Free Linger: Dying is a Wild Night (A Linger Thriller Book 1) by Robert Gregory Browne, Edward Fallon

bruising or scarring of the scrotum or penis, no evidence of bite marks, nothing to suggest to me that, barring his obvious physical problems, he’s anything other than a healthy young boy.”
    The echo of Weston’s words startled Kate. “And you know this definitively?”
    “No, of course not. That’s only my best guess based on a preliminary exam. But with the child unable to communicate verbally, a definitive finding is unlikely.”
    Kate paused. “What do you mean unable to communicate? Is he mute?”
    “In a sense, yes. He’s certainly capable of vocalizing, but he’ll never be normal in that regard.”
    “I don’t understand. What are you not telling me?”
    “That there’s a very pronounced physical reason for his mutism. The only real sign of abuse I could find.”
    “Are you talking brain damage?”
    “No, the injury—if you can call it that—was sustained when he was much younger, probably a good three or more years ago. And despite the healing, it’s obvious it was delivered in the most brutal fashion imaginable. In fact, I’d say it’s a miracle he’s as well-adjusted as he seems to be.”
    Kate suddenly realized she was leaning forward. She thought she might know where this was headed, but the idea was too horrifying to contemplate.
    “Jesus Christ, Danny, what the hell happened to him?”
    It was only then that she noticed that Dan had paled slightly. He was normally a bit detached about his cases, but this one had clearly gotten to him.
    “Someone mutilated that child deliberately,” he said. “Somebody cut out his tongue.”

PART TWO

    “I will watch my ways and keep my tongue from sin; I will put a muzzle on my mouth while in the presence of the wicked.”
    ~Psalm 39:1

18

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    S HE DIDN’T WANT TO PUT him in an interview room. They were small and claustrophobic and smelled of sweat, stale coffee, and (with the possible exception of the one Weston currently occupied) a hint of desperation.
    True, Christopher’s surroundings probably mattered less to him than your average eleven-year-old, but considering the circumstances, Kate wanted him as comfortable as possible. So she asked Dan to bring him to her office.
    While Dan was gone, she took out her cell phone, crossed to the window facing the squad room and peeked through the blinds, hoping to gauge the temperature out there.
    She saw Linkenfeld logging some computer time, but his ex-partner was nowhere to be seen. MacLean had undoubtedly started making phone calls the moment she left them and was now meeting with Captain Ebersol, or a union rep, in hopes of finding a way to stay at East Division. She expected nothing less from a man who had fought hard for this job, and knew all too well that their confrontation in the break room was merely the opening salvo in what was likely to be an all-out war.
    But none of that mattered at the moment. Uppermost in her mind right now was her father’s phone call this morning, and the words that had come back to haunt her.
    You didn’t find any missing tongues, did you?
    Well, yes, Mitch. Apparently I have.
    While Kate was the first to admit that coincidences do happen, she wondered if this was more than that. Was it possible that this boy was connected to a mass murder in Tacoma, Washington? The mutilation he’d suffered had happened years ago, but the fact that he was running around with a man who was a victim—and suspect—of a similar crime raised a red flag so big and so bright that Kate could barely see past it.
    She looked down at her cell phone, found the number she had called less than an hour ago and hoped the man she’d talked to was still available.
    The line rang three times before it was picked up. “Stokes County District Attorney’s Office. How may I direct your call?”
    “Lieutenant Kate Messenger for Charles Dillman.”
    “Just a moment, please, I’ll see if he’s available.”
    She waited that moment, then the line came alive with a cool but gentle North