Page 5 of 4th Silence (Schock Sisters Mystery #4)

Charlie

M y heart races as I step out of Alex’s office, my phone buzzing insistently in my hand. I try to infuse calm into my simple greeting, “Hey, JJ. Thanks for getting back to me.”

“Charlize, we need to talk. Now.”

Power exudes from those six words. When I want to talk, he ghosts me. When he wants to? It’s an order.

My hackles go up.

Mom, you owe me.

I lower my voice and run through my options: flirt, tease, logic. I pick the latter. “I know you’re upset, and yes, Mom overstepped, but we’re all in it now, so can we make the best of it?”

“The brass is breathing down my neck.” Yep, that’s a ‘no.’ “They want this ridiculous publicity to go away.” His words land like a hammer, pounding his frustration into me.

“My bosses, the Hartmans, the chief of police. The mayor, Charlie. Mary Hartman is a friend of his. And, worse, he has to see her at some charity gig tonight. Great timing, there. No one is happy about Helen and her goofball group making this a public spectacle again.”

Yes, I’ve called them goofballs myself—but they mean well, and someone has to defend them. Accusing him of name-calling won’t help my mission.

If JJ’s flailing this hard, the pressure must be nuclear. And if they’re this desperate to shut us down... what exactly are they hiding? “JJ, we can’t just?—”

The hammer is replaced with a steel-edged knife. “I’m walking a tightrope here. One wrong move—even speaking to you in private like this about the case—and it could cost me my job.”

Is he serious? “Who said that?”

“Doesn’t matter. If that happens, I can guarantee that Tiffany and her family will never get closure. The killer will never be caught. No matter what your mother pulls, she’ll only end up in a jail cell.”

That thought leaves me speechless. We’ve investigated cold cases before, but none that unleashed this much upheaval or these kinds of threats.

What is going on here? Yes, the public outcry is leading the charge at the moment, but if I didn’t know better, I’d think JJ’s office and possibly the Hartmans have something to hide.

Do they?

I close my eyes and picture him in his designer suit, pacing.

His tall frame is no doubt taut with tension, and those blue-gray eyes I love are stormy with conflicting emotions.

He may love playing the political games his position requires, but he loves justice more.

He takes his role as the Emperor of Cold Cases as seriously as my mother does hers as an investigative journalist.

I don’t need logic when I reply this time. “What do you need from me? I’m trying to contain Mom, but you know how she is.”

“Just...be careful. Watch your step. The killer is still out there. All this publicity could bring them out of the shadows. And if he believes any of us are getting close to uncovering his identity, he could come after us.”

The warning in his tone is clear. Internally, I hear Matt’s screeching shovel on the sidewalk again.

“Understood. We’ll tread lightly.” But the warning in his tone lingers.

He’s right. We’ll have to be smart and make sure Mom doesn’t end up with a target on her back.

At least, not a bigger one than she’s already put there.

But I’m not about to let this case go, no matter what obstacles JJ’s superiors throw in our path.

And if the Hartmans want to bury the truth, they’re going to have to bury me with it.

“Just so you and I are clear—Schock Investigations is investigating Tiffany’s unsolved murder.

You know as well as I do that Mom and Meg have dug in their heels. I’m in it, whether you like it or not.”

Dead silence.

My phone buzzes with a second call. District of Columbia Court System. Dammit—I’m almost out of time to get to the courthouse. “Can you hold for a quick sec?”

He hangs up.

Okay, then.

I answer and an automated voice tells me the trial has been postponed. No explanation is given. Judges don’t take snow days. Something’s off.

A follow-up text from the attorney who hired me states that the judge was involved in an accident and is currently at the hospital. An alternate hasn’t been found. More details to come. My suspicious mind immediately wonders, was it an accident?

God, I’m paranoid.

Alex’s door opens. Meg and Matt approach.

“Charlie?” Meg’s voice is soft. “What’s wrong?”

Alex accompanies them. “Bet I know,” he says with a wink.

My retort dies on my lips as JJ rounds the corner. He zeroes in on us like a bullet. No hiding the fact now. With a tense sigh, he jerks his head toward his office, a clear command to follow.

“Good luck,” Alex whispers.

