The Temptation of Silence

by V. J. Chambers

  “Wait, is that why you’re trying to lose weight, because your mother is?”

  “I’m not trying to lose weight,” Madison exploded.

  He nodded. “Sorry.”

  “I mean…” She sat back in her chair. “I have a fat face.”

  “You don’t.” He shook his head.

  “Look at my cheeks.”

  “You look young, Madison,” he said. “You look like a young girl. You have full cheeks because of youth. It’s good, and you don’t need to…” And here he was, giving her advice. He sighed. “Your mother’s weight is a non-issue in why our relationship dissolved.”

  She lifted her chin. “You’re just saying that.”

  “If she did gain weight, it was probably because there were other issues going on. It was a consequence, not a cause, in other words. And if she’s losing weight now, it’s probably because she’s less stressed out about everything.”

  “Well, no one will explain anything to me,” she said. “I don’t know why you guys broke up. You would never even fight in front of me. You two would always go outside and sit in Mom’s car and yell at each other, and if I showed up, you’d both clam up.”

  “We were trying to keep that away from you.”

  “Well, maybe that’s not what I need.”

  He groaned. “This is your mother’s decision, not mine.” He took another bite of casserole and chewed. “Just know, it had nothing to do with her weight.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He set down his fork. “She didn’t like that I started doing the YouTube videos. It ate up a lot of my time, and I was preoccupied.”

  Madison considered this. “I mean, I guess I can see that.”

  “I thought that if I quit my job, then I would have more time to be with your mom, but she was worried, because YouTube isn’t a definite income stream, and she thought it was too risky to rely on it. So, my quitting to focus on that only caused more problems.”

  “That’s why you broke up? Because of your stupid videos? Because of money?”

  “Well… we drifted apart. All we did was argue. We weren’t happy. It was…” He shrugged. “I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.”

  “I won’t tell Mom,” said Madison, giving him a small smile. “Did you really mean that, that you wouldn’t say she was fat?”

  “I did.” He ate some more. “You know, this might sound trite, Madison, but people’s appearance isn’t that important in the end. When you’re in love with someone, you see them differently, anyway. Maybe it matters when you first meet someone, when you’re becoming attracted, but later on… it really doesn’t.”

  She thought this over. “What if I met a guy and he wasn’t attracted to my fat cheeks?”

  “Um.” Liam took a deep breath. “Okay, first of all, your cheeks are not fat. Second of all, you’re too young to meet guys.”

  “I am not. And it’s none of your business.”

  “Third of all, if a guy thought your cheeks were fat, there would be something wrong with him, and you should run away.”

  “Oh, my God, Liam. I can’t believe you—”

  “Fourth of all, I’m convinced women care more about other women’s appearances than men do.”

  “That is such bullshit,” said Madison. “That’s why men look at naked pictures of women, because they don’t care about their appearance.”

  Liam lifted a finger. “Okay, don’t say swear words, and what do you know about pornography? You’re not…? Are there boys at your school asking you to take pictures of yourself—”

  “No!” She folded her arms over her chest. “Gross.”

  He cleared his throat. “Okay, well, good. And never do that, by the way.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I talk to you, seriously.”

  “But back to my point,” he said. “When men look at women, they’re looking for things to appreciate, not things to criticize. But when women look at other women, or at themselves, they hone in on whatever faults they perceive to be there.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “It’s the same the other way around. When you see an attractive person, are you more likely to look at the features you like or obsess about whether their ears stick out too much?”

  She made a face at him. “I kind of see your point, but you still don’t know anything.”

  “Of course not,” he agreed, chuckling under his breath.

  “Seriously, Liam, you are very, very old, and it’s kind of gross to think about you looking at women at all, anyway.”

  “It is,” he said. “Very gross. So, let’s talk about something else.”

  “Are you going to get on me about doing my homework?”

  “Did you do your homework?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you lying to me?”

  “You want me to show it to you?”

  “Maybe.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. After dinner.”

  “Fine,” he said.

  His phone beeped. He ignored it.

  “Did you just get a notification?”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t think I did.”

  “I think you did. You should check,” she said.

  “Nope,” he said again. “How about you get that homework for me now, huh?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Liam managed not to check his phone for the next two hours. He and Madison played a game of cards, and then she went upstairs to watch television in bed. He left his phone alone until she’d turned the TV off and put out the lights and gone to sleep.

  Only then did he pull out his phone to look at his texts. When he did, there were an assortment of texts from Finn, some of which were taunting him, calling him ‘tiger,’ asking when he was going to be ready. Some of which seemed to simply be quotes from Hitgam, which was the show that Liam made YouTube videos about.

  They all came from different numbers.

  Liam compiled a list of the numbers and sent them all in a text message to Dawson.

  There was no response from Dawson.

  He wasn’t sure where her head was these days. She hadn’t chastised him for hiding the phone calls from Finn all along, even though Liam thought it might have made a difference if he’d turned Finn’s number in right away.

  Liam remembered the conversation he’d had with Dawson about Destiny. She didn’t trust him. He wasn’t sure what she thought of him. Maybe she was only letting him go free now because she wanted to use him as bait to lure Finn in.

