Don't Make a Sound: A Sawyer Brooks Thriller

by T. R. Ragan

  “I’d like to see that,” Bug said. “The dirty thug needs a taste of his own medicine.”

  “My friends and coworkers will see the videos for what they are . . . a bit of kinky sex. Nobody can see my face. I made sure of that. And sorry, ladies, but I don’t have any distinguishing marks other than my big cock.” He snorted. “My boss won’t give a shit about any of you bitches.”

  Psycho jumped off the stool she’d been sitting on, went to where Brad had managed to prop his upper back against the radiator. His hands were still bound behind his back, his legs in a wide V, his ankles taped to one of the couch legs.

  Psycho grabbed the pruning shears and used them to cut off his boxers. Once that was done, she opened and closed the blades, making sure he could hear the snip, snip, snip. “The tree or the apples?” she asked Brad.

  Brad struggled to get loose. “Get her away from me!”

  Lily laughed.

  “Hurry,” Psycho told Brad. “Time is running out. Make a decision.”

  “Fuck you!” Brad said, wriggling frantically, trying to escape.

  “Fine,” Psycho said. “I’m going with the tree.” She slid his penis between the sharp blades.

  “Get her the hell away from me!”

  At first Malice thought Psycho was just playing games. Now she wasn’t so sure. Afraid his screams might be heard outside, Malice jumped up and used a throw blanket to muffle his cries. “Psycho. Stop.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Psycho asked. “Why are we even here? You heard the man. He’s going to come after us. Nobody will give a shit about what he’s done to those women. The police have already let him off at least once that we know of. Who’s to say they won’t let him go again? It’s up to us to teach guys like Brad Vicente a lesson.”

  Malice exhaled.

  “Majority rules, right?” Psycho asked her.

  “Right,” Lily cried.

  Psycho looked toward the others. “Who votes to cut off his dick?”

  Lily, Cleo, and Psycho raised their hands. “Three to two.”

  Snip.

  Brad let loose an ear-piercing scream, primal and gut wrenching, like something Malice had only heard in the movies. She had to use all her strength to hold him down and muffle his cries. Blood seeped between his legs. That’s all it had taken. One sharp snip of the shears, and the deed was done. No room for discussion.

  Malice let go of the blanket covering Brad’s face, pushed herself to her feet, and went straight for her purse. She pulled out a syringe. Her hands shook as she removed the plastic tip. Brad continued to scream and writhe in pain as she fell to her knees and plunged the needle into his arm, hoping she got a vein.

  Back on her feet, she dropped the syringe back into her bag along with her mask. She found her wig inside her bag and pulled it tightly over the top of her head before stuffing loose hairs into the cap. Her head was pounding. Everything going wrong was one thing—it was out of their hands—but purposely deviating from the plan was another. She needed to get away from this craziness.

  “What are you doing?” Cleo asked.

  “I’m done. I’m getting out of here. Hopefully the drug I gave him will quiet him down.” Malice pointed at the cut-off appendage and the puddle of blood. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

  Brad’s legs were trembling, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

  “I hope you’re not serious,” Psycho said, hands on hips. Blood dripped down her pant leg. “You beat the man until he was bloody, and we helped you clean it up. And now you’re leaving?”

  “The only reason he was able to grab me when I came through that door,” Malice said, “was because you two weren’t keeping an eye on him. Rule number one: ‘No police.’ Rule number two: ‘Never take your eyes off the prisoner.’ If I hadn’t shown up, your asses would be in jail right now. Rule number three: ‘No blood.’” She swung her hand back toward the man with no penis. “You’ve gone too far. This is bullshit.”

  Cleo set down her laptop, came to Malice’s side, ushered her into the bathroom, and shut the door. “Take a breath,” Cleo said. “He’s not going to die. We’ll clean this mess up and get out of here, okay?”

  “If you leave that man tied up, he could die.”

  “I’ll hack into someone else’s account to alert authorities.”

