—
Members of the press were clustered around the entrance of Grady Hospital, momentarily displacing the pigeons but not the homeless people, who appeared determined to be included in every background shot. Will pulled into one of the reserved parking spots out front, hoping they could sneak in unnoticed. The prospect did not seem likely. News vans had their satellite dishes pointed skyward, and perfectly pressed reporters stood with mikes in their hands, breathlessly reporting the tragic story of the child who was abandoned at City Foods this morning.
Will got out of the car, telling Faith, “Amanda thought the kid would take the heat off us for a while. She’s going to go ballistic when she finds out they might be connected.”
Faith offered, “I’ll tell her if you want me to.”
He tucked his hands into his pockets as he walked beside her. “If I get a vote here, I’d rather you snap at me than feel sorry for me.”
“I can do both.”
He chuckled, although the fact that he’d missed the list of emergency numbers taped to the refrigerator was about as funny as his inability to read Jackie Zabel’s name off her driver’s license while the woman hung lifeless over his head. “Candy’s right, Faith. She called it in one.”
“You would have shown the list to me,” Faith defended. “Jackie Zabel’s sister wasn’t even home. I doubt a five-minute delay in leaving a message on her answering machine will make a huge difference.”
Will kept his mouth shut. They both knew she was stretching things. In some cases, five minutes made all the difference in the world.
Faith continued, “And if you hadn’t stayed under that tree with the license last night, you might not have found the body until daylight. If ever.”
Will saw the reporters were studying each person who walked to the front entrance of the hospital, trying to ascertain whether or not they were important to their story.
He told Faith, “One day, you’re going to have to stop making excuses for me.”
“One day, you’re going to have to get your head out of your ass.”
Will kept walking. Faith was right about one thing—she could snap at him and feel sorry for him at the same time. The revelation brought him no comfort. Faith’s blood ran blue—not the old-money kind, but the cop kind—and she had the same knee-jerk response that had been drilled into Angie every single day at the police academy, every single second on the street. When your partner or your squad was attacked, you defended him no matter what. Us against them, damn the truth, damn what was right.
“Will—” Faith was cut off as the reporters swarmed around her. They had pegged Faith for a cop as she walked across the parking lot while Will, as usual, had gotten a free pass.
Will held out his hand, blocking a camera, using his elbow to push away a photographer with an Atlanta Journal logo on the back of his jacket.
“Faith? Faith?” a man called.
She turned around, spotting a reporter, and shook her head as she kept walking.
“Come on, babe!” the man called. Will thought that with his scruffy beard and rumpled clothes, he looked just like the kind of guy who could get away with calling a woman “babe.”
Faith turned away, but she kept shaking her head as she walked toward the entrance.
Will waited until they were inside the building, past the metal detectors, to ask, “How do you know that guy?”
“Sam works for the Atlanta Beacon. He did a ride-along with me when I was working patrol.”
Will seldom thought about Faith’s life before him, the fact that she had worn a uniform and driven a squad car before she became a detective.
Faith gave a laugh Will didn’t quite understand. “We were hot and heavy for a few years.”
“What happened?”
“He didn’t like that I had a kid. And I didn’t like that he was an alcoholic.”
“Well …” Will tried to think of something to say. “He seems all right.”
“He does seem that way,” she answered.
Will watched the reporters press their cameras against the glass, trying desperately for a shot. Grady Hospital was a public area, but the press needed permission to film inside the building and they had all learned at one time or another that the security guards had no qualms about tossing them out on their ears if they started to bug the patients or—worse—the staff.
“Will,” Faith said, and he could tell from her voice that she wanted to go back to talking about the list on the fridge, Will’s glaring illiteracy.
He said something that he knew would sidetrack her. “Why did Dr. Linton tell you all that stuff?”
“What stuff?”
“About her husband and being a coroner down south.”
“People tell me things.”
That was true enough. Faith had the cop’s gift of being quiet so that other people talked just to fill the silence. “What else did she say?”
She smiled like a cat. “Why? Do you want me to put a note in her locker?”
Will felt stupid again, but this kind of stupid was far worse.
Faith asked, “How’s Angie doing?”
He shot back, “How’s Victor?”
And they were quiet the rest of the journey through the lobby.
“Hey, hey!” Leo held out his arms as he walked toward Faith. “Look at the big GBI girl!” He gave her a bear hug that, surprisingly, Faith allowed. “You’re looking good, Faith. Real good.”
She waved him off with a disbelieving laugh that would’ve seemed girlish if Will hadn’t known her better.
“Good to see you, man,” Leo boomed, shooting out his hand.
Will tried not to wrinkle his nose at the stench of cigarette smoke coming off the detective. Leo Donnelly was of average height and average build and, unfortunately, was a well-below-average cop. He was good at following orders, but thinking on his own was something the man just didn’t want to do. While this was hardly surprising in a homicide detective who had come up in the 1980s, Leo represented exactly the kind of cop that Will hated: sloppy, arrogant, not afraid to use his hands if a suspect needed loosening up.
Will tried to keep things pleasant, shaking the man’s hand, asking, “How’s it going, Leo?”
“Can’t complain,” he answered, then started to do exactly that as they walked toward the emergency room. “I’m two years away from full retirement and they’re trying to push me out. I think it’s the medical—y’all remember that problem I had with my prostate.” Neither one of them responded, but that didn’t stop Leo. “Fucking city insurance is refusing to pay for some of my medication. I’m telling you, don’t get sick or they’ll screw you six ways to Sunday.”
“What medication?” Faith asked. Will wondered why she was encouraging him.
“Fucking Viagra. Six bucks a pill. First time in my life I’ve ever had to pay for sex.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Faith commented. “Tell us about this kid. Any leads on the mom?”
“Zilch. Car’s registered to a Pauline McGhee. We found blood at the scene—not a lot but enough, you know? This wasn’t a nosebleed.”
“Just her purse, her wallet—license confirms it’s McGhee. Keys were in the ignition. The kid—Felix—was sleeping in the back.”
“Who found him?”
“A customer. She spotted him sleeping in the car, then got the manager.”
