Silent Victim by C. E. Lawrence Read Free Book Online

I’m famous, I’m the last to hear about it.”
    “Oh, but
of course
you are—everybody knows about you. What happened to your sister was terrible,” she repeated, shaking her head so that her silky bangs swung back and forth like windshield wipers over her wide forehead.
    Lee tried to avoid looking at her—frankly, it was distracting. He turned toward the door, which he had deliberately left open.
    “Where’s Chuck?” he said, pretending to search for him in the hall outside.
    “He’ll be back in a minute,” she said. “That must have been so hard going through what you went through, the nervous breakdown and all. Are you
sure
you’re well enough to work now?”
    Stunned by this remark, he turned to look at her. His sister Laura’s disappearance five years ago was the reason he turned from private practice as a psychologist to become a criminal profiler. And his recent nervous breakdown, though not a secret, was a private matter. It wasn’t the kind of thing he talked about; clearly Elena Krieger had done some homework.
    Her words were loaded with subtext—he just wasn’t sure what it was. She certainly wasn’t expressing concern for him. She didn’t even know him, and from what he had heard about her, Elena Krieger cared about one thing: Elena Krieger. So there was definitely something else going on—was it a flirtation? Or perhaps she was trying to win him over with this appearance of sympathy, to get him on her side against Chuck. Or perhaps it was something even more subtle and sinister. Maybe she was trying to take him back to those awful days, to force him to relive them, thereby shaking his confidence.
    He was pretty sure word had gotten around about his struggle with depression—which was definitely regarded as a weakness in the macho world of the NYPD. Any kind of mental health problem carried more of a stigma than say, having cancer, or any other physical illness. Most cops belittled psychiatry of any kind, so Lee’s position as the force’s only criminal profiler was tenuous to begin with. His own personal struggle with depression made it even more so.
    He looked Elena Krieger up and down before answering. He wanted her to know that he was in control of the situation, not her.
    “I’m fine now,” he said calmly. “But thanks for asking.”
    Her plucked eyebrows arched upward as if she did not believe him, but at that moment Chuck Morton entered the room. He looked back and forth between Lee and Elena, then stated the obvious.
    “I see you two have met.”
    “Ya-a-h,” Elena Krieger replied, stretching the word out sensuously, like a cat sunning itself. But she was more lupine than feline, Lee thought—like a big redheaded wolf.
    “Good,” Chuck said briskly. “Let’s get started, then.”
    Lee was startled. He’d had no idea that Elena Krieger was part of this investigation. He couldn’t say that in front of her, so he just said, “Isn’t Detective Butts the primary—”
    Chuck cut him off. “Yes, he is, but Detective Krieger has recently been assigned to this station house, so she’ll be working the case, too. Her specialty is forensic linguistics.”
    Lee thought two detectives was already one too many, but he said nothing. He could see from Chuck’s discomfort that his friend didn’t want her here any more than he did. It was clear she was here because of some bureaucratic game of musical chairs that neither of them had any control over.
    “Where is Detective Butts, by the way?” Krieger asked. “Shouldn’t he be here?”
    “He should, and he is,” said a voice behind them, and they all turned to see Detective Leonard Butts standing in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee and a bag of Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
    “Glad you could make it after all,” Chuck said. “Have a seat.”
    “Yeah,” Butts said. “I told the wife that she’d just have to go to her uncle’s funeral without me, and that I’d catch up with her at the reception. She didn’t like it, but