘Everybody freeze,’ John growled. ‘Hands where I can see them.’

  The cashier froze and John’s target paled, his hands lifted, palms out. ‘Give him what he wants, Lilah,’ Paul said quietly. ‘Nothing in this store is worth your life.’

  ‘What do you want?’ the cashier whispered.

  Not this. I don’t want this.

  Do it. Or Sam will die. Of this John had no doubt. The photo he’d been sent flashed in to his mind. The gloved hand holding the gun to his son’s head had killed before. He would kill Sam.