Score of silence, p.4
Score of Silence, page 4
Five
Weight of Darkness
“What?” Caroline stared, not comprehending. Swallowing didn’t get her throat working. Her tongue was thick and didn’t cooperate. She blinked several times while she tried to process what she just heard. “What?” she croaked again.
“You heard me, Collins.” Flat Face disappeared, but the rest of him wasn’t any more comforting. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Frank Donaldson.” The man had a barrel chest and too much aftershave. He was a man with an air of superiority. He probably was used to getting his way. Caroline had dealt with his kind for too long.
Caroline shook her head, making the room spin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tongue was stubborn, and her speech reflected it. “Didn’t he...?”
Flat Face growled, out of sight. “You may have gotten away with your involvement in flight 549, but now I’ve got you.” She could sense Flat Face shifting. “I may not get you for the death of my former partner, but I’ll get you for killing Frank Donaldson.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to focus. “Who?” she asked.
“Frank Donaldson, Miss Collins.” The other government-type finally spoke. She didn’t see him right away with Flat Face looming over her like dark clouds on a stormy day. It looked as if Flat Face were going to die of a coronary. “Stormy” was a pretty decent word to describe him. Rage dripped off him like precipitation. Now that she could see the other government-type, she thought he looked more like an intern on one of those crime scene investigation shows. He had a youngish face, but his graying temples betrayed his age. His eyes seemed oversized on his face, making him look perpetually in shock. She briefly wondered if she would see his eyes pop out like a cartoon.
Once again, Caroline woke with no recollection of where she was, or how she got there. The injustice of it happening twice to her was her first thought. The second was that she was in a hospital bed, cuffed to the bedrail. Three…well, there was no three. Didn’t bad news always come in threes?
Her lip twitched at the thought of these local yokels throwing their weight around. A few choice things rattled around in her brain. The comic narration she internalized added a level of... well, she didn’t know what to think. She’d only been handcuffed once, but that wasn’t her...
Apparently, Flat Face didn’t care to introduce himself or his partner, to trade barbs, or to explain why she was in a hospital. The handcuffs were a mystery. Whatever it was, I didn’t do it! she thought defensively. Flat Face ignored the range of facial expressions Caroline was trying her best to bury. Instead, he produced a laminated index card and proceeded to read her Miranda rights. Caroline idly wondered if reciting it back to him in reverse would help her situation.
“What’s going on here?” a female voice sounded out from the doorway.
Tiffany breezed into the room, her dark hair piled on top of her head. Her eyes, hair, and glasses all seemed to be the same color. She wore designer jeans and a form-fitting sweater, somewhere in the red spectrum. Her eyes blazed with competence. One hand was wrapped around a coffee cup, the other forming an accusatory dagger she had no problem pointing at Flat Face. Caroline allowed her smile through when Tiffany finally came to a halt at the foot of Caroline’s bed.
“Who are you?” Tiffany demanded. “What are you doing in this private room?”
“Agent Tom Hicks,” the man with graying temples introduced himself. His pitched voice suited him. He produced his credentials, and Tiffany briefly examined them. Hicks pointed toward Flat Face, who stood a head taller than he. “This is Agent Steve Braxton.”
“We’re reading the prisoner her rights,” Braxton retorted, not looking at Tiffany.
Whoa, thought Caroline. Flat Face just made his first mistake. She had no doubt that Agent Braxton would make more before this interaction was over. Braxton’s face was almost white with rage he didn’t even try to contain. His eyes bored into Caroline. “You shouldn’t be in this room, ma’am.” Braxton resumed his recitation.
Ma’am? Caroline smirked at Flat Face’s second mistake.
Tiffany glanced at Caroline; her hard gaze could chill the marrow of the most hardened criminal, but it eased slightly when she met Caroline’s eyes and realized she was awake. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the handcuff enclosed on Caroline’s wrist.
“First of all, she’s not a prisoner,” Tiffany said slowly, in a quiet even tone that caused the two men to pause.
“If you give up that right...” trailed off into a cough hidden behind a closed fist.
