Silent Scream by Karen Rose Read Free Book Online Page A

believing they’d shoot a
     guard, too.
    Eyes on his TV screen, he watched, wincing when the burly Albert smacked the whiny Joel with his club.
Ouch.
He bet Joel had a hell of a headache right now.
    He wondered if they’d started to turn on each other yet. They would, eventually, when the reality of what they’d done permeated
     the shock. There was art in the timing of his initial contact. He wanted to let them stew long enough to be terrified of capture,
     but not so long that they did anything stupid. Like confess. Especially Joel the Whiny.
    Of course if he became too big a liability, Joel could be taken care of.
    He rewound back to the point where Eric the Brain gave Albert the Muscle the order to smack Joel upside the head. There was
     a coolness to Eric, a willingness to do what was necessary that could become quite an asset.
    Because I’ve been thinking.
His investments had taken a beating in the stock market collapse. At the rate he was going, he’d hit forty before he rebuilt
     his portfolio enough to support the lifestyle he’d been planning. He didn’t plan to wait anywhere near that long. He wanted
     to be young enough to enjoy his ill-gotten gains.
    For a long time he’d been thinking of hiring on. Expanding. But who to trust?
    He’d been in the business long enough to know that a man was only as trustworthy as the length of rope tied around his neck.
     This was equally true for women. Hell, especially for women. The rope had to be kept short, the knot too strong to slither
     from. He watched Albert and Eric carry the unconscious Joel away, Mary trailing behind. Arson, murder… It made for a damn
     tight knot and a very short length of rope.
    He lifted his beer bottle in a toast. “To my new employees. May you make me lots of money.” He ejected the DVD from the player
     and slid it into a paper jacket. Through the beauty of streaming video, Eric the Brain would soon know his dick was in a sling.
    He smacked a kiss on the disk. “All of you,” he murmured, “are mine.”
    • • •
    Monday, September 20, 2:15 a.m.
    Eric opened his living room window and let the breeze cool his overheated skin. It would be dawn soon. But he doubted the
     morning light would produce any new options. He stared at the fire he’d lit in his fireplace. The dancing flames sickened
     him.
    Mocked him.
Murderer. Murderer. Murderer
.
    Twenty-four hours ago everything had been golden. He’d been poised to do something great. Something that would evoke conversation.
     For once
he
was going to make a difference, like Joel was always doing.
I was going to change people’s lives.
    He laughed bitterly. That he had done. His life, the lives of the others… They’d never be the same.
    What had she been doing there? He gritted his teeth.
Stop asking
. The answer was the same as it was the first hundred times he’d asked. Wrong place, wrong time.
    What the hell was I thinking? I shouldn’t have listened to Joel. I shouldn’t have cared about his damn wetlands. He’s going
     to talk. He’ll ruin everything.
    He’s going to ruin my life. I never should have let him leave.
    But he had. They’d all showered, washing the scent of the fire from their skin as best they could. Then the others had left.
Maintain your normal routine
, he’d told them.
Go home. Act naturally. Go to class today like nothing happened
. So they’d gone and now his apartment was empty, silent save the crackling of the flames.
    He’d started the fire in the fireplace to mask the smell they’d brought back from the condo. Now he could say the odor of
     stale smoke was from his fireplace, should anyone notice or think to ask.
    You mean, if we get caught
. Which, Eric thought firmly, was unlikely. Nobody had seen them. He’d cut the camera feed himself. Hacking into the construction
     company’s computer-controlled surveillance system had been child’s play. Rankin and Sons had automated everything so they
     could cut back on manpower. Mistake