The Day Silence Spoke novel Chapter 320

Suddenly, a message from Mortimer popped up on her phone. She opened it.

[Where are you? I think I just saw your brother again.]

He followed it with a picture. It was Clifford, with Yesenia on his arm, walking into some kind of event.

Latisha glanced at it, the dull ache in her stomach far more potent than any emotional sting.

Another message came through: [Did your brother give you a hard time last night?]

Mortimer: [I put up some ‘lost dog’ flyers today. A few people have already called! The husky you liked was picked up by her owner, by the way.]

Mortimer: [But two of the dogs at the shelter are about to have puppies. I can give you a new one when they’re born.]

Mortimer: [Next time I’ll have to keep a closer eye on them. They get pregnant if you look away for a second.]

Her phone kept buzzing, a constant stream of Mortimer’s one-sided conversation. She’d barely type out a word before three more messages would appear. Eventually, she just gave up.

After a few more texts, he circled back to his original question: [So where are you?]

Latisha didn't want to get involved with him. She was afraid Clifford would lash out again, doing to Mortimer what he had done to Mrs. Dashiell and Nikita. She couldn’t risk involving anyone else.

Taking a deep breath, she turned off her phone screen and put it back in her pocket.

Her IV drip finished around ten-thirty. She made her way to Mrs. Dashiell’s room and knocked softly. When there was no answer, she pushed the door open a crack and peeked inside.

The bed was empty. A cold dread washed over her, and she shoved the door open, her heart pounding. She stood frozen in the middle of the room, her hands turning to ice. Her mind raced with terrible possibilities. What had happened while she was away? Had Preston come back?

Just as her panic began to spiral, Mrs. Dashiell emerged from the en-suite bathroom.

“When I was out on the streets, at least I was free. Now… it feels like I’m in prison.” She left out the last part, not wanting to sound ungrateful after all Latisha had done.

Latisha’s expression was complicated. She squeezed the old woman’s hand, her own thoughts in turmoil. *Are you feeling okay? Is your health better?*

Mrs. Dashiell smiled faintly. “Of course, it is. With such expensive medicine, how could it not be? Latisha, please, tell Mr. Lambert not to waste any more money on me.”

But Latisha couldn’t agree. If Mrs. Dashiell left, she would have nowhere to go.

And Clifford would never allow it. Mrs. Dashiell was the only leverage he had left.

Mrs. Dashiell studied her for a moment, noticing the deep sorrow in her eyes and her deathly pale complexion.

“Latisha,” she said softly, her voice serious. “Tell me the truth. Am I here… because you made some kind of deal with Mr. Lambert? Is it because of something he did to you?”