Her Scream in the Silence

by Denise Grover Swank

  “She told you?” she blasted through the line. “Who else has that stupid fool told?”

  I gasped in shock. “Ms. Baker, I believe your daughter was kidnapped and is in danger. The sheriff’s department doesn’t seem inclined to take this seriously, and I’m worried she’s living on borrowed time.” If she was still alive at all. “I need you to tell me what you know so I can find her.”

  “I ain’t tellin’ you shit,” she snarled. “You stay the hell out of my daughter’s life.”

  “Louise,” I practically shouted, “I’m worried she won’t have a life. Now, who do you think took her? The father of her baby? Is it the same person who had her deliver the packages?”

  She burst out laughing. “You really are stupid.”

  “So fill me in.” She wasn’t going to volunteer anything, but she might confirm information if I offered it. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was better than nothing. “Lula was having an affair with Pete Mobley. Maybe he’s the father of the baby. I’m guessing she broke it off when she figured out he wasn’t going to leave his wife for her, but she did it before he noticed her expanding belly.”

  She remained silent, which I took as a good sign.

  “I wasn’t sure about the packages,” I said. “At first I suspected Bingham, based on the way he stared at her the night she came back. She seemed terrified of him and he seemed anxious to talk to her. When I asked her about it later, she told me to leave Bingham alone. That he makes people disappear. And the next day she disappeared.”

  Her voice was tight as she asked, “You think Bingham took my girl?”

  “No. I’ve since decided he had nothing to do with it. I think he was watchin’ her because he misses her, and he’s pissed she broke it off.” Then the truth hit me. “I think he’s in love with her and wants her back.”

  “He’s a fool. They both are.”

  “But you broke them up. Why?”

  “Because Mobley was sniffin’ around, and I needed her to focus on him.”

  “Why?”

  She snorted. “You think I’m just gonna confess everything I know?”

  “I would hope you’d want to save your daughter. Just like you saved her the day you shot her father.”

  A peal of hysterical laughter rang out in my ear. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, but you’re a fool just like the rest of them. You really believe that shit?”

  “Your husband wasn’t drowning her in the creek?”

  “Her father was drownin’ her, but it sure as shit wasn’t Walter. He showed up and tried to stop the man.”

  The blood rushed from my head.

  “That stupid girl didn’t remember shit about that day after she came to, so when my sister brought her to see me in jail, Lula believed me when I told her that her daddy did it. Broke her heart. She couldn’t believe her daddy would try to kill her. That man always treated her like the sun rose and set on her. And then Lula started rememberin’ bits and pieces she’d forgotten. She recalled another man was there, one who was furious to find out he was her real daddy.”

  “But she didn’t remember who the man was.”

  “No. That drowning took some of her common sense, you know what I mean? So she bought it hook, line, and sinker when I told her back in July that Todd Bingham was her daddy.”

  For a split second, I felt struck dumb by the notion of Bingham being Lula’s father—had he knowingly slept with his own daughter?—but then I processed the rest of what Louise had said. “But he’s not her father. You just didn’t want her to be with him. Why?”

  “I tried to hook up with that man years ago, but he wasn’t interested,” she spat. “I wasn’t about to let him have my daughter. And I’m sure as hell not going to let him lay claim to my grandchild. Thank God Lula isn’t too smart with the logistics of determinin’ due dates.”

  I couldn’t believe she was confessing all of this to me. “Who is Lula’s father?”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” she cackled. “Walter was a simple man and believed he was her daddy. I think he might have realized the truth, but he loved her too much to care. He put up with me sleepin’ around just to keep that girl. He was weak.”

  “He was a father.”

  “And it got him killed in the end.”

  “Her biological father didn’t know?”

  “No. I purposely kept it from him, plannin’ to use it against him at some point, but I’m not a patient woman. I’d been needlin’ ’im, and he figured it out. His solution was to get rid of the evidence of his indiscretion. He was more worried that people would know I’d slept with him than the fact he had another kid.”

  Which meant he had at least two.

  “Louise,” I said in what I hoped was an authoritative tone. “Who is Lula’s father?”

  She scoffed. “I’ve kept his secret for twenty years, and I sure as hell ain’t tellin’ you.”

  Not that she needed to. She’d made it clear enough.

  “But you have other plans to tell,” I said. “When you get out.”

  “Let’s just say I’ve learned patience, and I’m ready to collect what’s mine.” Then she hung up.

  I stared at the phone in amazement and horror. Louise Baker was using her daughter as a pawn, at the expense of her happiness and her life.

  Sure, I had more information, but I felt even more helpless to find Lula.

  Then I realized I knew someone who wasn’t constrained by the law, someone who’d be even more motivated to find Lula given the information I’d gained.

  I dialed the number I’d memorized, and when he answered, I said, “Bingham. We need to talk. Now.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  He didn’t waste any time getting to the tavern. He told me he could be there in twenty minutes and to meet him out back. I didn’t bother asking Ruth if I could take a break. We weren’t very busy, which meant I wouldn’t be missed for a few minutes, so I slipped out the back door. A truck was parked opposite it, and it didn’t surprise me to see Bingham behind the driver’s wheel. Alone. Not allowing myself time to think of all the ways this might be a bad idea, I hurried over and got into the passenger seat.

