Faithless

CHAPTER TEN

Sara shifted her weight, feeling dead on her feet. She had started the autopsy of Charles Donner over three hours ago and still hadn’t found anything conclusive.

She tapped the Dictaphone back on, saying, “Extraperitoneal rupture of the bladder caused by downward blunt force trauma. No pelvic fracture is visible.” She told Jeffrey, “His bladder was empty, that’s the only reason it didn’t rupture. He may have gone to the bathroom before going to his room.”

Jeffrey wrote something down in his notebook. Like Sara and Carlos, he was wearing a mask and safety goggles. When Sara had first entered the house on Cromwell, she had nearly gagged at the smell. Donner had obviously died very recently, but there was a scientific explanation for the odor. His intestines and stomach had been ruptured, bile and feces filling his abdominal cavity and leaking out through the punctures on his side. The heat of his cramped bedroom had gone to work on the viscera, fermenting it in his torso like a festering sore. His abdomen was so swollen with bacteria that by the time Sara had gotten him back to the morgue and opened him up, matter had sloshed over the sides of the autopsy table, splattering onto the floor.

“Transverse fracture to the sternum, bilateral rib fractures, ruptured pulmonary parenchyma, superficial capsular lacerations to the kidneys and spleen.” She stopped, feeling like she was going through a grocery list. “The left lobe of the liver has been amputated and crushed between the anterior abdominal wall and the vertebral column.”

Jeffrey asked, “You think this took two people?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “There aren’t any defensive wounds on his arms or hands, but that could just mean that he was taken by surprise.”

“How could one person do this to somebody?”

She knew he wasn’t asking a philosophical question. “The abdominal wall is slack and compressible. Normally, when something hits it, it readily transmits the force to the abdominal viscera. It’s like slapping your palm against a puddle of water. Depending on the force, hollow organs like the stomach and intestines can burst, the spleen is lacerated, the liver is damaged.”

“Houdini died like that,” Jeffrey told her, and despite the circumstances, Sara smiled at his love of mundane history. “He had an open challenge to anyone in the world to hit him in the stomach as hard as they could. Some kid caught him off guard and ended up killing him.”

“Right,” Sara agreed. “If you tighten your abdominal muscles, you can disperse the impact. If not, you can get yourself killed. I doubt Donner had time to think about it.”

“Can you make a guess about what killed him yet?”

Sara looked at the body, what was left of the head and neck. “If you told me this kid had been in a car crash, I would absolutely believe you. I’ve never seen this much blunt force trauma in my life.” She pointed to the flaps of skin that had been rubbed off the body from sheer impact. “These avulsive injuries, the lacerations, the abdominal injuries…” She shook her head at the mess. “He was punched so hard in the chest that the back of his heart was bruised by his spinal column.”

“You sure this happened last night?”

“At least in the last twelve hours.”

“He died in the room?”

“Definitely.” Donner’s body had festered in his intestinal juices as they dripped down from the open wound in his side. Stomach acids had eaten black holes in the shag. When Sara and Carlos had tried to move the body, they had found the corpse was stuck to the green carpet. They had been forced to slice off his jeans and cut out the section of the rug they had been glued to in order to remove him from the scene.

Jeffrey asked, “So, what killed him?”

“Take a number,” she said. “A dislocation at the atlanto-occipital junction could have transected the spinal cord. He could’ve had a subdural hematoma caused by rotational acceleration.” She counted off the possibilities on her hand: “Cardiac arrhythmia, transected aorta, traumatic asphyxia, pulmonary hemorrhage.” She gave up counting. “Or it could have been just plain old shock. Too much pain, too much trauma, and the body just shuts down.”

“You think Lena was right about the brass knuckles?”

“It makes sense,” she allowed. “I’ve never seen anything like these marks. They’re the right width, and it would explain how someone could do this with their fists. External damage would be minimal, just whatever the force of the metal against the skin would do, but internally”-she indicated the mess of viscera she had found inside the body- “this is exactly what I would expect to find.”

“What a nasty way to die.”

She asked, “Did you find anything in the apartment?”

“No fingerprints but Donner’s and the landlady’s,” he said, flipping back through his notes and reading, “Couple of bags- probably heroin- and some needles hidden in the stuffing on the underside of the couch. Around a hundred bucks in cash tucked into the base of a lamp. A couple of porn mags in the closet.”

“Sounds about right,” she said, wondering when she had stopped being surprised at the amount of pornography men consumed. It was getting so that if a man didn’t have some sort of pornography at his disposal, she was instantly suspicious.

Jeffrey said, “He had a gun, a nine-mil.”

“He was on parole?” Sara asked, knowing the gun violation would have sent Donner back to jail before he could open his mouth to explain.

Jeffrey didn’t seem bothered by it. “I’d have a gun if I lived in that neighborhood, too.”

“No sign of Rebecca Bennett?”

“No, no sign of any girl, for that matter. Like I said, there were only the two sets of fingerprints in the room.”

“That could be suspicious in and of itself.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you find the wallet?” After they’d cut the pants off, Sara had noticed that Donner’s pockets were empty.

“We found some loose change and a receipt from the grocery store for some cereal behind the dresser,” Jeffrey told her. “No wallet, though.”

“He probably emptied his pockets when he got home, went to the bathroom and then his room, where he was blindsided.”

“By who, though?” Jeffrey asked, more of himself than Sara. “It could be some dealer he screwed over. A friend who knew he had the Baggies, but not where he kept them. A thief from the neighborhood looking for some cash.”

“I would assume a bartender kept cash around.”

“He wasn’t beaten for information,” Jeffrey said.

Sara agreed. No one had stopped in the middle of attacking Chip Donner to ask him where he kept his valuables.

Jeffrey seemed frustrated. “It could be somebody connected to Abigail Bennett. It could be somebody who never met her. We don’t even know if the two of them are connected.”

“It didn’t look as if there were signs of a struggle,” Sara said. “The place looked ransacked.”

“It didn’t look that ransacked,” Jeffrey disagreed. “Whoever was looking for something wasn’t doing a very good job.”

“A junkie can’t exactly maintain focus.” She contradicted herself by saying, “Of course, anyone that strung out wouldn’t be coordinated enough for this kind of attack.”