“He was probably exhausted from fear,” Faith murmured. “What about video?”
“The only working camera outside sweeps back and forth across the front of the building.”
“What happened to the other cameras?”
“Bad guys shot them out.” Leo shrugged, as if this was to be expected. “The SUV was just out of the frame, so we’ve got no footage of the car. We’ve got McGhee walking in with her kid, walking out alone, running back in, running back out. My guess is she didn’t notice the kid was gone until she got to her car. Maybe somebody outside kept him hidden, then used him as bait to lure her close enough, then smash and grab.”
“Anyone else on the camera coming out of the store?”
“It pans left to right. The kid was definitely in the store. I’m guessing whoever snatched him was watching the camera. They sneaked by when it swept the other side of the lot.”
Faith asked, “Do you know what school Felix goes to?”
“Some fancy private school in Decatur. I called them already.” He took out his notebook and showed it to Faith so she could write down the information. “They said the mom doesn’t have an emergency contact listed. The dad jerked off in a cup; end of involvement. No grandparents have ever shown up. FYI, personal observation, folks at her job ain’t too crazy about the chick. Sounded like they thought she was a real bitch.” He took a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket and showed it to Faith. “Here’s a copy of her license. Good-lookin’ broad.”
Over her shoulder Will looked at the picture. It was black-and-white, but he took a good guess. “Brown hair. Brown eyes.”
“Just like the others,” Faith confirmed.
Leo said, “We already got guys at McGhee’s house. None of the neighbors seem to know who the hell she is or really care that she’s gone. They say she kept to herself, never waved, never went to the block parties or whatever they did. We’re gonna try her work—it’s some hoity-toity design firm on Peachtree.”
“You run a credit check on her?”
“She’s flush,” Leo answered. “Mortgage looks good. Car’s paid for. Has money in the bank, the market and an IRA. She’s obviously not working off a cop’s salary.”
“Any recent activity on her credit cards?”
“Everything was still in her purse—wallet, cards, sixty bucks cash. Last time she used her debit card was at the City Foods this morning. We put a flag on everything in case somebody wrote the numbers down. I’ll let you know if we get a hit.” Leo glanced around. They were standing outside the emergency room entrance. He lowered his voice. “Is this related to your Kidney Killer?”
“Kidney Killer?” Will and Faith asked in unison.
“Y’all are cute,” Leo said. “Like the Bobbsey Twins.”
“What are you talking about, the Kidney Killer?” Faith sounded as puzzled as Will felt.
“Rockdale County’s leaking worse than my prostate,” Leo confided, obviously delighted to be spreading the news. “They’re saying your first victim had her kidney removed. I guess this is some kind of organ-harvesting thing. A cult maybe? I hear you can make big bucks for a kidney, around a hundred grand.”
“Jesus Christ,” Faith hissed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Her kidney wasn’t taken?” Leo seemed disappointed.
Faith didn’t answer, and Will wasn’t about to give Leo Donnelly any information that he could take back to the squad room. He asked, “Has Felix said anything?”
Leo shook his head, flashing his badge so they’d be buzzed back into the ER. “The kid clammed up. I called in social services, but they got fuck-all out of him. You know how they are at that age. Little thing’s probably retarded.”
Faith bristled. “He’s probably upset because he saw his mother abducted. What do you expect?”
“Who the hell knows? You’ve got a kid. I figured you’d be better at talking to him.”
Will had to ask Leo, “Don’t you have kids?”
Leo shrugged. “Do I look like the kind of man who has a good relationship with his children?”
The question did not really need an answer. “Was anything done to the boy?”
“The doc says he’s okay.” His elbow dug into Will’s ribs. “Speaking of the doc, shit, she’s something else. Fucking gorgeous. Red hair, legs up to here.”
Faith had a smile on her lips, and Will would have asked her about Victor Martinez again if Leo hadn’t been standing there with his elbow jammed into Will’s liver.
There was a loud beeping from one of the rooms, and nurses and doctors ran past, crash carts and stethoscopes flying. Will felt his gut tighten at the familiar sights and sounds. He had always dreaded doctors—especially the Grady docs who had served the kids at the children’s home where Will grew up. Every time he’d been taken out of a foster home, the cops had brought him here. Every scrape, every cut, every burn and bruise, had to be photographed, catalogued and detailed. The nurses had been doing it long enough to know that there was a certain detachment needed for the job. The doctors weren’t as practiced. They would yell and scream at social services and make you think that for once, something was going to change, but then you found yourself right back in the hospital a year later, a new doc railing and screaming the same things.
Now that Will was in law enforcement, he understood how their hands were tied, but that still didn’t change the way his gut twisted every time he walked into the Grady emergency room.
As if he sensed the ability to make the situation worse, Leo patted Will on the arm, saying, “Sorry about Angie splitting, man. Probably for the best.”
Faith was silent, but Will felt lucky she wasn’t capable of shooting flames from her eyes.
Leo said, “I’ll go find out where the doc is. They were keeping the kid in the lounge, trying to get him to calm down.”
He left, and Faith’s continued silence as she stared at Will spoke volumes. He tucked his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall. The emergency room wasn’t as busy as it had been last night, but there were still enough people milling around to make it difficult to have a private chat.
Faith didn’t seem to mind. “How long has Angie been gone?”
“A little under a year.”
Her breath caught. “You’ve only been married for nine months.”
“Yeah, well.” He glanced around, not wanting to have this conversation here or anywhere else. “She only married me to prove that she actually was going to marry me.” He felt himself smiling despite the situation. “It was more to win an argument than to actually get married.”
Faith shook her head as if she could make no sense of what he was saying. Will wasn’t sure he could help her. He had never understood his relationship with Angie Polaski. He had known her since he was eight years old and there wasn’t much he had figured out in the ensuing years, except that the minute she felt too close to him, she headed for the door. That she always eventually came back was a pattern Will had come to appreciate for its simplicity.
He told her, “She leaves me a lot, Faith. It wasn’t a surprise.”
She kept her mouth shut, and he couldn’t tell if she was mad or just too shocked to speak.
