Silent Weapon (6 page)

Not that the Walters family entertains on a regular basis, but holidays and birthdays are big deals in a clan this size. Especially when you take into account the uncles, aunts and cousins. Good thing they all have the big
Brady Bunch
kitchen and dining room, too.

I moved around the table placing the silverware next to each china plate. Blue Willow, the same pattern my mother had used for my entire life. At family get-togethers, each member always had his or her chore. The men were currently slaving—think the loosest definition found in Webster’s of the word—over the barbecue grill while the women scurried to set the table and place the cold side items on the buffet.

All four of my brothers are married, but none has kids as of yet, much to the dismay of my folks. Since my hearing loss and the subsequent exit of my fiancé, the pressure has been off me to produce offspring.

I surveyed the table to make sure I hadn’t missed anything and couldn’t help thinking that the scene belonged on the set of
Cheaper by the Dozen.
All four of my brothers were lugheads when it came to the overprotective sibling genes. Not once in school did anyone dare to pick on me. Not the boys, for fear of being pounded. Not even the girls, for fear that their brothers would be pounded or, in the absence of a male sibling, for worry of being blackballed in the dating arena. In order to remain popular among the star athletes one had to stay on the good side of the whole team.

Boy, did I have a surprise waiting for me when I went off to college. For the first time in my entire life I’d had to stand up for myself without big-brother backup. I guess that’s when I realized what I’d been missing all that time. I didn’t want to be the sweet little overprotected girl who never got into trouble and who never, ever took a chance. Needless to say, I made up for lost time in a big way. The only thing conservative about my higher-learning experience had been my major, elementary education. I dated a different guy every week and basically had a blast. Not that I’d been promiscuous. The fact was I’d only slept with two guys my entire college career.

Life had calmed down when I’d settled into teaching and my work had given me the sense of accomplishment I needed. Why couldn’t anyone see that I needed that feeling again? It was so simple…such a small thing.

Someone tapped my shoulder and I found Lola, my next-to-oldest brother’s wife, waiting patiently for my gaze to settle on her lips.

Food’s ready but first we have a family meeting in the den.
She looked about as pleased regarding the prospect as I did.

I nodded, then followed her down the hall to the den. Everyone else was already there. I took my seat. That’s another thing about big families. Everyone has an assigned seat. The concept cuts down on the quarreling over who sits where—it especially did back when we were kids.

Martin, my oldest sibling, started off the conversation. Usually the opening words were issued by my father. That he’d deferred to the senior member of Metro’s police force in the family set me on edge. This was no typical family meeting. This was about me and my little undercover escapade.

Merri, you know how much we all love you.

Uh-oh. Now I was really worried. In my experience, whenever a family meeting started off with those words it usually meant I was grounded for at least a week. But I was almost thirty…grounding was not likely on the agenda.

I nodded, well aware that everyone in the room expected me to respond in some way.

What you did this past week, however heroic, was very foolish.

Anger flushed my cheeks. “We’ve already been over this,” I said pointedly. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I glanced at Sarah in hopes of getting some support.

She moistened her lips, looked from me to Martin.
The chief has already counseled her firmly about it,
she offered. She managed a smile for my benefit.
I don’t think we have to worry about our Merri getting into anything over her head like this again.

As much as I appreciated Sarah’s bolstering words, she was wrong. They were all wrong. I looked from one concerned face to the next. How did I make them see that I had to do something more? Being a file clerk, or historical archivist, as Helen would say, simply was not enough.

“Mom, Dad—” I met the gaze of each as I spoke “—as much as I understand and appreciate your concern, you have to understand my position. I have aspirations.” I searched my father’s eyes. The eyes of a man who had risen from untrained office assistant to the top CPA in his firm while raising a family. Funny, I mused, momentarily distracted by the idea. Not a single child he’d spawned had gone into his line of “safe” work. Why was it so unthinkable that I would want to do more? “There’s no point in discussing the subject further, because you already know how I feel.” We’d had this talk hundreds of times since the onset of my disability.

But the risk you took this time was out of character even for you, Merri.
This from my mom.

That was true. I couldn’t really explain where that had come from. As fiercely independent as I’d been since my college days, I’d never been foolhardy. But when I’d read the case file on Sawyer I just couldn’t help myself. The files I’d read previously had set me on fire…had fueled a yearning inside me like I’d never before experienced. I loved trying to figure out who the bad guy was…trying to solve the puzzle. What was so bad about that?

I started to say as much, but my father stopped me with an uplifted hand. I held my tongue and let him speak. To this day, not a single Walters kid back-talked.