“Not even with PCP?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Sara admitted. PCP was a volatile drug and had been known to give users unusual strength as well as vivid hallucinations. When she had worked in Atlanta ’s Grady Hospital, she’d admitted a patient to the ER one night who had broken the weld on the metal bedrail he was handcuffed to and threatened one of the staff with it.

She allowed, “It’s possible.”

He said, “Maybe whoever killed him messed up the room so it’d look like a robbery.”

“Then it would have to be a person who came there specifically to kill him.”

“I don’t understand why he doesn’t have any defensive wounds,” Jeffrey said. “He just lay down and took the beating?”

“He has a high transverse fracture of the maxilla, a LeFort III. I’ve only seen that in textbooks.”

“You’ve got to speak English for me.”

“The flesh of his face was nearly beaten off his skull,” she said. “If I had to guess what happened, I would say someone took him completely by surprise, punched him in the face and knocked him out.”

“One punch?”

“He’s a small guy,” she pointed out. “The first hit could’ve been the one that snapped his spinal cord in two. His head jerks around, that’s it.”

“He was holding on to the laundry line,” he reminded her. “It was wrapped around his hand.”

“He could’ve reflexively grabbed it as he fell,” she countered. “But there’s no way at this point to tell which injury is ante- and what’s postmortem. I think what we’ll find is that whoever did this knew how to put a beating on somebody, and they did it quickly and methodically, then got out of there.”

“Maybe he knew his attacker.”

“It’s possible.” She asked, “What about his next-door neighbor?”

“Around ninety years old and deaf as a board,” Jeffrey said. “Tell you the truth, from the way the room smelled, I don’t even think the old man leaves it to go to the bathroom.”

Sara thought that could be true about all the occupants of the house. After being in Donner’s room for just half an hour, she felt filthy. “Was anybody else in the house last night?”

“Landlady was downstairs, but she keeps the TV up loud. Two other guys were living there- both alibied out.”

“You sure?”

“They were arrested for drunk and disorderly an hour before it happened. They slept it off courtesy of your tax dollars in the Grant County Jail.”

“I’m glad I can give something back to the community.” Sara snapped off her gloves.

As usual, Carlos had been standing quietly by, and she asked, “Can you go ahead and stitch him up?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, going to the cabinet to get the proper materials.

Sara took off her safety glasses and head covering, relishing the feel of fresh air. She slipped off her gown and dropped it in the laundry bag as she headed back to her office.

Jeffrey did the same as he followed her, saying, “I guess it’s too late to go to church with Tessa tonight.”

She glanced at her watch as she sat down. “Not really. I’ve got time to run home and take a shower.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he said, leaning against her desk. “I don’t like how any of these people are looking.”

“Do you have a connection between the church and Donner?”

“Does tenuous count?”

“Is there anyone in particular you think might have done this?”

“Cole Connolly’s been in prison. He’d know how to put a beating on somebody.”

“I thought you said he was an old man.”

“He’s in better shape than I am,” Jeffrey said. “He didn’t lie about his jail time, though. His records are pretty old, but they show twenty-two years of hard time in the Atlanta pen. The car boost from when he was seventeen probably happened in the fifties. It wasn’t even on the computer, but he mentioned it anyway.”

“Why would he kill Chip, though? Or Abby, for that matter? And what’s his connection to the cyanide? Where would he get it?”

“If I could answer those questions, we probably wouldn’t be here,” he admitted. “What do you need to see for yourself?”

She remembered her phrase from earlier on the phone and felt like kicking herself for saying anything at all. “It’s just something stupid.”

“Stupid how?”

Sara stood up and closed the door, even though Carlos was probably the most discreet person she had ever met.

She sat back down, her hands clasped in front of her on the desk. “It’s just something stupid that popped into my head.”

“You never have stupid things pop into your head.”

She thought to correct him, the most recent example being her risky behavior the other night, but instead said, “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

He stared at the back wall, making a clicking noise with his tongue, and she could tell he was upset.

“Jeff.” She took his hand in both of hers, holding it to her chest. “I promise I’ll tell you, okay? After tonight, I’ll tell you why I need to do this, and we’ll both laugh about it.”

“Are you still mad at me about sleeping on the couch?”

She shook her head, wondering why he wouldn’t let that go. She had been hurt to find him on the couch, not mad. Obviously she wasn’t as good an actress as she liked to think. “Why would I be mad at you about that?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so hell-bent on getting involved with these people. Considering the way Abigail Bennett was killed and the fact that another girl connected with this case is missing, I’d think you’d be doing your damned best to keep Tessa away from them.”

“I can’t explain it right now,” she told him. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you or him”- she gestured toward the exam room- “or this case, or some religious conversion on my part. I promise you that. I swear.”

“I don’t like being left out of your life like this.”

“I know you don’t,” she told him. “And I know it’s not fair. I just need you to trust me, okay? Just give me a little room.” She wanted to add that she needed the same room she had given him last night, but didn’t want to bring up the subject again. “Just trust me.”

He stared at her hands around his. “You’re making me really nervous, Sara. These could be very dangerous people.”

“Are you going to forbid me to do it?” She tried teasing: “I don’t see a ring on my finger, Mr. Tolliver.”

“Actually,” he said, sliding open her desk drawer. She always took off her jewelry and left it in her office before performing a procedure. His Auburn class ring was sitting beside the pair of diamond earrings he had given her for Christmas last year.

He picked up the ring, and she held out her hand so that he could slide it onto her finger. She thought he would ask her not to go again, but instead he told her, “Be careful.”

Sara parked her car in front of her parents’ house, surprised to see her cousin Hare leaning against his convertible Jaguar, decked out like a model in GQ.

He tossed out a “Hey, Carrot” before she had time to close her car door.

Sara looked at her watch. She was five minutes late picking up Tessa. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve got a date with Bella,” he told her, taking off his sunglasses as he walked over to meet her. “Why’s the front door locked?”

She shrugged. “Where are Mama and Daddy?”

He patted his pockets, pretending to look for them. Sara loved her cousin, she really did, but his inability to take anything seriously made her want to strangle him sometimes.

She glanced at the apartment over the garage. “Is Tessa home?”

“She’s wearing her invisible suit if she is,” Hare told her, slipping his sunglasses back on as he leaned against her car. He was wearing white slacks and Sara wished for just a moment that her father hadn’t washed her car.

