Silent Reckoning (Black Rain Book 2), page 1
SILENT RECKONING
BLACK RAIN: BOOK TWO
Carolina Mac
Lisa Mac
Copyright © 2025 by Carolina Mac & Lisa Mac
Silent Reckoning - 1st ed.
ISBN 978-1-990882-96-8
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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To: The fans of psychological thrillers.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter One
Friday, May 23rd.
Mercy Hospital. Huntsville. Texas.
“How are we doing this morning, Lieutenant? Some of the soreness gone out of your back?” The nurses were so cheerful, but none of it was rubbing off.
“I guess so.” Rivard tried to change position, and the pain was so intense, the breath was sucked from his body like he’d been vacuumed.
“Almost time for the last dose of pain killers before you’re discharged. Is someone coming to pick you up?”
“My truck is in the parking area.”
“You shouldn’t drive.”
“I have to get back to Houston.”
“Do you have any idea who shot you?”
“No. It was dark and there was more than one of them.”
“Being a police officer is dangerous.”
“It can be.”
Women can be dangerous. More dangerous than I ever imagined.
Forbes Residence. Kingwood. Houston.
Meghan paced back and forth in her kitchen waiting for the coffee to be ready. “I shot a cop to protect Zizzy and now she’s pissed at me. She liked Rivard a lot more than I thought she did and now what? I take the rap for shooting a fucking cop and Zizzy drives off into the sunset never speaking to me again because I shot her boyfriend?”
The green light came on and Meg filled a mug with coffee and added a shot of bourbon. She took a quick sip and the coffee was so hot she burned her tongue. “They won’t find his body for a couple of days, so I’m safe for now.”
Meghan had a meeting scheduled with her lawyer about the divorce and she refused to leave Houston until she got her settlement from that fucking Don, the cheater.
Nobody would ever prove she shot Rivard. There were no witnesses and nobody around the cabin on the lake. It would remain unsolved and end up like one of those mystery cases on TV.
Masters Residence. Kingwood. Houston.
Aziza thought it through a thousand times, and she could never forgive Meg for shooting Rivard. After he was shot and disappeared below the surface of the lake, Aziza realized how much she loved him.
On the long drive home, she told Meg she was leaving Houston alone and not to follow her. They argued and Meg begged for forgiveness, but too many things had gone wrong.
Aziza was convinced she was an unfit mother, and she had no choice but to leave Texas for a while and leave Jamie with her parents to finish the school year.
If Aziza had a suitable place by the end of school, she’d send for Jamie, and they’d start a new life in a new state.
The proper thing to do would be to drive over to Columbus and say goodbye to her parents and to Jamie, but Aziza felt so completely unworthy, she couldn’t do it.
Instead, she called her father and could barely summon up the courage to talk to him on the phone. “Dad, a few things have happened, and I need to be away for a while.”
“I was waiting for you to call, Aziza. Come over, dear one, and we’ll talk this through. Surely we can find a solution.”
“If I’m not coming back for a longer period of time, I’ll send for Jamie as soon as she’s out of school.”
“This sounds so final, Aziza. Please don’t do this without talking it over with your mother and I first.”
“I have to leave Houston today, Dad. Things have gone terribly wrong and there’s no way I can fix them.”
“Is Meghan going with you?”
“No. I’m going alone.”
“Please don’t do something you’ll regret, Aziza. I want to talk to you before you go. Please give me that much.”
“I’m sorry, Dad, but I have to go. This isn’t something that can be easily reversed.”
Her father was still talking when she ended the call and ran upstairs to pack her clothes.
She tossed two huge suitcases on the bed along with one overnight bag and a toiletries case. It took her half an hour to fill them up and lug them out to the Jeep.
With the hatch filled with everything she might need, Aziza drove south out of Houston headed for the interstate. Once she got to the highway, she took the ramp for the westbound lanes and never looked back.
Mercy Hospital. Huntsville. Texas.
“You’re free to go, Lieutenant Rivard,” said the nurse. Different nurse but she asked the same question. “Is someone picking you up?”
“My truck is outside. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll have someone wheel you down to the front door, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Putting his clothes on was a chore, he was so stiff and sore, but he was thankful he was wearing his vest at the cabin. Just a hunch that there might be trouble from Meghan. Her attitude hadn’t been sitting right with him, and he wondered if she was the one swaying Aziza in the wrong direction.
A smiling nurse came in moments later with a wheelchair and he sat down with a groan, grateful he didn’t have to walk as far as the elevator. He’d broken out in a sweat crossing from the bed to the wheelchair.
