No One Can Hear You Scream (Binge-worthy domestic psychological thrillers)

  NO ONE CAN

  HEAR YOU

  SCREAM

  A.B. WHELAN

  ADVANCED REVIEWS

  “I definitely had chills with this one!! I absolutely loved the ending!!”

  Debbie Brogan, NetGalley

  “I loved this one. Very fast paced, had me turning pages as I tore through it – I had to see how it would end. The characters were well rounded and the narrative felt believable. Gave me chills. Solid five.”

  Morgan Schulman, NetGalley

  “What a read, this book absolutely kept me spellbound. A timely story about social media and influencers, I would highly recommend this.”

  Lynn Beck, NetGalley

  “I wasn’t sure what to expect with his book but I absolutely loved it. It’s a scary thriller that reads fast and is full of twist and turns. I absolutely would recommend this book.”

  Beck Williams, NetGalley

  “Talk about a page turner.... this suspense novel written by A.B. Whelan is seriously a book I could not put down until I finished.

  “It's a quick paced book that holds you hostage. Exceeded any expectations I may have for it before.”

  Rubie Clark, NetGalley

  “Have extra time when you read this because you won’t be able to put it down.”

  Liza Wetzel, NetGalley

  “Okay, so what can I say. AB Whelan has done it again. I think this is her best book yet. But be warned - and warn your family too, when you start reading this book be prepared to not be available until you have finished it.”

  Mary, Goodreads

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  © 2021 Andrea Bizderi Whelan

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  No One Can Hear You Scream: a novel / A.B. Whelan

  Psychological thriller

  Suspense, Thriller & Mystery

  Domestic suspense

  Atmospheric thriller

  Kidnapping

  Sexual abuse

  A note from the author:

  Dear Reader,

  Before you dive into this atmospheric and chilling thriller, I wanted to share with you a little backstory of the events that inspired me to write this story.

  This book starts with the aftermath of a shocking event that is not for the faint of heart. As upsetting as it is for me to acknowledge, it was inspired by the actual events at my friend's animal shelter. The news haunted me for a long time, and I wanted to commemorate it. The result is a heartbreaking first chapter some readers may find difficult to read.

  The rest of the story is based on an off-the-grid vacation I took with my husband and children during the pandemic. My husband knew that I planned to write a thriller set in a yurt on a secluded mountain and he did his best to scare me at every opportunity to help me find inspiration. After reading this book, I'm sure you'll conclude that his efforts have borne fruit. (Pictures on my Instagram)

  By the way, our off-the-grid vacation was terrific, but what if...

  Read on to find out.

  JENNIFER

  The flashing lights of a police vehicle are the first thing I see as Tyler steers the car around the corner. The distinguishable zebra SUV and the two officers form stark silhouettes in the purple mist of the blending red and blue lights.

  My fingers tighten over my stomach as reality sets in, as does a sense of panic.

  Tyler leans closer to the windshield to look outside. His breath fogs up the window. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Today was supposed to be a special day—a happy day. My boyfriend, Tyler, has moved in with me. We had a candlelit dinner at home, celebrating a new chapter in our lives. The divorce was hard on my kids, but welcoming a new member to our family seemed to be more than they could endure. After grimacing through the three-course meal, they retired to their bedrooms without saying goodnight. I ended the day with a twenty-minute heated phone call with my ex. He was telling me that I was making a big mistake. I went to bed believing that my life was a big mess and that everybody close to me hated me. And now this…

  I roll down my window to get some fresh air. “What kind of monster would do such a thing?” I don’t recognize my voice. I sound sleepy, weak, and discombobulated, and that’s exactly how I feel.

  For over a decade, the animal sanctuary has been operating in Woodland Hills, an affluent Southern Californian suburb where I live with my family. I’ve been a volunteer for nearly four years. The recently renovated building and the enclosed small lot provide a home for dogs in all shapes and sizes and cats in all colors. But the crowd’s favorite was our long-haired Highland cow, George. He was our internet star that brought in the most revenue and helped to keep the place afloat. We, the humans, were responsible for the operations. The residents were supposed to be safe behind these walls.

  Jayden, my oldest, leans forward in the car and puts a hand on my seat. He looks mature, almost a man, and a lot like his father before age and hard work took their toll on him. “Do you think someone did this because today is Friday the thirteenth?” Even his voice reminds me of my ex in his youth before cigarettes and drinking had made him sound like a pirate. Jayden resents Tyler the most out of my three children—not aggressively, only passively, but I do notice it. I’m sure Tyler does too.

  “I’m so shocked I can’t even think,” I say, wiping my right eye with my knuckle.

  Tyler pulls to the curb and lets the engine idle. He puts a hand on my knee. “Don’t worry, babe. Whoever did this, I’m sure the police will find him.” Tyler can be annoyingly optimistic sometimes. I blame his overbearing helicopter mother for that trait. For his entire life, she has sheltered her only child from the world. Tyler is a grown man, but his mother still treats him like a baby. But it was his childish optimism and easy-going attitude that drew me to him. It was a pleasant change after a lifetime of marriage to a man who had long stopped trying to be happy.

