Silenced

Don’t look. Don’t look.

She repeated the mantra. If she didn’t look at the past, she could forget it, at least for now.

She didn’t want to break down. Not ever, but especially not in front of Noah.

“Do you need help?” Noah stood right behind her.

“I got it.”

His voice reminded Lucy that no one was videotaping her. She was with a friend, a colleague, a mentor. She was safe.

But deep down she felt a nightmare coming on, and wished with all her heart that Sean was back from Sacramento. Sean kept the nightmares away; he made her feel safe when nothing else could.

His unconditional love healed her.

She didn’t dare let on that this case disturbed her. Not to Noah, and especially not to Sean. Sean would quit his assignment in California and fly back to DC, jeopardizing his reputation and career, just because this case was stirring up memories that might lead to bad dreams.

You’re a big girl, Lucy. You have to deal with life on your own.

“Lucy.”

It was Noah. How long had she been standing there, bent over the shelf, fumbling with the panel?

“Sorry, mind wandering.”

She swallowed, breathed deeply again, and pushed on the corner of the panel.

It swung open, much bigger than she thought, and hit her on the head.

“Ow, shit!” She jumped back, bumping up against Noah. She rubbed her forehead, came away with a small drop of blood.

“Are you okay?” he turned her around and inspected her forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a bump.” She pulled off her right glove. “I don’t have another pair of gloves.”

“Don’t touch anything.” He eyed her closely. “You’ll live.”

“Thanks.” But she smiled. He could have made the situation even more awkward than it was, but Noah was a professional, and she needed that more than ever.

They traded places. “There’s a light switch back here.” He flipped it on.

A tiny, narrow room-carpeted along the walls-had been built behind the linen closet. It was three feet wide and about five feet long-two people might have been able to stand side by side, but it would have been a tight fit. Outlets, plugs, evidence of a full-tech operation was here, but no equipment.

“She was recording Crowley,” Lucy said, almost in disbelief.

“Recording him without his knowledge? That sounds like blackmail.”

“No wonder he was defensive.”

“She was involved publicly with other congressmen as well,” Noah said. “That’s what got Stein’s panties in a wad-and he might have been right.” He pulled out his phone. “I have to call in cyber crime for this one.”

“Wireless,” Lucy said. “It would have been easy to set up. But then, why would she need this room? Why not use her own apartment?”

“We’re going to find out. I wonder if the manager knows? Call her up, Lucy.”

Ten minutes later, Noah showed Betty Dare the hidden room. She stared, a stunned expression on her face. “I had no idea,” she said repeatedly.

“I need to seal off this room, it’s a potential crime scene, and we’ll contact the owners.”

“I-yes-of course.”

Lucy felt bad for the flustered manager. “This isn’t your fault,” she said. “There are over one hundred units in this building? Sixty-seven owned, thirty long-term leases, a dozen executive leases?”

Betty looked surprised. “You have a good memory.”

She shrugged. “That’s a lot of people for one person to manage. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Lucy,” Noah said, “go home. I have to wait for the team to arrive.”

“I can wait with you.”

“Sean still in Sacramento?”

She nodded.

“Weren’t you going to give Ms. James’s cat temporary housing?”

“Yes, but-”

“Go. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Brian loved his brother, but resented the fact that people called him stupid and Ned smart.

Brian had handled his part of the plan perfectly. Wendy James was dead.

After Ned found out that Wendy was still chummy with her hookers, Ned was supposed to poison them with carbon monoxide and make it look like an accident. But instead, he wanted a bang.

Well, he got it-along with six living problems.

And who did they call to solve problems?

Brian. Because he did exactly what he was supposed to. He took orders. He was a good soldier and all that crap.

Brian watched the news in his basement apartment. Ned wouldn’t be happy that Wendy’s body had been found so soon, but who the fuck cared? Nothing tied her to him, nothing tied him to her murder, and he wore gloves.

“The victim has been identified as Wendy James, the young secretary who admitted to having a longtime affair with Congressman Alan Crowley, the powerful chair of the Judiciary Committee.

“Police have no leads at this time, but our sources report that the FBI has taken over the case, and they have yet to issue a public statement. Sources report that Ms. James had been jogging through Rock Creek Park Monday morning when she was attacked by a possible rapist. In the last three months, seven rapes and thirteen attempted rapes or muggings have been reported from the park. Public safety officials urge joggers to run in pairs or groups and be aware of their surroundings.”

Brian grinned. Attempted rape. Exactly what he’d wanted. All was right, he’d done his job, he should be the one sitting in the mansion, not in this pit of an apartment waiting for his next job.

Ned called him. “Did you see the news?” Brian asked.

“Good job,” Ned said, “except that she was found. The feds are everywhere asking questions. They have no clue, but too many questions make people nervous. Once you take care of the rest of the problems, we’re in the clear.”

“You should have done it right the first time.”

“Fuck off. I have an address for you, to start.” He read off the address of a hotel in the shittiest section of DC Brian could imagine.

“That’s a pit. What about the others?”

“I’m getting there. It takes time when I have to cover my tracks. But I’m close.”

“When this is done, we should go on vacation. Maybe a cruise. That’d be fun, wouldn’t it?”

Ned laughed. “Remember when we went to Miami for spring break? I want some more of those wild girls. I had more girls sucking me off that week than the whole previous year.” He cleared his throat, then said, “You know what to do?”

“Yes.” Brian hated when his brother treated him like a child.

“Wait until nighttime activity settles down, then-”

“Don’t tell me how to do it. I didn’t fuck up my assignment.”

“It’s not a competition, Bri.”

“Good thing for you, ’cause I’d win.” He hung up.