In Silence

by Erica Spindler

  Clawing her way to her feet, she darted toward her car. She reached it, yanked open the door and scrambled inside. Sobbing with relief, she started the vehicle, threw it into Reverse and hit the gas. When she reached the main road, she dared a glance back, terrified at what she would see.

  The deserted country road seemed to mock her.

  CHAPTER 37

  Avery parked her car around the corner from The Guesthouse. She cut her lights, then the engine as she glanced quickly around. The square appeared deserted, its surrounding businesses dark. Cypress Springs retired early and slept soundly.

  Just as she had planned for.

  She meant to collect Gwen and head to Trudy Pruitt's trailer to have a look around. If Gwen refused, which was entirely possible, considering how Avery had treated her, she would go alone.

  Avery had decided on this course of action after leaving Hunter. He had told her to get her proof and that's just what she meant to do. She had planned carefully. Had assembled everything she and Gwen would need: latex gloves, penlights, plastic Ziploc bags. And finally, her courage.

  Now, to convince Gwen they were on the same team. She had tried the cell phone number the woman had given her. She had repeatedly gotten a reply stating the cell number she had called was no longer in service. Contacting the other woman by land line required having The Guesthouse management ring her room or calling the pay phone in the hall. She hadn't wanted to do either.

  Nor had she wanted to be seen paying her a visit. Which left a chance encounter or stealth.

  During the drive there, she had kept careful watch in her rearview mirror. She had not wanted to be followed. She had not wanted the wrong set of eyes to see her arriving at Gwen's.

  The wrong set of eyes? Cloak-and-dagger driving maneuvers? Secret meeting?

  She was losing her mind. Spiraling into a kind of paranoid schizophrenia, one in which she suspected her home of being watched, her phone of being bugged. One in which every smiling and familiar face hid a secret agenda.

  A nervous laugh flew to her lips. She wanted the truth. No, she needed it. And she would do whatever was necessary to get it.

  She thought of Hunter. Of the afternoon spent with him, in his bed. The experience felt surreal to her. As if she had dreamed it.

  What had she done? Consummated some ancient passion she hadn't even consciously acknowledged? How could she be with Hunter when Matt was the one she had always wanted? What had she been thinking?

  Obviously, she hadn't been thinking. She had acted on emotion. And physical urges.

  She closed her eyes, thinking of the past, her relationship with Hunter. With Matt. All those years ago, had she chosen Matt because Hunter took her out of her safety zone? Because he had always pushed her, both emotionally and intellectually?

  She had always been comfortable with the outgoing Matt. She had known where she stood all the time. Had never felt out of control. Weren't control and comfort good things? What did she really want?

  Avery shook her head, refocusing on this moment. On what she had set out to do. Thoughts of Hunter, Matt and her future would have to wait.

  She slipped out of the Blazer. Dressed entirely in black, she hoped to meld with the shadows. She eased the door shut and quickly made her way to the corner, hanging close to the inside edge of the sidewalk, near the shrubs and trees.

  Until they had drifted apart their junior year of high school, Laurie Landry had been one of her best friends. Laurie had taught Avery that her parents kept a spare house key tucked inside the covered electrical outlet to the right of the front door. She and Laurie had used it many times over the years to slip in and out at all times of the night.

  If it wasn't there, she wasn't certain what she would do.

  She needn't have worried. The Landrys kept the key in the same place they had twelve years ago. A testament to how slowly some things changed in Cypress Springs. How safe a place to live it was.

  Unless, of course, you were targeted by The Seven for behavior modification.

  Permanent behavior modification.

  Avery retrieved the key, opened the door and stepped into The Guesthouse's main hall. Turning, she relocked the door, slipped the key into her pocket and started up the stairs. The desk closed at 8:00 p.m.; each guest was given a key to come and go as they pleased.

  Neither the Landry family nor a guest would give a second thought to the sound of someone moving about.

  Avery quietly climbed the stairs. She reached the top landing and turned left. Gwen occupied the unit at the far end of the hall. Avery reached it and stopped, a dizzying sense of deja vu settling over her.