I’m not ready to go home, but I have to.
At the hospital entrance, he was released by the nurse and ventured off on his own. Getting to his truck was more difficult than he had imagined. Each step painful and requiring more air than he currently had in his lungs.
The parking lot seemed miles away.
I should’ve had someone pick me up.
Twice, he sat down on a bench to rest before finally sliding behind the wheel and starting the engine.
Rivard Residence. Midtown. Houston.
Wondering when he’d ever felt worse, Rivard drove home and dragged himself into the house. He’d only been gone a couple of days, but the place smelled of stale smoke and old food.
Did I forget to take out the garbage?
The fridge was almost empty except for a six-pack of Lone Star. He helped himself to one and sat down on the sofa to pull himself together. He scrolled through his contacts until he came to the chief of homicide.
“Chief, it’s me, Rivard.”
“I received your discharge report from the hospital in Huntsville,” said the Chief. “You have cracked ribs and bruising of the spine and several other side-effects of your near drowning.”
“I’ll be okay to work in a couple of days. Probably by Monday.”
“I don’t want to see you on Monday, Rivard,” he snapped. “That’s ridiculous. In fact, I don’t want you to show your face in the office until the first week of July.”
“July? Is it compulsory for me to be off that long?”
“It is. And even then, you’ll have to pass a physical and have a doctor’s signature. Department rules.”
“Okay. Thanks, Chief. I’ve never been injured on the job before, so I wasn’t aware of the regulations.”
“I’m glad you made it, Rivard. We don’t want to lose you. I can wait a month to get you back at full power.”
“Thanks, Chief. Appreciate it.”
Rivard ended the call and took a swig of his beer. Was it time for one of his pain pills? Felt like it. He ached all over. One huge pain from top to bottom.
He leaned back into the cushions on the sofa and tried to figure out what was going on with Aziza and Meg at the cabin. Why were they burning all the stuff from inside the cabin?
What was Meg so afraid of me finding out that she would shoot me? I wasn’t going to arrest Aziza for killing Corb. There was no proof that she killed either Corb or Justin. I only wanted to make sure she was all right.
And she wasn’t all right. Far from it. She was so upset a
He made another trip to the fridge for his second beer.
Is Aziza at home? Do she and Meg think I’m dead, so they’re not worried about me finding out…whatever? Is that it?
“I know you liked me more than that, Aziza. I could feel it right here in my heart. Are you pissed at Meg for shooting me? I hope you are.”
I know you love me a little bit, at least.
“Neither one of them can find out I’m alive until I figure out what’s going on.”
Chapter Two
Saturday, May 24th.
Memorial Day Weekend.
Rivard Residence. Midtown. Houston.
Lance opened his eyes and groaned. Lying flat on his back, he stared at the ceiling wondering if he could ever get out of bed again. It certainly didn’t feel like it. The pain wrapped his chest in a vice-like grip and threatened to finish him if he moved or breathed too deeply.
One glance begging for relief told him he couldn’t reach his pain medication without moving at least his right arm, and to swallow the water with the pills, he’d have to raise his head up at least a few inches.
“This is the fucking shits,” he said out loud and then felt stupid.
Rivard had never cursed much until he spent time with Aziza, and it had rubbed off. She had spent years in the army and was an expert at using words Rivard avoided using in a normal workday…or even when he was home alone.
“I miss her so much. I want to curse and smoke and drink beer because those were the things we did together when I was falling in love with her.”
Picturing Aziza’s smiling face in his head, Lance took one big breath and went for it. In one excruciating effort, he sat up, twisted around and put his feet on the floor.
He hollered out loud and let out a long stream of swear words he’d learned from Aziza. It seemed to help.
Sitting precariously on the side of the bed, waves of pain from the shattered ribs shot through him and sucked the wind out of him. Left him with nothing but a vacuum and a need to scream again, but he couldn’t even do that.
He gasped and coughed, but he’d gained enough ground to reach the pills and the water. He shook two of the little white pills into his hand and swallowed them down.
“I hope I don’t go through this every time I get out of bed in the morning.”
Bad thoughts flashed through his brain. Thoughts of making Meghan Forbes pay dearly for the torture she was putting him through.
Next step was the kitchen and the coffee maker.
Taking it slowly, Rivard pushed to his feet, waited until he could breathe again, then shuffled like a ninety-year-old man to the kitchen.
Leaning on the counter for support, Lance rinsed the carafe and got the brew started. An extra scoop from the tin added to make it strong. “I need all the help I can get.”
While he sat at the kitchen table waiting for the rejuvenating effects of caffeine, he read over the hospital discharge papers that happened to be lying there.