Oh, joy. This should be fun. I silently fall into step behind JJ but can’t keep up with his long legs. Like obedient soldiers, Meg and Matt follow, equally as silent.

His office is a stark contrast to Alex’s.

Plush carpet, cool colors, bold artwork on the walls.

Just like JJ: dramatic but calculated. We both hesitate to sit—a subtle power play.

I plant my feet, spine straight, as I meet my boyfriend’s steely gaze.

The eyes I love, usually dancing with mischief, hold a vicious storm.

He looms over his mahogany desk. “This ends now.”

If only I could order Mom around like that. “If we don’t find closure for that family, it will never be over.”

“She’s right,” Meg insists. “Mom is onto something. I can feel it in my bones.”

JJ’s stern gaze shifts to her. “Your bones don’t dictate policy, Meg.”

My sister flinches and locks her jaw.

“Maybe they should,” I shoot back, annoyance getting the better of me. “Right now, your policies are standing between us and justice.”

JJ’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath his skin.

I see the gears turning in that brilliant mind of his, weighing options, calculating risks.

He rattles off the same excuses to Meg and Matt that he gave me over the phone—his bosses, the Hartmans, the fact that his office has reviewed the case many times and found nothing new.

Blah, blah, blah. The theory that the killer may target Mom gets their attention, as it did me.

He knows how to hit the right triggers to give us all pause.

Meg goes to his expansive window with its view of the city. The corners are frosty, much like the atmosphere of the room. “We’re sorry for the trouble, JJ. Truly. But you have to understand why this matters so much to me—” She corrects herself. “Us.”

I bite back a frustrated sigh. Now isn’t the time for apologies. We need to push forward, not backpedal.

I hold my tongue.

Meg continues. Her empathy worked on Alex. It might on JJ. “We know you’re in a difficult position. But please, can’t we find a way to work together on this?”

I watch JJ’s face for any crack in his resolve, and yep, I catch a glimpse of the man behind the title—torn, conflicted, but ultimately bound by restrictive rules—both official and the unspoken ones that are every bit as powerful in this building.

I hold my breath.

JJ’s shoulders lower almost imperceptibly.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, mussing it, but unlike Matt’s, his falls back into perfect layers.

“Damn it,” he mutters. “It’s dangerous. This isn’t just about reopening a case.

It’s about admitting we’re incompetent. The system failed, and the killer is still free.

A killer who’s again in the limelight and might strike out to protect him or herself.

And you all are in the middle of this shit show. ”

“Sometimes, admitting we’re wrong is the bravest thing we can do” I say, “and the Schocks don’t back down from killers.”

JJ’s laugh is sharp, humorless. He paces behind his desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket to reveal the crisp, navy blue shirt underneath.

“Christ, Charlie. I’m trying to protect you—professionally and personally.

Helen’s stunt has half of D.C. breathing down our necks.

If I give the okay, there’s no backtracking. ..”

“If you don’t get on board—and we’re right—it’ll blow up bigger.”

He hates it when I’m right, especially when being so means he’s not. He braces his hands on the polished wood of his desk, and I see the burden of his position, of those expectations. His need to protect me and Meg—not to mention our mother—weighs down his broad shoulders.

Even amid this argument, I want to run my fingers over them.

As if it pains him, he relents. A little. “I’ll do what I can to support your investigation, but I’ll need your full cooperation. You follow my rules and the department’s policies.” He gives my sister a pointed look. “Regardless of your bones.”

She smiles.

I fight a grin.

He straightens. “We frame it as a review. I’ll tell the higher-ups it’s damage control, a way to placate the public without admitting fault. No family interviews unless there’s a damn good reason.”

JJ in his element—navigating the treacherous waters of bureaucracy.

“No grand announcements, no promises we can’t keep,” he continues. “We review the evidence quietly, and if— if —we find something substantial, we reassess.”

Meg nods, relieved. “Thank you, JJ.”

We have our feet in the door. Now, we have to find a way to blow that door wide open.

Without Mom ending up in jail.

Or worse.

Matt scratches his stubble. “Speaking of evidence…”

JJ’s eyes narrow. “What about it?”

“There’s the matter of the security footage. From the night of the murder,” I add. “Mom doesn’t have it, and we need to view it.”

His shoulders tighten, a flicker of frustration crossing his features.