He said, “I want to check on Anna upstairs before we leave.”
She nodded.
He tried again. “Amanda asked me how you were doing last night.”
Faith suddenly gave him her full attention. “What did you tell her?”
“That you’re fine.”
“Good, because I am.”
He stared his meaning into her: Will wasn’t the only one holding back information.
“I am fine,” she insisted. “At least I will be, okay? So don’t worry about me.”
Will pressed his shoulders into the wall. Faith was silent, and the low hum of the emergency room was like static in his ears. Within minutes, he found himself fighting the urge to close his eyes. Will had fallen into bed around six that morning, thinking that he’d manage at least two hours’ sleep before he had to go pick up Faith. He’d negotiated down the morning’s activities as each hour passed, thinking first that he’d skip taking the dog for a walk, then taking off eating breakfast from the list, then finally removing his usual coffee. The clock had ticked off each hour with excruciating slowness, which he marked every twenty minutes when his eyes shot open, his heart in his throat, his head still thinking he was trapped back in that cave.
Will felt his arm itching again, but he didn’t scratch it for fear of drawing Faith’s attention to the gesture. Every time he thought about the cave, those rats using the flesh on his arms for a ladder, he felt his skin start to crawl. Considering how many scars Will had on his body, it was foolish to obsess about a couple of scratches that would eventually heal without leaving a mark, but it kept troubling his mind, and the more his mind was troubled, the more he itched.
He asked Faith, “You think this Kidney Killer thing has already hit the news?”
“I hope it has so when the real story comes out, those Rockdale County idiots look like the ignorant pricks they are.”
“Did I tell you what Fierro said to Amanda?”
She shook her head, and he relayed Fierro’s ill-timed accusation involving the Rockdale County chief of police’s pole.
Faith’s voice was little more than a shocked whisper. “What did she do to him?”
“He just disappeared,” Will said, taking out his cell phone. “I don’t know where he went, but I never saw him again.” He checked the time on his phone. “The autopsy’s in an hour. If nothing comes out of this kid, let’s go to the morgue and see if we can get Pete to start early.”
“We’re supposed to meet the Coldfields at two. I can call them and see if we can make it closer to noon.”
Will knew Faith hated sitting in on autopsies. “Do you want to split up?”
She obviously did not appreciate the offer. “We’ll see if they can move up the time. Our part of the postmortem should be fairly quick.”
Will hoped so. He didn’t relish the idea of lingering over the morbid details of the torture Jacquelyn Zabel had endured before she’d managed to escape to safety, only to fall and break her neck while waiting for help. “Maybe we’ll have something more to go on by then. A connection.”
“You mean other than both women were single, attractive, successful and pretty much hated by everyone who came into contact with them?”
“A lot of successful women are hated,” Will said, realizing the moment that the words came out of his mouth that he sounded like a sexist pig. “I mean, a lot of men feel threatened by—”
“I get it, Will. People don’t like successful women.” She added ruefully, “Sometimes other women are worse than men.”
He knew that she was probably thinking about Amanda. “Maybe that’s what’s motivating our killer. He’s angry that these women are successful and they don’t need men in their lives.”
Faith crossed her arms, obviously considering the angles. “Here’s the trick: He’s picked two women who won’t be missed, Anna and Jackie Zabel. Actually, three women, if you count Pauline McGhee.”
“She’s got long dark hair and brown eyes like the other two victims. Usually, these guys like a pattern, a certain type.”
“Jackie Zabel’s successful. You said Anna was well put together. McGhee drives a Lexus and had a kid on her own, which, take it from me, is not easy.” She was silent for a beat, and he wondered if she was thinking about Jeremy. Faith didn’t give him time to ask. “It’s one thing to kill prostitutes—you’ve got to go through at least four or five before anyone notices. He’s targeting women who have real power in the world. So we can assume he’s been watching them.”
Will hadn’t considered that, but she was probably right.
Faith continued, “Maybe he thinks of it as part of the hunt—doing reconnaissance on them, finding out about their lives. He stalks them, then he takes them.”
“So, what are we talking about here—a guy who works for a woman he’s not particularly fond of? A loner who felt abandoned by his mother? A cuckold?” Will stopped trying to profile their suspect, thinking the characteristics were a little too close to home.
“It can be anyone,” Faith said. “That’s the problem—it can be anyone.”
Will felt the frustration he heard in her voice. They both knew that the case was reaching a critical point. Stranger abductions were the hardest crimes to solve. The victims were usually randomly chosen, the abductor a practiced hunter who knew how to cover his tracks. It was sheer luck finding the cave last night, but Will had to hope that the kidnapper was getting sloppy; two of his victims had escaped. He might be feeling desperate, off his game. Luck had to be on their side, if they were going to catch him.
Will tucked his phone back into his pocket. They were less than twelve hours out and close to hitting a brick wall. Unless Anna woke up, unless Felix could offer them a solid lead or one of the crime scenes revealed a clue they could follow up on, they were still solidly on square one with nothing to do but wait until another body showed up.
Faith was obviously considering the same problems. “He would need another place to hold a new victim.”
“I doubt it’s another cave,” Will said. “It would’ve been pretty hard to dig. I nearly killed myself digging the hole for that pond I put in my backyard last summer.”
“You have a pond in your backyard?”
“Koi,” he provided. “It took me two full weekends.”
She was silent for a few beats, as if she was considering his pond. “Maybe our suspect might have had help digging the cave.”
“Serial killers usually work alone.”
“What about those two guys in California?”
“Charles Ng and Leonard Lake.” Will knew about the case, mostly because it was one of the lengthiest and most expensive in California’s history. Lake and Ng had built a cinderblock bunker in the hills, fitting the chamber with various torture devices and other implements to help them act out their sick fantasies. Both men had filmed themselves taking turns with the victims—men, women and children, some whom had never been identified.
Faith continued, “The Hillside Stranglers worked together, too.”
The two cousins had hunted women on the margins, prostitutes and runaways.
Will said, “They had a fake police badge. That’s how they got the women to trust them.”
“I don’t even want to consider the possibility.”
