Silence: The Faces of Evil Christmas Prequel Read online

  Jess barely suppressed the urge to jump up and do a little victory dance. “Is there reason to believe Potter might be an accomplice?”

  Gant mulled over her question. “That’s a possibility but no evidence has been found linking her to the women. No proof she was aware of Aniston’s activities.”

  Something else for Jess to find out. “Will I be working with local law enforcement?”

  Jurisdiction belonged to local law enforcement. At times the situation could prove a little prickly. She’d learned long ago that a thick skin was far more practical than a large ego. Rescuing or recovering the victims and solving the case were always the top priorities. As a profiler the goal was the same, she just tackled the case from a different angle with someone else doing the legwork. But she had plenty of experience in the field. If a road trip and an interview were in order, she was game.

  Gant shook his head. “We’ve all agreed, this is your show, Harris. I want you to talk to Potter one-on-one. She’s a woman, you’re a woman. That could make all the difference.”

  Funny how being a woman suddenly mattered in the grand scheme of things. “I appreciate the opportunity to help, sir.”

  “Your interview skills were one of your strongest assets in the field,” Gant commented. “I’m convinced you’re just what we need to give these families the closure they deserve.”

  “I’ll set up an appointment with Ms. Potter right now.” Jess stood. “For today if possible.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” Gant pushed to his feet. “With the holidays I wasn’t sure about your plans.”

  She smiled. “Work is my plan, sir.”

  Gant cocked an eyebrow. “You and I should talk about that. Soon. We all need a vacation from time to time, Harris. Even those who aspire to be super heroes.”

  Her smile widened. “Thank you, sir. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Warrenton, Virginia, 3:30 p.m.

  Jess banged on the rickety door a third time before a female voice shouted for her to come in. There had been no answer at the house so Jess had moseyed on around to the garage turned workshop in the backyard. The car registered to Potter had been in the driveway. Made sense she was around here somewhere.

  Grasping the knob, Jess gave it a twist. The door opened with hardly any effort. Inside, the pump and churn of a potter’s wheel provided background noise to the fifty-three year old woman’s deft hands on the clay. Jess couldn’t help wondering if the lady had chosen her occupation because of her name. Maybe it was a family trade handed down through the generations.

  Delia Potter was unmarried and had no children. A former school bus driver, she had been unemployed for the past fourteen months. Her personal life was littered with a history of bad luck with men. When it came to relationships, it seemed as though dear old Delia got the short end of the stick every time.

  “Ms. Potter?” Jess didn’t really have to ask. She recognized the woman from the photo in the case file. The blond hair surely came from a package and the inordinately pale skin suggested she preferred passing the time with indoor activities versus those done outdoors. She was tall and thin. Nothing at all like the dark, brooding man with whom she’d kept company before he was arrested for the murder of Valerie Prince and the abduction of four other young women less than half his age.

  “I told the others all I know.” Potter’s hands glided over the wet clay, molding what appeared to be a vase. Her white tee-shirt and plaid apron was splattered with specks of clay. The jeans and sneakers she wore had seen better days. “I have nothing else to say,” she added.

  Potter had said the same thing when Jess called before driving the forty-five miles over here. Hadn’t put Jess off in the least. People changed their minds all the time. She was counting on human nature. “I understand how you feel.”

  Potter glanced at her but only for a second or two. Jess walked closer, pretending to be mesmerized by her work.

  A half a minute or so of silence elapsed. If asked, most anyone would say that half a minute—thirty seconds—was nothing. But when the stakes were this high, it felt like an eternity. Ticked off like hours. During that time the images of the five young women Aniston had abducted sifted one after the other through Jess’s mind.

  Potter was the first to break. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  Jess had spent the drive over here hashing out a scenario on how to approach the woman. “I want to protect you, Ms. Potter.”

  She eyed Jess warily. “You mean the way your friends at the FBI did? They promised me I wouldn’t have to worry and now I find out I have to be a witness for the prosecution.” She withdrew her foot from the pedal. The wheel stopped and she squashed the wet clay, jamming her fist into the long slender neck of the vase. “I don’t need any more of that kind of help.”

  “You know how men are,” Jess said with a little laugh. “No offense to my colleagues, but I do things a little different from them. When I say I want to protect you, I mean I actually have a plan that will do just that. There’s no need for you to fear the next phase of this case. You did your part already. You’re the hero in all this. They don’t see it but I do. I can help you, Ms. Potter. I want to make this right.”

  She grabbed a towel and scrubbed at her hands. “I’m listening.”

  “You help me find where he kept the women—”

  “If I knew where he kept them,” Potter interrupted, throwing the towel against the damp pile of clay she’d mangled, “I would have said so right from the beginning.” She planted her hands on her hips. “If I had known where they were, I’d be in a cell right next to Melvin. The only thing I’m guilty of is picking the wrong guy just like every other time I’ve trusted a man.”

  “I realize how hard this must be,” Jess went on. “You trusted him and he took advantage of you. But I’ll bet if you really think about it, you’ll remember some place Melvin liked to go. Maybe some place he mentioned in the past few months. He may have had a workshop or a storage rental. He doesn’t own any property other than his residence here in Warrenton but there might be another house he rented. Could be in a neighboring town or just down the street.”

