Fallen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SARA WOKE TO HEAR THE SHOWER RUNNING. SHE TURNED OVER in bed. Her hand traced along the indentation left in the pillow. The sheets were twisted around her body. Her hair was a mess. She could still smell Will in the room, taste him in her mouth, remember what his arms felt like when they’d wrapped around her.

She could not recall the last time good reasons had made her not want to get out of bed in the morning. Obviously, it had happened when Jeffrey was alive, but for the first time in four and a half years, Jeffrey was the last thing on Sara’s mind. She wasn’t making comparisons. She wasn’t weighing differences. Her worst fear had always been that her husband’s ghost would follow her into the bedroom. But that hadn’t been the case. There was only Will, and the absolute joy she felt when she was with him.

Sara had a vague recollection that her clothes were somewhere between the kitchen and the dining room. She pulled a black silk robe out of the closet and made her way down the hall. The dogs gave her a lazy look from the couch as she walked into the living room. Betty was sleeping on a pillow. Billy and Bob were piled into a crescent shape around her. Will had to be at work in an hour or Sara would’ve joined him in the shower. Yesterday, she had told the hospital staff that she didn’t need time off after her ordeal, but this morning, she was glad they had insisted. She needed to process what had happened. And she wanted to be home when Will got off work.

Her clothes were neatly folded on the counter. Sara smiled, thinking she’d at last found a good use for her dining room table. She turned on the coffeemaker. There was a yellow Post-it note on the wall above the dog bowls. Will had drawn a smiley face in the center. She saw another note with the same graphic above the leashes. There was something to be said for a man who fed and walked the dogs while Sara was sleeping. She stared at the blue ink, the arc of a smile and two dots for eyes.

Sara had never pursued a man before. She had always been on the receiving end of the wooing. But she’d realized last night that nothing would ever happen if she didn’t make the first move. And she had wanted something to happen. She had wanted Will more than anything she’d wanted in a long while.

He’d been tentative at first. He was obviously self-conscious about his body, which was laughable considering how beautiful it was. His legs were strong and lean. His shoulders were roped with muscle. His abs would be perfectly at home on an underwear billboard in the middle of Times Square. It wasn’t just that, though. His hands knew exactly where to touch her. His mouth felt wonderful. His tongue felt wonderful. Everything about him was wonderful. Being with him felt like a key sliding into a lock. Sara had never dreamed that she would ever again be so open with another man.

If there was any comparison to be made, it was between Sara and her old self. Something was altered inside of her, and not just her moral compass. She felt different with Will. She didn’t have to immediately know everything about this man she’d shared her bed with. She didn’t feel the need to demand answers about the obvious abuse he had suffered. For the first time in her life, Sara felt patient. The girl who had gotten kicked out of Sunday school for arguing with the teacher and driven her parents, her sister, and eventually her husband crazy with her unyielding desire to understand every last detail about everything on earth was finally learning how to relax.

Maybe seeing the Polaroid of Will’s sutured mouth had taught her a lesson about prying. Or maybe it was just the nature of life that you learned from past mistakes. For now, Sara was content to just be with Will. The rest would come in time. Or it wouldn’t. Either way, she felt remarkably content.

There was an insistent knock at the door, probably Abel Conford from across the hall. The lawyer had anointed himself czar of the parking lot. Every board meeting Sara attended started with Abel complaining about visitors parking in the wrong spaces.

Sara pulled her robe tight as she opened the door. Instead of her neighbor, she found Faith Mitchell.

“I’m sorry to barge in on you.” Faith pushed her way into the apartment. She was wearing a bulky navy blue jacket with the hood pulled over her head. Dark sunglasses obscured half her face. Her jeans and Chuck Taylors completed the ensemble. She looked like a PTA mom’s idea of a cat burglar.

Sara could only ask, “How did you get in?”

“I told your neighbor I was a cop and he let me in.”

“Great,” Sara mumbled, wondering how long it would take for everyone in the building to think she was being arrested. “What’s going on?”

Faith took off the sunglasses. There were five tiny bruises circling her face. “I need you to call Will for me.” She went to the window and looked down at the parking lot. “I thought about this all night. I can’t do it alone. I don’t think I’m capable.” She shielded her eyes with her hand, though the sun had yet to come up. “They don’t know I’m here. Ginger fell asleep. Taylor left last night. I sneaked out. Through the back yard. I took Roz Levy’s car. I know they’ve tapped my phones. They’re watching me. They can’t know that I’m doing this. They can’t know that I talked to anybody.”

She was a poster child for hypoglycemia. Sara suggested, “Why don’t you sit down?”

Faith kept her perch over the parking lot. “I sent my children away. They’re with my brother. He’s never even changed a diaper. This is too much responsibility for Jeremy.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about it. Come over here and sit down with me.”

“I have to get her back, Sara. I don’t care what it takes. What I have to do.”

Her mother. Will had told Sara about his trip to Coastal State Prison, his conversation with Roger Ling. “Faith, sit down.”