Will felt the same way, but it was something to keep in mind. Jackie Zabel’s BMW was missing. The woman at City Foods this morning had been abducted right beside her car. Someone posing as a police officer could have easily fabricated a scenario to approach their vehicles.
Will said, “Charlie didn’t find evidence of two different attackers being in the cave.” He had to add, “Then again, he wasn’t exactly eager to stay down there any longer than he had to.”
“What was your impression when you were down there?”
“That I needed to get out of there before I had a heart attack,” Will admitted, feeling the rat scratches on his arms start itching again. “It’s not the kind of place you want to linger.”
“We’ll look at the photos. Maybe there’s something you and Charlie didn’t see in the heat of the moment.”
Will knew that this was a distinct possibility. The photos of the cave would probably be on his desk by the time they got back to the office. They could examine the scene at leisure, the claustrophobia of the surroundings kept safely at arm’s length.
“Two victims, Anna and Jackie. Maybe two abductors?” Faith made the next connection. “If that’s their pattern, and Pauline McGhee is another victim, then they need a second victim.”
“Hey,” Leo called, waving them back. He stood at a door with a large sign on it.
“ ‘Doctors’ Lounge,’ ” Faith read, a habit she’d gotten into that Will both loathed and appreciated in unequal parts.
“Good luck,” Leo said, patting Will on the shoulder.
Faith asked, “You’re leaving?”
“The doc just handed me my ass on a platter.” Leo did not look particularly bothered by the fact. “You guys can talk to the kid, but unless this breaks toward your case, I need you to stay away.”
Will was slightly surprised by his words. Leo had always been more than happy to let other people do his work.
The detective said, “Trust me, I’d love to hand this over to you, but I got my bosses breathing down my neck. They’re looking for any reason to kick me. I’ll need a solid connection before I send this up the chain to get y’all on the case, all right?”
“We’ll make sure you’re covered,” Faith promised. “Can you still keep a lookout for us on missing persons? White, midthirties, dark brown hair, successful, but not someone who’s got a lot of friends who will miss her.”
“Brown and bitchy.” He gave her a wink. “What else I gotta do except gumshoe your case?” He seemed okay with it. “I’ll be at the City Foods if anything comes up. You’ve got my numbers.”
Will watched him go, asking, “Why are they pushing Leo out? I mean, other than the obvious reasons.”
Faith had been Leo’s partner for a few years, and Will could see her struggling with the desire to defend him. Finally, Faith said, “He’s at the top of his pay scale. It’s cheaper to have some fresh-faced kid just off patrol doing his job for half the pay. Plus, if Leo takes early retirement, he leaves twenty percent of his pension on the table. Throw in the medical, and it gets even more expensive to keep him around. The bosses look at that kind of thing when they’re doing their budgets.”
Faith was about to open the door, but stopped when her cell phone started ringing. She checked the caller ID and told Will, “Jackie’s sister.” She answered the phone, nodding for Will to go ahead without her.
Will’s hand was sweating when he pressed his palm to the wooden door. His heart did something weird—almost a double beat—that he put down to lack of sleep and too much hot chocolate this morning. Then he saw Sara Linton, and it did it again.
She was sitting in a chair by the window, holding Felix McGhee in her lap. The boy was almost too big to be held, but Sara seemed to be managing it well. One arm was wrapped around his waist, the other around his shoulders. She used her hand to stroke his hair as she whispered sounds of comfort in his ear.
Sara had looked up when Will entered the room, but didn’t let his presence disturb the scene. Felix stared blankly out the window, his lips slightly parted. Sara nodded toward a chair opposite, and Will guessed from the fact that it was less than six inches from Sara’s knee that Leo had been sitting there. He pulled the chair back a few feet and sat down.
“Felix.” Sara’s voice calm and in control, the same tone she had used with Anna the night before. “This is Agent Trent. He’s a policeman, and he’s going to help you.”
Felix kept staring out the window. The room was cool, but Will could see the boy’s hair was damp with perspiration. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, and Will took out his handkerchief to wipe it away. When he looked back at Sara, she was staring at him as if he’d pulled a rabbit out of his pocket.
“Old habit,” Will mumbled, embarrassed as he folded the cloth in two. He had been made well aware over the years that only old men and dandies carried handkerchiefs, but all the boys at the Atlanta Children’s Home had been made to carry them, and Will felt naked without one.
Sara shook her head, as if to say she didn’t mind. Her lips pressed to the top of Felix’s head. The child didn’t move, but Will had seen his eyes dart to the side, checking out Will, trying to see what he was doing.
“What’s this?” Will asked, noticing a book bag beside Sara’s chair. He guessed from the cartoon characters and bright colors that the bag belonged to Felix. Will slid it toward him and opened the zip, brushing away stray pieces of colored confetti as he explored the contents.
Leo would’ve already gone through everything in the bag, but Will took out each item as if he was carefully examining it for clues. “Nice pencils.” He held up a packet of colored pencils. The packaging was black, not the kind of thing you usually saw on children’s items. “These are for grown-ups. You must be a very good artist.”
Will didn’t expect a response, and Felix didn’t give one, but the boy’s eyes were watching carefully now, as if he wanted to make sure Will didn’t take anything from his bag.
Next, Will opened up a folder. There was an ornate crest on the front, probably from Felix’s private school. Official-looking documents from the school were in one pocket. What looked like Felix’s homework was in the other. Will couldn’t make out the school memos, but he could tell from the double-lined paper on the homework side that Felix was learning how to write on a straight line.
He showed this to Sara. “His letters are pretty good.”
“They are,” Sara agreed. She was watching Will as carefully as Felix was, and Will had to put her out of his mind so he didn’t forget how to do his job. She was too beautiful, and too smart, and too much of everything Will was not.
He put the folder back in the book bag and pulled out three slim books. Even Will could make out the first three letters of the alphabet that adorned the jacket of the first book. The other two were a mystery to him, and he held them up to Felix, saying, “I wonder what these are about?” When Felix didn’t answer, Will looked back at the jackets, squinting at the images. “I guess this pig works at a restaurant, because he’s serving people pancakes.” Will looked at the next book. “And this mouse is sitting in a lunchbox. I guess somebody’s going to eat him for lunch.”