  “What about the waiter?”

  “I found him on a recent video, and his face is clearly visible.”

  Malice frowned. “What’s he doing in the video?”

  “He appeared to be watching, learning, jacking off. He got in a few feels, enough to keep him quiet. I found him on social media. His name is Doug Glacier.”

  A sicko in the making, Malice thought. “So we let Doug go?”

  “Yes. We’ll threaten him, tell him he needs to quit his job and never make contact with Brad again, or we’ll take the videos to the police. He may not have seen what happened to Brad, but he heard. I wouldn’t be surprised if he moves out of state after today.”

  “God,” Malice said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe she did that.”

  “He deserved it.”

  Malice rubbed her temple. “That’s not the point. I can’t work with Psycho if she’s not going to stick to the plan.”

  “The plan went to shit the moment I passed out in Brad’s arms. It’s going to be okay. We’re all new at this. We’ll do better next time.”

  Malice couldn’t think that far ahead. But Cleo was right . . . their plans had gone to shit from the beginning. If there was a “next time” and everything went to shit from the get-go, they would call the whole thing off and regroup.

  “Come on,” Cleo said. “Let’s clean up, make sure we wipe down anything we touched.”

  “We should have worn latex gloves,” Malice said.

  “Next time.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The service was held outdoors. It was a beautiful day, blue skies and hardly any clouds. Sawyer stared down into the open casket, surprised to see Gramma’s skin looking soft and her cheeks flushed as if she’d returned from a stroll. The funeral director had done a good job. Gramma wasn’t overly done up or plastic looking. She appeared peaceful.

  Tears didn’t come, but Sawyer’s heart felt heavy. “I love you, Gramma,” she whispered. “Thank you for saving me and for giving me a fighting chance.” Turning away, Sawyer headed for the empty seat in the front row next to her father. There were more than fifty people in attendance. Many were here today, she was certain, because of Mom and Dad. By the time Gramma had come to live with them, she was already experiencing forgetfulness and needed assistance carrying out everyday activities. Sawyer’s parents, on the other hand, had spent more than half their lives here. River Rock was an old mining town, but panning for gold wasn’t the only reason people came to visit. Mom and Dad’s antique shop was a big draw and brought a lot of tourists into town. People drove long distances to see their store because of the bizarre collectibles to be found, and because of its size—two stories, each floor long and narrow. Every bit of space taken up by old tavern tables, Empire sofas, and Mission-style settees used to display vintage toys, jewelry, antique photographs, perfume bottles, and whatever oddities struck their fancy.

  Sawyer used to enjoy searching for new items whenever she was left to roam the store. The memories prompted Sawyer to look at her parents, reminding her of a time when she was young and so hungry for their attention.

  She never got it.

  Both parents had been emotionally unavailable. Always too busy. Her therapist had told her it was likely Mom and Dad had their own problems growing up and simply did the best they could. Mom never talked to Sawyer about her childhood, but from what little she gathered from Gramma, Sawyer’s mom was angry with Gramma for leaving her father. She believed it was a woman’s place to stand by her husband through thick and thin.

  The funeral director came forward then, stood behind the pulpit, and asked everyone to take a seat. He talked about everyone gathering tod
ay to celebrate Sally’s life. As he invited people to speak, the sound of a police siren pierced the air.

  Sawyer looked around for Aspen. She spotted him in the last row of chairs, his gaze directed toward the main road where the siren’s whirring was now fading. Sawyer turned back to face the casket. She would see Aspen at the house later.

  It took a few moments before the murmurs died down and the director was able to finish speaking.

  A woman Sawyer didn’t know took a few minutes to say kind words about Gramma. Next came an elderly gentleman dressed in an orange-and-brown plaid suit. He admitted he’d never met Sally but wanted to talk about the hazards of old age and how they all needed to keep moving. Apparently, he’d been walking every day for most of his life and was in tip-top shape. That garnered some laughter. He then invited anyone interested to join him each morning at 9:30 a.m. in front of the wood bear carving at Gold Dust Park.

