Silent Weapon

Sawyer took a left too quickly for me to react. I had no choice but to drive to the next turn and hope I could catch up with him on the first cross street.

I didn’t draw in another breath until I saw his car move beneath a streetlight halfway up the next block. I followed.

“Thank God,” I muttered.

With less traffic on this side street there was only one car between us, which made me a little nervous. He slowed for a turn. That turn, a right, left nothing between us. I managed to click off my headlights in the nick of time. No way was I taking the risk of being spotted. He would be watching for a tail. He couldn’t be so stupid as to go forward with this plan and not be aware of his surroundings. He would be on the lookout for trouble.

Ten more minutes passed before Sawyer made another turn, again to the right. I recognized the area. Residential. Low rent. My heart pounded with anticipation, my palms were sweating. I kept swiping one or the other on my jeans to keep a firm grip on the steering wheel.

Thirty minutes later, with a full hour to go until the appointed time, he had driven around and around, seemingly in circles, before moving back onto the street he’d originally turned onto. What was this guy doing? My phone had vibrated twice more since the last call from Barlow but I ignored it. Couldn’t take my eyes off my target.

Sawyer took another right and picked up some speed. The addition of some light traffic allowed me to turn my headlights back on. We left the city limits behind, but there were still plenty of houses and the occasional convenience store. Still, the farther from Nashville proper we ventured the more worried I got. I should call Barlow. No, not yet. I didn’t even know where we were going…I couldn’t do that.

Sawyer hooked a left. I turned off my headlights once more, praying I wouldn’t run over anyone or anything. I wasn’t familiar with this area. No streetlights. Wooded. One or two houses, then nothing. Once in a while a field would interrupt the expanse of forest. Without traffic for camouflage I had no choice but to remain dark.

He turned right onto a road that disappeared into the trees. Talk about utterly lost. Maybe in the daylight I would have recognized the area. I waited a second or two before following the same route. His taillights disappeared around a bend in the road. Narrow, tree-lined. Gave new meaning to the term rural.

My pulse skittered, but I’d come too far to back out now. I made the turn…this one the “no way back” kind, because this road was one lane at best. If Sawyer turned around or backed up I would be in serious trouble. I watched him make another left, his taillights bobbing, onto yet another road—a constricted path, actually, I decided when I reached it. I blinked in surprise when I saw the interior light of his car come on. He had stopped and was getting out fifty or sixty yards from the last turn he’d made. I saw this only by virtue of that interior light. He was too far away for me to see anything clearly.

I didn’t dare move a muscle, though he was plenty far away enough not to hear the engine of my Jetta, which according to my brothers ran as smoothly and quietly as the salesman had insisted it did.

Sawyer shoved his car door closed. The interior light went out. With the trees blocking the moon, it was black as pitch this deep in the woods. I had long ago turned off my headlights so there was no chance of him seeing me if he turned around…as long as he didn’t hear me. I prayed my brothers were right about the noiseless operation of my little four-cylinder.

Okay. I had two choices. I could sit right here until he got back into his car and risk him seeing me when he started the engine, turned on his lights and began to back up, or I could roll forward, away from the road onto which he’d turned, and risk him hearing the sound of my tires bearing down on whatever lay beneath them. As best I could tell, it was a dirt road, but I had no way of anticipating if there was any gravel involved or how much racket would accompany my forward movement.

The one thing I knew for certain was that I couldn’t just sit here. He was nearly two hundred feet away….

Screw it. I had to do something. I relaxed my right foot from the brake pedal ever so slightly and allowed the Jetta to roll forward away from the intersecting road where he’d turned off. I had to conceal my position before he’d accomplished whatever he’d come here to do. Might as well be now. Since I couldn’t turn on my lights and no longer had his to follow, I had to assume the road before me continued on. I couldn’t be sure any more than I could be about the one he’d taken. For all I knew that road could take him back to the main drag we’d left some minutes ago. Too many variables. Something else I should have thought of.