She told him, “We’re supposed to go somewhere.” Not wanting to endure the ridicule, Sara didn’t tell him where. She looked at her watch again, thinking she would give Tessa ten more minutes, then go home. She wasn’t particularly excited about going to church, and the more she thought about Jeffrey’s concerns, the more she was beginning to believe this was a bad idea.

Hare slid down his glasses, batting his eyelashes as he asked, “Aren’t you going to tell me I look pretty?”

Sara was unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes. The thing she detested most about Hare was that he wasn’t content to be silly by himself. He always managed to bring out the juvenile in others.

He offered, “I’ll tell you if you tell me. You go first.”

Sara had dressed for church, but she wasn’t going to take the bait. “I talked to Jeffrey,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Y’all married yet?”

“You know we’re not.”

“Don’t forget I want to be a bridesmaid.”

“Hare-”

“I told you that story, didn’t I? About the cow getting the milk for free?”

“Cows don’t drink milk,” she returned. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d been exposed?”

“There was some oath they made me take after medical school,” he told her. “Something that rhymes with step-o-matic…”

“Hare-”

“Super-matic…”

“Hare,” Sara sighed.

“Hippocratic!” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “I wondered why we all had to stand around in robes eating canapés, but you know I never pass up an opportunity to wear a dress.”

“Since when did you develop scruples?”

“They dropped around the time I was thirteen.” He winked at her. “Remember how you used to try to grab them when we took baths together?”

“We were two years old when I did that,” she reminded him, giving a disparaging downward glance. “And the phrase ‘needle in a haystack’ comes to mind.”

“Oh!” he gasped, putting his hands to his mouth.

“Hey,” Tessa called. She was walking down the street, Bella at her side. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay,” Sara told her, relieved and disappointed at the same time.

Tessa kissed Hare’s cheek. “You look so pretty!”

Hare and Sara said, “Thank you,” at the same time.

“Let’s go up to the house,” Bella told them. “Hare, fetch me a Co-cola, will you?” She dug around in her pocket and pulled out a key. “And get my shawl off the back of my chair.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sprinting toward the house.

Sara told Tessa, “We’re running late. Maybe we should-”

“Give me a minute to change,” Tessa said, darting up the stairs to her apartment before Sara could bow out gracefully.

Bella put her arm around Sara’s shoulder. “You look about ready to collapse.”

“I was hoping Tess would notice.”

“She probably did, but she’s too excited about you coming along to let that get in the way.” Bella leaned on the railing as she sat on the front steps.

Sara joined her aunt, saying, “I don’t understand why she wants me to go.”

“This is a new thing for her,” Bella said. “She wants to share it.”

Sara sat back on her elbows, wishing Tessa had found something more interesting to share. The theater downtown was running a Hitchcock retrospective, for instance. Or they could always learn needlepoint.

“Bella,” Sara asked. “Why are you here?”

Bella leaned back beside her niece. “I made a fool of myself for love.”

Sara would have laughed if anyone else had said it, but she knew her aunt Bella was particularly sensitive where romance was concerned.

“He was fifty-two,” she said. “Young enough to be my son!”

Sara raised her eyebrows at the scandal.

“Left me for a forty-one-year-old chippie,” Bella said sadly. “A redhead.” Sara’s expression must have shown some sort of solidarity, because Bella added, “Not like you.” Then, putting a finer point on it, “Carpet didn’t exactly match the drapes.” She stared out at the road, wistful. “He was some kind of man, though. Very charming. Dapper.”

“I’m sorry you lost him.”

“The bad part is that I threw myself at his feet,” she confided. “It’s one thing to be dumped, quite another to beg for a second chance and have your face slapped.”

“He didn’t-”

“Oh, good Lord, no,” she laughed. “I pity the wayward soul who tries to raise his hand to your aunt Bella.”

Sara smiled.

“You should take that as a lesson, though,” the older woman warned. “You can only be rebuffed so many times.”

Sara chewed her bottom lip, thinking she was getting really tired of people telling her she should marry Jeffrey.

“You get to be my age,” Bella continued, “and different things matter than they did when you were young and fancy-free.”

“Like what?”

“Like companionship. Like talking about literature and plays and current events. Like having someone around who understands you, has gone through the things you have and come out at the other end that much the wiser for it.”

Sara could sense her aunt’s sadness, but didn’t know how to alleviate it. “I’m sorry, Bella.”

“Well”-she patted Sara’s leg-“don’t worry about your aunt Bella. She’s been through worse, I’ll tell you that. Tossed around like a used box of crayons”- she winked- “but I’ve managed to maintain the same vibrant colors.” Bella pursed her lips, studying Sara as if she had just noticed her for the first time. “What’s on your mind, pumpkin?”

Sara knew better than to try to lie. “Where’s Mama?”

“League of Women Voters,” Bella said. “I don’t know where that father of yours got off to. Probably down at the Waffle House talking politics with the other old men.”

Sara took a deep breath and let it go, thinking now was as good a time as any. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

Sara turned to face her, lowering her voice in case Tessa had her windows open or Hare was about to sneak up on them. “You mentioned before about Daddy forgiving Mama when she cheated.”

Bella cast a wary glance. “That’s their business.”

“I know,” Sara agreed. “I just…” She decided to come out and say it. “It was Thomas Ward, wasn’t it? She was interested in Thomas Ward.”

Bella took her time before giving a single nod. To Sara’s surprise, she provided, “He was your father’s best friend since they were in school together.”

Sara couldn’t remember Eddie ever mentioning the man’s name, though, considering the circumstances, it made sense.

“He lost his best friend because of it. I think that hurt him almost as much as the possibility of losing your mother.”

“Thomas Ward is the man who runs this church Tessa is so excited about.”

Again, she nodded. “I was aware.”

“The thing is,” Sara began, wondering again how to phrase her words, “he has a son.”

“I believe he has a couple of them. Some daughters, too.”

“Tessa says he looks like me.”

Bella’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you saying?”

“I’m afraid to say anything.”

Above them, Tessa’s door opened and slammed shut. Her footsteps were quick on the stairs. Sara could almost feel her excitement.

“Honey,” Bella said, putting her hand on Sara’s knee. “Just because you’re sitting in the henhouse, that don’t make you a chicken.”

“Bella-”

Tessa asked, “Ready?”

“Y’all have fun,” Bella said, pressing her hand into Sara’s shoulder as she stood. “I’ll leave the light on.”

