Her Scream in the Silence

by Denise Grover Swank

  “I need information on one of the new employees.”

  A scowl crossed her face. “Shane Jones.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I don’t know a whole lot about him,” she admitted. “He’s only worked here a few weeks, but he’s a menace. Like I told your girl, he’s been stealin’ things, and the staff won’t do anything about it.”

  “Well, maybe I can help with that,” Marco said. “But first I need the scoop on him.”

  “You’re wanting to look at his employment file,” she said with a sly grin.

  Marco rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Perhaps. And if I was lookin’ for it, where do you suppose I might find it?”

  “You’d think it would be on a computer,” she said in disgust, “but this damn town is stuck in the Dark Ages.”

  “So new hires fill out a paper application?” Marco asked.

  “Yep.”

  “And where do they keep those?”

  “Office down in the west wing,” she said. “And good thing for you that no one uses it on Sunday afternoons.”

  “Lucky for me indeed.”

  “But the door’s locked.” Gladys glanced up, her eyes twinkling. “What’s a key worth to you?”

  Marco released a short laugh. “Gladys, you’re quickly becomin’ my new favorite person.” Then he winked at me. “Sorry, Carly.”

  I grinned back. “Hey, priorities.” I pulled one of the puzzles out of the bag in my purse and slid it across the table to her as if it were a hundred-dollar bill. It was a 1000-piece puzzle of a mountain.

  She slid the box over to her. “Got any more of these?”

  I took out another 1000-piece puzzle of a still life with a ceramic water pitcher and fruit.

  She reached into a pocket of her pants and pulled out a key, setting it on the table. “This is a master and gets into everything.”

  “You just carry it around with you?” Marco asked in disbelief.

  “This place is boring as shit,” Gladys said. “Sometimes we like to get into things.” She held his gaze. “Like the employee lounge. That has lockers.”

  “And where might those be?” he asked in a conspiratorial tone.

  “Next to the office.”

  Marco put his hand over the key and picked it up. “Carly, wait here.”

  I leaned over next to his ear. “Wouldn’t it be less noticeable if I search?” I asked quietly. “You’re bound to attract attention on your crutches.”

  “But if I get caught, I’m fairly certain I can talk my way out of it,” he said. “I might be on medical leave, but I’ve still got the badge.”

  Reluctantly, I agreed.

  He got up and moved down the hall, leaving me to stew in my nerves.

  “Let’s open a new one,” Gladys said, her eyes lit up with excitement, and I felt bad that I’d used the puzzles as a bribe. I should have just given them to her. I used an ink pen in my purse to break the seal on one of them while Gladys swept the old pieces of the bridge puzzle into the well-worn box. We’d spread all the pieces on the table and had started sorting out the edge pieces by the time Marco returned about ten minutes later.

  He set the key on the table and gave Gladys a slow nod. “Thank you.”

  “You gonna get the bastard?” she asked.

  “I sure as hell plan to,” Marco said, his voice gruff.

  “Then go get ’em, Deputy Roland,” she said with a sly grin. When surprise washed over his face, she said, “I read the papers.” She shot me a glance too. “Now go get the bastard.”

  I got up and started to leave, unnerved that she’d known who he was and hadn’t let on.

  Marco and I were both silent as we left the building, but when we reached the parking lot, I looked around. No one was watching us, so I asked, “You find what we need?”

  “Yep. Address. Phone number. Emergency contact. Employment history. I made copies of it all. It’s in my pocket.”

  “He was working here under an assumed name. You think he gave them real information?”

  “One way to find out.”

  We got inside the SUV and Marco pulled several folded papers from his pocket. Glancing at the top one, he plugged an address into the Explorer’s navigation system.

  “Are we headed to Charlie’s house?”

  “We’re gonna do a drive by and go from there.”

  “Why’d you put his address into the maps when coverage is so spotty?”

  He shot me a grin. “It’s spotty with a cell phone, but the car uses satellite.”