  When Potter continued to glare at her, Jess took a chance. “The truth is, Ms. Potter, we’re never going to stop looking. When we find them—and we will find them—that’s when the real trouble for you will start. What you may have known will come into question all over again.” The other woman’s gaze narrowed. “Anything at all you might forget to mention now could come back to haunt you later.”

  “I said I don’t know anything else. Why won’t you leave me alone?” Potter crossed her arms over her chest. “I just want to be left alone.”

  Jess gave her a second to calm down. “That’s a real shame.” She sighed. “What my colleagues may have failed to tell you is if we knew where the women were or where Aniston might have held them for a time, there’d probably be a lot of evidence that directly connects him to all four. With that much evidence we wouldn’t need a witness at all. There wouldn’t be any reason to even mention your name since his attorney would be begging the prosecutor for a deal to avoid the death penalty.”

  This wasn’t exactly something the Bureau could offer. In fact, Jess was making it up as she went along. But the scenario she suggested was a logical one. With enough evidence, witnesses weren’t needed. They were considered unreliable more often than not. She’d certainly heard enough attorneys say as much.

  Interest stirred in the other woman’s eyes. “You’re saying if I could help you find some more evidence—not saying I could, mind you—I could wash my hands of this whole mess?”

  Jess smiled. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Ms. Potter. You help me find the place where Melvin took those girls after he snatched them and I’ll make sure you don’t have to show your face in the courtroom when he goes on trial.”

  With the right evidence there was a chance a trial wouldn’t even be necessary. And if Potter turned out to be Aniston�
�s accomplice, she wouldn’t be showing her face at his trial.

  She would have her own.

  3

  Christmas Eve

  Publix, Hoover, Alabama, 6:45 p.m.

  No hot fudge pies.

  Jess scowled as she circled the festive holiday stands in the bakery section of the store for the third time.

  Dozens of pies. Chocolate—not the same as hot fudge at all—apple, pecan, pecan, pecan, key-lime, peach, pumpkin.

  “Shoot.” Plain old chocolate would just have to do.

  Jess added a chocolate pie to the basket hanging on her elbow then went in search of the wine aisle.

  “Merry Christmas, shoppers,” echoed from the store’s intercom system.

  Knowing what the coming announcement would likely be, she picked up her pace, zigzagging faster through the crowd that seemed to multiply the closer she got to the wine and beer aisle.

  “Just a friendly reminder,” the disembodied voice went on, “that Publix will be closing in fifteen minutes so our employees may spend the holiday with their families. Please proceed to the checkout counters with your final purchases. Thank you for shopping at Publix.”

  Jess cut around and between other customers as she scanned the wine labels. Something light and crisp would go well with the chocolate pie. She grabbed a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and headed for the checkout counters.

  Every register had a line of customers waiting. Jess groaned. She was never getting out of here. The express lines were the longest but, like her, the customers queued there had the fewest items. She made her way through the cluster and got in the shortest of the three lines. Should move reasonably quickly, she hoped.

  Her cell chimed that tinkling melody. Probably Lil checking up on her again. Jess fished for her phone deep in her purse. One of these days she had to organize this hobo style handbag or get something larger. Everyday she seemed to carry more of her life around with her. Possibly, she admitted, because she was never home.

  She flipped open the phone and greeted her sister. “I’m at the register now, Lil.”

  The woman in front of Jess glanced back at her. She smiled and shrugged. So she’d lied. Just because there were... eight, nine... ten people ahead of her didn’t change the fact that she was at the register prepared for checkout. The nosy woman turned her attention forward once more.

  Merry Christmas to you, too, Jess mused.

  Lil’s voice dragged her attention back to the phone. “You need what?” Her weary shoulders sagged as her sister lamented the fact that she’d forgotten to pick up carrots for Santa’s reindeer.

  For Pete’s sake. How old were kids these days before they figured out Santa was just leverage their parents used to make them behave. She heaved a sigh. Oh well, it was Christmas. She should be thankful her sister wasn’t ranting at her for holding up dinner.

  “No problem. I’ll get carrots for Rudolph and Dasher and the rest. Be there in a few.” Jess shoved her phone into her purse and took a long look around the store without moving from her spot in the ever-shortening line.

  Where the heck was the produce department?

  “It’s that way,” the meddlesome lady in front of her said.

  Jess forced a happy holidays smile. “Thank you.”

  Oh well, surely the line would be even shorter five minutes from now. The store was closing. Yeah, right. Hordes of shoppers were hastily maneuvering their carts toward the front of the store.

  At the produce section, she surveyed the long tables mounded with fruits and vegetables. The cooler displays were arranged with sparkly snowflakes hanging above the apples, oranges, lettuce, tomatoes and... carrots.

  She passed over the generic bags of baby carrots for a bunch of long carrots with the greens still attached.

  “Looks like reindeer food to me.” She added those to her basket.

  “Jess?”