“I can’t sit or I’ll never get up again. I need Will. Can you please just call him?”

“I’ll get him for you. I promise, but you have to sit down.” Sara guided her over to the stool by the kitchen counter. “Did you eat breakfast?”

She shook her head. “My stomach’s too upset.”

“How’s your blood sugar?”

She stopped shaking her head. Her guilty expression was answer enough.

Sara made her voice firm. “Faith, I’m not going to do anything until we get your numbers in order. Do you understand me?”

Faith didn’t argue, perhaps because part of her knew that she needed help. She felt around in her jacket pockets and pulled out a handful of hard candy that she dropped on the counter. Next came a large gun, then her wallet, a set of keys with a gold cursive L on the chain, and finally, her blood-testing kit.

Sara scrolled through the tester’s memory, checking the stats. Faith had obviously been playing candy roulette for the last two days. It was a common trick among diabetics, using candy to fight the lows, gritting out the highs. It was a good way to get through a difficult period, but it was an even better way to end up in a coma. “I should take you to the hospital right now.” Sara gripped the monitor in her hand. “Do you have your insulin?”

Faith dug into her pockets again and put four disposable insulin pens on the counter. She started babbling. “I got them from the pharmacy this morning. I didn’t know how much to take. They showed me, but I’ve never used them before and they’re so expensive I didn’t want to mess up. My ketones are okay. I used a strip last night and this morning. I should probably get a pump.”

“An insulin pump wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Sara slid a testing strip into the monitor. “Did you eat supper last night?”

“Sort of.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Sara mumbled. “What about snacks? Anything?”

Faith leaned her head in her hand. “I can’t think straight with Jeremy and Emma gone. Zeke called this morning. He says they’re settled in but I can tell he’s annoyed. He’s never been good around kids.”

Sara took Faith’s finger and lined up the lancet. “We are going to have a long talk when this is over about your noncompliance. I know that saying right now is stressful for you is an incredible understatement, but your diabetes isn’t something you can magically put on hold. Your vision, your circulation, your motor skills …” Sara didn’t finish the sentence. She’d lectured so many diabetics about this same issue that she felt like she was reading from a script. “You have to take care of yourself or you’re going to end up blind or in a wheelchair or worse.”

Faith said, “You look different.”

Sara patted down her hair, which was sticking straight up in the back.

“You’re practically glowing. Are you pregnant?”

Sara laughed, surprised by the question. An ectopic pregnancy in her twenties had led to a partial hysterectomy. Will wasn’t that much of a miracle worker. “You’re one-thirty?”

“One thirty-five.”

Sara dialed out the correct dosage on the pen. “You’re going to inject this, then I’m going to cook breakfast for you, and you’re not doing anything else until you’ve eaten every bite.”

“That stove cost more than my house.” Faith leaned over the counter for a better look. Sara pushed her back down. “How much money do you make?”

She took Faith’s hand and wrapped her fingers around the insulin pen. “You do this, and I’ll go get Will.”

“You can call him from here. I know what you’re going to say.”

Sara didn’t stop to explain herself, especially since Faith was obviously having trouble processing information. She grabbed her clothes off the counter and went into the bedroom. Will was standing in front of the dresser putting on his shirt. She saw his broad chest reflected in the mirror, the dark stain of electrical burns traveling down the flat of his belly and disappearing into his jeans. Sara had put her mouth on every inch of him last night, but standing here in the light of day, she felt awkward around him.

He looked at her reflection. Sara pulled her robe tighter around her waist. He had made the bed. The pillows were stacked neatly against the headboard. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned her morning.

He asked, “What’s wrong?”

She put her folded clothes on the bed. “Faith is here.”

“Here?” He turned around. He sounded almost panicked. “Why? How did she know?”

“She doesn’t know. She asked me to call you. She’s terrified her phone’s being tapped.”

“Does she know about her mother?”

“I don’t think so.” Sara put her hand to her chest, cinching the robe again, feeling every bit of her nakedness underneath. “She said that people are watching her. She’s acting paranoid. Her blood sugar is off the charts. She’s taking her insulin now. She should settle once we get some food into her.”

“Do I need to get breakfast?”

“I can make her something.”

“I can—” He stopped, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Maybe I should do that. For Faith, I mean. You could cook me something after.”

So much for the honeymoon period. At least she knew now why Bob had smelled like scrambled eggs the other night. “I’ll stay in here to give you some privacy.”

“Could you …” He hesitated. “It might be better if you were there. I’m going to have to tell her about her mother.”

“I thought Amanda said to wait.”

“Amanda says a lot of things I don’t agree with.” He indicated that she should leave the room ahead of him. Sara walked down the hall. She could feel Will close behind her. Despite what had happened the night before—some of it in this very hallway—he felt like a stranger to her. Sara gripped her robe tighter, wishing she had stopped to change into some real clothes.

Faith was still sitting at the kitchen bar. Some of her nervous energy had dissipated. She saw Will and said, “Oh.”