I parked about twenty yards away and shut off the engine, then took a deep, bolstering breath and got out. I eased the door closed and walked back to the road he’d taken. Moving cautiously to ensure I didn’t give away my presence and because I couldn’t see a damned thing, I slowly maneuvered closer to where he’d left his sedan. I looked around in hopes of spotting him. Nothing. Just blackness.

Damn. If he—

The bob of a flashlight abruptly caught my attention. He’d walked deep into the woods. I hesitated just long enough to consider that at this time of year there could be snakes or any number of other critters roaming around. Then I contemplated whether or not I actually needed to see what he was doing out there. I knew the location. I could always come back in the daylight.

Deeming that the best course of action, I backed into the tree line on the other side of his car, just far enough to be hidden when he returned. The warm, mossy smell of the forest settled over me but did nothing to soothe my jangling nerves.

At least thirty minutes passed before Sawyer emerged from the woods. My legs had grown cramped and the phone in my pocket had vibrated again. I saw the jog of the flashlight he carried seconds before he came up behind his vehicle. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness to the point that I could vaguely make out his form.

He popped open the trunk; the light inside blinked to life and cast a dim glow over him. My eyes widened as my brain assimilated what I saw. I clamped my hand over my mouth and swallowed the cry that rocketed into my throat.

It wasn’t until Sawyer had dumped the load he was carrying into the trunk and something had fallen to the ground that I truly understood what he’d gone into those woods to get.

The body—or what was left of it.

The object that had fallen, in the brief instant I’d seen it, looked roundish…kind of white in color. My throat closed on a scream.

The load had looked like a big old filthy sheet, bundled up in such a way as to keep whatever it contained from falling out of either end, but it hadn’t worked. I shuddered violently.

He reached down and picked up the part he’d dropped. Bile burned at the back of my mouth as I watched him toss the skull into the trunk of his sedan. He dusted at the dirt on his shirt, then slammed the trunk closed on his cargo.

He’d gotten into his car and backed halfway down to the intersecting road before my trembling legs responded to my brain’s command. I had to move. Had to get to my car. I couldn’t lose him now.

I traveled through the woods at a dead run, ignoring the slap of knee-deep undergrowth and the occasional jar of slamming into a small tree or large bush. I no longer cared about the snakes or other night creatures that might be there. I couldn’t fail. I had to do this. Get to my car…follow him. My future depended upon my accomplishing this mission every bit as much as justice was counting on me.

He backed out onto the road, right where my car would have been had I not moved it, and started forward. With him out of the way I stumbled into the clearing the narrow road made and ran harder still. I reached my car and scrambled behind the wheel at the same time that his taillights disappeared around the bend. He was headed back to the main road.

I twisted the ignition and shoved my foot onto the gas pedal. When I had executed a three-point turn I barreled after him. Headlights off, I slowed enough to approach the bend cautiously…just in case. Moved through the curve just as he pulled out onto the paved highway.

Muscle-quivering relief surged through me. All I had to do now was stay on his tail until he reached his destination, where his ten o’clock appointment would surely be waiting.

Sawyer drove back to Nashville.

It wasn’t until he made the turn onto a street I recognized that I understood where he was going.

The Green Hills area.

When he continued on this street I knew exactly where he was going. The construction site of a new shopping mall.

The image of the man he’d met earlier this evening suddenly morphed into recognition. That’s why he’d looked familiar to me. He was Reginald Carlyle, the man who owned or had developed almost every mall in this town, among others. What did he have to do with Sawyer and the murder?

Then it hit me.

Sawyer had bought up several old buildings. Nothing one would consider a big deal. Definitely not anything worth killing for, though he clearly had done just that. When I thought about where the properties he’d purchase were located, it all made sense. If Sawyer was doing business with this big developer, a mall or some other huge venture was planned for the properties he had acquired. Maybe would have been built already had they not been waiting for the stench of a murder charge to settle.

