Page 48 of 4th Silence

My question is answered as soon as I tap on my news app, and the lead headline populates the screen.

Former FBI Profiler Accused of Misconduct. My stomach twists into a painful knot. Charlie is a former FBI profiler, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand this is what has Mom spun up. I tap into the article.

Charlize Schock. Former FBI profiler. Local investigator renowned for solving cold cases.

Head pounding, I skip ahead, scanning for the meat of it. Improper sexual relationship with FBI supervisor.

What? My jaw drops.

Charlie? Sleeping with her boss?

That’s ridiculous.

JJ’s name appears next, and suddenly, this smear job is more personal.

And public.

Other than the names being right, the article contains no facts or evidence, only an ‘anonymous tip.’

“Shit,” I whisper.

What else is there to say when they’ve paired a lie with a fact because Charlie is involved with JJ.

“Meg,” Charlie says, “what is it?”

I set my phone in my lap and shift to face my sister. “Take the next exit. We need to pull over and make a plan. Now.”

Without a word, she changes lanes and exits.

“A plan for what?”

I point to a gas station at the bottom of the ramp. “Pull in there. Mom, we’ll call you back.”

She hangs up without arguing, and Charlie zips into the gas station and parks off to the side.

“What the hell, Meg?”

I hand her the phone. “There’s no easy way to say this. An article just dropped. It accuses you of sleeping with your FBI boss to get plum cases. JJ’s name is mentioned, suggesting you were also using sex to manipulate him.”

A few beats of silence pass while she processes. It’s as if we’re suspended in time. Floating between reality and fiction while Charlie absorbs my words.

My sister? Some have called her the original ice queen. Her skin is so thick you could make tires with it. Dump truck tires. Control is her game, and she will never, ever, let anyone see her sweat.

But I know her. Probably better than anyone. I’m an artist, I study people and mannerisms and emotions.

I know her.

Underneath the tough exterior, she’s coming apart inch by painful inch.

It’s what makes her so good. She’s an extraordinary blend of grit and empathy. It’s part of why we do what we do with these cold cases, because this stuff?

It’s not easy.

Soul-crushing stuff that we dive headfirst into time and time again.

Charlie scrolls. Her cheeks lose all color. Her shoulders sink.

I want to scream. Someone did this to her. Made her feel small. Mary Hartman. Has to be. Who else would go that low?