  Gwen's door stood ajar.

  Not again. Please God, not again.

  With the tips of her fingers, Avery nudged the door the rest of the way open. She called Gwen's name, her voice a thick whisper.

  Gwen didn't reply.

  But she hadn't expected her to. She expected the worst.

  Avery reached into her pocket and retrieved her penlight. She switched it on and stepped fully into the room, the slim beam of light illuminating the way. The place had been ransacked. Drawers and armoire emptied. Dresser mirror shattered. Lamps toppled.

  She moved through the room, sweeping the light back and forth in a jittery arc. No bloody prints. No body. Swallowing hard, she crossed to the made bed. Bending, she lifted the bed skirt, pointed the light and peered underneath.

  Nothing. Not even a dust bunny.

  She dropped the skirt and straightened. Turned toward the armoire. Its doors hung open, contents emptied onto the floor in front. Avery pivoted toward the bathroom's closed door, then glanced back at the hallway. She shouldn't be handling this alone. She should call Buddy, the CSPD. Get them over here. Let them search for Gwen.

  She couldn't do that. How would she explain being here? Latex gloves and penlight in her pocket? Last night at Trudy Pruitt's and tonight at Gwen Lancaster's-

  Get the hell out. Call the cops from the car. Or better yet, from a pay phone on the other side of town.

  Instead, Avery took a step toward the bathroom. Then another. As she neared it, she heard what sounded like water running.

  She grasped the knob, twisted it and pushed. The door eased open. She inched closer, shone her light inside.

  The room was small-ared shower curtain circling it. The floor clear.

  The sound she'd heard was the toilet running. She crossed to it, jiggled the handle. It stopped filling.

  So far so good.

  She returned her gaze to the tub. To that flowered curtain. She had to look. Just in case.

  She sidled toward it. As if a less direct approach might influence what she found. She stopped within arm's reach of the curtain. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her mouth went dry, her pits and palms were wet.

  Do it, Chauvin.

  She forced herself to lift her arm, grab a handful of the vinyl and yank it away.

  "Don't move a muscle or I'll blow your fucking head off!"

  Avery froze. Gwen, she realized. She was alive!

  "Hands up!" Gwen snapped. "Then turn around. Slowly."

  Avery did. Gwen stood in the doorway, face white as a sheet. She held a gun, had it trained on her.

  "It's me, Gwen. Avery."

  "I have eyes."

  "This isn't how it looks. Your door was open…I found the place like this."

  "Sure you did."

  "It's true. I needed to reach you…your cell number wasn't working and I couldn't call here because I didn't want anyone to know we were in contact."

  The gun wavered. Gwen narrowed her eyes. "You needed to reach me? I seem to remember you telling me you wanted nothing to do with me."

  "That was before Trudy Pruitt."

  Her already ashen face paled more. "What do you know about Trudy-"

  "I was there last night. She called me, set up a meeting. When I got there her door was open, her trailer ransacked. I found her in the kitchen…on the floor. When I saw your door…your pl
ace, I…I thought they'd gotten you, too."

  For a long moment Gwen simply stared at her. As if evaluating her words, deciding if she was being truthful. Then with the tiniest nod, she lowered the gun.

  "Thank you." Avery let out a shaky breath. "That's twice in two days I've found myself staring down the barrel of a gun."

  From the hallway came what sounded like someone climbing the stairs. They both swung in that direction. Gwen darted toward her door and shut it. She locked the dead bolt, then looked at Avery. She held a finger to her lips and pointed at the bathroom.

  Avery indicated she understood. A moment later Gwen closed them in it, crossed to the tub and started the shower. White noise, Avery realized. To muffle their words, in case someone was listening.

  That done, Gwen crossed to the toilet, lowered the lid and sank onto it. She dropped her head to her hands.

  After several moments Gwen lifted her head and looked at Avery. "I thought I was dead."

  Her voice shook. So, Avery saw, did her hands. She clasped them together.