The church was not what Sara had been expecting. Located on the outskirts of the farm, the building resembled pictures of old Southern churches Sara had seen in storybooks as a child. Instead of the huge, ornate structures gracing Main Street in Heartsdale, their stained glass windows coloring the very heart of the town, the Church for the Greater Good was little more than a clapboard house, the exterior painted a high white, the front door very similar to the front door of Sara’s own house. She would not have been surprised if the place was still lit by candles.

Inside was another story. Red carpet lined a large center aisle and Shaker-style wooden pews stood sentry on either side. The wood was unstained, and Sara could see the cutmarks in the scrolled backs where the pews had been carved by hand. Overhead were several large chandeliers. The pulpit was mahogany, an impressive-looking piece of furniture, and the cross behind the baptismal area looked like it had been taken down from Mt. Sinai. Still, Sara had seen more elaborate churches with more riches openly displayed. There was something almost comforting in the spare design of the room, as if the architect had wanted to make sure the focus stayed on what happened inside the building rather than the building itself.

Tessa took Sara’s hand as they entered the church. “Nice, huh?”

Sara nodded.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

Tessa squeezed her hand. “How could you disappoint me?” she asked, leading Sara to the door behind the pulpit. She explained, “It starts in the fellowship hall, then we come in here for the service.”

Tessa opened the door, revealing a large, brightly lit hall. There was a long table down the center with enough chairs to seat at least fifty people. Candelabras were lit, their flames gently flickering. A handful of people were sitting at the table, but most were standing around the roaring fire at the back of the room. There was a coffee urn on a card table under a bank of large windows along with what looked like the infamous honey buns Tessa had mentioned.

Getting ready for tonight, Sara had made the grand concession of wearing panty hose, some long-ago admonishment from her mother about the connection between bare legs in church and burning in hell coming into her mind as she picked out something to wear. She saw from the crowd that she could have saved herself the trouble. Most of them were in jeans. A few of the women wore skirts, but they were of the homespun kind she had seen on Abigail Bennett.

“Come meet Thomas,” Tessa said, dragging her over to the front of the table. An old man was sitting in a wheelchair, two women on either side of him.

“Thomas,” Tessa told him, bending down, putting her hand over his. “This is my sister, Sara.”

His face was slackened on one side, lips slightly parted, but there was a spark of pleasure in his eyes when he looked up at Sara. His mouth moved laboriously as he spoke, but Sara couldn’t understand a word he said.

One of the women translated: “He says you have your mother’s eyes.”

Sara wasn’t under the impression she had her mother’s anything, but she smiled politely. “You know my mother?”

Thomas smiled back, and the woman said, “Cathy was here just yesterday with the most wonderful chocolate cake.” She patted his hand like he was a child. “Wasn’t she, Papa?”

“Oh,” was all Sara could say. If Tessa was surprised, she didn’t show it. She told Sara, “There’s Lev. I’ll be right back.”

Sara stood with her hands clasped in front of her, wondering what in the hell she had thought she could accomplish by coming here.

“I’m Mary,” the woman who had spoken first told her. “This is my sister Esther.”

“Mrs. Bennett,” she said, addressing Esther. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“You found our Abby,” the woman realized. She wasn’t exactly looking at Sara, rather somewhere over her shoulder. After a few seconds, she seemed to focus back in. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“I’m sorry there wasn’t more I could do.”

Esther’s lower lip trembled. Not that they looked anything alike, but the woman reminded Sara of her own mother. She had Cathy’s quietness about her, the resolute calm that came from unquestioning spirituality.

Esther said, “You and your husband have been very kind.”

“Jeffrey’s doing everything he can,” Sara said, knowing not to mention Rebecca or the meeting at the diner.

“Thank you,” a tall, well-dressed man interrupted. He had sidled up to Sara without her knowing. “I’m Paul Ward,” he told Sara, and she would have known he was a lawyer even if Jeffrey hadn’t told her. “I’m Abby’s uncle. One of them, that is.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sara told him, thinking he stuck out like a sore thumb. She didn’t know much about fashion, but she could tell the suit Paul was wearing had set him back a bit. It fit him like a second skin.

“Cole Connolly,” the man beside him said. He was much shorter than Paul and probably thirty years older, but he had an energetic vibe, and Sara was reminded of what her mother had always called “being filled with the spirit of the Lord.” She was also reminded of what Jeffrey said about the man. Connolly looked harmless enough, but Jeffrey was seldom wrong about people.

Paul asked Esther, “Would you mind checking on Rachel?”

Esther seemed to hesitate, but she agreed, telling Sara, “Thank you again, Doctor,” before she left.

Apropos of nothing, Paul told Sara, “My wife, Lesley, couldn’t make it tonight. She’s staying home with one of our boys.”

“I hope he’s not ill.”

“Usual stuff,” he said. “I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes,” she answered, wondering why she felt as if she needed to keep her guard up around this man. For all intents and purposes he looked like a deacon at the church- which he probably was- but Sara hadn’t liked the familiar way he spoke to her, as if by knowing her job, he knew something about her.

Putting a finer point on it, Paul asked Sara, “You’re the county coroner?”

“Yes.”

“The service for Abby is tomorrow.” He lowered his voice. “There’s the matter of the death certificate.”

Sara felt a bit shocked that he had been forward enough to ask her, but she told him, “I can have copies sent to the funeral home tomorrow.”

“It’s Brock’s,” he told her, naming Grant’s undertaker. “I’d appreciate it if you would.”

Connolly cleared his throat uncomfortably. Mary whispered, “Paul,” indicating their father. Obviously, the old man was troubled by this talk. He had shifted in his chair, his head turned to the side. Sara could not tell whether there were tears in his eyes.

“Just a bit of business out of the way,” Paul covered. He changed the subject quickly. “You know, Dr. Linton, I’ve voted for you several times.” The coroner’s job was an elected position, though Sara was hardly flattered, considering she had run uncontested for the last twelve years.

She asked him, “You live in Grant County?”

“Papa used to,” he said, putting his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “On the lake.”

Sara felt a lump in her throat. Close to her parents.

Paul said, “My family moved out here several years ago. I never bothered to change my registration.”

“You know,” Mary said, “I don’t think Ken has, either.” She told Sara, “Ken is Rachel’s husband. He’s around here somewhere.” She pointed to a round-looking Santa Claus of a man who was talking to a group of teenagers. “There.”