We’ve discussed what happened at length.

A sinking feeling, disappointment or something on that order, tugged at my stomach. We’d talked as a family once last night. When had they talked at length? Why hadn’t I been included in the discussion, especially considering I was the subject?

Merri,
my father went on, the worry in his eyes only adding to the hurt starting to well inside me,
we feel that perhaps additional counseling is in order. The catastrophic changes in your life these past two years are enough to make anyone behave erratically. We want you to be happy, but we also want you to be safe.

I felt utterly betrayed. I surveyed the people I knew with complete certainty loved me and couldn’t help feeling that they’d let me down. They just didn’t understand how much I needed their complete understanding right now.

Very little of what was said after that penetrated the haze of disappointment. Each of my brothers took his turn telling me how I had to be extra careful, couldn’t look out for myself the way I used to. Even Sarah remained quiet, rather than suggesting otherwise.

Nothing I did or said would matter, so I didn’t bother arguing. I let them talk, get it all out on the table. But none of it would change my mind.

For the first time in my life I truly felt alone. After a lifetime of having my family’s full support, it was one hell of a letdown. But I couldn’t judge them too harshly. Every single one of them had my best interests at heart. They all loved me…they just didn’t get it.

We ate dinner in relative silence. Occasionally someone would bring up the winner of some sporting event or a late-breaking news story they’d heard. The atmosphere in the room had gone from solemn determination to walking-on-eggshells tension.

I had caused this. My entire family was worried and uncomfortable and it was my fault. How could my plan have gone so awry? I thought I was doing the right thing.

Would it be this way from now on? Could they ever accept that I still had hopes and dreams despite my inability to hear? I couldn’t spend the rest of my life pretending I was happy and avoiding any semblance of the unsafe. I knew that about myself if I knew nothing else. The tricky part would be making them see that I could do more. Being deaf didn’t have to be the end of my life. It could be the beginning.

Maybe my impairment would actually empower me. Sitting here now I watched my family eat and chat, all looking healthy and happy. Unless I looked directly at their lips I had no idea what any of them said. I heard absolutely nothing. Silence. There were times when I thought I heard things, but the doctors had explained that having spent so many years in the world of the hearing, I might mistake knowing for hearing. I knew what a fork scraping against a plate sounded like. Therefore, when I watched someone eating, sometimes I thought I heard the sound when actually what I perceived as hearing was a memory.

I couldn’t help wondering if that was what gave me the ability to focus so intently on solving a case. I didn’t have to tune out noise or my surroundings, that was already done.

I could be very good at investigating cases. I wasn’t sure being a detective was right for me, but something on that order. Maybe a profiler of some sort.

My family, as much as I loved each and every one of them, would just have to get over it.

I drove home that night still preoccupied by my father’s words. They thought I needed more counseling. Well that wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t need to talk over my problems with a shrink. I needed to get on with my life. No need to pay two hundred bucks an hour to hear what I already knew.

Too tired to bother with the garage, I parked in the driveway and took my time trudging up the front steps. Sleep would be good about now. I felt exhausted since I hadn’t actually gotten very much sleep Saturday or Sunday night. I’d been far too keyed up. I glanced across the street and noted the car parked there. The chief had mentioned there would be someone watching my house for the next few days…just in case. That was likely standard procedure and not due to my inability to hear.

Thankful I’d left the porch light on, I shoved the key into the lock, but before I could twist it, a hand settled on my arm. A squeal escaped me as I whirled to face the possible threat.

Steven Barlow.

I pressed my hand to my throat and fought to catch my breath. “What’re you doing here?” Damn. He’d scared me to death. Boy, was I glad my folks hadn’t been here to witness that.

I didn’t get a chance to talk to you today.

I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment as he looked me up and down, thoroughly assessing me before allowing his gaze to settle back on mine. Why was it he made me so nervous? So ill at ease in my own skin?

Finding my voice, I asked archly, “Was there something else we failed to go over?” We’d talked plenty already, and none of it had been pleasant. He stood firmly on the side of my family…I should be careful…taking risks was not smart.

He shook his head.
I think we covered most everything.
He looked away for a moment as if he didn’t want me to see whatever was in his eyes. Eventually that piercing blue gaze fixed back on mine.
I didn’t come here to give you a hard time, Miss Walters.

Oddly, at that moment, when I should have been mad as hell, I couldn’t help wondering what his voice sounded like. It was silly, I know. But I couldn’t help it. Deep and husky or low and smooth as silk? Did he have any sort of accent? I didn’t know if he’d grown up in the south. I really didn’t know much of anything about him.