“No.” Felix spoke so quietly that Will wasn’t sure the boy had said anything at all.
“No?” Will asked, looking back at the mouse. The great thing about being around kids was you could be absolutely honest and they thought you were just teasing them. “I can’t read very well. What does this say?”
Felix shifted, and Sara helped him turn toward Will. The child reached for the books. Instead of answering, Felix held the books close to his chest. His lip started to tremble, and Will guessed, “Your mom reads to you, doesn’t she?”
He nodded, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
Will leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I want to find your mommy.”
Felix swallowed, as if he was trying to choke down his grief. “The big man took her.”
Will knew that to a kid, all adults were big. He sat up straight, asking, “As big as me?”
Felix really looked at Will for the first time since he’d walked into the room. He seemed to consider the question, then shook his head.
“What about the detective who was just in here—the stinky one? Was the man as tall as him?”
Felix nodded.
Will tried to keep the pace slow, casual, so Felix would keep answering the questions without feeling like he was being interrogated. “Did he have hair like mine, or was it darker?”
“Darker.”
Will nodded, scratching his chin as if he was deliberating possibilities. Kids were notoriously unreliable witnesses. They either wanted to please the adults who questioned them or they were so open to suggestion that you could pretty much plant any idea in their heads and have them swear that it actually happened.
Will asked, “What about his face? Did he have hair on his face? Or was it smooth like mine?”
“He had a mustache.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“He told me that my mommy said to stay in the car.”
Will treaded carefully. “Was he wearing a uniform like a janitor or a fireman or a police officer?”
Felix shook his head. “Just normal clothes.”
Will felt a rush of heat to his face. He knew Sara was staring at him. Her husband had been a cop. She wouldn’t like the implication.
Will asked, “What color were his clothes?”
Felix shrugged, and Will wondered if the boy was finished answering questions or if he really didn’t remember.
Felix picked at the edge of his book. “He wore a suit like Morgan.”
“Morgan is a friend of your mommy’s?”
He nodded. “He’s at her work, but she’s mad at him because he’s lying and he’s trying to get her into trouble, but she’s not going to let him get away with it because of the safe.”
Will wondered if Felix had overheard some phone calls or if Pauline McGhee was the type of woman to vent her problems to a six-year-old boy. “Do you remember anything else about the man who took your mommy?”
“He said he would hurt me if I told anybody about him.”
Will kept his face blank, as did Felix. “You’re not scared of the man,” he said, not a question but a statement.
“My mommy says that she’ll never let anybody hurt me.”
He seemed so sure of himself that Will couldn’t help but feel a great deal of respect for Pauline McGhee’s parenting skills. Will had interviewed a lot of children in his time, and while most of them loved their parents, not many of them exhibited this kind of blind trust.
Will said, “She’s right. No one is going to hurt you.”
“My mommy will protect me,” Felix insisted, and Will started to wonder about his certainty. You usually didn’t reassure a kid of something unless there was a real fear you were trying to combat.
Will asked, “Was your mom worried that someone might hurt you?”
Felix picked at the book jacket again. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Will waited, trying not to rush his next question. “Who was she afraid of, Felix?”
He spoke quietly, his voice little more than a whisper. “Her brother.”
A brother. This could be some kind of family dispute after all. Will asked, “Did she tell you his name?”
He shook his head. “I never met him, but he was bad.”
Will stared at the boy, wondering how to phrase his next question. “Bad how?”
“Mean,” Felix said. “She said he was mean, and that she would protect me from him because she loves me more than anybody in the world.” There was a finality to his tone, as if that was all he was willing to say on the matter. “Can I go home now?”
Will would’ve preferred a knife to his chest rather than have to answer this question. He glanced at Sara for support, and she took over, saying, “Remember that lady you met earlier? Miss Nancy?”
Felix nodded.
“She’s going to find someone to take care of you until your mom comes to get you.”
The boy’s eyes filled with tears. Will couldn’t blame him. Miss Nancy was probably from social services. She would be a far cry from the women at Felix’s private school and his mother’s well-heeled friends.
He said, “But I want to go home.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Sara soothed. “But if you go home, you’ll be all alone. We need to make sure that you’re safe until your mom comes to get you.”
He didn’t seem convinced.
Will got down on one knee so that he was face-to-face with the boy. He wrapped his hand around Felix’s shoulder, his fingers accidentally brushing Sara’s arm in the process. Will felt a lump rise in his throat, and he had to swallow before he could speak. “Look at me, Felix.” He waited until the child complied. “I’m going to make sure your mom comes back to you, but I need you to be brave for me while I’m working to make that happen.”
Felix’s face was so open and trusting that it was painful to look at him. “How long will it take?” There was a wobble in his voice as he asked the question.
“Maybe a week at the most,” Will said, fighting the urge to break eye contact. If Pauline McGhee was gone longer than a week, she would be dead, and Felix would be an orphan. “Can you give me a week?”
The boy kept staring at Will as if to judge whether or not he was being told the truth. Finally, he nodded.
“All right,” Will said, feeling as if an anvil had been placed on his chest. He saw that Faith was sitting in a chair by the door and wondered when she had come into the room. She stood, nodding for him to follow her outside. Will patted Felix on the leg before joining Faith in the hallway.
“I’ll tell Leo about the brother,” Faith said. “Sounds like a family dispute.”
“Probably.” Will glanced back at the closed door. He wanted to go back in there, but not because of Felix. “What’d Jackie’s sister say?”
“Joelyn,” Faith provided. “She’s not exactly torn up about her sister being killed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bitch runs in the family.”
Will felt his eyebrows go up.
“I’m just having a bad day,” Faith said, but that was hardly an explanation. “Joelyn lives in North Carolina. She said it’ll take her about five hours to drive down.” Almost as an afterthought, Faith added, “Oh, and she’s going to sue the police and get us fired if we don’t find out who killed her sister.”
“One of those,” Will said. He didn’t know which was worse—family members who were so torn up with grief that you felt like they were reaching into your chest and squeezing your heart or family members who were so angry that you felt like they were squeezing you a little farther down.