  “This better be important,” he said with a growl, “or you might not have the opportunity to call me again.”

  “It’s more important than you know.” I’d spent the past twenty minutes trying to figure out where to start, and I’d decided I’d do best to start with what meant the most to him. “I know how Louise Baker got Lula to break up with you.”

  His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You got me to come runnin’ over here to discuss my damn love life?”

  His anger rattled me in the close quarters of the truck cab, but I pressed on, deciding to cut to the chase. “Lula’s pregnant. I’m pretty sure the baby’s yours. Her mother somehow convinced her it wasn’t—and also that you’re her biological father.”

  “What the fuck?” he shouted, turning to me in disbelief.

  I turned to fully face him. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you strike me as a rip-off-the-Band-Aid kind of guy, and I think I might know where Lula and Greta are being kept.”

  He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his tone was calmer. “Go on.”

  “First, I need to know if you love her.”

  “Back to my damn love life?” he snapped. “It’s none of your fuckin’ business!”

  “Like I said, I’d bet good money she’s pregnant with your baby. I doubt you’d planned on having kids, but it’s too late to change anyone’s mind about this baby. She’s six months along, so it will be coming. I need to know that you’re goin’ in to save and protect Lula. Not to retaliate for some perceived wrong.”

  “Perceived wrong?”

  “Those packages we discussed. You told me you wouldn’t hold it against her because her mother put her up to it. Did you mean it?”

  His jaw clenched and unclenched. “I could lie and tell you what you want to hear.�
�

  “And that’s why I had to see you in person, to look into your eyes as you tell me. Anything you say will stay right here in the cab of this truck, because I know how dangerous it is for you to admit you care about someone. She’d become your greatest weakness. The last thing I want to do is save her now only to put her and the baby at greater risk later.”

  His face remained expressionless, giving nothing away. “You say that as though you have experience in the criminal world.”

  “I do. I have a friend who’s pregnant with a crime boss’s baby. I know how dangerous this is for both of you. So I need to know, Bingham. Do you love her? Will you try to protect her and her baby? Your baby?”

  His gaze held mine, and I was surprised at the flicker of emotion in his eyes when I mentioned his baby. “Yes.” Then his face turned into a scary mask of rage. “Now tell me where she is.”

  I was thankful that rage wasn’t directed at me. “I think they’re on Shane Jones’s property outside Ewing. Only his real name might be Charlie. It’s rural and a perfect place to hold someone against their will. We got the address from a—”

  The corner of his eye twitched. “I don’t need to know the details of how you got the information, Ms. Moore. Only the address. Can you manage to give it to me without a story?”

  I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. “The GPS will lead you to it. The drive is blocked with a padlocked gate.”

  He looked over the address and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Won’t be a problem.”

  “Will you let me know when you have them?” I asked.

  He gave a sharp nod. “Now get the fuck out.”

  I tried not to take offense as I climbed out and watched him tear out of the parking lot. If he was truly a man in love, and he seemed to be, I didn’t blame him for being in a rush. I headed back in and returned to my tables. Ruth didn’t seem to have noticed my absence, or if she had, she didn’t comment.

  Marco came in around six, looking spent. I rushed over to greet him at the door and led him to an open booth. “You’ve done too much again, Marco.”

  “I haven’t done near enough,” he said. “We’re still no closer to gettin’ someone to go out there.”

  Oh crap. I couldn’t keep him in the dark about Bingham anymore, not after everything that had happened this afternoon. “Marco, let’s sit down for a moment.”

  He gave me a funny look, but he slid into the booth all the same, propping his leg on the seat.

  I sat opposite him. “Louise Baker called for Lula this afternoon.”

  “Here?”

  I nodded. “She admitted some interesting things.”

  “Go on.”

  I told him how the conversation went, and frustration covered his face. “Why the hell didn’t you let me know earlier?”

  “How was I supposed to reach you? Would you have answered the library phone?” If I could have even found the number. His mouth pursed, answer enough. “Your cell phone doesn’t work, and you made it clear you don’t think I should be walking around alone.”

  “You’re right,” he grudgingly admitted.

  I groaned. “Sometimes I hate that this town is so stuck in the past. A simple working cell phone would make all the difference.”

  “It is what it is,” he said. “Now we need to figure out what to do next.”

  I swallowed, suddenly unsure of myself. In the moment, it had seemed essential to act immediately, but Marco might not see it that way.

  “What?” he asked warily.

  “I called Bingham.”

  He stared at me as though he was still waiting for a response.

  “It makes sense, Marco. He’s got a vested interest in this, and he’s obviously not beholden to the law.”

  “I want to put these guys away, Carly,” he said darkly. “In prison. Not seek vigilante justice.”

  I leaned closer, whisper-hissing, “I know. I want the same thing, but our hands are tied and their lives are in danger. I called the one person who might move heaven and earth to free Lula. To free them both.”