I forced my attention back on the conversation. “Then why did you come here, Detective Barlow?”

I wanted to tell you in person that we’ve moved ahead with formal charges against both Sawyer and Carlyle.
He searched my eyes again, looking for a reaction maybe. I’m sure he saw my unrepentant glee.
And, the truth is, we couldn’t have done this without you.

A little shock radiated through me. Well, what do you know? Someone was finally admitting that I did good.

I beat back a smug smile. “Thank you, Detective. I appreciate your saying so.”

He nodded.
Keeping your name out of the papers has nothing to do with blowing our own horn or trying to take credit for what you did,
he went on.
We’re simply attempting to protect you from any fallout. There’s no way for us to know all of Sawyer’s or Carlyle’s connections.

I had no doubt about that. “I understand.”

He set his hands on his hips, pushing the lapels of his elegant navy suit aside. He was the only detective I knew who dressed so well. His white shirt looked freshly starched, though I felt certain he’d been wearing it all day. The navy-and-gray-striped tie completed the classy look.

You took far too many risks, Miss Walters, despite the good that you did. I hope you’ll keep that in mind in the future.

I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say to that so I didn’t say anything at all. I was sick to death of hearing about the risks I’d taken. Life was a risk. Walking out your front door in the morning was a risk. Driving down the street was a risk. Nothing about this life was certain. I felt I’d learned that better than most.

When I didn’t immediately respond he looked away for a moment, then said,
Good night, Miss Walters,
and walked away.

He got into his nondescript black sedan, which he’d parked behind mine, and drove away.

I stood on my porch for a long while after that, just thinking. He was right. So was my family. I had taken several huge risks in the past few days. But the risks had been necessary to get the job done. I was no naive kid. I had been willing to take them. Why was it they added up to nothing? Didn’t count?

What was it going to take to make people realize that I couldn’t just fade into the background? I would never be happy simply existing.

There had to be more.

I wouldn’t accept any other scenario.

Maybe I was in over my head, but that’s exactly where I wanted to be.

Chapter 5

T
uesday afternoon at quarter past four I tugged my purse strap onto my shoulder and waved a goodbye to Helen, whose shift didn’t end until five. Today had been busier than usual and I was ready to call it a day. Still, I didn’t exactly look forward to going home. At least being busy had kept my mind off last night’s family meeting. No one at work had mentioned the incident, not even Helen. I had a feeling Chief Kent had made sure all who knew about my undercover stint were reminded not to discuss the episode. I hadn’t heard a single peep from a soul.

A couple of the detectives who dropped by the counter to check out a case file had studied me a little closer than usual, but that could have been my imagination.

At the elevator I stabbed the call button and the doors slid open immediately. To my surprise Sarah waited in the car. She smiled.

I was just coming to get you.

I hated the way my guard went up immediately. This was Sarah, my lifelong friend…my brother’s wife. I shouldn’t feel ill at ease with her just because she was also the boss’s secretary. But somehow I did.

“What’s up?” I managed an answering smile. My fingers twisted around the strap of my purse in anticipation of the worst.

She flared her hands and adopted a “dunno” expression.
Chief Kent would like you to sit in on an impromptu meeting with the other chiefs.

The somersault in my chest knocked the breath right out of my lungs. “Okay.” I sucked in a mouthful of oxygen and joined her in the elevator. Looking as cool as a cucumber, Sarah leaned forward and pressed the button for floor six. My stomach dropped to my feet with the upward momentum of the car. Lord, what now? Had the chief decided he couldn’t keep me around after all? Maybe he’d decided I could be the poster child for things not to do while employed by Metro.

I tried my best to keep my composure from slipping. I didn’t want to look scared or even nervous, for that matter. There was nothing I could do to change the outcome of the meeting except maybe beg for a second chance. Surely I could find another job. I had an excellent record with the exception of this one deviation. That had to count for something. Then again, I supposed I should have thought of that before I launched my Merri Walters amateur sleuth persona.

On the sixth floor we stepped off the elevator onto plush carpeting. Unlike my work area in the basement, the walls up here were dressed in a warm coat of paint the color of sand. Reserved but elegant paintings, each highlighted by its own personal spotlight, adorned the walls. In the center of the reception area and at the end of the corridor on the left as well as the right, a lavishly detailed wood table supported a massive, lush bouquet of flowers.

Sarah made a polite comment to the receptionist and then led me toward the corridor to the right and the main conference room, a place I’d never before had any reason to visit.