  Like Bingham’s satellite phone. I considered mentioning that to Marco, but Bingham clearly made him uncomfortable. He’d be pissed if he knew I’d offered him information. Instead, I grabbed the photocopies and looked them over. Charlie had a Ewing address, but the street was listed as County Road and the navigation system said it was fifteen minutes away.

  “Rural address?” I asked.

  “Yep.”

  We were both silent as Marco drove out of Ewing and up a mountain road, passing only a few houses, most of them run-down and abandoned. Finally, the GPS said we’d arrived, but there weren’t any houses within view—only an entrance to a private lane that was blocked by a gate with a sign that said, No Trespassing.

  “I don’t like this,” Marco finally said, his hands gripping the wheel.

  “Can we get the gate open?” I asked, but then I realized it was locked with a heavy metal chain and a padlock. “Do you have bolt cutters? Or can you pick the lock?”

  He stared at the gate, a wide array of emotions flitting across his face. Anger, frustration, worry. Fear.

  “We can’t do that.”

  Outrage exploded in my head. “What do you mean we can’t?”

  “Even if I had the means to open that gate, we can’t go down that lane. Not with the No Trespassing sign.”

  “But you’re a sheriff’s deputy!”

  “It doesn’t fuckin’ matter, Carly!” he shouted.

  “What if they’re down that road, Marco?” I choked out, pissed that I was close to tears again.

  “I know, goddammit, but we still can’t go down there. I’ve got no probable cause.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Marco?”

  He turned to me in frustration. “It’s all circumstantial, and on top of that, this isn’t an official investigation.” He slammed the heel of his hand into the steering wheel. “Dammit!”

  We sat there, his car stopped on the two-lane county road, both of us breathing heavily as we tried to rein in our emotions.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, running a hand over my head. “I know your hands are tied.”

  “Our hands are tied, Carly, in case you’re getting some crazy-ass idea about getting out of this car and running onto the property.”

  I hadn’t considered that, but I was also smart enough to realize it would be foolish for me to attempt such a thing on my own. I was an intelligent woman, but I was no criminal mastermind. I had no delusions that I could outwit a hardened criminal. Sure, I was mouthy with Bingham, but like Hank said, the devil you know. I had no idea what to expect with Charlie. “So what do we do?”

  “You’re not gonna like it.”

  “I’ll hold my peace until you’ve said yours.”

  He nodded. “We head back to Drum.” He glanced at me, his brow raised as though waiting for my outburst. When he saw it wasn’t coming, he continued, “I’ll take you to Hank’s, then I’m going to call Detective White, see if I can convince her there’s something here. It hasn’t been a full forty-eight hours since Greta went missing, but it’s close enough.”

  “She’s the detective who handled the Carson Purdy case, isn’t she?”

  “She’ll be sympathetic to our case, especially since we have more information tying Lula and Greta to both men.”

  “Okay.”

  His mouth parted in shock. “No protests?”

  “I’m no police officer, Marco. I can’t storm the property and dem
and he produce Lula and Greta. I’d likely get them, you, or myself killed. I have no problem handing this over to professionals, as long as they actually do something with it.

  “If they still won’t open an investigation, I’m going to keep workin’ on it, Carly,” he said defensively. “I’ll find aerial photos of the property, look into the owners’ history, and I can check out the references on Charlie’s application. They likely lied for him, and we can find out why. I won’t just let this go.”

  “I know you won’t,” I said. “And I’m sorry if I implied that you were.”

  “We’re both frustrated. But let’s see if we can pull the big guns in.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Once we got back into Ewing, Marco tried calling Detective White on his cell, but her phone went to voicemail. He called the sheriff’s department next to see if she was available, and they told him she was off until Tuesday.

  “Shit,” he said when he hung up. He sucked in a breath and blew it out. “It’s two o’clock. Let’s head back to Drum, and I’ll go to the library to start my research.”