I parked my car behind a massive Dumpster loaded with discarded pieces of lumber and got out, then moved as close as I dared to where Sawyer had parked his car. Close enough to see that Carlyle had not arrived. Sawyer got out of the sedan and retrieved his damning cargo. He carried the remains to a spot about fifteen feet from his car and dumped it. I couldn’t make out the significance of his choosing that spot. At least not until he’d strode across the parking lot and climbed into a dump truck. Wait…not a dump truck…a cement truck.

Oh, no.

I fished out my phone. Should have done this already. I punched in Barlow’s number. My nerves twisted with trepidation as I waited through ring after ring. Damn him! I’d told him not to leave the phone. His home number was the only one I knew. When he’d spoken his name in greeting and it appeared on the screen I whispered my location and told him if he wanted that body to come as fast as he could. I closed the phone and shoved it back into my pocket.

Sawyer had backed the truck to the location where he’d dumped the body. The drum or whatever it was called on the back of the truck was turning, keeping the cement properly mixed. Jesus Christ. Even I knew what that meant. Someone had delivered that load of cement to him tonight. Had left the truck ready for his use. The only way the cement would have remained usable was if it were fairly fresh and the drum kept turning.

I surveyed what I could see of the construction site from my position just to make sure whoever had brought the truck wasn’t still hanging around. I prayed Barlow would get here soon. From his home he should be able to make the trip in twenty minutes if he drove really fast.

Please let him drive fast.

I didn’t know if he would bother calling in any uniforms since he wasn’t sure about me and what I was up to.

Just then, another sedan parked next to Sawyer’s, jerking my attention back there. I suddenly prayed as hard as I could that Barlow had called for backup. Maybe I should…my thought process halted abruptly as a figure exited the second car.

Carlyle.

A feeling of determination settled over me. I couldn’t let these two get away with murder.

Sawyer and Carlyle stood next to the cement truck for a bit. It looked as if they were arguing. The lights that had been added for site security provided enough illumination that I could see Carlyle’s frantic waves of exasperation or anger. Sawyer pointed a finger at his companion and shook it, his face contorted with fury. Nope, these two definitely weren’t happy campers.

My fingers tightened around my phone and I wondered if I should just go ahead and call 911.

There really wasn’t any choice. I couldn’t risk that Barlow wouldn’t get here in time. My fingers tightened on my phone.

Harsh fingers suddenly clasped around my mouth and I was hauled up against an unyielding body. My chest constricted with terror as the reality meshed fully in my mind. My phone slipped from my fingers. The cold steel barrel of a pistol bored into my temple. I could feel lips moving against my ear as whoever held me uttered words I could not hear.

I wondered briefly if I should bother fighting him—and it was definitely a him. I could feel the hard male contours of his body. I braced myself for making a move for his weak spot, but he suddenly released me.

I bolted but he manacled my arm with brute strength before I could get out of his reach. I whipped around to look into the face of my captor.

Barlow.

“What the hell are you doing?” I whispered, feeling that the sound was hoarse, with my heart straining against my throat as it was.

He frowned. I…stay quiet. Backup…on…way.

I struggled to catch his words, but in the dark and with him glancing around I missed parts. I managed to draw in a much-needed breath. Told myself to calm down. I considered what I’d gotten of his words and decided he wanted me to be quiet and that backup was on its way. I nodded, then pointed to the two men still arguing in the distance. “Sawyer dumped the body down there. I think he’s—”

I get the idea.

Barlow had moved closer, giving me a better view of his face. I felt glad for that, but at the same time uneasy with his nearness. I managed a nod of understanding. Obviously he’d been here long enough to figure out what was going on. But how was that possible? How could he have gotten here so quickly?

“How long have you been here?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I kept my voice as quiet as I should have. Obviously I didn’t since he held a finger to his mouth.

I put out an APB on your car. A cruiser spotted you thirty minutes ago and gave me your location. He followed you until I got into position.

Just something else I hadn’t planned for. Damn. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this work after all.

He moved closer still. I just have to know one thing. How the hell did a file clerk…

Reading his lips wasn’t difficult this close, but he turned his head to check on our two suspects and I missed that last part.