“No way I can start physio on Monday. I can’t even move without losing my breath—but that’s what it says on the fucking discharge papers.” He wanted to crumple them up and toss them in the trash, but he was too disciplined for a move like that.
Aziza called me on being so tightly wrapped. I have to loosen up and roll with it.
After one cup of coffee, he stood in front of the stove and managed to make scrambled eggs and toast.
“If I was hurt any worse than I am, I would starve to death. I’ve got to move around more than I did yesterday if I’m ever going to shake this off and get back to work.”
The air in the house smelled foul and there was no way he could do any cleaning himself. “I’ll have to call the lady I used a couple of times in the past if I want it done. No possible way I can handle it.”
He made the call, put his dishes in the sink and shuffled down the hall to take a shower. Deciding not to shave for a couple of days, Rivard wondered if Aziza would like him with a bit of scruff on his face.
He pictured the last time they’d had wild, uncontrollable sex in her bed and tried to remember if she’d said anything about him having a nice, clean shave.
“I can’t remember. Damn it.”
Best Western. Sonora. Texas.
Aziza sat at the desk in her hotel room staring at the missed calls on her phone and all the text messages from Meg that she’d ignored.
“I don’t want to talk to Meg yet. She killed Lance and took him away from me when he was the only chance I had to get myself together and have any kind of a normal future.”
I need to talk to Lance, but he’s dead and I’ll never be able to talk to him again. It’s my fault he’s dead.
Aziza buried her face in her pillow and sobbed. She had no intentions of getting up. She might stay in bed forever.
Life without Lance is not a life I want.
Forbes Residence. Kingwood. Houston.
Meghan turned on the morning news while she drank her coffee and went over the list she’d made for the meeting at her lawyer’s office. “I’m not going to let Don get the best of me. I’ll kill him if he tries it. I’m finished being walked on and cheated on by that fucker.”
As soon as I get my money, I’ll go looking for Zizzy. I have to find her and make her forgive me for killing Lance.
“Big dumb cop. How could she possibly fall in love with a loser like him?”
Meghan finished her coffee and ran upstairs to shower and get ready for the meeting. This was the final round of negotiations. No more beating around the bush. She’d get what she wanted today and that would be the end of it. If it didn’t go her way, then she’d use alternate methods and become Don’s grieving widow and the recipient of his estate.
Either way, I’m going to win.
Rivard Residence. Midtown. Houston.
Rivard let Millie, the cleaning lady, in the front door. She’d arrived sooner than he expected, but he looked decent in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
“I’ll be out on the patio if you need me, Millie.”
“Sure. Go ahead, Lieutenant. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”
“Thanks.”
He shuffled out the patio door with a mug of coffee in his hand and his cigarettes in his pocket. His compulsory month off was already killing him.
He sat on one of the cheap plastic chairs and put his feet up on the one across from him.
Why did I buy cheap patio furniture like this?
Since his Phoenix-like rise from the ashes, he’d been questioning every decision he’d ever made. Rivard lit up a smoke wishing he had cold beer sitting in front of him instead of coffee.
While he sat there in the shade of the faded umbrella, he went over what the homicide chief had told him they were doing about his case.
“Somebody—whoever shot you—thinks they are a cop killer, Lance. We want that person and we’re not releasing any information about your shooting or your survival until we catch the bastard who did it.”
“Okay, Chief. I get it. You’re keeping it out of the news.”
“I’m never going to turn Meghan in because then I’ll have to explain what I was doing at Aziza’s cabin. Part of this is my fault. I got in too deep with the woman I love, and I crowded her when she was trying to work herself out of a huge trauma. I wouldn’t give her the space she needed at the cabin. When I got there, I pushed her to talk to me, and she couldn’t.
Mistake.
I never should’ve badgered Meghan or made her take me to the cabin. If I had left the situation completely alone, Aziza would be feeling better, and she’d be back home where she belongs.
Lance looked up and saw Millie staring at him through the glass patio doors.
She saw me talking to myself. Thinks I’m a nutcase. Which I am without Aziza.
Millie finished up and Lance paid her in cash. He did a quick shuffle around his place, and the house was spotless. It smelled all clean and… flowery.
Like lilacs, but lilacs don’t grow well in Texas. It’s too hot for them.
To celebrate his pristine, fresh-smelling house, Lance went into his room and took a compulsory nap.
Corcoran, Ferguson and Izzard. Downtown Houston.
Dressed in her best business suit, Meghan Forbes showed up exactly on time for the meeting with her divorce lawyer and Don’s attorneys.