  "A woman called," Gwen continued. "She said she had information about The Seven and about Tom. We were supposed to meet tonight."

  "She didn't show."

  "No. She was a decoy."

  "A decoy? You mean to lure you away from here?"

  "To deliver my warning."

  "I don't understand."

  "I interviewed Trudy Pruitt yesterday. She told me The Seven exist. Past and present. She said they killed Elaine St. Claire. That they always deliver a warning before taking action. A terrible threat."

  "Elaine St. Claire was warned?"

  "Yes. She and Trudy were friends. They both served drinks down at Hard Eight. One day Elaine just up and disappeared."

  "She took the warning seriously and left Cypress Springs?"

  "Yes. A couple months later, Trudy got a letter from the woman. Apparently a representative of the group had paid St. Claire a late-night visit. He had made this weapon…a phallus with sharp spines and a knife blade imbedded in its tip.

  "The man told her she had been judged and found guilty-of moral corruption. Because she slept around. A lot, apparently. He told her he would give her what she loved-that he would fuck her to death."

  Avery pressed her lips together to hold back a sound of horror. She recalled what Hunter had told her about Elaine St. Claire's death. The two stories jibed.

  Gwen stood. Avery sensed she was too jumpy to remain seated. "They warned me tonight. A cat…they gutted it, left it for me. At the meeting place. They meant to frighten me."

  "And they succeeded."

  "Hell, yes. I'm terrified."

  "You've got to get out of Cypress Springs. Now. Tonight. I'll keep in touch, let you know what I find out."

  "What makes you think you're immune?"

  "I don't understand."

  "You're not one of them anymore, Avery. If they discover you're onto them, they'll kill you."

  "I'll make sure they don't find out."

  Gwen laughed, the sound hard, humorless. "It's too late for that. They've seen us talking. You've asked questions around town. They see everything, Avery. Everything."

  "I'm not leaving until I know the truth about my dad's death."

  Gwen looked at her. Avery understood. Gwen wouldn't leave until she knew what had happened to her brother.

  "We're in this together then," Avery said.

  "Guess so."

  Avery rubbed her arms, chilled. "In the interview, did Trudy Pruitt say anything about me or my father? Did she say anything about Sallie Waguespack?"

  Gwen shook her head. "She talked exclusively about The Seven. I've got it all in my… Oh, no."

  "What?"

  "My notes!"

  Gwen leaped toward the door, yanked it open and raced into the bedroom.

  Avery followed. Watched as she tore through the debris littering the floor, looked under the bed and in the armoire, expression frantic.

  "Gone. Everything is gone. My notes. Interview tapes." She sank to her knees. "They get away with murder."

  "No, they don't. We won't let them." Avery crossed to the woman. "I believe you. God help me, but I do. Together, we can beat them."

  Gwen shook her head. "We can't beat them. No one can."

  "That's what they want us to believe. That's how they've gotten away with this for so long." She held out a hand to help the other woman up. "Tell me exactly what happened tonight, everything you've learned so far. I'll do the same. Together, we'll figure this out. We'll go to the state police or the FBI. We can do it, Gwen. Together."

  "Together," Gwen repeated, taking Avery's hand, getting to her feet, returning with her to the bathroom. There, Gwen explained the events of the day, from the woman's call to finding the gutted cat and running for what she assumed was her life.

  Avery thought a moment. "And you have no idea who the woman was?"

  "None."

  "Did she call on the pay phone in the hall?" Gwen shook her head. "So she had to go through the front desk. Did you ask-"

  "Yes. They said they didn't know who it was. Said they assumed it was a friend of mine from out of town."

  "But you don't believe that?"

  "I don't believe anything anymore." She laced her fingers. "What about you?"

  Avery began with the first anonymous call. "She said Dad got what he deserved. That I would, too. Before that call I was struggling with the idea of Dad killing himself. After it-"

  "You didn't buy it at all."

