Breaking Silence
Book 3
Silence is like trust: easily broken.
The first time Claire and Megan Deveraux receive a cryptic text from the anonymous “AMZ”, they decide it’s a sophisticated scam. But when further evidence of a long-lost sibling starts to add up, Claire begins to wonder whether there is merit to AMZ’s wild claims...or just photoshop and dumb luck?
As the sisters weigh up the risks of pursuing a ruthless blackmailer’s trail, another victim is scrambling to keep his secret safe, whatever the cost. Because no amount of money can make a man bulletproof...
From the streets of Paris to Texan suburbia, Breaking Silence cracks open a nail-biting mystery that spans decades — and the globe.
Excerpt
April 12th
Claire read the text and dropped the phone like it was hot lava. Looking out on the Paris skyline, she sighed. Deaf from birth, she couldn’t hear the traffic humming by or the church bells and people that gave the city its own song. But she could smell the bakery half a block down, feel the softness of the air, and see her neighbors going about their business. After the horrors of the past five years, she felt she was owed the ordinariness of her life in her beloved adopted city, and now this text:
You and your sister are two of a set of quadruplets. Yes, you have two brothers. Soon, I will reveal your second brother’s name and his address. Reply to this text acknowledging receipt. AMZ.
She wondered, not for the first time if she had a target on her back. When her twin, Megan, became involved with some horrible people, and their brother, Boyd, paid with his life, that should have been enough. Her kidnapping and that outcome left her with a small appetite for drama. Claire knew who she was—one of a set of triplets who were now only two. So what the hell was this AMZ trying to do?
Sipping from the mug, Claire gazed across the room at a framed photograph of her late brother Boyd, her twin sister Megan, and herself. The triplets. Same blonde hair. They have the same blue eyes. Same height. Same round face. She and Megan were identical twins. Of the three, only she was deaf.
Annika and Sidney Deveraux, their parents by adoption, stood behind them. It was the only photograph of all five of them together. He would’ve been in that photograph if they had a fourth sibling. With Boyd, Annika, and Sidney gone, Megan was the only family Claire had left.
Claire’s gaze was broken when the door swung open.
“Hey you,” Megan said. “Hope your day was better than mine.”
Claire communicated with sign language, rarely ever speaking. Not too bad, Claire signed. What happened?
I must’ve set a record screening Visa requests, Megan signed as she marched to the refrigerator. What are you drinking?
“Panaché,” Claire said in a husky tone.
A moment of silence passed while Megan poured herself a glass of Panaché. Is your boyfriend coming in this weekend? Megan signed, dropping into the chair next to Claire.
Don’t know yet. Claire sipped more of her drink. I got a weird text. Did you know we are a set of quadruplets? One side of her mouth rose into a smirk.
Megan shook her head as she sipped her drink. “I saw that. He didn’t spare me.”
Yeah. Can you believe that ass? Quadruplets. The garbage some people will spin.
Megan nodded. I assume yours was from AMZ also?
Yes. I deleted it.
Megan downed the rest of her drink. What are we cooking for dinner or would you prefer that French place up the street?
French. Let’s go.
* * *
The 55-year-old man with graying temples and a gray mustache opened the text message in his home office near Fort Worth, Texas. The first one read: Hello Henry Burrell. William David Burrell is not your son. You and I both know how you acquired him. Unless you want me to expose your crime to the police, you will pay me the sum of $50,000 in cash. Reply to this text. AMZ.
Henry froze. His mind flashed back to an incident he’d witnessed when he was a teenager. When the police questioned him about it, he lied and believed he got away with it. Ever since then, every time he saw a police officer, he cringed, fearing they could be targeting him at any time. AMZ’s reference to police fanned the flames of one of Henry’s worst fears.
Hoping he’d read it wrong, Henry went through it again. The words ‘not your son’ spiraled his mind back 28 years when his wife Sarah fell into a severe postpartum depression after losing her baby and was told she’d never be able to conceive again.
Henry always felt that Sarah was too good for him. To keep this beautiful woman with him, he was more than willing to do whatever it took. Wandering the halls of the hospital, desperate to find a way to wipe Sarah’s tears away and make her happy, he saw Dr. Spellman, Sarah’s ob/gyn doctor, gazing at a set of quadruplets through the nursery window. Henry looked at the wealth of babies and whispered, “I only wanted one . . . just one.”
When Spellman uttered, “Those poor parents don’t need to feed four at once,” a deal was struck between the two men.
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