“Oh” was all Sara could say. The teens around him were mostly girls, all dressed as Abby had been, all around Abby’s age. She scanned the rest of the room, thinking that there were a lot of young women here. She studiously avoided Cole Connolly, but she was keenly aware of his presence. He seemed normal enough, but then what did a man who could bury and poison a young girl- perhaps several young girls- look like? It wasn’t as if he’d have horns and fangs.

Thomas said something, and Sara forced her attention back to the conversation.

Mary translated again: “He says he’s voted for you, too. Good Lord, Papa. I can’t believe none of y’all have changed your registrations. That must be illegal. Cole, you need to get on them about that.”

Connolly looked apologetic. “Mine is in Catoogah.”

Mary asked, “Is yours still over in Grant, Lev?”

Sara turned around, bumping into a large man who was holding a small child in his arms.

“Whoa,” Lev said, taking her elbow. He was taller than she was, but they shared the same green eyes and dark red hair.

“You’re Lev” was all she could say.

“Guilty,” he told her, beaming a smile that showed perfect white teeth.

Sara was not normally a vindictive person, but she wanted to take the smile off his face. She chose probably the most inappropriate way in the world to do it. “I’m sorry about your niece.”

His smile dropped immediately. “Thank you.” His eyes moistened, he smiled at his son, and just as quickly as the emotions had come, he had pushed them away. “Tonight we’re here to celebrate life,” he said. “We’re here to raise up our voices and show our joy in the Lord.”

“Amen,” Mary said, patting the railing of her father’s wheelchair for emphasis.

Lev told Sara, “This is my son, Zeke.”

Sara smiled at the child, thinking that Tessa was right, he was just about the most adorable boy she had ever seen. He was on the small side for five, but she could tell from his big hands and feet that he was due for a growth spurt soon. She said, “Nice to meet you, Zeke.”

Under his father’s watchful eye, the boy reached out his hand for Sara to shake. She took his tiny fingers in her larger ones, feeling an instant connection.

Lev rubbed his back, saying, “My pride and joy,” an indisputable look of happiness on his face.

Sara could only nod. Zeke’s mouth opened in a yawn that showed his tonsils.

“Are you sleepy?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s pretty wiped out,” Lev excused. He set Zeke down on the floor, saying, “Go find your aunt Esther and tell her you’re ready for bed.” Lev kissed the top of his head, then patted his bottom to get him moving.

“It’s been a hard couple of days for all of us,” Lev told Sara. She could feel his grief, but part of her wondered if he was putting on a show for her benefit, knowing she would report back to Jeffrey.

Mary said, “We take comfort in knowing she’s in a better place.”

Lev’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t understand, but he recovered quickly, saying, “Yes, yes. That’s true.” Sara could tell from his reaction that he had been taken off guard by his sister’s words. She wondered if he had been talking about Rebecca instead of Abby, but there was no way to ask without revealing what Esther had done.

Sara saw Tessa across the room. She was unwrapping a honey bun as she talked to a plainly dressed young man who had his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. Tessa saw Sara looking and excused herself, walking over. Her hand trailed along Zeke’s head as she passed the boy. Sara had never been so happy to see her sister in all her life- until she opened her mouth.

She pointed to Sara and Lev. “Y’all look more alike than we do.”

They laughed, and Sara did her best to join in. Both Lev and Paul were taller than Sara, Mary and Esther easily matching her own five eleven. For once, Tessa was the one whose height made her look out of place. Sara could think of few other times when she had felt more uncomfortable.

Lev asked Sara, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Sara looked around the room, feeling embarrassed that she didn’t remember a boy she had met over thirty years ago. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“Sunday school,” he said. “Was it Mrs. Dugdale, Papa?” Thomas nodded, the right side of his face going up into a smile. “You kept asking all these questions,” Lev told Sara. “I wanted to tape your mouth shut because we were supposed to get Kool-Aid after we did our Bible verses and you’d keep holding up your hand and asking all sorts of things.”

“Sounds about right,” Tessa said. She was eating a honey bun, acting as if she hadn’t a care in the world, as if her mother hadn’t had an affair with the man sitting in a wheelchair beside her, the man who had fathered a child who looked almost identical to Sara.

Lev told his father, “There was this storybook with a drawing of Adam and Eve, and she kept saying, ‘Mrs. Dugdale, if God created Adam and Eve, why do they have belly buttons?’ ”

Thomas whooped an unmistakable laugh, and his son joined in. Sara must have been getting used to Thomas’s speech, because she understood him perfectly when he said, “It’s a good question.”

Lev said, “I don’t know why she didn’t just tell you it was an artistic rendering, not actual footage.”

Sara remembered very little of Mrs. Dugdale other than her constant cheerfulness, but she did recall, “I think her response was that you had to have faith.”

“Ah,” Lev said, thoughtful. “I detect a scientist’s disdain for religion.”

“I’m sorry,” Sara apologized. She had certainly not come here to insult anyone.

“‘Religion without science is blind,’ ” Lev quoted.

“You’re forgetting the first part,” she reminded him. “Einstein also said that science without religion is lame.”

Lev’s eyebrows shot up.

Unable to stop her smart mouth, Sara added, “And he also said that we should look for what is, not what we think should be.”

“All theories, by their nature, are unproven ideas.”

Thomas laughed again, obviously enjoying himself. Sara felt embarrassed, as if she had been caught showing off.

Lev tried to keep her going. “It’s an interesting dichotomy, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Sara mumbled. She wasn’t about to get into a philosophical argument with the man in front of his own family, standing in the back room of the church his father had probably built with his own two hands. Sara was also mindful that she did not want to make things bad for Tessa.

Lev seemed oblivious. “Chicken or the egg?” he asked. “Did God create man, or did man create God?”

Trying not to get pulled in, Sara decided to say something she thought he wanted to hear. “Religion plays an important role in society.”

“Oh, yes,” he agreed, and she couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or baiting her. Either way, she was annoyed.

She said, “Religion gives a common bond. It creates groups, families, who form societies with common values and goals. These societies tend to thrive more than groups without a religious influence. They pass on this imperative to their children, the children pass it on to theirs and so on.”

“The God gene,” he provided.

“I suppose,” she allowed, really wishing she hadn’t let herself get roped into this.