She hesitated before opening the door and squeezed my arm.
You’re going to be fine, Merri.

I nodded, uncertain of my voice. I wasn’t as worried about being fine as in
not in serious trouble,
I abruptly realized. I was worried about being unemployed and having no one to blame but myself.

Sarah pushed open the door and waited for me to step inside. When I’d ventured into the unknown territory, she gave me one last reassuring smile then stepped back into the corridor, closing the door behind her. I drew in a steadying breath and turned my attention to the room at large. The seven men seated around the oval conference table stood and Chief Kent introduced me before stating the name of each man in the room. Somehow I managed to keep my smile in place and my knees from giving way as I alternately watched his lips and met the expectant gazes of those he introduced.

Please join us, Miss Walters.
Chief Kent gestured to a chair directly across from his.
We have a lot of ground to cover.

The man closest to me pushed in my chair after I’d taken my seat. When he had settled back into his, the meeting began.

For the next forty-five minutes I watched the men around the table discuss issues ranging from budget cuts to changes in the political atmosphere of Nashville. Not once did any of them ask me a question or direct any comment to me. To say I felt out of place would be a mammoth understatement. I felt like the token female in a hard-core men’s club. I truly had no idea why I was here.

When the meeting concluded the room cleared without much fanfare. A few nods were tossed my way but nothing else. About the same time I decided this was my cue to leave as well, Chief Kent asked me to stay.

I waited near the seat I’d kept warm for nearly an hour, mulling over yet again the fundamental question of why I had been asked to attend this meeting. I considered that surely if his intent had been to fire me he wouldn’t have had me sit in on this meeting. It didn’t make sense to fire an employee after exposing her to the worries and whims of all one’s chiefs. Adcock and Kent, on the other side of the room with their backs turned to me, continued a private conversation.

I resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot, tried to remain patient. I couldn’t understand why I’d been asked to stay if the conversation didn’t include me. Just then the door opened and I glanced fully in that direction to identify who had entered the room. My jaw dropped and an entirely new kind of tension trickled through me.

Detective Steven Barlow.

So maybe I’d counted my chickens before they hatched. The weekend’s incident was the only reason I could think for having Barlow show up for a meeting with the chiefs that involved me.

Let’s take our seats,
Chief Kent suggested when Detective Barlow had moved around to the end of the polished conference table.

My knees bent of their own accord, lowering me into my chair. Chief Kent resumed his seat directly across from me while Chief Adcock, the chief of Homicide, sat to his left. Barlow didn’t offer to move closer. Instead, he remained at the very end of the oval mahogany table designed to seat sixteen. That shouldn’t have made me uneasy, but it did. Truth was, he made me uneasy period.

Miss Walters,
Chief Kent began,
I’m sure you’re aware that this weekend’s events have been discussed in-depth by Chief Adcock and myself during the past forty-eight hours.

“Yes, sir.” I swallowed against the lump of uncertainty welling in my throat. How could I not have foreseen all this negative attention? I had foolishly assumed that everyone would be so thrilled I’d solved the case that I would be a hero…or at least admired and respected on some level. Man oh man, talk about failed expectations.

Chief Adcock and I have considered at length how you managed this enormous feat. We’re intrigued with your somewhat raw investigative talent.

Having said that
…Chief Adcock picked up the ball next.
We asked you to sit in on this meeting as a sort of test.

A test? I wasn’t sure I understood. I glanced in Barlow’s direction but he kept his gaze focused straight ahead, not really looking at anyone in the room. My uneasiness scooted up a notch.

“I’m not quite following,” I admitted, looking from one chief to the other.

Barlow didn’t react, but the two chiefs exchanged a look. After a moment Kent took the lead.

We’d like you to tell us as best you can, considering you had no advance notice of what was expected of you, what this meeting was about. Try to recall as many of the comments made by the various attendees as you can.

I have to admit, that was about the last thing I expected him to say. But, if this little test would help me keep my job, I was definitely game. With that in mind, I did as requested. Taking my time, paying particular care not to leave anything out, I related everything I remembered about the meeting.

When I’d finished I said as much.

For several seconds no one in the room spoke or moved. I worried then that maybe my voice had shaken more than I’d realized or that I’d left out something pertinent.

Had I failed the test? It was difficult to gauge since I didn’t really know what precise milestones or standards were included in the test.

I felt relatively confident about how much of the meeting I had recalled, but that didn’t mean I’d recited what they wanted to hear. Was I supposed to have made some sort of final conclusions or assessments? I didn’t think so.