  “It’s closed on Sundays.”

  He gave me a wry grin. “I have a key.”

  I shook my head. “What’s with all the older women just droppin’ keys into your lap?”

  “It’s my charm,” he said, but it lacked his usual laid-back tone.

  “Can you tell someone else in the department?” I asked.

  “Honestly, Carly, other than Marta, I’m not sure who I can trust with this. Purdy had his hooks in the sheriff’s department. Mobley obviously didn’t give up the operation. For all I know, he and his goon still have someone on the inside.” He glanced at me. “Don’t give up. I’ll figure out somethin’.”

  We picked up lunch to go and headed back to Drum, neither of us in the mood to sit in a restaurant. We were quiet during the drive, both of us lost in thought. I shared my theory that Charlie had taken Greta but not Lula, but Marco quickly nixed it.

  “I might have considered it if it weren’t for Mobley. His involvement indicates they took Lula because he found out she was pregnant.”

  “So why take Greta?” I asked.

  He snorted. “You saw Mobley panic after we dropped by. I suspect Mobley and Charlie thought Greta was going to blow their cover. They took her to cover their tracks.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I guess it makes sense. I mean, taking Greta wasn’t the smartest move if they wanted to keep this quiet, but Mobley’s clearly not some criminal mastermind. Why do you think Lula was so worried when Bingham walked in Thursday night?”

  “Maybe he caught wind she was carryin’ packages for Mobley. Or maybe she was worried he’d figure out she’s pregnant. If she’s five or six months along, then people are bound to start noticin’ soon.”

  “He still doesn’t know, or if he does, he’s not letting on.” Call me naive, but I was going with not knowing.

  I barely touched my lunch because my stomach churned every time I thought about what might be happening on Charlie’s property. Were they out there? Had we made the wrong call?

  “You need to be careful,” Marco said as we were approaching Drum. “In fact, I’m not sure you should be drivin’ alone. How about you come to the library with me until it’s time to head to the tavern?”

  “Yeah,” I said, spooked out that Charlie or someone else might be watching me. “Maybe it makes me a coward, but I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Not a coward, Carly. It makes you smart.”

  But when we drove past the tavern, I saw the open sign was in the window. I’d planned on going to the library with Marco, but it was already three thirty. I’d only have about twenty minutes or so to do some digging before I had to quit.

  “Can you drop me off at the tavern instead?” I asked. “Ruth’s already opened, and unless Max came back, she’s covering the bar on her own.”

  “Yeah. No problem.” He turned and pulled into the back parking lot. “I’ll watch you go in, then come by later to take you home.”

  “Thanks, Marco,” I said as I grabbed my bag out of the back. Before I left the car, I searched his face. “You be careful too. You’re not at 100%, which makes you vulnerable too.”

  He patted his chest over his jacket. “True, but I’ve got a gun.”

  “Still.”

  A smile cracked his mouth. “I will.”

  When I got inside, I quickly changed into my Max’s Tavern T-shirt. Tiny was working at the grill, but my heart sunk when I found Ruth behind the bar.

  “Still no Max?” I asked, tying on my apron.

  She frowned. “No.”

  “How long have you been open?”

  “Not long, so get that guilty look off your face.”

  “Has anyone called Wyatt to see how Max is doin’?”

  “Yeah, I called him this morning. He said Max is better, but he’s keepin’ him out at his place until tomorrow.”

  I nodded.

  “This is not your fault, Carly,” she said in a stern tone. “Max has had a drinkin’ problem for years, and we’ve been sweepin’ it under the rug, pretendin’ it doesn’t exist. If Lula hadn’t set him off, it would have been something else.”

  I gave her a tight smile. “Yeah.”

  She put her hand on my arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you go call Wyatt and talk to him yourself? Maybe Max’ll talk to you. The sooner you two make up, the better.”

  As much as I hated to call Wyatt, I really needed to hear Max’s voice. I had to reassure myself he was okay. “Yeah. I think I will. I’m going to call him from the office.”