He said, “Maybe you should have another go at Felix.”
“He seemed pretty tapped out to me,” Faith replied. “I probably couldn’t get any more out of him than you did.”
“Maybe talking to a woman—”
“You’re good with kids,” Faith interrupted, a hint of surprise in her tone. “More patient than me right now, anyway.”
Will shrugged. He had helped out with some of the younger kids at the children’s home, mostly to keep the new ones from crying all night and keeping everyone awake. He asked, “Did you get Pauline’s work number from Leo?” Faith nodded. “We need to call and see if there’s a Morgan there. Felix says the abductor dressed like him—maybe there’s a kind of suit that Morgan favors. Also, our guy’s about five-six with dark hair and a mustache.”
“The mustache could be fake.”
Will admitted as much. “Felix is smart for his age, but I’m not sure he can tell the difference between real and fake. Maybe Sara got something out of him?”
“Let’s give them a few more minutes alone,” Faith suggested. “You sound like you think Pauline’s one of our victims.”
“What do you think?”
“I asked you first.”
Will sighed. “My gut is pointing that way. Pauline’s well-off, well employed. She’s got brown hair, brown eyes.” He shrugged, contradicting himself. “That’s not much to hang your hat on.”
“It’s more than we had when we got up this morning,” she pointed out, though he couldn’t tell if she was agreeing with his gut or clutching at straws. “Let’s be careful about this. I don’t want to get Leo in trouble by snooping around his case, then leaving him hanging out to dry when nothing comes out of it.”
“Agreed.”
“I’ll call Pauline McGhee’s work and ask about Morgan’s suits. Maybe I can get some information out of them without stepping on Leo’s toes.” Faith took out her phone and looked at the screen. “My battery is dead.”
“Here.” Will offered his. She took it gently in both hands and dialed a number from her notebook. Will wondered if he looked as silly as Faith did holding the two pieces of the phone to his face and figured he probably looked even more so. Faith was not really his type, but she was an attractive woman, and attractive women could get away with a lot. Sara Linton, for instance, could probably get away with murder.
“Sorry,” Faith said into the phone, her voice raised. “I’m having trouble hearing you.” She shot Will a look, as if this was his fault, before heading down the hall where the reception was better.
Will leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. Replacing the phone represented a seemingly insurmountable problem—the sort of problem that Angie usually handled for him. He’d tried to get the device replaced by calling the cell phone company, but they had told him he would have to go to the store and fill out paperwork. Assuming that miracle occurred, Will would then have to figure out the new features on the phone—how to set the ring tone to something that wouldn’t annoy him, how to program in the numbers he needed for work. Will supposed he could ask Faith, but his pride kept getting in the way. He knew that she would gladly help him, but she would want to have a conversation about it.
For the first time in his adult life, Will found himself wishing that Angie would come back to him.
He felt a hand on his arm, then heard an “Excuse me” as a thin brunette opened the door to the doctors’ lounge. He guessed she was Miss Nancy from social services, come to collect Felix. The day was early enough that the boy wouldn’t immediately be taken to a shelter. There might be a foster family who could look after him for a while. Hopefully, Miss Nancy had been at this job long enough so that she had some good families who owed her favors. It was hard to place children who were in limbo. Will had been in limbo himself, just long enough to get to that age where adoption was almost impossible.
Faith was back. She had a disapproving frown on her face as she handed Will back his phone. “You should get that replaced.”
“Why?” he asked, pocketing the phone. “It works fine.”
She ignored his obvious lie. “Morgan only wears Armani, and he seemed pretty convinced that he’s the only man in Atlanta with enough style to pull it off.”
“So, we’re talking anywhere from twenty-five hundred to five thousand dollars for a suit.”
“I’d bet it’s on the high end, judging by his haughty tone. He also told me that Pauline McGhee is estranged from her family, going back at least twenty years. He says she ran away at seventeen and never looked back. He’s never heard her mention a brother before.”
“How old is Pauline now?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Did Morgan know how to get in touch with her family?”
“He doesn’t even know what state she’s from. She didn’t talk about her past much. I left a message on Leo’s cell. I’m pretty sure he’ll track down the brother before the day is out. He’s probably already running all the fingerprints from her SUV.”
“Maybe she’s living under an alias? You don’t run away from home at seventeen without a reason. Pauline’s obviously doing pretty well for herself financially. Maybe she had to change her name to make that happen.”
“Obviously, Jackie’s been in touch with her family and hasn’t changed her name. Her sister was going by Zabel, too.” Faith laughed, pointing out, “All of their names rhyme—Gwendolyn, Jacquelyn, Joelyn. It’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”
Will shrugged. He’d never been able to recognize words that rhymed, a problem he thought might be coupled with his reading issues. Fortunately, it wasn’t the sort of thing that came up much.
Faith continued, “I don’t know what it is, but something about having a baby makes you think the stupidest names are beautiful.” She sounded wistful. “I almost named Jeremy Fernando Romantico after one of the guys from Menudo. Thank God my mother put her foot down.”
The door opened. Sara Linton joined them in the hallway, looking exactly how you’d expect someone to look if they felt like they’d just abandoned a child to social services. Will wasn’t one to rail against the system, but the reality was that no matter how nice the social workers were, or how hard they tried, there weren’t enough of them and they didn’t get nearly the support they needed. Add to that the fact that foster parents were either the salt of the earth or money-hungry, child-hating sadists, and you quickly understood how soul-killing the entire enterprise could be. Unfortunately, it was Felix McGhee’s soul that would pay the most.
Sara told Will, “You were good in there.”
He fought the urge to smile like a kid who’d just been patted on the head.
Faith asked, “Did Felix say anything else?”
Sara shook her head. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” Faith answered, a defensive edge to her tone.
Sara said, “I heard about the second victim you found last night.”
“Will found her.” Faith paused a moment, as if to draw out the information. “This isn’t for public consumption, but she snapped her neck when she fell from a tree.”
Sara frowned. “What was she doing in a tree?”