I tapped his shoulder and he turned back to me. “You have to look directly at me when you speak,” I told him.

Another of those weary frowns furrowed his brow. What?

“I’m deaf, Detective. I have to be able to see what you’re saying.”

For three fierce beats he simply stared at me.

You’re kidding me, right?

Chapter 4

Who would have thought that finding out I was deaf would be news bad enough to overshadow bringing a murderer to justice?

I slammed the file drawer shut and huffed an impatient breath. The look on Detective Steven Barlow’s face would stay with me for the rest of my life. Disbelief, shock even. He’d figured out in no time flat that I was a mere file clerk in Metro’s historical archives, but his source had evidently forgotten to mention that I was deaf. He’d kept his back turned to me a good portion of the time while I was being interrogated. Only allowed me to see what he wanted me to hear, in a manner of speaking. But I was no fool. I gathered from his tense body language that he did not like what I had done.

Go figure. I helped pluck a murderer off the street—one he had failed to nail—and he had the audacity to be furious with me! Men, I would never get them. Especially cops and firemen. And I’d grown up in a houseful of guys who turned out to be one or the other.

I opened the next drawer, inserted the file and slammed the drawer back into its niche. Just because I was a woman didn’t mean I wasn’t as capable as any man. And just because I was deaf didn’t mean I was helpless! I hated it when people looked at me that way.

Gentle fingers took hold of my chin and guided my face to the right, drawing me back to the here and now. My dear friend and co-worker, Helen Golden, smiled at me and said, Honey, I know you had a rough night last night but don’t take it out on the file cabinets. She smoothed a loving hand over the beige metal to emphasize her point. It’s our job to preserve the past. It’s what we do for the future. She arched a skeptical eyebrow. Even if some of us aren’t satisfied being a mere historical archivist.

“Not you, too,” I grouched. Was everyone around me against me?

My co-worker looked stung. I have plans, too.

I sighed. She was right. By this time next year she would be working at some fancy-shmancy law firm. “I’m sorry, Helen, but I had to do this.” She, of all people, should understand.

Helen folded her arms over her chest and tried to look annoyed, but she failed miserably. Do you know that the chief—the chief of detectives, mind you—called me into his office this morning to question me about what you’ve been up to? Why, I’ve worked at Metro for twenty years and not once have I ever been summoned to his office.

Okay, maybe she was a little irritated at that. How could everything have gone so wrong? I hadn’t meant for it to be this way. The murderer had been caught red-handed with the body—well, there was still the small technicality of identifying the remains. It had been two years, it wasn’t like they were visibly identifiable. But I knew. My letters and that call were what had prompted the bad guys into action.

Sawyer and Carlyle were both being detained as individuals of interest for questioning. The two men’s overpriced lawyers were pitching a hissy-fit, but this time the law was on the side of the police. They not only had human remains but had caught Sawyer and Carlyle preparing to bury said remains beneath eighty yards of cement. The cement-company driver had been brought in for questioning as well. As I had suspected, he’d merely followed orders, delivering a truck with the requested amount of cement at the time and to the place designated. Money talked. No good businessman quizzed a well-paying client.

Faring no better than the suspects, I had spent the better part of the day yesterday being interrogated by Barlow as well as Chief Nathan Kent, the chief of detectives Helen spoke of. Both detectives appeared to be furious that I had taken this mission upon myself.

I explained over and over how the case had been misfiled and I’d ended up reading it out of curiosity. The plan had come to me in a blast of inspiration that I couldn’t explain. I had been searching for some way to fulfill myself. To feel as if I was once more contributing to society. I hoped that if I proved successful in bringing Sawyer to justice I might be able to move into a position with Metro that would serve two purposes—self-fulfillment as well as community service. But that scenario appeared to have bombed big time. The whole ordeal had turned out way different than I had anticipated.

What’s worse, you read a cold-case file and tracked down the real killer. Helen shook her head from side to side, a resigned expression dragging her usually smiling features into a frown. And I can’t even tell anyone. Helen’s bosom heaved with what was no doubt a put-upon sigh, but then her eyes glittered mischievously. I hate secrets. What fun is knowing something so exciting and not being able to tell anyone? She turned back to her own filing.

