Silent Weapon

When I would have turned to walk back to my desk, a quick tap on my shoulder warned me that someone had moved up behind me. I’d been too caught up in thought to notice. At times I could feel the change in my environment when someone came close, but I had to be paying really close attention to be aware of the subtle difference. Clearly this was not one of those times.

Sarah, my sister-in-law, gifted me with a weary smile. How’s it going? she asked.

Sarah, of all people, knew how difficult things were for me right now. She and I had been best friends all through high school. We both played in the school band. To this day I hated the sound of a flute. I rolled my eyes at my own slip. The last time I’d heard it, I’d still hated it. Sarah said the same about a clarinet. The truth was neither of us had cared for playing a musical instrument. Being in the band had been a means to an end. It meant we went on all the district play-off trips with the football players without having to don one of those cutesy cheerleader outfits and stand on our heads. What more could a teenage girl want?

I shrugged in answer to her question. “Is my name mud upstairs?” I felt certain she had heard any rumblings going on in her boss’s office.

She dragged me over to the side, a little farther away from where Helen conscientiously worked. Sarah held my gaze a moment before she said, Chief Kent is having a closed-door session with Detective Barlow and Chief Adcock right now. She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. I believe they’re talking about you.

Uh-oh. That didn’t sound too good. I knew Chief Adcock was the chief of Homicide. Then again, I supposed it made sense, since the case I’d solved fell under his jurisdiction. I’d seen him at some point over the weekend.

“Am I in big trouble?” Translation: bigger than I already knew.

Sarah did the shrugging this time. All I know is Barlow doesn’t look pleased. Whatever the chief has decided, Barlow doesn’t like it.

A frown wiggled its way across my brow. Why would Barlow care what happened to me? I mean, it wasn’t like we really knew each other. He should be grateful I’d solved this case for him. But I knew he wasn’t. I’d skirted the law, which, technically, I had not been obliged to follow to the letter since I’m not a cop, and I’d risked my life without being smart enough to tell anyone what I’d uncovered. If I had been killed—I cringed inwardly at the thought—no one would ever have known what I’d accomplished. I could see that quite clearly now. Funny thing, I hadn’t thought about that once while absorbed in the heat of the hunt.

“Is he angry that I got Sawyer when he couldn’t? Do you suppose he doesn’t like that I made him look bad despite the upside that a murderer has been apprehended?”

Sarah thought about that for a bit, leaving me with the need to distract myself or burst with anticipation. I studied the delicate features of her face. Sometimes her beauty caught me off guard. Long, silky blond hair, serene gray eyes, a face that demanded any man breathing take a second look, and a willowy figure to boot. I’d known her forever. My brother was really lucky. Michael was two years older than me. A fireman in the Brentwood area where he and Sarah lived. The two were planning to start a family this year. Sarah would make a terrific mother. Not once had she ever let her beauty go to her head.

I don’t know Detective Barlow that well, she said. But he doesn’t strike me as the type to let his ego get in the way of the job. I’m really not sure what’s going on.

Her lips formed the words cautiously, her face uncommitted to a particular emotion. If she’d looked overly concerned I would have been worried. Since she didn’t, I felt relatively relieved. Relaxed but guarded, if that makes sense.

She draped her arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. I should get back to the office. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. She smiled. See you tonight.

Oh, God. How could I have forgotten about that? My folks had insisted that another family dinner was in order tonight. Since Saturdays or Sundays were generally the days we had family get-togethers, I could only assume the worst. This meeting would be about me, same as the one going on upstairs. The one difference was the chief only held the power to make my professional life miserable. My family, well…they held serious power over my entire existence.

The Walters family home stands proudly in a quiet, genuinely middle-class neighborhood on the fringes of Nashville’s west side. The houses that line the streets of the neighborhood are the signature architecture of the seventies. Think Brady Bunch tri-level. Four or five bedrooms, three bathrooms and always, always a den for the family as well as a formal living room for entertaining.

Not that the Walters family entertains on a regular basis, but holidays and birthdays are big deals in a clan this size. Especially when you take into account the uncles, aunts and cousins. Good thing they all have the big Brady Bunch kitchen and dining room, too.

I moved around the table placing the silverware next to each china plate. Blue Willow, the same pattern my mother had used for my entire life. At family get-togethers, each member always had his or her chore. The men were currently slaving—think the loosest definition found in Webster’s of the word—over the barbecue grill while the women scurried to set the table and place the cold side items on the buffet.

