Silent Weapon. Debra Webb

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