“Secondly…” Tiffany drew herself up to her full height. The scowl on her beautiful red mouth barely came to Braxton’s chest, but she commanded everyone’s attention in the room. She continued, “since Caroline’s not a prisoner, there is no need for handcuffs.”
Somehow, Braxton’s already sour expression deepened.
Hicks held out pale hands defensively, trying to mitigate Tiffany’s fury. “She’s a person of interest. She was alone and unescorted. We had to secure her.”
“Secure her how?” Tiffany asked tersely. “By handcuffing her to a bed?”
Caroline grunted and wearily lifted her heavy foot.
“And her ankle?” Tiffany added, her voice raising an octave. “You must’ve been afraid that this petite woman who had been unconscious for more than thirteen hours was going to—” she crossed her arms and waved a hand at the door. “Cartwheel out of the bed.”
Wait, what? Caroline thought. Thirteen hours?
Braxton took a deep breath; Caroline could see his rapid pulse causing his ears to wiggle slightly. “Look, Miss,” he started.
“That’s Missus,” she retorted. “Missus Jones.”
Hicks and Braxton exchanged furtive glances. Braxton seethed, and Hicks cleared his throat delicately. “Jones,” he asked, “as in Colonel Tupper Jones? So you’re—”
“My wife,” a gruff voice answered from behind them, “and a friend to more than one prominent civil rights attorney.”
Caroline blinked, and her gaze shifted toward the door. Tupper stood at the threshold, his arms folded across his chest. A vein in the side of his neck pulsated with barely contained anger. She thought she saw Kimberly, but her eyes had difficulty focusing. Tupper looked like he was moments from throttling someone.
Probably his dry cleaner, Caroline thought. Tupper’s charcoal suit looked rumpled like he’d slept in it or something. Hadn’t he worn that suit yesterday? Caroline blinked as snippets of conversation during the last few minutes echoed. No, she thought, sullenly, Tiffany said thirteen hours. He’s been wearing that suit for two whole days.
A light jostle of the elbow redirected Tupper, who was stalking purposefully toward Braxton. Hicks took a tentative step forward, but he backed down when Tiffany led her husband off to the side.
“Caroline?” Tiffany asked in a soothing voice.
Caroline tried to focus on that voice. She wanted the high cheekbones and a light dusting of rouge to turn up slightly, happiness blazing on her face, but Tiffany’s bright eyes stared down at her, a frown forming a narrow line. She felt the ache in her heart but smiled slightly at Tiffany’s concern for her well-being.
“….my case in organized crime has been ongoing for three years, Jones...” If Braxton was on the verge of a cardiac episode earlier, he was practically foaming at the mouth now. “You may have special clearance, but mark my words, if you protect Collins like you did before…” He sputtered and took a step back. That man was going to have a heart attack if he didn’t calm down.
Caroline looked at them, morbid curiosity overriding parlance. Ghost hands adjusting a lock of hair returned her attention to Tiffany.
“Do you need anything?” Tiffany asked, smiling. “Water?” There was a soft look from her that Caroline hadn’t seen in Tiffany since... since the airplane crash. Caroline nodded, not trusting her voice.
“There is no reason to believe she had anything to do with it!”
Caroline’s attention focused. What didn’t I have anything to do with?
“Bullshit!” Braxton sputtered. “You logged the loss of signal! She was off-grid for over an hour! I want to know what Collins was doing with my principal witness!” His ears and neck were a bright crimson. “I’ve heard rumors about your organization. Did you authorize her to make some sort of deal? Was she trying to recruit Donaldson out from under us?”
Caroline’s eyes drifted out of focus. The ranting of a madman failed to hold her interest.
“Here ya go, sweetie.”
Caroline grimaced as she tried to lift her head to get at the spoonful of ice chips. Her neck was stiff, but the muscles in her neck didn’t want to raise her aching head.
“There is no evidence Collins had any contact with Donaldson...”
Braxton fumed. “So she accidentally woke up next to his dead body?”
Caroline’s head snapped toward the comment, and her vision faded for a moment. Body? What body?
