Page 19 of 4th Silence
“Speak of the devil.” She taps the screen. “Hi, JJ.” She halts in the middle of the parking garage and turns to me, eyes wide. “No problem,” she tells him. “I understand. Tomorrow night, then?”
What, I’m wondering, is this about?
Seconds later, she hangs up, tucking her device in her purse. “One problem solved.”
“What’s that?”
“He just got called for the AG’s advisory committee. When the Attorney General of the United States calls a meeting, you don’t say no.”
“What time is that?”
She clucks her tongue. “It’s a dinner meeting that will probably run late. We’re doing our evidence review tomorrow night.”
Which means we’re free tonight. Which means, Charlie doesn’t have to sacrifice her body—not that sex with JJ is a sacrifice for her because she has trouble keeping her hands off him. She also doesn’t need to manipulate him into allowing us access to Mary Hartman.
“Sooo,” I say, rocking back on my heels. “I could go to this fundraiser. We’ll leave you out of it. That way, you don’t have to lie to JJ.”
“No,” Charlie replies and resumes walking.
I scramble after her. “Charlie, this is an opportunity. I mean, what are the chances he’ll be called to a meeting on the very night we need him to be busy? If this isn’t the universe throwing open a door, I don’t know what is. We have to do this!”
“You’re going whether I agree to accompany you or not, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
My sister sighs as if I’m her burden to bear. “You could end up with Mom tonight.”
“It’ll be worth it if I can get something out of Mary.”
She twists her mouth in thought. I’m almost sure she’s about to budge off her high horse. She doesn’t. “We do nothing until tomorrow. I want your word.”
Her phone rings. I see her hesitation. “Who is it?”
“Unknown number.” She’s about to send it to voicemail.
“What if it’s Mom using a cell she conned from a guard?”
“Or one she made a deal with an inmate for.” She climbs into the driver’s seat and hits the accept button, putting it on speaker. “Charlie Schock.”
“Dr. Schock,” a woman’s shaky voice says. “My name is Mallory Rugers. I’m Gerald Hartman’s ex. We don’t know each other, but I was hoping to speak to you about my daughter’s case.”
Ms. Rugers has done her homework. No one calls Charlie by her title unless she’s on the stand and the prosecution needs to impress the jury with her credentials.
“I’m sorry for the pain my family is causing yours,” she says, not without genuine empathy, but apologizing has become a rote gesture for her today. “My mother can overstep common boundaries when it comes to finding justice. She’s passionate.“
“I’m so grateful for it,” Mallory says.
Charlie glances at me, confused. “You are?”
“I’ve begged the family to keep pressing the police, but my demands have been shoved under the rug. Tiffany”—her voice hitches—“loved Christmas. Now, every year, I see blood instead of wrapping paper. The brutality of it. Have you seen the pictures? My precious baby, beaten to death at a family party.”
Mallory could be a gold mine of information. Charlie senses this, too. “Would you be willing to come to our office and speak to us tomorrow?” she asks.
“I’m in France,” Mallory says. “I can’t stand to be anywhere near the Hartmans, especially during the holidays.”
I pipe up. “What about a video chat?”
“My sister, Meg,” Charlie says. “You’re on speaker.”
