Page 2 of Silent Home

Now, however, as she stared at her script, the words all seemed to blur together before her tired eyes.The documentary was winding down, which meant people would start filing in soon for the next screening—some experimental short film about urban beekeeping.She needed somewhere quieter to practice, somewhere she could really delve into Laura's character without worrying about disturbing anyone.

She thought longingly of Theater Seven at the end of the hall.It had been closed all afternoon for technical difficulties—something about the sound system—and wouldn't reopen until tomorrow.Jessica had helped Chad unlock it earlier so he could check the equipment, and she was pretty sure he hadn't bothered to lock it again.He rarely did, claiming the ancient locks were more trouble than they were worth.

The prospect of having a whole theater to herself was too tempting to resist.She could work on the physical aspects of the role—Laura's limp, her nervous gestures, the way she seemed to fold in on herself when confronted with the outside world.Those weren't things Jessica could practice effectively while confined to a seat.

She checked her watch.Still more than half an hour before her next shift at the concession stand.Plenty of time to get some practice in.

Gathering her things, she slipped out of Theater Three as the credits began to roll.The corridor was surprisingly empty, though she could hear muffled conversation and laughter from the direction of the lobby.Most of the festival crowd would be at the climate change documentary premiere, leaving this wing of the building relatively deserted.

Jessica walked quickly past the other theaters, her footsteps muffled by the worn carpet.A maintenance cart stood abandoned near Theater Five, cleaning supplies scattered across its surface.The festival was running the staff ragged—she'd heard two ushers quit yesterday after a particularly nasty confrontation with an angry patron.

Theater Seven's doors loomed ahead, their brass handles gleaming dully in the fluorescent light.Jessica glanced over her shoulder, but the hallway remained empty.She tested the handle.It turned easily, just as she'd expected.Slipping inside, she found herself in welcome darkness.

The theater was smaller than the others, with perhaps a hundred seats arranged in intimate clusters.Without the projector running, the only illumination came from the exit signs, casting everything in a faint red glow.The air felt thick with silence, broken only by the distant hum of the building's heating system.

Perfect.

Jessica made her way down the center aisle, trailing her hand along the seats.About halfway down, she dropped her backpack onto a seat and pulled out her script.Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped into the open space before the blank screen.

"'I've—I've been spending my afternoons at Rubicam's Business College,'" she began, letting Laura's stammer creep into her voice.She took a hesitant step, adding the slight drag to her right foot that Laura's disability would cause."'Typing's just not my...'"

A noise from above made her freeze.Something that sounded like footsteps coming from the direction of the projection booth.Jessica's heart jumped into her throat.

"Hello?"she called, her voice surprisingly steady."I'm sorry, I was just..."

The footsteps stopped.In the silence that followed, Jessica became acutely aware of how isolated she was.The nearest occupied theater was three doors down, and the thick walls were designed to block sound.Even if she shouted, it was unlikely anyone would hear her.

Don't be ridiculous,she told herself.It's probably just Chad doing his rounds.

But Chad would have announced himself, wouldn't he?And he'd been busy with the documentary in Theater Three when she left.

"I'll leave," she called out."Just let me grab my bag."

She turned toward her backpack, but before she could reach it, she heard the distinct click of locks engaging.

"Hey!"Jessica ran to the nearest exit, pushing against the bar.It didn't budge."This isn't funny!"

Movement caught her eye—a shadow passing in front of the projection booth's window.But this was no accidental glimpse.Someone was standing there, watching her.

No,… not just watching.They were holding a camera.But why would they—

There was a bright, disorienting flash, and Jessica covered her eyes.Too late.She was blind.She stumbled to the door again, pounding on it with her fists.She took a breath to call for help—

And a hand clamped around her throat, cutting off the sound.

CHAPTER ONE

Sheila Stone watched Tommy Forster through the hospital room window, trying to reconcile the pale figure in the bed with the man who'd tried to kill her just a week ago.Tubes and wires connected him to softly beeping machines, while the oxygen mask clouding with each breath offered the only proof he was still alive.

"I still don't get how it happened," Sheila murmured."I had my two most trusted deputies watching him."

"Roberts swears nothing unusual happened during her shift," her father said from beside her.Gabriel Stone's silver hair caught the harsh hospital lighting as he studied his own reflection in the observation window."Baxter says the same about his."

"They're good deputies," Sheila said, her gaze shifting from Tommy to Officer Roberts, who was sitting in a chair in Tommy's room, paging through a magazine."They'd never involve themselves in something like this."Which made Tommy's current condition even more troubling.She'd specifically assigned Roberts and Baxter to guard Tommy after his attempt on her life, knowing his connections within the department made him vulnerable.Or dangerous.Probably both.

And yet, someone had gotten to him nonetheless.They hadn't killed him, but they'd done enough to put him in a coma—which, at least for now, was just as effective a way to silence him.

Sheila touched the glass, remembering how it felt to wake up in a hospital bed herself after Tommy had left her to die in that abandoned research facility."Someone got to him during the shift change," she said."Had to be."

---