The sound of a voice pleading in her ear started to fade. Her nostrils flared, and she choked back a gag reflex. The odor of blood was suffocating, but she seemed to be the only one who could smell it. Something in the room, off to the right, beeped loudly.
Tiffany turned to the three men verbally jousting at the foot of the bed. “Tupper,” Tiffany tried, but Tupper held up a finger. She sighed. Tiffany was not having a good day.
“There isn’t enough evidence to justify...”
Braxton stood toe to toe with Tupper, gesticulating wildly with his arms. Hicks looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but trying to stand between the two alpha males.
“The science nerds verified it was Collins’ fingerprints all over the murder weapon.”
“Ever hear of self-defense? How about some actual evidence!”
Hide! I need to hide!
Phantom hands squeezed her throat again. Again? A machine next to her beeped incessantly.
Where the hell is it?
The room shrank, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. Hands held down her hips as she struggled to free herself.
Hold her down, God damn it!
A flash of silver in her periphery reflected light briefly blinding her. Shadows above, shadows around her, hands forced her deeper into the bed. Caroline could hear screaming, begging.
Get her mouth open!
She clamped down and bit the finger rummaging around in her mouth. It still pried her jaw open, and something acrid replaced air. She gagged on it, choking as if her life was ending. Thrashing against the hands holding her down, she was powerless to stop them.
Someone screamed in her ear.
The weight lifted momentarily. She could breathe again. A machine to the left started beeping. The one on the right decided it would not be outdone, and its chime increased in intensity and duration.
The room spun, but Caroline could feel Tiffany’s hand wrapped around her fingers and squeezed. Her fingers felt cold, and she was somehow aware of Tiffany’s wide eyes staring down at Caroline, but for some reason, she couldn’t get her fingers to respond and return the squeeze.
“Honey,” Tiffany said, concerned eyes staring at Caroline’s, but she wasn’t talking to her.
Tupper swore under his breath, and he grabbed the two agents by their arms, pulling them toward the door. Braxton growled like a junkyard dog, and Hicks jumped back, hands forming a barrier between Tupper and Braxton. Caroline felt the weight return to her throat.
“Get the doctor!” Caroline heard, as her chest clenched. It felt as if she were drowning. The urgency in Tiffany’s voice felt odd to Caroline’s ears.
Was Tiffany hurt? she thought, her hand spasming around hers. Tiffany squeezed her fingers as if she were in pain. Whoever is hurting Tiffany will answer to me! Her vision wavered, darkness on the edges. Tupper’s voice was shouting, but he was so far away...
Footsteps thundered—echoed, multiplied. She pictured black leather shoes, but from a weird angle. A beam of light shined on poorly shined shoes. It was as if those shoes were the only thing she knew were real. She felt too exposed on the bed. She needed to hide.
Hide! I need to hide!
Tiffany’s hand was torn away from her grip. She tried to lunge, but something cold, unyielding, and metallic bit into her wrist and ankle as she fought against the crushing darkness.
Where the hell is it?
Medical machines wailed their cacophony of sound. Would someone turn the damn things off? The room was nothing but darkness. Hands she didn’t know grabbed her.
Hold her down, God damn it!
Caroline felt something cold and wet over her mouth. The smell of chemicals almost overpowered the stench of blood. A prick on her arm was a shock, momentarily clearing the weight on her chest, but the room spiraled.
Get her mouth open!
As she lost her fight against the darkness, Caroline heard one last scream.
“No, no, please! Don’t kill me! I’ll do anything!”
Six
Hallway Lurking
“I specifically told you two that Collins was not to be disturbed!” Tupper pivoted on his heel as soon as the trio was in the hallway. His voice was inappropriately loud, but the alternative was throttling one or both of the federal agents. The fact that his shouting drowned out the cacophony of doctor voices, all the medical machinery alarms, and Tiffany gently urging Caroline to calm down was just a bonus. “I spoke to your liaison, Agent Tyler, and she assured me there wouldn’t be anyone harassing Collins while she recovered.”