Suddenly, Connolly spoke up, angrier than Sara could have imagined. “Young lady, you are either at the right hand of God or you are not.”

Sara blushed crimson at his tone. “I just-”

“You are either the faithful or the faithless,” Connolly insisted. There was a Bible on the table and he picked it up, raising his voice. “I pity the faithless, for they inherit an eternity in the fiery pits of hell.”

“Amen,” Mary murmured, but Sara kept her eyes on Connolly. In the blink of an eye, he had changed into the man Jeffrey had warned her about, and she quickly tried to appease him. “I’m sorry if I-”

“Now, Cole,” Lev interrupted, his tone teasing as if Connolly were a tiger without the teeth. “We’re just joshing around here.”

“Religion is nothing to play around with,” Connolly countered, the veins standing out in his neck. “You, young lady, you don’t play with people’s lives! We’re talking about salvation here. Life and death!”

Tessa said, “Cole, come on,” trying to defuse the situation. Sara could certainly take care of herself, but she was glad to have her sister’s support, especially considering she had no idea what Connolly was capable of.

“We have a guest, Cole.” Lev’s tone was still polite, but there was a definite edge to it- not exactly threatening but asserting whatever authority he had in this place. “A guest who is entitled to her own opinions, much as you are.”

Thomas Ward spoke, but Sara could only make out a few words. She gathered he said something about God blessing man with the freedom to choose.

Connolly was visibly biting back his anger when he said, “I should go see if Rachel needs help.” He stormed away, his fists clenched at his sides. Sara noticed his broad shoulders and muscular back. She found herself thinking that despite his age, Cole Connolly could easily take on half the men in this room without breaking a sweat.

Lev watched him go. She didn’t know the preacher well enough to tell if he was amused or irritated, but he seemed genuine when he told her, “I do apologize for that.”

Tessa asked, “What on earth was that all about? I’ve never seen him so upset.”

“Abby has been a great loss to us,” Lev answered. “We all deal with grief in our own way.”

Sara took a second to find her voice. “I’m sorry I upset him.”

“You have no need to apologize,” Lev told Sara, and from his chair, Thomas made a noise of agreement.

Lev continued, “Cole’s from a different generation. He’s not one for introspection.” He gave an open smile. “‘Old age should burn and rave at close of day… ’ ”

Tessa finished, “‘Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’ ”

Sara didn’t know what shocked her more, Connolly’s flash of anger or Tessa quoting Dylan Thomas. Her sister had a twinkle in her eye, and Sara finally understood Tessa’s sudden religious conversion. She had a crush on the pastor.

Lev told Sara, “I’m sorry he upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” Sara lied. She tried to sound convincing, but Lev looked troubled that his guest had been insulted.

“The problem with religion,” Lev began, “is that you always get to that point where the questions can’t be answered.”

“Faith,” Sara heard herself saying.

“Yes.” He smiled, and she didn’t know if he was agreeing with her or not. “Faith.” He raised an eyebrow at his father. “Faith is a tricky proposition.”

Sara must have looked as angry as she felt, because Paul said, “Brother, it’s a wonder you never managed to marry a second time, the way you have with women.”

Thomas was laughing again, a trail of spittle dribbling down his chin, which Mary quickly wiped off. He spoke, an obvious effort as what he had to say was not brief, but again Sara couldn’t make out a word of it.

Instead of translating, Mary chastised, “Papa.”

Lev told Sara, “He said if you were a foot shorter and a hair more annoyed, you’d be the spitting image of your mother.”

Tessa laughed with him. “It’s nice to have that put on somebody else for a change.” She told Thomas, “People are always saying I look like my mama and Sara looks like the milkman.”

Sara wasn’t certain, but she thought there was something reserved about Thomas’s smile.

Lev said, “Unfortunately, the only thing I inherited from Papa is his bullheadedness.”

The family laughed good-naturedly.

Lev glanced at his watch. “We’ll be starting in a few minutes. Sara, do you mind joining me out front?”

“Of course not,” she said, hoping he didn’t want to finish their discussion.

Lev held open the door to the sanctuary for her, closing it softly behind them. He kept his hand on the knob as if he wanted to make sure no one followed them.

“Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry if I pushed your buttons in there.”

“You didn’t,” she replied.

“I miss my theological debates with my father,” he explained. “He can’t talk very well, as you can see, and I just… well, I might have gotten a little carried away in there. I want to apologize.”

“I’m not offended,” she told him.

“Cole can get a little prickly,” he continued. “He sees things in black and white.”

“I gathered.”

“There are just certain kinds of people.” Lev showed his teeth as he smiled. “I was in the academic world for a few years. Psychology.” He seemed almost embarrassed. “There’s a trend among the highly educated to assume anyone who believes in God is either stupid or deluded.”

“It was never my intention to give you that impression.”

He got the dig, and put in one of his own. “I understand Cathy is a very religious person.”

“She is,” Sara said, thinking she never wanted this man to even think about her mother, let alone mention her name. “She’s one of the most intelligent people I know.”

“My own mother passed away shortly after I was born. I never had the pleasure of knowing her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sara told him.

Lev was staring at her, then he nodded as if he had made up his mind about something. If they hadn’t been in a church and if he hadn’t had a gold cross pinned to his lapel, she could have sworn he was flirting with her. He said, “Your husband is a very lucky man.”

Instead of correcting him, Sara told him, “Thank you.”

Jeffrey was lying in bed reading Andersonville when Sara got home. She was so glad to have him there that for a moment she didn’t trust herself to speak.

He closed the book, using his finger to mark his place. “How’d it go?”

She shrugged, unbuttoning her blouse. “Tessa was happy.”

“That’s good,” he said. “She needs to be happy.”

She unzipped her skirt. Her panty hose were on the floor of the car, where she had taken them off on the way home.

“Did you see the moon?” he asked, and she had to think a minute to understand what he meant.

“Oh.” She looked out the bedroom windows, where the lake was reflecting the full moon almost perfectly. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Still no word on Rebecca Bennett.”

“I talked to her mother tonight,” Sara said. “She’s very worried.”

“I am, too.”

“Do you think she’s in danger?”

“I think I’m not going to sleep well until we find out where she is.”

“Nothing on the search in the woods?”

“Nothing,” he confirmed. “Frank didn’t find anything at the jewelry stores. We still haven’t heard back from the lab on blood typing from the second box.”