  Maybe, she planned to nail him for Destiny’s murder and arrest him.

  He probably shouldn’t trust Dawson.

  Right on the heels of this thought, he got another text. This one was a picture of Belinda’s house. Liam’s car was parked in the driveway. It looked as if the photo had just been taken.

  Liam rushed to the door and flung it open.

  Staring into the darkness of the lawn, he thought that he should have called Dawson instead of opening the door.

  He took the phone out of his pocket.

  And Finn came from the shadows next to the door, up from behind a shrub where he’d been crouched. He took Liam’s phone and hurled it off into the grass somewhere.

  Liam let out a hoarse yell.

  Finn propelled him backwards into the siding of the house.

  Where was the police car that was supposed to be watching the house?

  “If you’re hoping for some help from that officer doing the rounds, you should know I drugged him,” said Finn, grinning as he put his forearm to Liam’s neck and pinned him there.

  Liam grabbed Finn’s arm and tried to pull it free. “What are you doing here?”

  “I remembered a discussion we had about a wrestling match,” said Finn. “I thought now was as good a time as any to call it in. I thought that the desperation you’d feel in protecting poor little Madison might make things interesting. Also, I figured you’d be sober. I want this to be a fair fight.”

>   Liam just stared at him. Really? Well, if Finn had really drugged the police officer, then that guy wouldn’t be checking in. Liam didn’t know how often the officer was meant to check in, but if Liam kept Finn busy long enough, maybe someone would realize the officer wasn’t responding and send help. So, sure, fine. A wrestling match.

  “I want you to know, tiger, you don’t have to like me,” said Finn. “I thought you did have to, but then I realized it doesn’t actually matter. Because no one ever likes me, not when they get to know me. And liking someone is weakness, anyway. I’m above all that.”

  Liam was surprised by this little speech. Finn’s feelings were actually hurt, and he wasn’t doing a good job of hiding it either. That was strange. As aloof and unattached as Finn tried to be, he couldn’t quite manage it. But then, Liam had been doing research on psychopaths, and this was apparently not that uncommon. Psychopaths had emotions, and they felt hurt and pain. But it was only their emotions that meant anything. They didn’t feel other people’s pain, or even seem to register that it mattered.

  Finn backed away from Liam, beckoning with both hands. “Well, come on, then. Let’s do this.”

  Liam advanced on Finn, sizing the other man up. Liam had never been in anything like a wrestling match in his entire life. Once, when he was a kid, maybe thirteen, another boy had gotten in his face and called him names and punched him. Liam had punched back, and it had hurt his hand so bad that he’d never tried that again.

  As a young man, he’d mostly tried to talk his way out of altercations, especially if it was a group of drunken rednecks who weren’t pleased with his sexual orientation.

  So, Liam tried to remember anything that he knew about wrestling. All that came to mind were various images of muscle-bound men shouting and slamming into the bouncy sides of a ring before landing on other prone muscle-bound bodies.

  It involved grappling, though, right?

  He adjusted his stance, bending at the waist, putting out his arms shoulder-width apart, palms spread. There, that seemed right.

  Finn grinned at him, mirroring his stance.

  If it was really going to be a physical contest between the two of them, Liam was going to lose. Finn was fit and trim, with bulging shoulders and a flat stomach. Liam hadn’t seen Finn without his shirt recently, but he suspected if he did, Finn would be rippling underneath. Finn wouldn’t have done it for strength, but for vanity. Still, it would amount to the same thing.

  Liam, on the other hand, had gotten out of the habit of caring about what he looked like. Maybe there was a long phase in his twenties in which he went to the gym and lifted weights and did crunches and stopped eating bread or drinking beer.

  Then, he’d gotten married.

  This made him snort, thinking of his earlier conversation with Madison.

  “What?” said Finn. “What’s funny?”

  They were circling each other now, ostensibly taking each other’s measure, but Liam was only stalling. The longer he could make this last, the more time he had for the police to show up.

  Of course, maybe someone would drive by or look out their window and see him and Finn in the front yard, behind the trees that dotted the area between the front door and the street, and maybe they’d call the police.

  More likely, they’d just think it was weird to see two men grappling in the middle of the night on the front lawn.

  “I really think the odds are against me in a wrestling match,” Liam said.

  “That’s why I wanted to make sure you were at your best,” said Finn and ran at him.

  Liam oomphed as Finn’s shoulder collided with his stomach.

  They both went down on the ground, Finn on top.

  Liam struggled, twisting his legs.

  Finn pressed his weight into the other man, trapping his thighs.

  But Liam somehow managed to turn them, or maybe Finn let him. Anyway, now, he was suddenly on top of Finn, straddling him.

  Finn lay beneath him on the grass, grinning widely, his eyes sparkling. He was enjoying this.

  Liam wrapped his hands around Finn’s neck.

  Finn’s eyes widened and so did his smile. He made no attempt to stop him.

  Liam squeezed.

  Finn’s neck corded. Now his hands came up. He put his hand in Liam’s face and pushed.

