Deadly Silence (complete) Chapter 173

Vivian stared at her hands as people began to arrive. She was sitting at the head of the dining room table, where Samuel usually sat, as she was technically in charge of this get together. The cut on her hand was itchy, and kept her distracted as Detective Mersey and Sergeant Maynard arrived and sat in two of the chairs near the other end of the table. They’d been informed that this was a one time deal, and everything said that afternoon would be strictly off the record; but it didn’t stop her heart from racing the moment they entered the room.

Charles had drafted a Non Disclosure Agreement for the cops to sign, as a precaution, in case they tried to use something they learned to cause issues for the Devreauxs at a later point in time.

By one thirty, everyone was seated at the table. Sebastian was sitting to Vivian’s right, her father to her left. Sitting next to her oldest sibling was Gabriel, who wasn’t allowed to use his arms for another week, and looked like he was wearing a straight jacket made of slings; it’d been the first thing out of her mouth when he’d arrived that morning, and neither Sebastian nor Laurent seemed keen on forgetting the comment.

Laurent sat next to Gabriel, as Charles had taken the chair by Samuel. An empty spot was left between the lawyer and the two cops. Across from the cops sat Gilbert, Tyrell, and Jacques. Vivian had put her foot down when her father had voiced not wanting the runner there, but she’d countered that, without him, things would have ended very differently.

She’d also pulled Jacques aside after he’d arrived that morning, asking if he knew what had happened to the masked man from the exchange, and if they’d found a guy in a light grey suit anywhere. At first, he’d been hesitant to answer, but he eventually caved, giving her brief answers for both questions.

Hearing confirmation of Paul’s death left Vivian feeling odd. Part of her still didn’t believe it could be true, while another part was relieved the nightmare was over. Was it over? The Clark man was the real threat, and he was still alive, according to Jacques. What if he decided he wanted revenge for what she’d done?

As Vivian looked from one person to the next, her heart rate began to climb again, her nerves kicking in. She hid her hands under the table so no one would see when she clenched her good hand into a fist. That is, until she caught her father watching. The look on his face said he knew what she was doing, and to, please, stop it. She let out a small sigh, relaxing her hand just a touch. Why did he have to notice things like that?

“I guess we should get this started,” she said after a minute had passed, not sure how to begin. “Uhm… so, I just want to remind everyone that I’ll only be going over everything once, and it’s only because… well…” Vivian trailed off for a moment, the words she’d thought she’d prepared suddenly vanishing from her mind. Taking a deep breath, she began to go over the events that’d taken place after her escape from the hospital.

There was a lot of information missing, at least for those who didn’t know the full story like she did. Vivian confessed she’d figured out who was behind the ransom video, and what their end goal would be; that even if she did nothing, it would only prompt them to take someone else she cared about, over and over again, until they got what they wanted.

“Wait, wait… Wait a second,” Detective Mersey interjected as Vivian reached the part when the Curator took off his mask. “You’re telling me Paul Oglivie is this Curator person? I’ve heard about the Curator — urban legends, obviously — but Paul? He’s a decent detective, not someone who’s part of some big, black market enterprise.”

Vivian shifted in her seat a bit as she watched the sergeant give a slow nod, agreeing with the detective. They needed a reality check, if they thought the man they knew was the real Paul. “Have either of you seen him since Tuesday?”

Detective Mersey and her sergeant paused for a moment before the latter said, “Paul’s been missing since Monday.”

“Did he disappear around the same time Cassidy tried to get me out of Sunny’s house?” Vivian asked, then shook her head. “Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m curious to know how you knew Oglivie was the Curator to begin with,” Sebastian pointed out, changing the subject as he gave his sister a curious look. “You didn’t spend much time with him at the police station when you were brought in, but you still recognized him before anyone else.”

“Yeah…” she hedged, staring at her lap for a moment before looking up to meet her brother’s eyes. “Well… you get to know someone pretty well, when… when for the first eight years of your life, you’re raised to believe he’s your father.”

The silence that fell was deafening. Vivian couldn’t look at anyone anymore, and instead stared at a fixed spot on the table.

“I’m sorry. What?” Sergeant Maynard demanded. His fists were on the table, clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Vivian wondered if her father would give him the look he’d given her not that long ago. “That’s not possible.”

“If you read Paul’s employment record, you can see how the dates line up,” Vivian offered as she shifted in her seat. “He transferred out of the city just after I was born; his supposed wife and child died in a carjacking, turned arson, the day after Mom was killed and I escaped. I… I don’t even know… the bodies he burned… whose bodies did he use? Did he… were they…” It felt like something in her chest was being hollowed out and slowly filled with a burning sensation.

A hand reached out and cupped her upper arm. “It’s alright,” her father assured her, though he looked like he was in pain. “Keep going… if you can. Please.”

With a small nod to Samuel in thanks for his support, she turned back to address the cops. “Can I get back to what happened? It… there’s more to it than that, and … you’ll see. Just… let me keep going.”

No-one said anything in response to her question, so she took that as her cue to continue. When she’d gotten to the part when the Clark man appeared, and how he was tied to Paul, her father’s hand removed itself from her arm. Sneaking a glance in his direction, she noted Samuel looked as though he’d seen a ghost.

“You’re telling me…” he began, speaking slowly. “You’re telling me… Richard Clark is… he took…” Samuel was shaking, his eyes locked on Vivian. The look in his eyes scared her, causing her to avert her gaze. 

“I don’t know the details,” she attempted to explain, voice low as she tried to ignore the look he’d given her, the depth of the rage she’d glimpsed in his eyes. “I… never knew how things… how Mom… I just know what they talked about in front of me. From that, I can guess at other things, but…” Vivian shook her head. Panic was starting to build up in that fiery hollow in her chest, as she struggled to find the words to explain what she knew.

“Paul worked to *catch* Richard Clarke,” Detective Mersey spoke up again, a pinched look on her face. “Hell, I’ve seen him get angry every time that asshole slipped through his fingers. There’s… There’s no way.”

“He admitted to planting, altering, and destroying evidence,” Vivian told them, eyes locked on that one spot on the table. “And that he regularly leaked information to… to his father, the Clark guy. I’m just telling you what I heard. Believe it or don’t, it’s up to you.”

There wasn’t much else left to tell after that. Two men brawling on the floor wasn’t really something anyone was interested in hearing about, or how she evaded capture. Part of her wanted to skip over the ceiling fiasco, but she didn’t have any other way of explaining how she’d gotten out of the supply closet.

Hearing herself tell the story made Vivian want to cringe at the choices she’d made. Why had she run towards the garage? It was a dead end. Why did she think the ventilation shaft would be able to hold her weight? Why grab the sharp part of a knife with her damn hand?

“And now everyone knows what happened, so I won’t ever have to talk about it again,” she finished with a firm nod as she got to her feet.

“Wait,” the detective called out, hand reaching over the table in Vivian’s direction, as though she could be held back. “I have… I have a lot of questions.”

“You allowed an obsessive, sociopathic kidnapper talk you into bringing one of his victims into the station for ‘questioning’,” Vivian reminded the woman, the light lunch she’d somehow managed to force down threatening to make a reappearance. “You don’t get any more questions. I gave you my statement, as promised. If you want more information, go do your job.”