Silenced

Stein was with White Collar Crimes and had been lead on the Wendy James influence-peddling investigation. “Homicide trumps White Collar,” Noah said.

“Doesn’t matter, he was working with Wendy James and he’s taking lead. He knows shit about violent crimes, spends most of his time crunching numbers and searching records. Damn good at it, too. But he’s also a ladder-climber, and if he thinks a juicy case like this will get him up a rung or three, he’s not going to want turn it over to us.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Noah said.

“Good luck. With the attorneys involved and Congress, it’s going to be a PR nightmare for everyone involved.” Then Slater grinned. “I don’t think Crowley’s PR machine is going to withstand this scandal, a definite silver lining.”

“Taking sides?” Noah asked.

Slater shrugged. “Haven’t met a politician I liked. Besides, he lied about the affair before admitting it. Not very trustworthy in my book.”

“Par for the course.”

“Hence, I haven’t met a politician I liked.” Slater glanced at his watch. “As soon as the body is at the morgue, while you’re at James’s apartment, I’m going to track down Crowley, find out where he was yesterday. Keep me informed.”

Lucy looked at the body again and frowned. Her gut instinct told her Crowley hadn’t killed her.

But he could have hired someone.

“We should check his financial records as well,” Lucy said. “This wasn’t a personal attack.”

Slater stared at her so long she had to avert her eyes. Her face heated and she realized she’d just told a cop with twenty years more experience how to do his job.

He didn’t comment on her observation, which somehow made her slipup worse.

“Get going,” he said to Noah. “And remember what I said about Stein.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Ivy’s feet sank into the thick gold carpet, the luxurious hotel room oddly reminding her of the Shakespeare quote, “what’s past is prologue.” She didn’t want to stay here, in this far-too-familiar opulence. The past was alive, ripe with sick humor, taunting her, reminding her that escape was not possible. That someday she’d be Hannah Edmonds again, standing with her older sister Naomi behind their father, two pairs of eyes glazed from self- medication. The drugs masked the pain and made the lies truth.

Ivy wasn’t Hannah any more. She wasn’t Naomi, willfully blind to the truth. She wouldn’t send Sara back to the pretty mansion to be brainwashed into believing that teenage daughters were born to serve their father’s sexual needs, that this was normal and godlike. Want proof? Look at the house! Look at the grounds! Would God give such wealth and power to an evil man? Of course not!

“Ivy?”

She heard Jocelyn speak her name, but couldn’t respond. She hadn’t felt so weak in spirit since the last day with her family. She almost couldn’t leave the mountain. She’d almost begged her daddy to forgive her, to let her serve him as good daughters are supposed to do. The fear of the unknown had once terrified her, of what was beyond the fences of their lavish prison, the certainty that there were worse evils than her father. He had never raised his voice, never beat her, never denied her food or a warm bed.

She’d once thought he wore a halo. Now, she knew the fires of Hell burned behind him.

“Hannah?”

Ivy turned to her sister, all anger and pain directed at the young girl. “Never call me that name again!”

Tears spilled from Sara’s round eyes and Ivy wanted to cry with her. She didn’t. Instead, she whispered, “Please.”

Sara nodded, but averted her eyes and turned to Maddie, who put her arm around Sara’s shoulders and led her to the adjoining room. First she’d turned Mina away, now Sara. She was losing everyone she had promised to protect. She was hurting those she loved the most. What was wrong with her?

She had to get out of this place. “Is there someplace else you can take us?” Ivy asked Jocelyn.

“What’s wrong?” The social worker looked around, obviously not understanding why Ivy was upset by the beautiful, well-appointed suite. “It’s a little big, but Chris knows the manager and this hotel is discreet. You’ll be safe here.”

No place was safe.

“It’s too expensive.”

Jocelyn relaxed. “Don’t worry about the cost, we have it covered.”

Ivy walked slowly around the large room, mostly to give herself time to calm down. Jocelyn understood the path that had led Ivy into prostitution. She hadn’t looked down at Ivy or the others, and though Jocelyn didn’t come right out and say it, Ivy suspected she’d once walked a few streets herself. More important, Jocelyn hadn’t turned her over to the cops for kidnapping. She believed that Kirk Edmonds had raped his daughters, and wanted Ivy to report him. “To bring him to justice,” she’d said more than once.

How could Ivy explain to Jocelyn that no one would believe her? That if their father had five minutes alone with Sara, she’d never say a word against him? When Kirk Edmonds spoke, you wanted to believe every word he said. You wanted to believe that he was right, that he loved you and would protect you. He could make anyone believe he had the keys to the kingdom of heaven, and if you just did what he said, you, too, would be saved.

He could make you feel all that and more, right before he pulled the cornerstone from the foundation and your world crumbled.

Jocelyn sat on the love seat and said, “I have a plan.”

Ivy stared out the window, but focused on nothing. Everything she’d been working toward for the last six years-gone. She had nothing left except a scared fourteen-year-old to protect.

“Ivy, please sit down.”

Ivy complied, looking the woman in the eye. She already knew Jocelyn couldn’t solve their problems. But right now, for the next few days, Ivy needed her. Ivy could lie better than most anyone. The key was never breaking eye contact.

Jocelyn was thirty-five, pretty, with pale, smooth skin making her appear younger. Ivy had no use for do- gooders-they rarely understood the real world-but Jocelyn was different. That she’d helped her when she most needed it heaped another layer of guilt on Ivy’s soul.

It’s okay, as long as Sara is safe.

“You need to report the fire,” Jocelyn said.

“I think they know by now,” Ivy snapped.

“I heard on the news that two firefighters were injured. You have information that will help them in their investigation!”

“That I saw a person in the shadows? Couldn’t even tell if he was male or female! How tall or fat. He could have been a figment of my overactive imagination.”

“You smelled alcohol. You saw an intruder. The fire spread quickly. It was arson. Someone tried to kill you, your sister, the other girls-don’t you care?”

“Yes!” Ivy didn’t want to get mad at Jocelyn, but the last eight hours had put her on edge. “You promised if I ever came to you for help, you wouldn’t go to the police.”

“No police. I’ll talk to the fire chief, he’ll-”

“Same thing!” Ivy stood and paced. “They’d have to tell the police, and I can’t-” She stopped talking. This conversation was going nowhere. “I shouldn’t have come to you.”

“I’m glad you did. Okay, no cops, I get it.”

“Do you?”

Jocelyn nodded, her expression sincere. Ivy wanted to believe her, but right now she was wound so tight she thought she’d explode. “It’s only a matter of time before they find you,” Jocelyn said. “You can’t hide with Sara