Being removed from the frenzied activity just beyond the door did nothing to calm down Braxton. His hair was plastered with sweat, and his face and neck were beet red. He set his jaw, squared his wide shoulders, and quietly seethed while Tupper read him the riot act.
“That was before CSU finished processing the crime scene.” Braxton thrust his chin toward Caroline’s room. “We waited to get her statement until—”
“Is that how the FBI gets statements these days?” Tupper stepped forward, invading Braxton’s personal bubble. “Handcuffing a sick woman to her hospital bed?”
“Dammit, Jones.”
“Colonel Jones,” Tupper interrupted.
Braxton rolled his eyes and ignored Tupper. “I don’t know what your organization is all about, and frankly, I don’t care. But if you or your operatives screw with my case—”
“We aren’t screwing with your case!” Tupper started to shout again, but an orderly brushed past them and shot both men a dirty look. His voice dropped to a strangled growl. “There isn’t a case being investigated by us right now. I’m not sure what the heck happened, but it has nothing to do with us trying to ruin your case or some sort of pissing contest you seem to think we’re having.”
Hicks stepped between his partner and Tupper, possibly hoping to diffuse the testosterone in the hallway. Three thin fingers that wouldn’t have been out of place in a Hallowe’en display were brandished like a talisman. “Colonel Jones,” he responded, the honorific emphasized as he shot a look at Braxton, “we’ve had Guastavino under investigation for three years now. He rallied the different criminal elements in this city and consolidated them all. He was untouchable.”
“Murder, racketeering, drugs, counterfeiting, human trafficking,” Braxton stepped closer, trapping Hicks’ hand between him and Tupper. “Hell, we couldn’t even nab him for those fake cellphones he brought in a few years back. The man has legions of underlings to take the fall for him.”
Hicks nodded vigorously, his eyes darting from Braxton to Jones. He was probably hoping his presence would calm his partner down. He was fighting a losing battle.
Braxton kept working his jaw, the grinding of his teeth audible even over his angry breathing. “Local PD picked Donaldson up on suspicion of—”
“Unlawful imprisonment, rape, and murder. I’ve heard all about your case,” Tupper interrupted. He remembered Tiffany’s outrage when she learned of the sweetheart deal the federal prosecutor offered him to turn against his boss. Opinions had littered the blogosphere. Even Caroline and Tiffany’s friend from college, Kimberly, espoused conspiracy theories aplenty.
“We don’t have proof of murder,” Hicks quickly corrected him. “Local PD had DNA samples, some video from some closed-circuit surveillance, but no bodies, and no witnesses.”
“What about the statement from victim number three?” Tupper asked to no one in particular.
Braxton scowled, and his eyes clouded. “That information wasn’t for public consumption.” He sighed. “Besides, she recanted her statement.”
Tupper scoffed. “It’s a good thing you guys found her. She was in worse shape than Caroline when they found her.” He frowned. “Donaldson is a depraved son of a bitch.” He paused and corrected his statement. “Was.”
“And Guastavino’s accountant,” Hicks offered before Tupper could speak ill of the dead.
“More like ‘accountant with benefits,’” Braxton scoffed, and took a step back from Tupper, to the relief of his partner. “He offered the FBI details on every bank account and shell company here in the U.S., and overseas. We’re talking nine figures here. Hundreds of millions of dollars in seized assets. Enough for a hundred counts of money laundering and failure to pay taxes.”
“Thank God for RICO,” Hicks chimed in.
Tupper’s jaw worked as he fought to control both his expression and his voice. “In exchange, you ignore the killings of two women. The FBI’s okay with murder, now?”
Braxton’s nostrils flared at the thinly veiled insult. “The federal prosecutor didn’t have enough proof to go after him for murder. Those women—”
“Whatever,” Tupper seethed, “corpus delicti is crap, and you know it. There was enough circumstantial evidence, and a jury would’ve had a field day. You just wanted Guastavino more than you wanted justice for those women.”
Braxton grunted, his non-committal flippant. He glanced over his shoulder at the hospital room and the large orderly blocking the doorway, doing his best not to listen to what was going on in the hall.