  A shiver, followed immediately by a flash of heat, swept through her. Her heart thumped hard as she turned toward the man who had spoken.

  Dan.

  When her gaze landed on him some part of her psyche surrendered just a little bit to the weight of the past few days, as if just seeing him had pushed the load beyond what she could bear.

  Good sense promptly took a hiatus and her brain immediately went into inventory mode. First of her own unkempt appearance as if she were hovering overhead, staring at her travel worn self. Her slacks were wrinkled from all those hours behind the wheel. The matching black sweater had a speck of mustard on the front from the burger she’d gotten at a drive through just this side of Roanoke. At least her coat covered that unsightly mess. The burn in her cheeks warned her face had just gone bright red.

  More disconcerting than all that combined, she hadn’t bothered with makeup and her hair, which hadn’t seen a brush since sometime after midnight, was in a ponytail.

  She looked like hell.

  He, on the other hand, looked amazing.

  Before her brain could kick back into gear and organize the proper verbal response, he hugged her. Her lungs filled with the scent of him... he smelled like rain... fresh and clean with a hint of that same sexy aftershave he’d worn when they were together.

  He released her. She swayed before she could recapture her equilibrium. “Dan.” She gave a nervous laugh as she glanced around, hoping against hope this was some sort of delusion brought on by the stress she’d come here to escape. “Of all things... running into you here.”

  There had to be a hundred supermarkets in the Birmingham area. What were the odds?

  There was only one possible answer. God was getting back at her for leaving Him behind along with Santa Claus at the ripe old age of ten. Who wanted to believe in anything when your parents suddenly died on you and a foster home became your new address?

  Not Jessie Lee Harris. She hadn’t believed in anything but work since.

  Maybe she hadn’t believed sufficiently in the man staring at her right now to salvage their relationship as it fell apart ten years ago.

  No. He was the one who walked out. He left her.

  As if ten years hadn’t passed, the compulsion to slap his face abruptly expanded inside her. Just as suddenly, the impulse to cry washed it away.

  What in the world had she been thinking coming here?

  It wasn’t bad enough that the preacher’s son waited for her at Lil’s house, she’d just run into her first and only love in Publix when she looked her absolute worst.

  Determination surged, chasing away all those other frustrating emotions. She would not permit an up close encounter with the past to make a fool of her.

  She opened her mouth to say something witty then snapped it shut. He was staring at her. She might have been offended except he was smiling. Much to her irritation, her entire being reacted to that gorgeous smile. And those incredible blue eyes. No man had a right to look that good. His dark hair was a little longer. He hadn’t shaved in days and still he took her breath away.

  She should have gone for another of those psych evaluations instead of coming here. Maybe even paid attention.

  Dan shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  That was a cue for her to speak. Where was all that bravado now, Jess? “I’m headed to my sister’s,” she blurted. “For Christmas.”

  Just die right here and now. Of course she was here for Christmas and headed to her sister’s. Why oh why did she have to embarrass herself in front of him of all people?

  More of that thick, consuming silence lapsed between them with him staring at her as if he didn’t know what to say next.

  She certainly didn’t. She’d said too much already.

  Years... she hadn’t seen Daniel Burnett in almost ten years. Yet, he looked exactly the same, maybe better. He’d filled out a little. Broad shoulders looked even broader in that navy suit jacket. The tee shirt beneath gave a nice preview of just how well he’d kept in shape. Jeans hugged the rest of him. She wasn’t even going there.

  No questi
on about it, thirty-something looked good on him.

  Thirty-something, on the other hand, had done nothing kind for her. She rarely found time for the gym. Forgot to eat more often than not. He was probably staring at her trying to figure out what happened to the cute blond he used to know.

  You’re not supposed to care, Jess. Except she did.

  “Oh man.” He gave his head a little shake as if he was still having trouble believing his eyes. “I’ll have to thank my mother tomorrow.”

  “Your mother?” Confusion, then disdain marred Jess’s brow before she could stop it. Katherine Burnett had always hated her. Always. From her first date with Dan, his mother had decided Jess wasn’t good enough for her only son.

  “She makes a sweet potato casserole every year for Christmas dinner,” he explained, “but this year she forgot one essential ingredient.” He held up a clear plastic bag containing four large sweet potatoes. “I almost forgot to stop. And here you are.”

  Somehow she kept her smile in place while her lips tried their level best not to tremble. “Here I am.”

  “This might sound crazy,” he began, “but... we really need to catch up. Have a drink or something.”

  Panic tightened around her throat, cutting off her ability to breathe and reminding her it was still raw from last night. “Lil’s expecting me.”

  Could her voice sound any shakier? Not to mention she’d already told him she was headed to her sister’s.

  “An hour.” Dan reached for her basket. “I haven’t seen you in forever.” His fingers brushed hers as he took the load from her. She trembled in spite of her best efforts. “Come on, Jess. Lil will understand. Just one hour. For old time’s sake.”

  If he hadn’t looked so sincere... if her brain hadn’t gone to mush... maybe she might have been able to marshal up a no rather than going with what could surely only be morbid curiosity.