Excuse us a moment, Miss Walters,
Chief Kent said. He and Chief Adcock stood and moved to the far side of the room, turning their backs to me once more, ensuring I didn’t eavesdrop on their conversation.

I glanced at Detective Barlow, but he didn’t meet my gaze. The tension twisting inside me mounted. What was up with this? I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat. I did smooth my skirt, before clasping my hands in my lap. I wondered briefly if Sarah waited for me outside. Then I speculated as to whether or not she’d called my folks and relayed the latest in the saga of Merri Walters’s doomed career moves.

I looked up when the two chiefs approached the table once more. I guessed now I would learn my fate.

Miss Walters,
Chief Kent said as he sat down,
we have a rather unorthodox offer to make you.

When the chief’s gaze shot to his right, to Detective Barlow, I turned in that direction as well.

I want it on the record,
Barlow said without even a glance at me,
that I object to this so-called unorthodox offer.
His expression alone made it quite clear that he disagreed with whatever Chief Kent was about to propose.

Anticipation seared through my veins. What was going on here?

Your objection is noted,
Adcock said. He did so rather pointedly, if the irritation lining his face was any measure.

A moment passed before Kent spoke again.
If you choose not to accept this offer it will in no way affect your present position, Miss Walters.

He definitely had my attention now.

I moistened my lips and asked, “What sort of offer?” I felt my heart start to beat harder as I waited for him to explain. I couldn’t help hoping that somehow my unofficial investigation had actually put me in line for something more than filing records in the basement. If that proved the case, I had to say the two chiefs had taken the long way getting around to it.

I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Raby case,
Chief Kent said,
but Arthur Raby was one of the most highly respected pillars of this community until his death just over one year ago. In his life he served as a city councilman, deputy mayor and champion of numerous noble causes. No one loved this city more than Arthur Raby. I considered him one of my closest friends and confidants.

I remembered the name. Raby was shot down by an unknown assassin. His murder was thought to have been connected to his bucking a huge development planned by some corporation on the outskirts of Nashville. Raby had been working for years to help set up a new rent-to-own, so to speak, low-income housing development. The corporation, in contrast, wanted to build a golf course and high-end housing development. The hope was to begin to turn the south side of Nashville into another Franklin or Brentwood. I hadn’t kept up with the progress of either development after the initial flurry of news related to Raby’s murder, but I was pretty sure the golf course and mansions had won out over the proposed low-income housing. Seemed like people in the development business liked killing the competition. But this particular case was way bigger than Sawyer and Carlyle. Strip malls and apartment buildings were peanuts compared to the plans Arthur Raby had fought to derail. Bottom line: big-time real estate could be murder.

We,
Chief Adcock said, drawing my attention back to the two men seated across the table from me,
were unable to pursue the case as we would have liked since the Federal Bureau of Investigations had jurisdiction.

That surprised me, but I did vaguely recall some noise in the papers about increasing tension between Metro and the bureau. In all honesty I had been deep in the throes of my own problems and hadn’t been more than superficially aware of anything else.

“Why was the bureau involved in the first place?” I asked. I hated to admit I didn’t know why, but I was, after all, just a civilian—one who’d taken little note of the problems of the world during that time frame of personal devastation.

Are you familiar with the name Luther Hammond?
This from Kent.

“No, sir.” Okay, I was sounding dumber by the moment. I wondered if they would change their mind about an offer of any sort considering how little I appeared to know about the subject. I also considered whether or not I might be better off if they did change their mind. I chucked the concept and forced my mind back on the matter at hand.

Attention shifted down to Barlow’s end of the table. I settled my gaze on his well-formed lips. I blinked, wondered why I would in a million years notice that just now. This definitely was not the time.

Luther Hammond is a thug of the highest order,
Barlow said. He glanced at Chief Kent but I didn’t turn to the chief quickly enough to catch whatever he said.

I shifted my gaze back to Barlow in time to follow his next words.

When you encounter the word
mob
you surely understand the implications?

The question was intended for me, I realized. I nodded stiffly. It wasn’t quite clear to me whether or not he’d intended to be condescending. His expression didn’t give away his emotions, but his words made me feel just a little more uncomfortable.

Luther Hammond is the mob in this city.
Again he said the words with no readable emotion.

I blinked, startled. Nashville had a mob? Since when? I’ve lived here all my life.

His reach includes every imaginable evil from drugs to prostitution to cheating on his taxes and everything in between. He strong-arms politicians and cuts down anyone who gets in his way.