All four of my brothers are married, but none has kids as of yet, much to the dismay of my folks. Since my hearing loss and the subsequent exit of my fiancé, the pressure has been off me to produce offspring.

I surveyed the table to make sure I hadn’t missed anything and couldn’t help thinking that the scene belonged on the set of Cheaper by the Dozen. All four of my brothers were lugheads when it came to the overprotective sibling genes. Not once in school did anyone dare to pick on me. Not the boys, for fear of being pounded. Not even the girls, for fear that their brothers would be pounded or, in the absence of a male sibling, for worry of being blackballed in the dating arena. In order to remain popular among the star athletes one had to stay on the good side of the whole team.

Boy, did I have a surprise waiting for me when I went off to college. For the first time in my entire life I’d had to stand up for myself without big-brother backup. I guess that’s when I realized what I’d been missing all that time. I didn’t want to be the sweet little overprotected girl who never got into trouble and who never, ever took a chance. Needless to say, I made up for lost time in a big way. The only thing conservative about my higher-learning experience had been my major, elementary education. I dated a different guy every week and basically had a blast. Not that I’d been promiscuous. The fact was I’d only slept with two guys my entire college career.

Life had calmed down when I’d settled into teaching and my work had given me the sense of accomplishment I needed. Why couldn’t anyone see that I needed that feeling again? It was so simple…such a small thing.

Someone tapped my shoulder and I found Lola, my next-to-oldest brother’s wife, waiting patiently for my gaze to settle on her lips.

Food’s ready but first we have a family meeting in the den. She looked about as pleased regarding the prospect as I did.

I nodded, then followed her down the hall to the den. Everyone else was already there. I took my seat. That’s another thing about big families. Everyone has an assigned seat. The concept cuts down on the quarreling over who sits where—it especially did back when we were kids.

Martin, my oldest sibling, started off the conversation. Usually the opening words were issued by my father. That he’d deferred to the senior member of Metro’s police force in the family set me on edge. This was no typical family meeting. This was about me and my little undercover escapade.

Merri, you know how much we all love you.

Uh-oh. Now I was really worried. In my experience, whenever a family meeting started off with those words it usually meant I was grounded for at least a week. But I was almost thirty…grounding was not likely on the agenda.

I nodded, well aware that everyone in the room expected me to respond in some way.

What you did this past week, however heroic, was very foolish.

Anger flushed my cheeks. “We’ve already been over this,” I said pointedly. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I glanced at Sarah in hopes of getting some support.

She moistened her lips, looked from me to Martin. The chief has already counseled her firmly about it, she offered. She managed a smile for my benefit. I don’t think we have to worry about our Merri getting into anything over her head like this again.

As much as I appreciated Sarah’s bolstering words, she was wrong. They were all wrong. I looked from one concerned face to the next. How did I make them see that I had to do something more? Being a file clerk, or historical archivist, as Helen would say, simply was not enough.

“Mom, Dad—” I met the gaze of each as I spoke “—as much as I understand and appreciate your concern, you have to understand my position. I have aspirations.” I searched my father’s eyes. The eyes of a man who had risen from untrained office assistant to the top CPA in his firm while raising a family. Funny, I mused, momentarily distracted by the idea. Not a single child he’d spawned had gone into his line of “safe” work. Why was it so unthinkable that I would want to do more? “There’s no point in discussing the subject further, because you already know how I feel.” We’d had this talk hundreds of times since the onset of my disability.

But the risk you took this time was out of character even for you, Merri. This from my mom.

That was true. I couldn’t really explain where that had come from. As fiercely independent as I’d been since my college days, I’d never been foolhardy. But when I’d read the case file on Sawyer I just couldn’t help myself. The files I’d read previously had set me on fire…had fueled a yearning inside me like I’d never before experienced. I loved trying to figure out who the bad guy was…trying to solve the puzzle. What was so bad about that?

I started to say as much, but my father stopped me with an uplifted hand. I held my tongue and let him speak. To this day, not a single Walters kid back-talked.

We’ve discussed what happened at length.

A sinking feeling, disappointment or something on that order, tugged at my stomach. We’d talked as a family once last night. When had they talked at length? Why hadn’t I been included in the discussion, especially considering I was the subject?