Will took over the story. “She was waiting for us to find her. Apparently, we didn’t get there quickly enough.”
“You have no way of knowing how long she was in the tree,” Sara told him. “Time of death isn’t an exact science.”
“Her blood was warm,” he returned, feeling that same darkness come as he thought about the hot liquid hitting the back of his neck.
“There are other reasons the blood might still be warm. If she was in a tree, then the leaves could’ve acted as an insulation from the cold. She could’ve been medicated by her abductor. Several pharmaceuticals can raise the body’s core temperature and keep it high even after death.”
He countered, “The blood hadn’t had time to clot.”
“Something as simple as a couple of aspirin could keep it from coagulating.”
Faith provided, “Jackie had a large bottle of aspirin by her bed. It was half empty.”
Will was unconvinced, but Sara had moved on. She asked Faith, “Is Pete Hanson still the coroner for this region?”
“You know Pete?”
“He’s a good ME. I did a couple of courses with him when I first got elected.”
Will had forgotten that in small towns, the medical examiner’s job was an elected position. He couldn’t picture Sara’s face on a yard sign.
Faith said, “We were actually about to head over there for the autopsy on the second victim.”
Sara seemed to take on an air of uncertainty. “Today’s my day off.”
“Well,” Faith began, again drawing out the moment. “I hope you enjoy your day.” She said it as a parting shot, but didn’t make a move to leave.
Will noticed that the hallway had gone quiet enough to hear the clacking of high heels on the tiles behind him. Amanda Wagner walked briskly toward them. She looked well rested despite the fact that she had stayed out in the forest as late as Will. Her hair was in its usual unmoving helmet and her pantsuit was a muted dark purple.
As usual, she jumped right into the middle of things. “The bloody fingerprint on Jacquelyn Zabel’s Florida driver’s license belongs to our first victim. Are you still calling her Anna?” She didn’t give them time to answer. “Is this grocery store abduction related to our case?”
Will told her, “It could be. The mother was abducted around five-thirty this morning. The kid, Felix, was found sleeping in his mother’s car. We’ve got a sketchy description from him, but he’s only six years old. The Atlanta police are cooperating. As far as I know, they haven’t asked for help.”
“Who’s on point?”
“Leo Donnelly.”
“Worthless,” Amanda grumbled. “We’ll let him keep his case for the time being, but I want a very tight leash on him. Let Atlanta do the footwork and pay for the forensics, but if he starts to screw things up, yank him off.”
Faith said, “He’s not going to like that.”
“Do I look like I give a damn?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Our friends in Rockdale County apparently have some regrets about turning over their case,” she informed them. “I’ve called a press conference outside in five minutes and I want you and Faith flanking me, looking reassuring as I explain to the public at large that their kidneys are safe from the hands of vicious organ harvesters.” She held out her hand to Sara. “Dr. Linton, I suppose it’s not a stretch to say we’re meeting under better circumstances this time around.”
Sara shook her hand. “For me, at least.”
“It was a moving service. A fitting tribute to a great officer.”
“Oh …” Sara’s voice trailed off, confused. Tears welled into her eyes. “I didn’t realize you were …” She cleared her throat, and tried to collect herself. “That day is still a blur for me.”
Amanda gave her a close look of appraisal, and her tone was surprisingly soft when she asked, “How long has it been?”
“Three and a half years.”
“I heard about what happened at Coastal.” Amanda was still holding Sara’s hand, and Will could see her give the woman a reassuring squeeze. “We take care of our own.”
Sara wiped her eyes, glancing at Faith as if she felt foolish. “I was actually about to offer my services to your agents.”
Will saw Faith’s mouth open, then close just as quickly.
Amanda said, “Go on.”
“I worked on the first victim—Anna. I didn’t have the opportunity to do a full exam, but I had time with her. Pete Hanson is one of the finest medical examiners I’ve ever met, but if you want me to sit in on the autopsy of the second victim, I might be able to offer a perspective on the differences and similarities between the two.”
Amanda didn’t waste time thinking over the decision. “I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said. “Faith, Will, come with me. Dr. Linton, my agents will meet you at City Hall East in an hour.” When no one moved, she clapped her hands. “Let’s go.” She was halfway down the hall before Faith and Will found it in themselves to follow.
Will walked behind Amanda, keeping his stride short so he wouldn’t run her over. She walked fast for such a small woman, but his height always made him feel a bit like the Green Giant as he tried to keep a respectful distance. Looking down at the back of her head, he wondered whether their killer worked for a woman like Amanda. Will could see where a different kind of man might feel outright hatred instead of the mix of exasperation with a dash of burning desire to please that Will felt toward the older woman.
Faith put her hand on his arm, pulling him back. “Can you believe that?”
“Believe what?”
“Sara elbowing in on our autopsy.”
“She had a point about seeing both victims.”
“You saw both victims.”
“I’m not a coroner.”
“Neither is she,” Faith shot back. “She’s not even a real doctor. She’s a pediatrician. And what the hell was Amanda talking about at Coastal?”
Will was curious about what had happened at Coastal State Prison, too, but mostly he wondered why Faith was so angry about it all.
Amanda called over her shoulder, “You’re to take any and all help Sara Linton is willing to offer.” She had obviously heard them whispering. “Her husband was one of the finest cops in this state, and I’d stake any investigation on Sara’s medical skills.”
Faith didn’t bother hiding her curiosity. “What happened to him?”
“Line of duty,” was all Amanda would say. “How are you doing after your tumble, Faith?”
Faith sounded unusually chipper. “Perfect.”
“Doctor cleared you?”
She got even chippier. “One hundred percent.”
“We’re going to have a talk about that.” Amanda waved the security guards away as they entered the lobby, telling Faith, “I’ve got a meeting after this with the mayor, but I’ll expect you in my office by the end of the day.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Will wondered if he was turning more stupid by the minute or if the women in his life were just getting more obtuse. Now was not the time to figure it out, though. He reached ahead of Amanda and opened the glass entrance door. There was a podium outside, a small carpet behind it for Amanda to stand on. Will took his usual spot to the side, safe in the knowledge that the cameras would capture his chest and maybe the knot in his tie as they went in for the tight focus on Amanda. Faith obviously knew she would not be as lucky, and she perfected a scowl as she stood behind her boss.