  Old Lady McGrady was the third and last person to speak. When she finished, Sawyer thought about getting up and saying something, but her legs wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t do it. Her feelings for Gramma were too personal to share. Nobody needed to know what Gramma meant to her. Her memories were hers alone.

  The director had a few final words, and no sooner had the funeral begun, it was over.

  Sawyer stood.

  A group of people quickly formed a line, waiting to talk to Mom and Dad.

  Sawyer walked toward the back in search of Aspen, closer to the edge of the freshly mowed grass where the tall pines towered over her and she could smell the damp earth.

  Someone called out her name. A young woman. A cheerful voice. Sawyer stopped and turned toward her. It was Erika Leonard from high school. She’d been one of the mean girls back then. Every school had their share of them. They liked to mock others and spend most of their time gossiping.

  “I’m sorry about your gramma,” Erika said. “I know she meant a lot to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If there’s any chance you’ll be staying in River Rock for a while, Robert and I would love to have you over for dinner. Robert talks about the Brooks sisters all the time, especially Harper. He had a thing for Harper and used to offer to fix her car for free whenever it broke down.”

  “Bob Stanley? The mechanic?”

  “The one and only,” a male voice said behind Sawyer, startling her. She whipped around, surprised to see Bob hovering over her. His broad shoulders strained against his light-blue button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. He had big hands, a brawny chest, and a wide smile.

  Erika beamed while Sawyer thought about what Melanie had said about Bob beating his wife. She wanted to reach out and pull off Erika’s sunglasses to see if she was hiding any bruises.

  Sawyer couldn’t imagine the two of them together. The prom queen and the bad-boy mechanic. Like mixing oil with water.

  Erika held up her left hand. “We’re married. Three kids with a fourth in the oven.” She patted her stomach.

  “Wow.”

  “That’s what I said when she broke the news to me,” Bob said.

  Sawyer fixated her gaze on him. His smile was long gone, as if his wife had betrayed him by getting pregnant. “I’m happy for you,” she said. Before she could say anything more, Uncle Theo approached, stepped between her and Erika, and put a hand on Sawyer’s arm. “Don’t touch me,” she said.

  He pulled his hand away.

  “I’m sorry,” Uncle Theo said, tears in his eyes. “For everything.”

  He touched her arm. She slapped it away.

  “Excuse us,” Sawyer said to Erika and Bob.

  “Sure you don’t need some help?” Bob asked.

  “I’ll be fine.” Sawyer walked away. She felt a stiffness in her neck.

  Uncle Theo followed, talking all the way. “The pastor at Holiness Church says that I have paid my debt to society. I’m a new man, and I’m getting help. Please. I’m only asking for your forgiveness.”

  Sawyer waited until she was far enough away from Erika and Bob before she turned on her uncle. “You’re a fucking pedophile. Bottom of the barrel as far as people go.” Her hands rolled into fists. “I’ll never forgive you for what you did. I don’t want to talk to you. I thought I made that clear this morning. I don’t understand why you’re here. Gramma knew everything. She despised you.”

  “She was nice to me. I helped take care of her.”

  “Gramma was afraid of you.”

  “That’s not true. It was your mother who made Sally whimper whenever she came near her. Not me.”

  Sawyer’s jaw hurt from clenching her teeth. “Whimper? What the hell did Mom do to Gramma?”

  He didn’t answer, which was fine since she didn’t believe a word he said. “Nobody wants you hanging around,” she said, wanting to hurt him. “You meant nothing to Gramma, and you mean nothing to me. It’s like you’re not even standing here talking to me. You’re invisible.”

  Sawyer walked away, every muscle tense. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? He’d taken advantage of her and Aria when they were much too young to fend for themselves. He should be locked behind bars. He didn’t deserve to walk free, and he certainly didn’t deserve her forgiveness.