  Liam fell backwards, thinking about how Destiny hadn’t struggled at all, not even at the end. She’d been so trusting. She had never thought she was in any danger.

  Finn leaped on Liam and they grappled for a few moments. Then Finn dug his fingers into Liam’s shoulder and forced him to turn over. He pressed Liam’s face into the grass, settling his girth against Liam’s pelvis and legs.

  Liam grunted, and the positioning made his entire body alight in horrible tingles.

  Finn’s voice at his ear. “I just want you to pick, tiger.”

  Liam tried to reach back and hit Finn, but the angle was odd. He couldn’t quite get at him. “Pick what?”

  “One of the girls,” said Finn. “I sent you pictures. Which one?”

  “Why do you want me to pick one of those pictures?”

  “It’s a game I’m playing,” said Finn. The wetness of his tongue on Liam’s neck. It shocked him.

  Liam bucked, convulsing.

  Finn put a hand on the back of Liam’s neck and pinned him down.

  Liam’s nose was crushed. His mouth was in the grass. He was nearly suffocating. He made a muffled cry.

  “Pick. One.” Finn’s voice was even.

  Liam tried to struggle again.

  “Come on, tiger,” said Finn.

  Fine, fuck it. What did this matter? Finn and his games. “Brunette,” he grunted into the ground.

  Immediately, the pressure let up on his neck. Finn climbed off him. “Excellent choice.”

  Liam rolled over, panting. “What the hell?”

  But Finn had turned and was sprinting across the lawn without another word.

  Liam got laboriously to his feet, watching as the other man was swallowed up by darkness.

  What the hell had that been about?

  CHAPTER NINE

  It took Liam a good twenty minutes to find his phone where Finn had tossed it. At one point, he nearly gave up and went to look for the drugged police officer, figuring he could use his walkie-talkie in his car to contact someone.

  Belinda didn’t have a landline, not anymore. He was the one who had talked her out of it, saying that it was pointless these days, a waste of money. And he wasn’t about to go into Madison’s room and take her phone.

  But just as he was heading for the cop car, he spotted his phone. He checked it, thinking the screen might have been broken, but it was fine, so he started to call Dawson.

  Then he stopped.

  He suddenly had a sinking sensation, because he understood why Finn had made him pick a girl.

  Swearing under his breath, he hurried into the house. He wasn’t sure how to do it on his phone, so he emailed the photo to himself, the one of the brunette that Finn had texted him. Then Liam did a google image search.

  Craigslist.

  She was a sex worker.

  Liam called the number on the listing with shaking hands.

  No one answered.

  He left a message. “If you just got someone booking something with you, cancel it,” he spat. “That man is Phineas Slater, the serial killer. You are in danger. Do you understand me?”

  He hung up.

  He called Dawson now.

  “We’ll send someone to check in with you and Madison—”

  “We need to worry about the sex worker,” said Liam.

  “Okay,” said Dawson. “Well, you have a name for me?”

  “I have the name on Craigslist,” said Liam. “Which is Starla Fox.”

  “Well, that’s definitely her real name,” said Dawson dryly.

  “I’ll send you the picture,” said Liam.

  “I don’t know if there’s much we can do here, Liam,” she sa
id quietly.

  “We have to do something,” said Liam. This was on him. He had picked the woman’s picture. He felt responsible in an awful way. Then, it dawned on him. “The number. I have her phone number. You guys can trace that, like you did with Finn’s phone.”

  “You’re right.” Dawson was excited. “And if Finn is with her, we can nail him. Tonight. In the act.”

  “Yes,” said Liam.

  “Give me the number.”

  * * *

  A bleary-eyed man in a robe blinked hard at Dawson, rubbing his chin. “No, no one who posts services on Craigslist as Starla Fox lives here.”

  It was nearly 2:00 a.m. The GPS coordinates they’d gotten from tracing the phone had narrowed things down to one apartment building, but they hadn’t been able to target the apartment with accuracy. The building was tall and narrow, one unit on each floor. There were five floors. Dawson and the other ten uniformed officers who’d come along with her were on floor number four.

  Thus far, they’d had no luck.

  “She wouldn’t be in trouble with the law,” said Dawson. “We’re here for her safety, not to try to bust her for prostitution. Please, if you have a roommate or a girlfriend or—”

  “No,” said the man. “You’ve got the wrong place.”

  Dawson did what she’d been doing at the other places, which was to dial the number on her phone. She waited to see if she heard it ringing, and she didn’t. She hadn’t heard it in any of these places, so far. Surely, if it was overhead or below, it would have been ringing. She would have heard it. She hung up and pocketed her phone. Sighing, she handed over her card. “Well, if you hear anything, or you need anything, I’m Detective Haysle Dawson, and you can call me anytime, day or night.”

  “Yeah, sure,” said the guy, taking the card. “Is there anything else?”

  She shook her head. “Have a good night, sir. Sorry to have disturbed you.” She turned to the other officers and shrugged. She gestured upward and then started to ascend the steps to the next level. The steps were metal, covered in a roof overhead, but exposed to the open air on the side that wasn’t attached to the building.