  “We should have discussed it, Carly. We were doin’ this together. You might have been able to sway my thinking in the end, but now we’ll never know, and you can be damn sure that Bingham will kill anyone who’s involved and destroy any evidence I could have brought to the sheriff’s department.”

  He was right. I should have discussed it with him. But if I’d learned one thing over the last months, it was that the law had its limitations. As much as I hated the thought of Bingham possibly killing people without due process, I cared about those two women more. I would do anything I could to save them.

  “Well, in a perfect world, we wouldn’t be doing this investigation on our own,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “The sheriff’s department could bust in and get them, but no one will touch it. You can’t go because of your leg, and I’d be useless, so that left me with one option. And yeah, I should have talked to you about it, but I was trying to save their lives, Marco,” I said, pissed when tears stung my eyes. “And I refuse to apologize for doing whatever I can to save them. Even at the risk of destroying evidence we don’t even know the sheriff’s department would use.”

  He pushed out a breath and stared down at the table. Finally, he put his hand over mine and met my gaze. “You’re right.”

  My brow shot up.

  “Truth be told, I’ve been doin’ this partially for selfish reasons. I’ve been hopin’ to prove I’m detective material, but if Bingham’s gettin’ involved, we’ll have to keep it all on the down-low. The sheriff’s department will be none the wiser.”

  I wrapped my hand around his. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your concern.” He pulled his hand free. “I’m beat. I know you’re gonna hate this, but I’m gonna ask Wyatt to take you home tonight.”

  “No,” I said. “I’ll get a ride from Ruth. Bingham’s takin’ care of the situation, so I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, but let me know the minute you hear from Bingham.”

  “Will do.” I took his to-go order and turned it in, and I realized Ruth was watching me like a hawk. Since I’d been ripping off Band-Aids all night, I decided I might as well tug off one more.

  “Out with it,” I said. “I know you have something to say.”

  She pursed her lips. “What’s goin’ on with you and Marco?”

  “I told you. We’ve been looking for Lula and Greta.”

  “What’s with the hand holdin’?”

  I shrugged. “Marco and I had a small disagreement, and that was his way of apologizing.” I leaned in closer. “There’s nothing between us, Ruth. Sure, I broke up with Wyatt, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into a relationship with someone else.”

  She studied me for a moment. “Why not? Marco’s unreliable, so he’s definitely not long-term material, but I’ve heard he’s good between the sheets.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Marco.” My instinct was to defend him, yet she wasn’t wrong. He was the first to admit he didn’t get serious with women. “But that’s beside the point. I’ve been hurt by so many men in the past. I thought Wyatt would be different, and he wasn’t.” I pushed out a breath in frustration. “I don’t trust my judgment with men, so I think it’s best I go manless for now.”

  She gave me a long, serious look. “Then we need to get you a vibrator.”

  I broke out into laughter. “Ruth, thank God I have you in my life. You keep me sane.”

  “Same for you,” she said, then nodded her head at a table. “Looks like table six needs refills.”

  “On it, but before I forget to ask, can I get a ride home? Marco dropped me off after our trip to Ewing.”

  “Of course. No problem.”

  I checked on table six, then got Marco’s order and sent him home. As the evening progressed, I got increasingly antsy. Why hadn’t I heard from Bingham yet? He’d had plenty of time to storm the property. Had he found them?<
br />
  I was on the verge of calling him, consequences be damned, when Ruth called out from behind the bar, “Carly, you’ve got a phone call.”

  My eyes widened, and I said, “I’ll take it in the office.”

  I hurried into the back and picked up the flashing line. “This is Carly.”

  “They weren’t there,” Bingham said, his voice heavy. “We searched every piece of that land, and there was no sign of the girls or any kind of drug operation. The place was a run-down, abandoned house. No sign of anyone living there for years.”

  I resisted the urge to cry. We were back to square one.

  “Any other idea where they could be?” he asked.

  “No.” I felt like I was going to be sick.

  “If you find out anything—anything—let me know.”

  “I will.”

  He hung up and I immediately called Marco to tell him the news.

  “So we have no idea where they are,” he said.

  “I guess not.” Then I said, “You never told me what you found at the library.”

  “I checked on his references. The people who answered sounded like they’d genuinely never heard of him, which says a whole lot about Greener Pastures’ screenin’ process.”

  “And the fact there’s a thief workin’ there,” I added.

  “The property on record belongs to a Dennis Jones, who does have a son named Shane. Our guy could have perpetrated identity theft, or he could have just given his father’s property address to throw off anyone who might come lookin’ for him. Maybe Charlie’s the assumed name.”

  “So their operation is run out of another location,” I said. “We just need to figure out where.”

  “It could be the funeral home,” Marco said. “Or it could be some place they rented, which will make it harder to find. It would be easier if we had the resources to tail them.”

  I pushed out a breath. “Okay. We start fresh in the morning.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he said with forced cheerfulness. “We’ll find them. I swear it. But it’s not safe for you to go home with Ruth tonight. I’m gonna pick you up.”

  I almost argued that we’d be fine, but the last thing I wanted to do was put Ruth at risk. “We’re not very busy tonight, and there’s a new snowstorm coming in. Ruth’s planning on closing early. Can you come around eleven?”