“I’ve never seen it.” He catches the surprise on my face.

“My deputies watched it,” he says as if to cover for the lapse.

“I’ll ask Alex to dig it up and make a copy.

We’ll review it again together. But don’t expect to find anything groundbreaking. Cold cases are cold for a reason.”

He truly believes we’re on a wild goose chase. Part of me wonders if he’s right.

“Good. Working together is always better than being at each other’s throats.”

JJ sits, and even that exudes power. “Tonight? Say seven? My day is packed until then.”

“Sounds good.” Meg nods, happy at his offer. “Let’s meet at Charlie’s.”

“Without Helen,” JJ insists.

Tall order.

“I’ll figure out a way to keep her away.” I steel myself for the next uphill battle. “There’s one more thing. We need clearance for new DNA testing.”

His eyes snap. His voice stays low, controlled. “Do you have any idea what kind of red tape that involves? The expense?”

“Schock Investigations will use our lab and pay for it.” No clue where I’ll find the money. Maybe Mom can start a GoFundMe. “With the latest advances in genome matching, it could break the case wide open. We can’t ignore?—”

“I’m aware of what we can and can’t ignore.” He looks like he’s mentally planning my funeral. “As I stated, we start with the records and security video. That’s all.”

“For now,” Meg says.

He glares at her. She just keeps smiling.

Death wish, that one.

The DNA testing is crucial. If JJ won’t give us official clearance...

A plan forms in my mind, a risky and potentially career-ending one. Meg will love it.

“Understood.” I’m not lying. I do understand, but I’m not agreeing to back down. “We’ll focus on the other stuff.”

The unsaid ‘for now’ hangs in the air.

JJ narrows his eyes, suspicious of my sudden acquiescence. His phone rings, and Carolyn tells him he’s needed in a meeting. He acknowledges he’ll be there momentarily, then hustles us out.

He escorts us into the elevator and all the way to the ground floor. It’s as if he doesn’t trust us to leave. “We’ll reconvene tonight,” he says, holding the doors open so he can return upstairs. His tone is less commanding now. “I’ll bring pizza.”

For a moment, I see a flicker of the man I love—the one who laughs at my terrible jokes and challenges me to ridiculous bets.

“Thank you,” Meg says. “We won’t let you—or Tiffany—down.”

No smile, no nod, and I’m left hollow. Meg must sense my unease and squeezes my arm.

A commotion reaches us as we cross the expansive lobby.

Matt frowns. “What’s that noise?”

Extra security guards swarm in from other parts of the building. Outside the entrance doors, it’s chaos.

“Oh my God,” Meg gasps.

A sea of people floods the snowy lawns and sidewalks. They’re spilling into the street, causing drivers to honk and yell. Signs wave in the air, demanding justice, and they chant various ill-rhyming slogans.

At the center of it all stands a familiar figure—Helen Schock.

My stomach twists. “For the love of all that’s holy.”

News vans roll up, reporters and cameras spilling out. As we watch, Mom raises a bullhorn, her voice blasting over the noise. “Tiffany deserves justice!” The crowd goes wild. She has to wait a few seconds before she can be heard again. “We won’t be silenced until she has it!”

I pull out my phone and dial.

“Who are you calling?” Meg asks.

“A lawyer,” I say. “She’s going to need it.”

Matt eyes a patrol car, easing its way toward the throng. “It’s a peaceful protest. I doubt they’ll arrest?—”

A large man with a handmade sign lunges off the sidewalk and smacks the patrol car with it. The lights come on, and the siren blips.

I meet Matt’s chagrined glance. “You were saying?”

“Hell no, we won’t go!” Mom yells. Her mob picks up the chant. She leads the pack toward the entrance. The two police officers and the security guards suddenly have more on their hands than they can control.

“Will they really put her in jail?” Meg asks.

For her own safety, I almost hope they do. Iris, the attorney’s receptionist, answers on the second ring. “Charlie Schock,” I tell her. “Put me through to Daniel Messing. Now.”

“Good morning, Ms. Schock. What is this regarding?”

I watch an officer try to take the bullhorn from Mom. She resists. Two of her supporters attempt to help her, and the whole lot tumbles to the sidewalk a few feet from us.

“My mother,” I tell Iris. “She’s about to be arrested.”