  I look at Tyler appreciatively. “Let’s talk to the cops and see what they know.”

  Tyler removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. The indentation from the crease of the pillowcase still sits deep on his face. From this angle, it appears to me that he has more gray hair than black in his sideburn. It may have been the dim light that tricked my eyes.

  I turn to Jayden in the back seat. “I want you to stay in the car.”

  “Mom, I’m not a kid, all right? I’m seventeen.” He opens the door and gets out.

  Tyler’s eyes follow my son as he walks away from the car. “You want me to handle it?”

  “What, Jayden’s attitude?”

  “No. The police.”

  Jayden was fifteen when his father moved out of the house. The ink hadn’t even dried on my divorce papers yet when Tyler reached out to me on social media and asked me out for dinner. According to my mother, a year wasn’t nearly enough time to build trust with a stranger, let alone allow him to move in with my family. Most of my friends and family agreed with my mother. They all warned me that I was moving too fast with this new man, and their constant whispering in my ear made me alert to Tyler’s interactions with my children. I started watching Tyler’s every move like a hawk. I’d left Connor because his constant negativity rubbed off on me, and he kept pulling me down with him into an emotional abyss. Now it was me who was becoming paranoid in a relationship.

  “I’m coming with you,” I tell Tyler and step out of the car onto the wet concrete, glossy from dew.

  The relentlessly flashing blue and red lights draw my eyes. In the halo of the pre-dawn haze, I spot an officer pinning a cell phone to his ear and talking while his free arm is tucked across his belly and underneath his vest. The other cop is a woman, holding up a flashlight and peeking through the bars of the gate at the front yard of the animal sanctuary.

  I activate my phone to glance at the latest Instagram photo of George that glares up on the screen one last time. It’s a picture of utter cuteness and happiness, taken only a few days ago. The fluffy little bundle of adorable cow is standing on the pasture in bright sunlight and munching on a mouthful of alfalfa, his long, messy butterscotch hair in front of his eyes, his tiny horns pointing out of his round head. All my self-control isn’t enough to stop the tears from welling up in my eyes.

  “Are you Jennifer Parker?” The officer with the handlebar mustache approaches me. It’s my married name. I haven’t had the time to change my documents after the divorce.

  I offer him my hand. “Yes. I called 911.”

  He slides his fingers over mine. His grasp is firm and confident. We are in good hands. “So, what do we know so far?”

  “Just what I said on the phone.” I start unlocking the gate as I talk. “I had an alert on my phone from the night vision security camera at 4:17 this morning. When I opened the app, I saw a man wearing a hooded sweater and face-covering, beating George with a baseball bat—”

  I need to pause for a second before I can continue.

  The gate flings open, slams against the stopper, and bounces back. Then it rattles for a few second
s to add a sinister touch to the escalating horror of the night.

  “All right. I need to ask you to step aside and remain here until we clear the premises.”

  Weapons drawn, the two officers enter the lot. Tyler puts his arm around my shoulders. I reach out to Jayden, but he’s standing a few feet away from us and shakes his head, which is more like a dismissive side-nod. I open the security system app on my phone and watch the officers descending on the area, checking every door and crevice of the lot. I no longer see George. While I was still in bed at home, talking to 911, I’d watched the attacker drag his body out of the camera’s sight.

  A phone beeps into the eerie night.

  Jayden checks his messages. “The twins are on their way,” he tells us.

  Jayden often comes with me to help out at the sanctuary after he’s finished with school. He is as fond of George as I am. Countless times he’s brushed his hair and fed him and played with him. Over the months, the two of them developed a special bond. It was Jayden who started the Instagram account for George. It was he who took all the pictures and posted them online. I worry that what we may encounter inside the sanctuary will scar my son’s soul for life. In no measure is he a little boy. With his six-foot frame, deep, resonating voice, and chiseled jaw, he looks so grown up. But he will always be my little boy, and I can’t help but feel protective of him.

  The squealing of brakes and the screeching of tires break through the tense silence of the night. I recognize the owner’s old 3-series red BMW come into view. The driver steers the car toward the sidewalk, tight enough to rub the front tire against the curb. A hubcap pops loose and rolls down the street. I pick it up and walk toward the headlights.

  Both passenger doors squeak open, and the twins exit the run-down vehicle.

  “Fucking hell, Jen! Un-fucking real!” Veronika roars as she slams the door behind her.

  “What a nightmare!” adds Monika as she takes the hubcap from my hand, walks back to her car, and tosses it into the back seat.