That was another thing. Not that I had done this for the glory, but I had hoped to prove to the world that being deaf didn’t have to mean giving up a noteworthy life. There would be other deaf folks who could benefit from my story. But that wasn’t going to happen, either. Chief Kent had put a gag order on all those involved with Saturday night’s bust. Well, at least, the ones who knew how the events had transpired, including me.

I couldn’t tell a soul. Of course, my family knew and was fit to be tied. It would have helped tremendously if Chief Kent had kept them out of this. But his concern for my condition and overall safety had preempted that possibility. Sarah Walters, my best friend and sister-in-law, was Chief Kent’s secretary and probably the sole reason I’d been hired in the first place. If I had my guess, keeping my job after this would likely be more associated with Chief Kent wanting to keep his indispensable secretary happy than with the fact that I had helped solve an old homicide case.

Going home to my small bungalow on Greenview had been wishful thinking last night. My parents had shown up at Chief Kent’s office and insisted I stay the night at their home. The chief hadn’t helped matters by suggesting that it might be a good idea just in case some of Sawyer’s men got wind of my involvement.

Wasn’t that just the perfect ending to the perfectly hideous day? Going home with my parents like a naughty child. Not that I didn’t love my parents, but I was twenty-nine years old, for Christ’s sake. I was out on my own and a fiercely independent woman for nearly a decade before the loss of my hearing. I wasn’t supposed to be going backward. I need to be my own person…to contribute to the betterment of mankind…at least to some sort of independent future for myself. I might be deaf, but I’m not an invalid! Why couldn’t I get that through their heads? I had to do what I had to do.

It was the Irish genes I’d inherited from my mother’s side. We both sported the telltale red hair, though hers required a box of Clairol now and then. My mother had absolutely no room to talk about being bullheaded. No one, and I do mean no one, could be more stubborn than my sweetheart of a mother. Why couldn’t she see that I merely needed the same control over my own destiny?

I trudged back to my desk and grabbed up another armful of files. Oh, well. At least I still had my job. That was something. A smile tickled the corners of my lips. As frightening as parts of my vacation had been, I had to admit, I had loved the thrill of the chase. My blood heated and goose bumps pebbled my skin with the memories. Maybe I could be a cop. There were laws that protected the rights of the physically impaired so they couldn’t be discriminated against. I should look into that avenue. Who said I had to spend the rest of my life in the dungeon beneath Metro filing old cases for the various working divisions? I wanted more.

Depositing one file after the other into its appropriate drawer envelope, I lost track of time by mulling over the weekend’s events. Detective Barlow was kind of cute, even thoroughly furious as he’d been on Saturday night. I couldn’t help thinking of the way he’d hauled me up against his body to keep me still and quiet. Add strong and well muscled in addition to cute.

I pushed those foolish thoughts aside. He was probably married, anyway. Besides, after two years I had pretty much figured out that guys didn’t go for deaf chicks. I hadn’t had one offer for dinner or a movie, much less anything else, since losing my hearing. That first year, I had to admit, might have had something to do with my life-is-over attitude. But for the past year there hadn’t been a legitimate excuse for being ignored. My outward appearance hadn’t really changed that much. If anything I was thinner. I’d never been drop-dead gorgeous by any means, but I was attractive. At five-six I was average height. I kept in shape with Pilates as well as a two-mile run three times a week. I’d been told I had nice green eyes. I should at least get an occasional offer for dinner and a movie!

I shrugged off the depressing thoughts and finished the stack of files. Some contained new, quickly resolved cases that held hardly any reports or other evidentiary documents, while others held new information to be added to thicker files on older cases. The unsolved cases were designated a bit differently than the ones closed after having been solved. Occasionally a review would be done to determine if more could be done to help solve an old case. But that didn’t happen often. There just wasn’t enough time or manpower. Law enforcement was like teaching, there was never enough funding to go the full distance.