The Silence That Speaks (Forensic Instincts 4)

“Drop dead.” Madeline wasn’t dying without a fight. “You want the recording? Go get it. But you’ll never find it without my help.”

“Fuck you,” Janet gasped, barely able to speak. “I can go through boxes and find that tape all by myself. Goodbye, Madeline.” She aimed the pistol.

“Drop it!” a masculine voice boomed out. “Or I’ll put a bullet straight through your head before you take another breath.”

Janet started, peering quickly over her shoulder and seeing Marc looming over her, a Glock aimed at her skull.

“You’re a big Forensic Instincts fan,” he said. “You know who I am. I’m the former navy SEAL. The one who can empty a round of bullets in you before your finger ever touches the trigger. Just try me. It

won’t take a hell of a lot to make me do it.”

White-faced and terrified, Janet dropped the gun and held up her hands.

Marc strode over and scooped up the pistol. “And by the way,” he added, glancing at the weapon, “your safety is still on. Now get up.”

He continued holding his gun on Janet as she staggered to her feet, but his gaze darted to Madeline. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I am now.”

As she spoke, the sound of police sirens filled the air.

Marc glanced around and found a couple of electrical cords secured with twist ties. He picked up one cord, gripped the twist tie between his teeth and pulled hard until it gave way, releasing the cord. He spit out the twist tie and repeated the process with the second cord. Then he reached over to snatch one of the rattan chairs that had tumbled to the ground.

“Sit down,” he ordered Janet, slamming the chair into an upright position.

She eyed his gun, the rage in his eyes and then sat.

Using one strong hand, Marc yanked her arms behind her, then pocketed his weapon so he could tightly bind her wrists and then her ankles.

He studied his handiwork and nodded. “That’ll hold you while we wait for the FI team and the police to find us.”

He turned his attention to Madeline. “Come on, sweetheart.” He squatted down and lifted her gently in his arms, rising to a standing position. “Don’t move. We’ll get you fixed up.”

* * *

The Forensic Instincts van screeched into the storage lot the same time as the police cars did.

They interrogated the attendant at the front desk for the location of Madeline’s storage unit. Getting what they needed, they all quickly proceeded to the unit.

Reaching the open door, they stopped short, seeing Madeline clasped in Marc’s arms and Janet securely bound by electrical cords in a chair.

“You guys are slow,” Marc said drily. “I was about to leave you a note, drop this bitch off at the precinct myself and rush Madeline to the hospital. Looks like I’m going to have to conduct some remedial tactical-skills training at our office.”

Casey slid her pistol back into her handbag and stifled a grin.

“Nice work, navy SEAL,” she said. “But just know you had first-class backup right on your heels.”

Her humor vanished as she looked at Madeline, whose entire face was swollen and bleeding and who was contorted in pain in Marc’s arms.

“I’ll call the paramedics,” Harvey said, reaching for his cell.

“Not necessary.” Marc waved away the gesture. “I’m taking Madeline straight to the hospital. Once she’s been treated, you can interview her. Until then, forget it.”

Madeline shot him a look. “Do I have a ventriloquist?” she asked.

“Cute,” Marc muttered. “Very cute.”

A small smile, and then Madeline turned her head to face Harvey. “I’m okay. I can give you a statement now.”