  “Good idea.”

  I got settled in Max’s office chair, then took a deep breath and dialed Wyatt’s number.

  Wyatt answered and launched into a tirade. “For the umpteenth time, Ruth, Max is fine.”

  “It’s Carly.”

  The line went silent, and I was starting to wonder if he’d hung up when he said, “Are you callin’ to check on Max?”

  Had he hoped I was calling to talk to him? “Yeah. I’m worried about him.”

  “He’s feelin’ like shit right about now, but he’ll be much better tomorrow. Sober at least.”

  “That’s good.”

  “He feels terrible about the things he said to you. Do you want to talk to him?”

  “If he’s willing.”

  I heard muffled voices in the background. Then Max’s voice came over the line. “Carly, if you never speak to me again, I’ll understand.”

  “No,” I said, covering my eyes with my hand in relief. “We’re good. I promise.”

  “You’re not fired.”

  I released a short laugh. “Well, that’s good, since I’ve been working. Just get better and come back. We miss you like crazy.”

  There was so much unsaid, but it wouldn’t feel right to talk our issues over on the phone, especially not on Wyatt’s phone. We said our goodbyes and I hung up, taking a moment to let my emotions settle. I was still sure that Max knew something about Lula, so why hadn’t I pressed him? Was it because I was scared to find out he’d done something bad? Or was I worried he’d reject me again?

  I was considering calling him back, but the phone rang again. I picked up and said, “Max’s Tavern.”

  A recorded voice asked, “Will you accept a collect call from the Tennessee Prison for Women?”

  The blood rushed from my head and it took me a moment to choke out, “Yes.”

  Marco had intended to request a call from Lula’s mother, but as far as I knew, he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. So why was she calling?

  I heard some clicks and then a woman’s raspy voice said, “I need to speak to Lula.”

  “Louise?”

  There was a pause. “Ruthie?”

  “No,” I said, putting a hand on my chest and taking a breath to slow my racing heart. “This is Carly. I work with Lula.”

  “Never heard of you. Put ’er on the line,” she said impatiently.

 
“I can’t. She’s not here.”

  “What do you mean she’s not here? She works every Sunday.”

  Had she been scheduled to work today? She’d only been missing for a few days, but it felt like much longer. “Ms. Baker, Lula’s missin’.”

  She took a beat before she said in a neutral voice, “She never came back?” Then her tone turned harsher. “You her replacement?”

  I’d really hoped Louise would give me some insight on what had happened to her daughter, but I got the impression she’d be tight-lipped. “No, but when she took off last time, Max hired me to help cover her shifts. When she came back, Max kept us both on.”

  “There ain’t enough hours for both y’all.”

  “We planned to make it work,” I said evenly. “Lula and I worked together one night, but the next day she didn’t show up for her shift. Most people think she took off again, but I don’t believe that. I think someone took her.” I purposely kept Marco’s name out of it. While including him would lend credibility to my concerns, I had the impression that mentioning his name would make her shut up tighter than a clam. This wasn’t a woman who’d want anything to do with the police.

  She didn’t say a word, so I took a chance and added, “I think it had something to do with the packages she was delivering when she left.”

  Complete silence hung on the other end of the line.

  “Ms. Baker?” I asked, terrified I’d scared her off. “Are you still there?”

  “How do you know about the packages?” she snapped.

  “It doesn’t matter how I know,” I said. “The important part is that I do.”

  “Does the sheriff know?”

  “No.”

  “Keep it that way.” Her voice was hard and calculated. Not the voice of a mother worried about her only child.

  “Do you know who took Lula?” I asked. “I’m trying to find her, and anything you can share with me would help.”

  “Why in the hell would you look for her? You said you only worked with her for one day.”

  “Maybe so, but I felt protective of her.” I suspected she’d only give me information if I threw her off, so I added, “Especially after I learned she was pregnant.”