Page 69 of Confessions of the Dead

“Good. That’s good. At least I know you’re okay and you speak English. Are you able to talk?”

She scratched her arm, but said nothing, only watched him.

Matt had never encountered a mute before, but he knew they were out there—people who couldn’t speak. His gut told him that wasn’t what this was. He was fairly certain this girl could talk, but she was choosing not to. He’d play along, for now.

He grabbed a pen and took a sheet of blank paper from the stack next to Ellie’s printer, slid both over to her. “Can you write your name for me?”

She shook her head.

“Do you remember your name?”

Hesitation this time, then she shook her head again.

“Do you remember walking into the diner this morning?”

She nodded and scratched at her other arm.

“Good. Okay. Let’s start there. Where did you come from?Where were you right before the diner?” He tapped the edge of the paper. “Write it down.”

The girl looked down at the pen, concentrated, then let out another sigh before melting back in her chair.

“You don’t remember?”

She shook her head.

Matt shivered.

Why was Ellie’s office so cold?

The thermostat was out in the main bullpen. Someone must have kicked the air conditioning all the way down. He twisted around and opened a window—it was warmer outside than in the office.

If the temperature bothered the girl, she gave no indication. She only scratched her arms again, this time more vigorously.

“Is that sweatshirt irritating your skin? I can try to find something else.”

Both her hands dropped to her side, as if he’d caught her doing something she shouldn’t. She shook her head again.

He let it go, tried to focus. “So you don’t remember where you were prior to walking into the diner. Let’s try something else. What’s the earliest thing you do remember?” He tapped the paper again. “Can you write that down or draw a picture or something?”

She rolled the tip of the pen around on the paper, dotting the page with ink. He got the impression she wanted to, was trying, but couldn’t remember.

“Do you know why there are people preventing us from leaving town?”

She appeared genuinely confused by that, then resolutely shook her headno.

“You don’t know who those people are?”

Again, she shook her head, and Matt saw nothing to indicate she was lying.

“Look, you showed up right when all this started,” Matt toldher. “I’m willing to chalk that up to bad luck. Came in for the weekend with some friends and didn’t get out in time. Wrong place, wrong time. I’m willing to consider that, but there are a bunch of folks in the next room who don’t see things that way. They think you’re part of whatever is going on. Maybe the cause of it all. While that may be some superstitious nonsense, people are spooked. I don’t get the luxury of being spooked. I have to deal in facts. You wandered into the diner in your birthday suit. That means one of two things—either someone did something bad to you and you got away, or you’ve got something loose upstairs. Now, I’d love nothing more than to put you in my cruiser and take you up to the hospital in North Hollow and let them examine you, but the gunmen out on 112 aren’t letting anyone out of town. If you’re not with them, that means you’re stuck here with the rest of us until help comes. Considering I don’t know when that will be, I don’t know how long I can protect you, because pretty soon those people in the other room are going to realize the only thing keeping them from you is me, and there are a lot more of them. They’re spooked. They’re upset. They’re getting desperate, and desperate people do desperate things.Stupidthings. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Matt couldn’t help but think of Stu Peterson and his friends at the VFW. He could picture them lining up every weapon they could find on a table. Cleaning them, prepping … Guys like that waited for a day like today to come around.

Maybe it was the bright sunlight streaming through the window, or maybe it was the fact that he was staring at her, doing his best to hold eye contact, intimidate her a little, but that pain behind his eye beat back the Advil and came at him with a vengeance. Matt’s headache grew worse, and he found it difficult to look at her. When he finally did glance back, she had dropped the pen and was scratching both her arms again.

Matt reached for her wrists. “Let me see what’s going on there. We’ve got cortisone in the med box, if you need it.”

She held out her arms and tugged up the sweatshirt sleeves.

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