Page 3 of The Silence of Hell

“Lavender,” she murmured, and Chatter blinked.

Chatter wondered if she had a concussion. “You can smell lavender?”

“No, that’s my name.”

“Oh. Gotya. The ambulance is coming. Stay awake, Lavender,” he said.

“Yup. Head injury. Got to stay awake. You’re soaked. Get out of the rain,” she muttered.

“Good idea.” Chatter slipped and slid to the passenger side and climbed in. The car wasn’t much warmer than outside, but it was drier.

“How do you feel?”

“Tired, woozy,” she answered.

“Bad weather we’re having,” Chatter said inanely. What did someone talk about? He felt lame mentioning the storm.

“You can say that again. South Dakota is known for its snow but not storms,” Lavender commented.

“We get some big doozies,” Chatter replied.

Lavender nodded.

Chatter scrabbled for something else to say as her eyes closed. “Are you visiting? Your accent isn’t local,” he finally asked.

“No. I inherited a house here. My great aunt passed and left it to me, but I didn’t know until now. I’m moving here,”

“Sorry for your loss,” Chatter replied and fell silent again.

“It’s fine. I used to visit with her a lot when I was younger. But there was a falling out, and my parents stopped speaking to her. She died a while ago, but things happened, and I couldn’t come sooner. It’s all so convoluted.”

“Why did your family fall out with her?” Chatter asked.

Lavender appeared more alert as she spoke, and he knew that was positive.

“Because of Isabeau. She was highly valuable, and my mother wanted her. Instead. Aunt Aggie gave Isabeau to me,” Lavender explained.

A chill settled in Chatter’s stomach. He didn’t want to ask, but had to. “Isabeau?”

“A doll. She’s a Madame Alexander edition and quite rare. Isabeau’s worth about two hundred thousand,” Lavender said.

Chatter shuddered. Fucking dolls were everywhere. Why the hell did people collect them?

“You don’t seem impressed,” Lavender commented with a small smile.

“I hate them.”

“Oh. Isabeau is very nice. Oh, oh… Marybelle!” Lavender shrieked and tried to turn around.

“Marybelle?”

“She was in the back, she wasn’t strapped in,” Lavender cried.

Chatter’s stomach flipped on him. There was a child somewhere that was probably badly wounded.

“Stay here!” Chatter muttered and craned his neck. Shit, he could see a crumpled form on the floor, and he leapt out and rushed to Lavender’s side. He yanked open the car door and winced. A mass of tangled hair covered the child’s face, and by her size, she was no more than two.

What was wrong with this idiot that she drove a toddler around without a car seat? Jesus, she needed the kid removing from her care. Very gently, Chatter reached out and tried not to move her too much, and he searched for a pulse.

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