The Silence That Speaks. Andrea Kane

Westfield was pretty in a haunting kind of way. Mid-thirties. Chestnut-brown hair, classily styled and just grazing her shoulders. Fair skin. Deep, dark eyes. Medium height. Cute figure. Casually but expensively dressed in a cashmere coat, from beneath which peeked a sweater and pants that screamed designer. A badly bruised forehead—from a bad bang, not physical abuse—and an anxious look in her eyes.

      The ideal client—rich and needy.

      “Good morning,” Emma said brightly, extending her hand. “You must be Ms. Westfield. I’m Emma Stirling. Welcome to Forensic Instincts.”

      “Thank you.” Madeline clasped her hand briefly. Her palm was icy. She was peering around. She was nervous. Emma wondered what that was about—the upcoming meeting or whatever had brought her here.

      “The team is waiting for you right in there.” Emma gestured at the cozy meeting room down the hall. “I’ll take your coat. Can I get you something—coffee, tea, water?”

      “Coffee would be lovely, thank you,” Madeline said, shrugging out of her coat and handing it to Emma. “Just black.”

      “No problem. I’ll show you in and then bring it to you.”

      Emma led the way, escorting Madeline straight to the open door. With a brief knock, she glanced at the team. “Ms. Madeline Westfield is here for her appointment.” She noted the steaming pot of coffee on a trivet in the middle of the center table. “Should I pour?” she asked Casey.

      “No, thank you, Emma. We’ve got it. Just shut the door on your way out.”

      “Okay. Let me know if you need me.” Emma left the room, closing the door to give them their privacy and heading back to her desk—and to Yoda’s tutoring.

      * * *

      Madeline stood just inside the meeting room, tightly clutching her handbag. She looked stiff, as if she was in pain, and there was a bad bruise on her forehead.

      Casey was about to open her mouth when she caught the odd, strained expression on Madeline’s face. She was staring at Marc. And Marc had a look on his face that Casey had never seen before—a look of stark, raw emotion.

      “Maddy?” He rose slowly to his feet.

      “Hello, Marc.” She attempted a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It occurred to me that you might not realize I was the one who was coming here today.”

      “No. I didn’t.” Marc’s emotions shut down and his usual unreadable expression snapped back into place. “The appointment didn’t list you as Madeline Stanton.”

      “Westfield is my married name.”

      “I see.”

      The silence was so awkward that even Casey was hard-pressed to break it.

      But break it she did.

      Coming swiftly to her feet, she stepped forward and extended her hand. “I’m Casey Woods. I see that you and Marc already know each other, so I’ll introduce the rest of the team.”

      No questions. No observations. No belaboring the all-too-blatant reality.

      Madeline’s relief was visible. “I’m so happy to meet you,” she said, shaking Casey’s hand. Her gaze shifted to the area rug, where Hero was lying beside Casey’s chair. “What a beautiful bloodhound.”

      “Hero is a human-scent evidence dog,” Casey explained. “He’s part of the Forensic Instincts team.”

      “Then he must be remarkable. Your company’s reputation speaks for itself.”

      “Well, let’s see what we can do for you.” Casey ran through the rest of the introductions, poured Madeline a cup of coffee and gestured for her to have a seat on one of the buttery-soft caramel leather tub chairs in the room.

      There were three other identical tub chairs, casually situated around the two matching leather couches. Sure, the room also had some high-tech equipment, but it wasn’t center stage. There was no point in making the place look like an interrogation room. Living rooms were far more relaxing, and leant themselves to calmer clients who were open and honest about their reasons for being here.

      Madeline politely accepted the cup of coffee and gingerly sat down. Casey noted that she swiveled her tub chair ever so slightly away from Marc and kept her gaze fixed on Casey.

      Those weren’t acts of anger. They were unconscious acts of emotional protection.

      “I don’t know where to start,” Madeline said.

      “Start wherever you’re most comfortable.” Casey sat back, ostensibly relaxed, but reading every tell that Madeline displayed. Ryan had run a preliminary background check on her, as he did on all their prospective clients. But nothing beat an in-person assessment. And, in this case, there was an additional—and very personal—nuance to observe.

      “We’ll ask questions as we need to.” From Casey’s peripheral vision, she noticed that Marc had opened his portfolio and was ready to take notes. Business as usual. Marc preferred to go at it by hand, and then transfer his conclusions into the computer. It also wasn’t a shock that he hadn’t done more than a cursory read of Ryan’s report. He liked to go into a first meeting with just the facts and a clear mind.

      Evidently, that method had backfired this time.

      “Do you mind if we record this conversation?” Casey asked. “It helps us refocus on any details that might become important later on.”

      “Not at all,” Madeline replied. “Just as long as everything remains confidential.”

      “Absolutely.” Casey nodded. “I assume you received the confidentiality agreement that I messengered to you?”

      “I did. And I reviewed it with my attorney.” Tentatively, Madeline leaned down, reached into her purse and extracted a folded document. “Here’s the fully executed original,” she said, unfolding the page and handing it to Casey. “I kept a copy for my records.”

      “Good. Then let’s begin.” Casey sipped at her coffee, then called out, “Yoda, please turn on Inspector Gadget.”

      Ryan grinned, proud of yet another of his accomplishments. Inspector Gadget was the iPhone hack he’d programmed into each team member’s iPhone, which turned the cell phones into secret listening devices. With Yoda in control, the iPhone microphone and cameras could be activated, streaming audio and video over the best available network, for live viewing and/or recording by the team.

      “Inspector Gadget activated,” Yoda announced.

      “Go, go, Gadget,” Ryan muttered under his breath with a quiet chuckle.

      Madeline was looking around, her eyes wide and puzzled.

      “Yoda is our artificial intelligence system,” Casey explained. “Ryan built him, so he’s smart but safe.”

      A tentative nod. “Okay.” Madeline still looked bewildered. Then again, everyone did the first time they heard Yoda.

      “Go ahead and tell us your situation,” Casey said.

      Madeline cleared her throat. “Someone is trying to kill me,” she said bluntly. “I have no witnesses and no tangible proof, so the police can’t help me. Can you?”

      “Who would be trying to kill you and why?” Marc spoke up for the first time, his demeanor all business.

      “I have no idea.” Madeline couldn’t meet his eyes. “That’s the problem. But my apartment was broken into a few weeks ago. Yes, items were stolen, but the way the place was trashed so violently, I don’t believe that robbery was the reason for the break-in. And then three days ago...” Madeline touched the bruise on her forehead. “Someone tried to run me down when I was crossing the street. It wasn’t a drunk driver. It was very deliberate and very professional. I’d just stepped into the road when the SUV came at