The cameras flashed. Amanda stepped up to the microphones. Questions were shouted, but she waited for the ruckus to die down before taking out a folded sheet of paper from her jacket pocket and smoothing it flat on the platform. “I’m Dr. Amanda Wagner, deputy director of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation’s Atlanta regional office.” She paused for effect. “Some of you have heard the spurious rumors about the so-called Kidney Killer. I am here to set the record straight that this rumor is false. There is no such killer in our midst. The victim’s kidney was not removed; there was no surgical interference whatsoever. The Rockdale County Police Department has denied starting said rumors, and we have to trust that our colleagues are being honest in this matter.”
Will didn’t have to look at Faith to know she was fighting the urge to smile. Detective Max Galloway had certainly gotten under her skin, and Amanda had just slammed the entire Rockdale County police force on camera.
One of the reporters asked, “What can you tell us about the woman who was brought into Grady last night?”
Not for the first time, Amanda knew more about their case than Will or Faith had told her. She responded, “We should have a sketch of the victim for you by one o’clock this afternoon.”
“Why no photographs?”
“The victim suffered some blows to the face. We want to give the public their best chance to identify her.”
A woman from CNN asked, “What’s her prognosis?”
“Guarded.” Amanda moved on, pointing to the next person with his hand up. It was Sam, the guy who had called to Faith when they first entered the hospital. He was the only reporter Will could see who was taking notes the old-fashioned way instead of using a digital recorder. “Do you have a comment about the statement from Jacquelyn Zabel’s sister, Joelyn Zabel?”
Will felt his jaw tighten as he forced himself to stare impassively ahead. He imagined Faith was doing the same thing, because the crowd of reporters was still focused on Amanda instead of the two shocked agents behind her.
“The family is obviously very upset,” Amanda answered. “We’re doing everything we can do to solve this case.”
Sam pressed, “You can’t be pleased that she’s using such harsh language about your agency.”
Will could imagine Amanda’s smile just by the look on Sam’s face. They were both playing a game, because the reporter obviously knew full well that Amanda had no idea what he was talking about.
She said, “You’ll have to ask Ms. Zabel about her statements. I have no further comment on the matter.” Amanda took two more questions, then wrapped up the press conference with the usual request for anyone with information to come forward.
The reporters started to dissipate, off to file their stories—though Will was fairly certain that none of them would take responsibility for failing to fact-check their reports before running the specious rumor about the so-called Kidney Killer.
Amanda’s voice was a low grumble that Will could barely make out when she told Faith, “Go.”
Faith didn’t need an explanation, nor did she need backup, but she still grabbed Will by the arm as she walked toward the crowd of reporters. She brushed past Sam, and she must’ve said something to him because the man started following her toward a narrow alley between the hospital and the parking garage.
Sam said, “Caught the dragon off guard, didn’t I?”
Faith indicated Will. “Agent Trent, this is Sam Lawson, professional asshole.”
Sam flashed him a smile. “Pleased to meet you.”
Will didn’t offer a response, and Sam didn’t appear to mind. The reporter was more interested in Faith, and he was looking at her in such a predatory way that Will felt a caveman urge to punch the guy squarely in the jaw.
Sam said, “Damn, Faith, you’re looking really hot.”
“Amanda’s pissed at you.”
“Isn’t she always?”
“You don’t want to be on her bad side, Sam. You remember what happened last time.”
“The great thing about drinking so much is that I don’t.” He was grinning again, looking her up and down. “You look really good, babe. I mean—just fantastic.”
She shook her head, though Will could tell she was softening. He’d never seen her look at a man the way she was looking at Sam Lawson. There was definitely something unresolved between them. Will had never felt more like a third wheel in his life.
Thankfully, Faith seemed to realize she was here for a reason. “Did Rockdale give you Zabel’s sister?”
“Reporters’ sources are confidential,” Sam answered, all but confirming her guess.
Faith asked, “What’s Joelyn’s statement?”
“In a nutshell, she said you guys stood around with your thumbs up your asses for three hours arguing about who would get the case while her sister was dying up in a tree.”
Faith’s lips were a thin white line. Will felt physically ill. Sam must have talked to the sister right after Faith had, which explained why the reporter had been so sure Amanda was in the dark.
Finally, Faith asked, “Did you feed Zabel that information?”
“You know me better than that.”
“Rockdale fed her the information, then you got her on the record.”
He shrugged another confirmation. “I’m a reporter, Faith. I’m just doing my job.”
“That’s a pretty shitty job—ambushing grieving family members, trashing the cops, printing what you know are lies.”
“Now you know why I was a drunk for so many years.”
Faith tucked her hands into her hips, gave a heavy, frustrated sigh. “That’s not what happened with Jackie Zabel.”
“I figured it wasn’t.” Sam took out his notepad and pen. “So give me something else to lead with.”
“You know I can’t—”
“Tell me about the cave. I heard he had a boat battery down there so he could burn them.”
The boat battery was what they called “guilty knowledge,” the sort of information only the killer would know. There were a handful of people who had seen the evidence Charlie Reed had collected belowground, and they all wore badges. At least for now.
Faith said what Will was thinking. “Either Galloway or Fierro is feeding you inside information. They get to screw us over, and you get your front-page story. Win-win, right?”
Sam’s toothy grin confirmed her speculation. Still he said, “Why would I talk to Rockdale when you’re my inside man on this case?”
Will had seen Faith’s temper turn on a dime over the last few weeks, and it was nice to not be on the receiving end of her anger for a change. She told Sam, “I’m not your inside anything, asshole, and your facts are wrong.”
“Set me straight, babe.”
She seemed about to, but sanity caught up with her at the last minute. “The GBI has no official comment on Joelyn Zabel’s statement.”
“Can I quote you on that?”
“Quote this, babe.”
Will followed Faith to the car, but not before flashing a smile at the reporter. He was pretty sure the gesture Faith had made was not something you could put in a newspaper.