“Ron must have gotten tied up,” she said, thinking it was odd for the pathologist not to do something he had promised to do. “They could’ve gotten in a rush or something.”

He gave her a careful look. “Anything happen tonight?”

“In particular?” she asked. The confrontation with Cole Connolly came to mind, but Sara was still upset about the discussion. She didn’t quite know how to articulate her feelings to Jeffrey, and the more she thought about it, the more she thought Lev’s interpretation of Connolly’s behavior might be correct. She was also a little embarrassed by her own behavior and wasn’t completely sure she hadn’t baited the old man into the altercation.

She told Jeffrey, “The brother Paul asked me for a copy of Abby’s death certificate.”

“That’s odd,” Jeffrey commented. “I wonder why?”

“Maybe there’s a will or a trust?” Sara unfastened her bra as she walked into the bathroom.

“He’s a lawyer,” Jeffrey told her. “I’m sure there’s some legal wrangling behind it.” He put the book on his bedside table and sat up. “Anything else?”

“I met Lev’s son,” she said, wondering why she was bringing it up. The child had the longest, prettiest eyelashes she had ever seen, and just the thought of the way he had yawned, his mouth widening with the kind of abandon only a child can show, opened up a space in her heart that she had tried to close a long time ago.

“Zeke?” Jeffrey asked. “He’s a cute kid.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, checking the clothes basket for a T-shirt that was clean enough to sleep in.

“What else happened?”

“I let myself get into a religious discussion with Lev.” Sara found one of Jeffrey’s shirts and put it on. When she stood up, she noticed his toothbrush in the cup beside hers. His shaving cream and razor were lined up beside each other, his deodorant next to hers on the shelf.

“Who won?” he asked.

“Neither,” she managed, squirting toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She closed her eyes as she brushed her teeth, feeling dead tired.

“You didn’t let anybody talk you into getting baptized, did you?”

She felt too tired to laugh. “No. They’re all very nice. I can see why Tessa likes going there.”

“They didn’t handle snakes or speak in tongues?”

“They sang ‘Amazing Grace’ and talked about good works.” She rinsed her mouth and dropped her toothbrush back into the cup. “They’re a lot more fun than Mama’s church, I can tell you that.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, climbing into bed, relishing the feel of clean sheets. The fact that Jeffrey did the laundry was reason enough to forgive him for most if not all of his ills.

He slid down beside her, leaning up on his elbow. “Fun how?”

“No fire and brimstone, as Bella would say.” Remembering, she asked, “Did you tell them I’m your wife?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “It might have slipped out.”

She lightly punched him in the chest and he fell over on his back as if she had really hit him.

She said, “They’re a tight bunch.”

“The family?”

“I didn’t notice anything particularly weird about them. Well, no more weird than my family, and before you open your mouth, Mr. Tolliver, remember I’ve met your mother.”

He accepted defeat with a slight nod of his head. “Was Mary there?”

“Yes.”

“She’s the other sister. Lev’s excuse for not coming in was that she was ill.”

“She didn’t look sick to me,” Sara told him. “But I didn’t exactly give her an exam.”

“What about the others?”

She thought for a moment. “Rachel wasn’t around much. That Paul certainly likes to control things.”

“Lev does, too.”

“He said my husband is a lucky man.” She smiled, knowing this would annoy him.

Jeffrey worked his jaw. “That so?”

She laughed as she put her head on his chest. “I told him I was the lucky one to have such an honest husband.” She said “husband” in the grand Southern tradition, drawing out the word as “huuuz-bun.”

She smoothed down his chest hair because it was tickling her nose. Jeffrey traced his finger along his Auburn class ring, which she was still wearing. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to say something, to ask her the same question he had been asking her for the last six months, but he didn’t.

Instead, he said, “What did you need to see for yourself tonight?”

Knowing she couldn’t postpone the inevitable much longer, she told him, “Mama had an affair.”

His body tensed. “Your mother? Cathy?” He was as disbelieving as Sara had been.

“She told me a few years ago,” Sara said. “She said it wasn’t a sexual affair, but she moved out of the house and left Daddy.”

“That doesn’t sound like her at all.”

“I’m not supposed to tell anybody.”

“I won’t tell,” he agreed. “God, who would believe me?”

Sara closed her eyes again, wishing her mother had never told her in the first place. At the time, Cathy had been trying to help Sara see that she could work things out with Jeffrey if she really wanted to, but now, the information was about as welcome as a theological discussion with Cole Connolly.

She told him, “It was with this guy who founded the church. Thomas Ward.”

Jeffrey waited a beat. “And?”

“And I don’t know what happened, but obviously Mama and Daddy got back together.” She looked up at Jeffrey. “She told me they got together because she was pregnant with me.”

He took a second to respond. “That’s not the only reason she went back to him.”

“Children change things,” Sara said, coming as close to talking about their own inability to have children as she had ever dared. “A child is a bond between two people. It ties you together for life.”

“So does love,” he told her, putting his hand to her cheek. “Love ties you together. Experiences. Sharing your lives. Watching each other grow old.”

Sara laid her head back down.

“All I know,” Jeffrey continued, as if they hadn’t been talking about themselves, “is that your mother loves your father.”

Sara braced herself. “You said Lev has my hair and my eyes.”

Jeffrey didn’t breathe for a full twenty seconds. “Christ,” he whispered, disbelieving. “You don’t think that-” He stopped. “I know I was teasing you, but-” Even he couldn’t say it out loud.

Sara kept her head on his chest as she looked up at his chin. He had shaved, probably expecting some kind of celebration tonight in light of the good news about his blood test.

She asked him, “Are you tired?”

“Are you?”

She twirled her fingers in his hair. “I might be open to persuasion.”

“How open?”

Sara lay back, taking him with her. “Why don’t you feel for yourself?”

He took her up on the offer, giving her a slow, soft kiss.

She told him, “I’m so happy.”

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

“No.” She put her hands to his face. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

He kissed her again, taking his time, teasing her lips. Sara felt herself start to relax as he pressed his body into hers. She loved the weight of him on top of her, the way he knew how to touch her in all the right places. If making love was an art, Jeffrey was a master, and as his mouth worked its way down her neck, she turned her head, eyes partly closed, enjoying the sensation of him until her peripheral vision caught an unusual flash of light across the lake.

Sara narrowed her eyes, wondering if it was a trick of the moon against the water or something else.

