Silent Panic

By Xlibris US

Silent Panic, another exciting
book by Grandma Brown, is a
mystery about a witness to a crime
who tries to conceal his identity,
only to discover that what you see
is not always what it appears to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499003598

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Grandma Brown.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014907191

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4990-0361-1

                Softcover        978-1-4990-0362-8

                eBook             978-1-4990-0359-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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 any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 06/11/2014

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

618233

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

DEDICATION

TO MY BELOVED SAM and PRECIOUS BEE JAY

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T o my beautiful, talented daughters, Beverly, Barbara, Belinda, and Beth, thank you for the love, kindness, and happiness you bring to my life every day. I am truly blessed.

To Christina, Jordan, Justin, and Stacey, my beloved grandchildren, thank you for bringing an abundance of love, joy, and talent to our family.

To Harold, who stands by our side in happy times, sad times, or just anytime.

To my family newcomers, Erin, Ken, Tyler, Alexis, and Garrett, welcome to our family!

Special thanks to Barbara for her endless hours of editing and legal work, and to Belinda for her many hours of editing, rereads, and consultations.

CHAPTER 1

F ire! Fire! screamed Willy, fleeing down the narrow attic steps. Racing through the upstairs hall and down more steps to the first floor, he jumped over the last three steps, landing on his bottom.

You dumb kid! Why are you running around the house and jumping down steps? How come? asked his brother, Casey.

Willy hopped up and yelled, Call the fire truck! He tried to run, but Casey had a firm grip on Willy’s shirt. Let’s go, cried Willy, trying to shake loose. We have to see the fire!

Calm down, little brother! We’re not going anywhere. I don’t smell smoke or see fire. I’m not calling any fire truck. There is no fire! You’re always imagining something. Last week you told Mom you saw a tornado because the trees were blowing. If you’d quit playing that pirate game, you wouldn’t imagine all this stuff. Take that silly patch off your eye and Mom’s scarf off your head, then maybe you can see. Today, I’m your baby-sitter.

I don’t need a baby-sitter, yelled Willy, wiggling to release his brother’s grip.

All kids have to have someone take care of them until they are twelve years old.

Why?

Because they do stupid things. After twelve their brain explodes or something and shakes up their head, and they stop being dumb.

Willy turned with a sharp jerk, twisting loose from his brother’s grip, and dashed out the back door. "Hear that, Casey? It’s the fire siren. There is a fire!"

Maybe you’re right, skinny. Maybe there is a fire.

Don’t call me skinny, dumbbell.

Don’t call me dumbbell. I’m taking care of you. Willy started running, but his brother soon caught up with him. Wait a minute, said Casey, puffing. Don’t go running away. You were playing in the attic. How come you saw a fire?

I heard a plane and went to the window. I saw white smoke, then black smoke. Willy, running so hard he could hardly talk, gasped, Look, Casey! It’s my school!

The boys pushed through a crowd of people moving in the same direction… . toward the fire. There was a loud explosion; everyone jumped back. Casey grabbed his brother’s arm. Stay here! I don’t want you getting killed.

A fire truck, with sirens blaring and bells clanging, screeched to a halt in front of the school. Firemen flew off the truck and ran in all directions. They attached a large hose to the fire hydrant. Water soon poured over the huge orange and red flames leaping into the air. Gray smoke turned into black smoke, curling into monstrous forms as high as they could see. Fire crackled and roared louder than the sirens of two more fire trucks arriving. Windows burst, and glass flew everywhere. The firemen motioned for the crowd to move away, then blocked off the street. Two police cars arrived. Policemen jumped out, put up barriers, and directed the crowd to move farther down the street, away from the fire.

Willy, staring at the fire with his eyes red and teary, looked bewildered. Where will I go to school next month, Casey?

Don’t worry! They always find a place for kids to go to school. Casey looked at his brother. Your eyes are all red. Are you crying about your school?

No! They are sore from the smoke, said Willy, brushing away tears streaming down his face. Why did someone want to burn up my school?

Nobody burned up your school. Maybe there was a problem inside with some electricity or something. The firemen came to our school during fire prevention week and told us how fires get started; even oily rags can start a fire or bunches of paper stacked around the place.

Willy stared at his brother. Our school doesn’t have bunches of papers or oily rags.

Sure it does. Mr. Briggs, our custodian, is always oiling or polishing something. He could have left some rags around. The supply room is full of stacks of paper. Last year my teacher sent me for a box of chalk. Mr. Briggs unlocked the supply room to get it, and I saw stacks of stuff all over the place. It’s easy for a fire to start in hot weather. This is August, Willy. It’s hot weather. This is Pennsylvania, not Alaska. Hey, there’s Bryan! Let’s go talk to him.

No, Casey! I want to stay here, Willy sighed.

Well, don’t go anyplace, warned his brother. I’ll be right back.

Willy stood in silence, staring at his burning school, and began mumbling, Why did those boys want to burn it up?

A lady turned and glared at Willy, If you know something about this fire, go tell the police. Shaking her finger at Willy she cried, You better be sure you know what you’re saying. You can’t accuse boys of burning your school. You could go to jail!

Willy was so frightened that he ducked through the crowd and ran in the opposite direction. He spotted his big brother and yelled, Casey, I’m going home!

Willy reached home as Mrs. Baker, his mother, was pulling into the driveway. She stepped out of the car and saw him running into her outstretched arms. Mom! he shouted, Where were you?

Grocery shopping! Where were you?

Willy hugged his mother, Mom, my school burned up.

What! Marker Elementary had a fire? Oh, my baby, she cried, smothering Willy with comforting hugs. Just then Casey ran into the driveway and gave a breathless explanation of the afternoon. Their mother wrapped an arm around each boy. They locked arms around her waist, and all three walked into the house talking about the fire.

Willy ate very little supper that evening. Carl and Grace, his parents, realized their son had experienced an especially traumatic day. They did not comment about his appetite or ask any questions. He also had a restless night. He was not hungry for breakfast until he smelled the scrambled eggs his mother was cooking.

After eating some breakfast, Willy asked, Mom, will you take me to see my school?

Why do you want to see a burned out mess? asked his brother. I’m not interested in seeing it.

You don’t care. It’s not your school. You will now go to middle school, but my school is gone, cried Willy.

I’ll take you, Willy, said his mother. Please, finish your breakfast.

Willy squeezed his mom’s hand as they walked four blocks to the school. His grip tightened as they approached the barriers. His mother, feeling tension in his hand, stopped. Willy, you don’t have to look at this. All the debris will be hauled away in a few days. When they begin building your new school, we can return. Let’s go home.

Willy said nothing but continued pulling her forward, then stopped. He looked at the blackened brick and holes where windows had been. Twisted