Merri, my father went on, the worry in his eyes only adding to the hurt starting to well inside me, we feel that perhaps additional counseling is in order. The catastrophic changes in your life these past two years are enough to make anyone behave erratically. We want you to be happy, but we also want you to be safe.

I felt utterly betrayed. I surveyed the people I knew with complete certainty loved me and couldn’t help feeling that they’d let me down. They just didn’t understand how much I needed their complete understanding right now.

Very little of what was said after that penetrated the haze of disappointment. Each of my brothers took his turn telling me how I had to be extra careful, couldn’t look out for myself the way I used to. Even Sarah remained quiet, rather than suggesting otherwise.

Nothing I did or said would matter, so I didn’t bother arguing. I let them talk, get it all out on the table. But none of it would change my mind.

For the first time in my life I truly felt alone. After a lifetime of having my family’s full support, it was one hell of a letdown. But I couldn’t judge them too harshly. Every single one of them had my best interests at heart. They all loved me…they just didn’t get it.

We ate dinner in relative silence. Occasionally someone would bring up the winner of some sporting event or a late-breaking news story they’d heard. The atmosphere in the room had gone from solemn determination to walking-on-eggshells tension.

I had caused this. My entire family was worried and uncomfortable and it was my fault. How could my plan have gone so awry? I thought I was doing the right thing.

Would it be this way from now on? Could they ever accept that I still had hopes and dreams despite my inability to hear? I couldn’t spend the rest of my life pretending I was happy and avoiding any semblance of the unsafe. I knew that about myself if I knew nothing else. The tricky part would be making them see that I could do more. Being deaf didn’t have to be the end of my life. It could be the beginning.

Maybe my impairment would actually empower me. Sitting here now I watched my family eat and chat, all looking healthy and happy. Unless I looked directly at their lips I had no idea what any of them said. I heard absolutely nothing. Silence. There were times when I thought I heard things, but the doctors had explained that having spent so many years in the world of the hearing, I might mistake knowing for hearing. I knew what a fork scraping against a plate sounded like. Therefore, when I watched someone eating, sometimes I thought I heard the sound when actually what I perceived as hearing was a memory.

I couldn’t help wondering if that was what gave me the ability to focus so intently on solving a case. I didn’t have to tune out noise or my surroundings, that was already done.

I could be very good at investigating cases. I wasn’t sure being a detective was right for me, but something on that order. Maybe a profiler of some sort.

My family, as much as I loved each and every one of them, would just have to get over it.

I drove home that night still preoccupied by my father’s words. They thought I needed more counseling. Well that wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t need to talk over my problems with a shrink. I needed to get on with my life. No need to pay two hundred bucks an hour to hear what I already knew.

Too tired to bother with the garage, I parked in the driveway and took my time trudging up the front steps. Sleep would be good about now. I felt exhausted since I hadn’t actually gotten very much sleep Saturday or Sunday night. I’d been far too keyed up. I glanced across the street and noted the car parked there. The chief had mentioned there would be someone watching my house for the next few days…just in case. That was likely standard procedure and not due to my inability to hear.

Thankful I’d left the porch light on, I shoved the key into the lock, but before I could twist it, a hand settled on my arm. A squeal escaped me as I whirled to face the possible threat.

Steven Barlow.

I pressed my hand to my throat and fought to catch my breath. “What’re you doing here?” Damn. He’d scared me to death. Boy, was I glad my folks hadn’t been here to witness that.

I didn’t get a chance to talk to you today.

I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment as he looked me up and down, thoroughly assessing me before allowing his gaze to settle back on mine. Why was it he made me so nervous? So ill at ease in my own skin?

Finding my voice, I asked archly, “Was there something else we failed to go over?” We’d talked plenty already, and none of it had been pleasant. He stood firmly on the side of my family…I should be careful…taking risks was not smart.

He shook his head. I think we covered most everything. He looked away for a moment as if he didn’t want me to see whatever was in his eyes. Eventually that piercing blue gaze fixed back on mine. I didn’t come here to give you a hard time, Miss Walters.

Oddly, at that moment, when I should have been mad as hell, I couldn’t help wondering what his voice sounded like. It was silly, I know. But I couldn’t help it. Deep and husky or low and smooth as silk? Did he have any sort of accent? I didn’t know if he’d grown up in the south. I really didn’t know much of anything about him.

