Chapter 171: Dead Silence

Chapter 171: Chapter 170: Dead Silence

“Beware the stare of Mary Shaw. She had no children. She had no dolls.”

“If you see her, don’t scream—or she’ll rip out your tongue.”

Soren looked down at the case file, expression flat.

He remembered the shouting he’d overheard in an interrogation room the last time he came looking for McClane. A young guy yelling that he would never kill the woman he loved. McClane had even asked if Soren wanted to take a look at the case.

At the time Soren had been focused only on cleaning up Carrie’s mess. He’d turned it down on the spot.

Mary Shaw had already been hunting by then.

She’d been a ventriloquist, framed and lynched. After death her spirit latched onto the puppets she’d made and started hunting down the descendants of the family that killed her. Her signature was waiting for the scream, then tearing the jaw open and pulling the tongue free.

The young officer watched Soren stay silent for a long moment.

“By the time we got there, Old John was lying in the middle of the stage. Jaw torn open, tongue gone—same as the girlfriend. Later we found the kid’s body at his house too.”

Soren looked up. “The kid had a stepmother, right? Where is she?”

The officer blinked in surprise. “How did you know that?”

He pulled out a photo. “Yeah. Third wife of the father. We brought her in right after the murders. But…”

He sighed, frustrated. “No hard evidence tying her to anything. Old John’s death looked like some kind of supernatural hit. The missing tongues never turned up. We had to let her go.”

“Where did she go?”

“Back home, far as we can tell. Town called Raven’s Fair.”

Soren frowned. “Where’s that?”

“Virginia.”

Virginia sat on the East Coast. Los Santos was West Coast. Almost the entire country between them. Washington, D.C. sat right next door. The last time Soren had gone after the god Yutun and those deformed cultists in West Virginia—right next to Virginia—it had taken him days just to get there. Flying would still eat time. By the time he finished and came back, he’d miss Patty’s school carnival for sure.

McClane had been a hard-edged, old-school cop who’d spent half his life in the trenches. He’d covered for Soren more times than either of them counted, cleaned up messes, kept things quiet. That debt had to be paid. The bill had to be settled.

But it would have to wait until after the carnival.

“Thanks.”

Soren nodded once and left the office.

Outside the station he pulled out his phone and called Morrison. He’d already tried searching the Armitage family online and found nothing useful. Time to pay Morrison or Enzo to dig through the underground channels.

Late April was rolling in. Los Santos streets were starting to smell like summer. With the big spring carnivals at every college about to kick off, the malls were plastered in sale posters.

Back at the office, sunlight poured across the lobby.

Carrie sat at a work table, soft measuring tape and pencil in hand, sketching and scribbling numbers on scrap paper, comparing measurements again and again.

Whenever she had free time these last few days she buried herself here, focused completely on designing Soren’s clothes.

On the floor nearby, Gizmo had somehow found a scrap of fabric and wrapped himself into a round little dumpling, rolling happily back and forth.

Soren lay on the couch, idly spinning a long blade formed from pure demonic energy between his fingers.

Bang.

The front door swung open.

Patty walked in with a shoulder bag, spotted the man on the couch, and lit up for half a second before her face snapped into a scowl. She crossed her arms and put on her best sarcastic voice.

“Well, look who it is. Our big busy hero. Finally remembered the way home instead of saving the world?”

Soren didn’t even lift his head.

“Just finished the outside work so I could rush back and take my scolding from the young miss. Wouldn’t dare be late.”

Patty rolled her eyes, then noticed Carrie at the table and wandered over, curious.

“Carrie, what are you doing?”

Carrie looked up. Seeing Patty, she smiled.

“Carrie’s clothes look really good, so I asked her to make me one too.”

Soren’s lazy voice drifted from the couch.

Patty’s eyes went wide.

“Seriously?! Carrie, can you make me one too? I want a little lace dress—something I can wear to a dance!”

Carrie watched the eager look on Patty’s face and smiled, lips pressed together.

“Of course. Once I finish Soren’s, I’ll take your measurements.”

“Why are you back today anyway? You’ve still got tomorrow, right?”

Soren finally asked once the two of them finished talking.

“Our school carnival starts the day after tomorrow! No classes tomorrow!”

Patty planted her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“I’ve been sending you messages for days. Did you even look at a single one?!”

Soren’s hand paused. He had looked. She’d sent dozens every day—walls of stickers, pictures of school cafeteria food, random scenery shots. He usually just skimmed and never replied.

Patty saw the look on his face and lost it. She scooped up Gizmo, who had just rolled over, and flung him.

“Jee?”

The little monster sailed through the air with a blank expression and landed neatly in Soren’s hands.

“Alright, alright. Send me the time and place. I’ll meet you tomorrow.”

Soren gave Gizmo a quick rub and set him on the floor.

“You’re wearing that?”

Patty looked him up and down, pure disgust on her face.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s fine.”

Soren shrugged.

“Fine my ass! You look like you’re going to the carnival to beg for change!”

She grabbed his arm and started dragging him toward the door without waiting for an answer.

“Move! I’m taking you shopping for real clothes. This young lady is not getting embarrassed next to you!”

Carrie stood quietly at the work table, watching the two of them tug and argue their way out. She glanced down at the unfinished sketches and fabric samples, a faint shadow flickering through her eyes.

Then she drew a slow breath, pushed the thoughts away, picked up her pencil again, and sank back into the design with even sharper focus.