Erica Spindler by In Silence Page A

his research into The Seven had gotten him killed. That he had gotten too close to someone or something. She had talked to him only days before he disappeared. He’d found so much more than he’d expected, he had told her. He believed that The Seven was not a thingof the past, but operating still. He had made an important contact; they were meeting the following night.
    Gwen had begged him to be careful.
    That had been the last time she’d heard his voice. The last time, she feared, she would ever hear his voice.
    Although his research notes revealed nothing sinister, she hadn’t a doubt his contact had either set him up or killed him.
    Gwen brought the heels of her hands to her eyes. What if she was wrong? What if she simply needed someone—or something—she could point to and say they did it, that her brother was gone because of them. The therapist she had been seeing thought so. Hers was a common reaction, he’d said. The need to make sense out of a senseless act of violence. To create order out of chaos.
    She dropped her hands, weary from her own thoughts. Chaos. That’s what her life had become after Tom’s disappearance.
    She crossed back to the window. For several days city workers had been stringing lights in the trees. Tonight, it seemed, was the payoff. The thousands of twinkling lights snapped on, turning the town square into a fairyland.
    It was so beautiful. Charming. A postcard-perfect community populated by the nicest people she had ever encountered.
    It was a lie. An illusion. This place was not the idyllic paradise it seemed. People here were not the paragons they seemed.
    And she would prove it. No matter what it cost her.

CHAPTER 11
    G allagher’s funeral home was housed in a big old Victorian on Prospect Street. The Gallagher family had been in the funeral game for as long as Avery could remember. She and Danny had gone to school together, and she remembered a report he had given in the seventh grade on embalming. The girls had been horrified, the boys fascinated.
    Being the biggest tomboy in Cypress Springs, she had fallen in line with the boys.
    Danny Gallagher met her at the front door of the funeral home. He’d been a lady-killer in school and although time had somewhat softened his chin and middle, he was still incredibly handsome.
    He caught her hands and kissed her cheeks. “Are you all right?”
    â€œAs well as can be expected, I guess.”
    He looked past her, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “You drove yourself?”
    She had. Truth was, half a dozen people had offered to drive her tonight, including Buddy and Matt. She had refused them, even when they had begged her to reconsider. She had wanted to be alone.
    â€œI’m a city girl,” she murmured. “I’m used to taking care of myself.”
    He ushered her inside, clearly disapproving. “If you need anything, let me or one of the staff know. I’m expecting a big crowd.”
    Within twenty minutes he was proved correct—nearly the entire town was turning out to pay their respects. One after another, old friends, neighbors and acquaintances hugged her and offered their condolences. Some she recognized right off, others had to remind her who they were. Again and again, each expressed their shock and dismay over her father’s death.
    Nobody actually said the word. But it hung in the air anyway. It was written on their faces, in the carefully chosen words and softly modulated tones. It was there in the things they didn’t say.
    Suicide .
    And with that word, their unspoken accusation. Their condemnation. She hadn’t been there for him. He had needed her and she had been off taking care of herself.
    â€œWhere were you, Avery, when your dad was so depressed he set himself on fire?”
    Hunter’s taunt from two days before was burned into her brain. She told herself he had meant to hurt her. That he was angry, hurting, just plain mean. She told