I forced my attention back on the conversation. “Then why did you come here, Detective Barlow?”

I wanted to tell you in person that we’ve moved ahead with formal charges against both Sawyer and Carlyle. He searched my eyes again, looking for a reaction maybe. I’m sure he saw my unrepentant glee. And, the truth is, we couldn’t have done this without you.

A little shock radiated through me. Well, what do you know? Someone was finally admitting that I did good.

I beat back a smug smile. “Thank you, Detective. I appreciate your saying so.”

He nodded. Keeping your name out of the papers has nothing to do with blowing our own horn or trying to take credit for what you did, he went on. We’re simply attempting to protect you from any fallout. There’s no way for us to know all of Sawyer’s or Carlyle’s connections.

I had no doubt about that. “I understand.”

He set his hands on his hips, pushing the lapels of his elegant navy suit aside. He was the only detective I knew who dressed so well. His white shirt looked freshly starched, though I felt certain he’d been wearing it all day. The navy-and-gray-striped tie completed the classy look.

You took far too many risks, Miss Walters, despite the good that you did. I hope you’ll keep that in mind in the future.

I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say to that so I didn’t say anything at all. I was sick to death of hearing about the risks I’d taken. Life was a risk. Walking out your front door in the morning was a risk. Driving down the street was a risk. Nothing about this life was certain. I felt I’d learned that better than most.

When I didn’t immediately respond he looked away for a moment, then said, Good night, Miss Walters, and walked away.

He got into his nondescript black sedan, which he’d parked behind mine, and drove away.

I stood on my porch for a long while after that, just thinking. He was right. So was my family. I had taken several huge risks in the past few days. But the risks had been necessary to get the job done. I was no naive kid. I had been willing to take them. Why was it they added up to nothing? Didn’t count?

What was it going to take to make people realize that I couldn’t just fade into the background? I would never be happy simply existing.

There had to be more.

I wouldn’t accept any other scenario.

Maybe I was in over my head, but that’s exactly where I wanted to be.

Chapter 5

Tuesday afternoon at quarter past four I tugged my purse strap onto my shoulder and waved a goodbye to Helen, whose shift didn’t end until five. Today had been busier than usual and I was ready to call it a day. Still, I didn’t exactly look forward to going home. At least being busy had kept my mind off last night’s family meeting. No one at work had mentioned the incident, not even Helen. I had a feeling Chief Kent had made sure all who knew about my undercover stint were reminded not to discuss the episode. I hadn’t heard a single peep from a soul.

A couple of the detectives who dropped by the counter to check out a case file had studied me a little closer than usual, but that could have been my imagination.

At the elevator I stabbed the call button and the doors slid open immediately. To my surprise Sarah waited in the car. She smiled.

I was just coming to get you.

I hated the way my guard went up immediately. This was Sarah, my lifelong friend…my brother’s wife. I shouldn’t feel ill at ease with her just because she was also the boss’s secretary. But somehow I did.

“What’s up?” I managed an answering smile. My fingers twisted around the strap of my purse in anticipation of the worst.

She flared her hands and adopted a “dunno” expression. Chief Kent would like you to sit in on an impromptu meeting with the other chiefs.

The somersault in my chest knocked the breath right out of my lungs. “Okay.” I sucked in a mouthful of oxygen and joined her in the elevator. Looking as cool as a cucumber, Sarah leaned forward and pressed the button for floor six. My stomach dropped to my feet with the upward momentum of the car. Lord, what now? Had the chief decided he couldn’t keep me around after all? Maybe he’d decided I could be the poster child for things not to do while employed by Metro.

I tried my best to keep my composure from slipping. I didn’t want to look scared or even nervous, for that matter. There was nothing I could do to change the outcome of the meeting except maybe beg for a second chance. Surely I could find another job. I had an excellent record with the exception of this one deviation. That had to count for something. Then again, I supposed I should have thought of that before I launched my Merri Walters amateur sleuth persona.

On the sixth floor we stepped off the elevator onto plush carpeting. Unlike my work area in the basement, the walls up here were dressed in a warm coat of paint the color of sand. Reserved but elegant paintings, each highlighted by its own personal spotlight, adorned the walls. In the center of the reception area and at the end of the corridor on the left as well as the right, a lavishly detailed wood table supported a massive, lush bouquet of flowers.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.