“What?” Jeffrey asked, sensing her mind was elsewhere.

“Shh,” she told him, watching the lake. She saw the flash again, and pressed against Jeffrey’s chest, saying, “Get up.”

He did as he was told, asking, “What’s going on?”

“Are they still searching the forest?”

“Not in the dark,” he said. “What-”

Sara snapped off the bedside light as she got out of bed. Her eyes took a moment to adjust, and she kept her hands in front of her, feeling her way to the window. “I saw something,” she told him. “Come here.”

Jeffrey got out of bed, standing beside her, staring across the lake.

“I don’t see-” He stopped.

The flash had come again. It was definitely a light. Someone was across the lake with a flashlight. The spot was almost exactly where they had found Abby.

“Rebecca.”

Jeffrey moved as if a gun had been fired. He’d thrown on his jeans before Sara even managed to find her clothes. She could hear his footsteps cracking the pine needles in the backyard as she slipped on a pair of sneakers and took off after him.

The full moon illuminated the path around the lake, and Sara kept pace with Jeffrey from several yards behind. He hadn’t put on a shirt, and she knew that he wasn’t wearing shoes because she had put on his. The heel of the right sneaker was pushed down, and Sara made herself stop for a few seconds in order to slip it on properly. This cost her precious time, and she pushed herself even harder as she ran, feeling her heart pound in her throat. She ran this same route most mornings, but now she felt as if it was taking forever to get to the other side of the lake.

Jeffrey was a sprinter while Sara was better suited for long-distance running. When she finally passed her parents’ house, her second wind kicked in and in a few minutes, she had caught up with him. They both slowed their pace as they approached the forest, finally coming full stop as a flashlight beam crossed the path in front of them.

Sara felt herself being yanked down by Jeffrey as he crouched out of sight. Her own breathing matched his, and she thought that the noise alone would give them away.

They watched as the flashlight went toward the woods, farther in to the spot where Jeffrey and Sara had found Abigail just three days ago. Sara had a moment of panic. Perhaps the killer came back later for the bodies. Perhaps there was a third box that all their searching had not turned up and the abductor had returned to perform another part of the ritual.

Jeffrey’s mouth was close to her ear. He whispered, “Stay here,” walking off in a crouch before she could stop him. She remembered he was barefoot, and wondered if he was even thinking through his actions. His gun was back at the house. No one knew they were out here.

Sara followed him, keeping well behind, desperately trying not to step on anything that would make a noise. Ahead, she could see the flashlight had stilled, pointing down at the ground, probably at the empty hole where Abby had been.

A high-pitched scream echoed in the woods, and Sara froze.

A laugh- more like a cackle- followed, and she was more frightened by this than the scream.

Jeffrey kept his voice firm, authoritative, as he told the person holding the light, “Stay exactly where you are,” and the girl screamed again. The flashlight went up, and Jeffrey said, “Get that thing out of my face.” Whoever was on the other end obeyed, and Sara took another step forward.

He said, “What the fuck do you two think you’re doing out here?”

Sara could see them all now- a teenage boy and girl standing in front of Jeffrey. Even though he was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, he looked threatening.

The girl screamed again when Sara accidentally stepped on a twig.

“Jesus,” Jeffrey hissed, still out of breath from the run. He asked the young couple, “Do you know what happened out here?”

The kid was about fifteen and almost as scared as the girl beside him. “I-I was just showing her…” His voice cracked, though he was well beyond that embarrassing stage. “We were just having fun.”

“You think this is fun?” Jeffrey snarled. “A woman died out here. She was buried alive.”

The girl started crying. Sara recognized her immediately. She cried just about every time she was at the clinic, whether she was getting an injection or not.

Sara asked, “Liddy?”

The girl startled, though she had seen Sara standing there seconds ago. “Dr. Linton?”

“It’s okay.”

Jeffrey snapped, “It’s not okay.”

“You’re scaring them to death,” Sara told Jeffrey, then asked the kids, “What are you two doing out here this late?”

“Roger wanted to show me… to show me… the place…” She sniveled, “I’m sorry!”

Roger joined in, “I’m sorry, too. We were just messing around. I’m sorry.” He was speaking fast now, probably realizing Sara had the power to get him out of this. “I’m sorry, Dr. Linton. We didn’t mean anything bad. We were just-”

“It’s late,” Sara interrupted, suppressing the desire to throttle them. Her side ached from the run and she felt the chill in the air. “You both need to go home now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Roger said. He grabbed Liddy by the arm and practically dragged her toward the road.

“Stupid kids,” Jeffrey muttered.

“Are you okay?”

He sat down on a rock, muttering a low curse, still breathing hard. “I cut my damn foot.”

Sara joined him, aware that she was out of breath herself. “Are you just determined not to get through one day this week without injuring yourself?”

“You’d think,” he allowed. “Christ. They scared the shit out of me.”

“At least it wasn’t…” She didn’t finish the sentence. They both knew what it could have been.

“I’ve got to find out who did this to her,” Jeffrey said. “I owe that to her mother. She needs to know why this happened.”

Sara looked across the lake, trying to find her house- their house. The floodlights had been tripped when they ran outside, and as Sara watched, they blinked off.

She asked, “How’s your foot?”

“Throbbing.” His chest heaved in a sigh. “Jesus, I’m falling apart.”

She rubbed his back. “You’re fine.”

“My knee, my shoulder.” He lifted his leg. “My foot.”

“You left out your eye,” she reminded him, wrapping her arm around his waist, trying to comfort him.

“I’m turning into an old man.”

“There are worse things you can turn into,” she pointed out, though from his silence she could tell he wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

“This case is getting to me.”

All of his cases got to him; it was one of the many things she loved about him. “I know,” she said, admitting, “I’d feel a lot better if we knew where Rebecca was.”

“There’s something I’m missing,” he said. He took her hand in his. “There has to be something I’m missing.”

Sara looked out at the lake, the moon glinting against the waves as they lapped against the shore. Was this the last thing Abby had seen before she’d been buried alive? Was this the last thing Rebecca had seen?

She said, “I need to tell you something.”

“More about your parents?”

“No,” she said, feeling like kicking herself for not telling him this before. “It’s about Cole Connolly. I’m sure it’s nothing, but-”

“Tell me,” he interrupted. “I’ll decide whether it’s nothing or not.”