  Sawyer bent over, hands propped on her knees, and counted backward from ten. Before she had a chance to gather her emotions, she heard a group of people talking about a young woman who was killed last night.

  Up ahead, she spotted Aspen heading toward the parking lot. She had to run to catch up to him. “What’s going on?” she asked him when she caught up.

  Aspen turned toward her, his expression serious.

  “Is it true?” Sawyer asked. “Was someone murdered last night?”

  “I have to go, Sawyer.” He turned to leave.

  She stayed close to his side. “Who was it?”

  He looked at his phone. “Isabella Estrada,” he said as he walked.

  Sawyer’s stomach turned. “Her brother, Caden, was in my graduating class. Did you know Isabella?”

  “I don’t think so. The name doesn’t sound familiar.”

  Hoping to ask him about what Melanie had said about Bob Stanley, she opened the passenger door of Aspen’s truck just as the engine roared to life. She hopped in and buckled up.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “That’s not a good idea. Chief Schneider wouldn’t like me bringing gawkers.”

  “I’m a reporter.”

  “That’s even worse.”

  “Then tell him the truth,” she said. “That I wouldn’t get out of the truck, and you didn’t have any choice in the matter.”

  He didn’t look happy with her as he pulled out of the parking space. The ride was bumpy as he drove on the narrow, unpaved road leading through the woods to the main thoroughfare running through River Rock.

  “You should have stayed with your parents,” he said, his eyes on the road ahead.

  “They won’t even know I’m gone.”

  “You haven’t changed much, have you?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You never did take no for an answer. You were always stubborn.”

  “Maybe,” she answered. “But I also know when to back down.”

  He seemed to think about that as they drove, then said, “I was surprised to see your uncle there.”

  “Uncle Theo showed up at the house this morning too. The asshole wants my forgiveness.” She shook her head, glad that her hands were no longer trembling. “That will never happen.”

  Her gaze drifted to the scenery outside. She found herself thinking of the girls who were murdered. “How old is—was Isabella?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “I wonder if there’s any connection between this murder and the others,” she said.

  “First of all,” he said, “it’s up to the chief to decide whether or not we’re dealing with a homicide.”

  “Got it.”

&nb
sp; “And as to others, you’re referring to Peggy Myers and Avery James.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I talked to the chief, and he said people don’t talk about those girls any longer.”

  “Why not?”

  “The citizens of River Rock want to move on. They no longer want to be associated with murder and death.” He made a right onto Cold Creek Trail.

  He seemed different from the way she remembered him. He was older now. Mature. “It’s nice that everyone wants to sweep all the craziness under the rug and pretend all that horrible stuff never happened,” Sawyer said. “But it is what it is, plain and simple.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She kept her gaze on his profile while he drove. “River Rock is death,” she said. “It’s also misery and rape and neglect. In my opinion, River Rock stands for everything bad in the world.”

  Aspen visibly stiffened. “You don’t live here anymore. The people who stayed, the ones who have nowhere else to go, would like to move on.”

  Again, she thought about the long summer days they’d spent together, especially after Rebecca went missing. Once Gramma moved in, she’d seen less and less of Aspen.

  “You never said goodbye.”

  His statement surprised her. He was angry with her, annoyed at the very least. She tried to think, tried to slip back in time and remember. Had she left him like that—without so much as a goodbye? She rubbed the back of her neck. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “No, I am. I was so wrapped up in getting out of here, leaving River Rock for good, that I didn’t stop to think about anyone but myself.” She wondered suddenly if Harper had felt the same way when she’d left.

  Aspen said nothing, his gaze on the path ahead, another dirt road lined by oaks, pines, and thick brush. Before anything more could be said, they had arrived. There was a fire truck and two police vehicles to the left. He parked his truck between two trees and jumped out.

  Chief Schneider looked surprised to see Aspen.

  “I heard about the homicide on the scanner,” Aspen told him.

  Sawyer watched Aspen step over the yellow crime tape still being rolled out so he could talk to the chief.