  The owners of the animal sanctuary are immigrants from Hungary, a small Eastern Bloc country. They dedicate their lives to saving discarded family pets. Neither of them is married. No kids. No life outside of their work. Their desire to help innocent animals is their sole passion in life. They are a little eccentric compared to what I had grown up with here in Southern California. They say what’s in their hearts and on their minds without a filter, whether a compliment or criticism. But they are both hardworking and honest people who live their lives with honor and integrity. And for that, I trust them more than I trust most people I know.

  Veronika nods at Tyler, then turns to me. “Did the police find out who did it?”

  I shrug off Tyler’s arm. “Not yet. We just got here ten minutes ago. Two officers are inside, searching the place.” I show my boss the video footage on my phone.

  A chorus of angry barking erupts from the BMW’s back seat and alerts us to the returning police officers. “It’s all clear. You may enter the premises, but fair warning, you’ll need a strong stomach for this one,” Handlebar Mustache says.

  We all move toward the kennels—even Jayden, who ignores my repeated request to stay outside.

  The motion sensor lights turn on and illuminate our path as we move into the bowels of the property. Jayden is the first one who notices the blood splatters on the ground and alerts us. I see them, too, the asymmetrical round dark red drops on the concrete and the drag marks that lead to the kennels.

  I can smell the heavy metallic scent of blood as I enter the kennel with Tyler, Monika, Veronika, and Jayden following me closely. The female cop shines a light onto the furry body of George nestled in the hay. Blood still oozes from the stump that once held a cute little head. Everybody gasps at the sight of butchery. Monika lets out a weak scream next to me, making me shudder.

  Her twin sister, Veronika, punches the wall of the stall. “Fucking hell! What the hell is wrong with people in this world?”

  Tyler crouches down and looks around to inspect the bloody mess in the cold room. “Where is the head?” he asks.

  The officer sweeps her light over the area, illuminating all parts of the floor. “We didn’t find it,” she says. “The perpetrator may have taken it with him.”

  I stagger back from the bloody scene. A hand over my mouth is the only thing that keeps me from emptying the contents of my stomach on the crime scene. I watch the others stand in a semi-circle around the carcass that steams in the cold air, and my head starts buzzing with horror and sadness.

  The officer with the mustache pulls out a notebook and a pen. “Do you know anybody who would have a reason to do this?”

  Veronika looks at him with contempt. “Who on earth could have a reason to do something like this?”

  “What my partner meant was, do you know anyone who might hold a grudge against you or your business? An upset former pet owner? A disgruntled employee? An angry neighbor who complained about the noise, perhaps? Anybody who may have a vendetta against you guys?”

  Veronika shrugs and slips her hands into the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt with the logo of the University of North Carolina, which she attended at least twenty years ago, and looks at her sister.

  “We do get hate mail sometimes from puppy mill owners we helped the police bust over the years, but we never took the threats seriously.” Monika looks at me. “What do you think, Jen? Do you have any idea who might have done this?”

  I take a deep, relaxing breath before I answer. “I can’t think of anybody,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “But I find it extremely troubling that a seriously sick, mentally disturbed person is roaming the streets of our city right now. If someone is capable of doing such a horrible thing like beheading an innocent, beautiful creature, then I can only imagine what else he is capable of.”

  Jayden steps closer to the mutilated body of George, his phone in his hand. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll catch the bastard. And the internet will help.”

  He takes pictures. The flashes of white light turn the crime scene into an even more sinister sight, as if I were watching an amateur black-and-white horror movie. A chill touches my spine and makes me shiver.

  The twins, finishing each other’s sentences, answer questions from the police about security and business operations. The cops annotate the details with the seriousness of a double homicide investigation.

  The female officer flips her notepad cover closed. “All right, I think we’re good for now, but we may need more information later. If you remember anything, any little details that might seem insignificant to you, don’t hesitate to contact us.” She looks at a message on her phone. “The forensic team should be here in a couple of hours. Can someone turn on some lights here?”

  Monika volunteers to walk back to the main building to turn on the light for the area, and her twin sister accompanies her. I stay near the barn, taking in the complete damage that brutal animal had done, the smell of blood still strong in the air.

  My first husband, Connor, and I moved from downtown Los Angeles to Woodland Hills when I was pregnant with Jayden. We settled down in a family-oriented and quiet neighborhood within the San Fernando Valley because we wanted to provide a safe home for our growing family. But violence had followed us here, too. The mere memory of it all fills me with dread and panic.

  The sun crawls over the horizon at a painfully slow pace. I stay at the shelter to help distribute breakfast among the impatiently complaining residents. The twins are calling the volunteer students who were supposed to come in today to cancel their shifts. We don’t need a bunch of kids poking around the crime scene. The word will still get out about what happened to George, and some parents may not let their teens come back to work at the sanctuary. Connor often says that today’s parents shelter their kids too much from real life. We bring them up soft. He accuses me of babying our boys, too. Lately, he even compares me to Tyler’s mom. I know he exaggerates to hurt me.