  "Yes. She called a couple more times. She accused Dad of being a liar and a murderer, of helping frame her boys for Sallie Wagues-pack's murder. She said she had proof."

  "Why did you believe her? Everything you've told me about your dad-"

  "I found this box of newspaper clippings in Dad's closet. They were all from the summer of 1988. All concerning Sallie Wagues-pack's murder."

  "His having them supports Trudy Pruitt's claim."

  "Not necessarily. Her murder was the biggest thing to ever hit this town. It was a shock, a wake-up call. He was civic-minded. He probably followed the story because he-"

  "Avery," she interrupted gently, "he clipped all those newspaper articles and kept them for fifteen years. There has to be a reason. Something personal."

  Avery knew she was right. She had thought the same all along. But no way had he been an accomplice to murder. No way. She told Gwen so.

  The other woman didn't argue. "When did you learn your caller was Trudy Pruitt?"

  "The same afternoon she was killed. I goaded her into telling me her name. I promised that if she showed me proof of her claims, I'd make it right. That I'd find a way to exonerate Donny and Dylan. We set up a meeting for that night."

  Avery pulled in a deep breath. "She was still alive…she tried to tell me something but died before she could."

  Gwen's expression altered. "Didn't you know? They cut out her tongue."

  "Are you…that can't…" But it was true, Avery realized, picturing the woman's face, her bloody mouth.

  They fell silent. Gwen broke it first. "Seems to me that shoots the whole random-act-of-violence thing to hell."

  Avery winced at her sarcasm. Shifted the subject. "Buddy let me look at his records of the Waguespack murder. Everything seemed in order, but I keep coming back to that box of clippings. And my belief that Dad wouldn't take his own life. And now, all the deaths." A lump formed in her throat; she swallowed past it. "Who are these people, Gwen? Who are The Seven?"

  "Put it together, Avery." She leaned toward her. "You're a reporter…who fits the profile?"

  When Avery didn't respond, Gwen filled in for her. "They're probably all men. Though, obviously, since a woman lured me out tonight, women are part of the group. They're no doubt longtime Cypress Springs residents. Pillars of the community. Men who are looked up to. Ones in influential positions or ones who have influence." She paused. "Like your dad."

  "He would never have been party to this. Never, he-"


  Gwen held up a hand, stopping her. "It's the only way this would work. I guess them all to be mature, forty and up. Maybe way up, if the members of today's Seven are the same, or partly the same, as the past's.

  "And," she finished, "if today's group mirrors the one of the 1980s, they have many accomplices in the community. Like-minded citizens willing to spy for them. Break the law for them."

  Avery frowned. "The past and the present, they're intertwined. The group from the 1980s, Sallie Waguespack's death. I just don't know how."

  "What do you think Trudy Pruitt's proof was?"

  "I don't know. But if it was for real, the way I figure it, there's a chance it's still in her trailer."

  Gwen moved her gaze over Avery, her expression subtly shifting to one of understanding. "And you're thinking we should go find it?"

  "If you're up fo it."

  "At this point, what do I have to lose?"

  They both knew, both were acutely aware of what they could lose.

  Their lives.

  "Besides," Gwen murmured, smile sassy, "I've got a pair of black jeans I've been dying to wear."

  CHAPTER 38

  Avery parked the SUV just outside the trailer park and they walked in. Neither spoke. They kept as much as possible to the deepest shadows. Unlike the previous evening, Avery was grateful for the blown-out safety lights.

  They reached Trudy Pruitt's trailer. The yellow crime scene tape stretched across the front, sagging in the center, forming an obscene smile. Avery shivered despite the warm night.

  "How are we going to get in?"

  "You'll see." She quickly crossed to the trailer. Instead of climbing the steps, she stepped into the garden. The frog figurine was just where she had expected it to be. She picked it up, turned it over, opened the hidden compartment and took out a key. "My bet is, this is a key to her front door."

  "How did you know that was there?"

  "I noticed the figurine, thought it was concrete until I accidentally knocked it off the porch. Why else would someone have a fake concrete frog on the front steps?"