He looked embarrassed. Sara felt the same. Maybe that explained his standoffish mood. It seemed wrong for them to be together given what had happened to Evelyn Mitchell.

Still, Faith said, “It’s all right. I’m happy for you.”

Will didn’t acknowledge the comment. “Dr. Linton says you need to eat.”

“I need to talk to you first.”

Will looked at Sara. She shook her head.

“You need breakfast first.” Will opened the dishwasher and took out the frying pan. He found the eggs and bread in their proper place. Faith watched him make breakfast. She didn’t speak. Sara didn’t know if she was crashing or if she just didn’t know what to say. Probably a little of both. For her part, Sara had never felt so uncomfortable in her own home. She watched Will break the eggs and butter the toast. His jaw was rigid. He didn’t look up at her. She might as well have stayed in the bedroom.

Will took three plates out of the cabinet and loaded them up with food. Sara and Faith sat at the bar. Though there was a third chair, Will stood, leaning against the counter. Sara picked at her food. Faith ate half her eggs and a slice of toast. Will cleaned his plate, then finished Faith’s toast as well as Sara’s, before scraping the rest into the trash and stacking the plates in the sink. He rinsed the bowl that had held the eggs, ran some water in the frying pan, then washed his hands.

Finally, he said, “Faith, I have to tell you something.”

She shook her head. She must’ve known what was coming.

He stood with his back against the counter. He didn’t lean over and take her hands. He didn’t come around and sit beside her. He just told her the news straight out. “Last night, I was at Coastal State Prison. I talked to a man who’s pretty high up in the drug trade. Roger Ling.” He kept his eyes focused on hers. “There’s no other way to say this. He told me that your mother was killed. Shot in the head.”

She didn’t respond at first. She sat there with her elbows on the counter, hands hanging down, mouth open. Eventually, she said, “No, she’s not.”

“Faith—”

“Did you find the body?”

“No, but—”

“When was this? When did he tell you?”

“Late, around nine o’clock.”

“It’s not true.”

“Faith, it’s true. This guy knows what he’s talking about. Amanda says—”

“I don’t care what Amanda says.” She dug around in her pockets again. “Mandy doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Whoever this guy is who you talked to was lying.”

Will glanced at Sara.

“Look,” Faith said. She had an iPhone in her hands. “Do you see this? It’s Jeremy’s Facebook page. They’ve been sending messages.”

Will pushed away from the counter. “What?”

“I met one of them last night. At the grocery store. He did this.” She indicated the bruises on her face. “I told him I had to have proof of life. He emailed me through Jeremy’s Facebook account this morning.”

“What?” Will repeated. The color had drained from his face. “You met him alone? Why didn’t you call me? He could’ve—”

“Look at this.” She showed him the phone. Sara couldn’t see the image, but she heard the sound.

A woman’s voice said, “It’s Monday morning. Five thirty-eight.” She paused. There was background noise. “Faith, listen to me. Don’t do anything they say. Don’t trust them. Just walk away from this. You and your brother and the kids are my family. My only family …” Suddenly, the voice grew stronger. “Faith, this is important. I need you to remember our time together before Jeremy—”

Faith said, “It stops right there.”

Will asked, “What’s she talking about? The time before Jeremy?”

“When I was pregnant.” Her cheeks colored, though almost twenty years had passed. “Mom stayed with me. She was …” Faith shook her head. “I wouldn’t have made it through without her. She just kept telling me to be strong, that it would be over eventually and then everything would be all right.”

Sara put her hand on Faith’s shoulder. She could not imagine the pain that the other woman was going through.

Will stared at the iPhone. “What’s on the television set behind her?”

“Good Day Atlanta. I checked with the station. This is the weather segment they aired half an hour ago. You can see the time over the station logo. I got the file two minutes later.”

He handed Sara the phone, but still would not look her in the eye.

Curiosity had always been her weakness. Sara’s reading glasses were on the counter. She slipped them on so she could see the small details. The screen showed Evelyn Mitchell sitting beside a large plasma-screen TV. The sound was off, but Sara saw the weather woman pointing to the five-day forecast. Evelyn was looking off-camera, probably at the man filming her. Her face was a bloody mess. She moved stiffly, as if in a great deal of pain. Her words slurred as she began, “It’s Monday morning.”

Sara let the video play out, then put the phone down.

Faith was watching Sara closely. “How does she look?”

Sara took off her glasses. She could hardly render a medical opinion based on a grainy video, but it was obvious to anyone that Evelyn Mitchell had been very badly beaten. Still, she said, “She looks like she’s holding up.”

“That’s what I thought.” Faith turned to Will. “I told them I’d meet them at noon, but the email says twelve-thirty. Mom’s house.”

“Your mother’s house?” he repeated. “It’s still an active crime scene.”

“Maybe it’s been released. APD isn’t telling me anything. Let me find the email.” Faith moved her thumbs across the screen again and handed the phone to Will. “Oh,” she said, reaching for the device. “I forgot—”

“I’ve got it.” Will took Sara’s glasses off the counter and slipped them on. He stared at the phone for a few seconds. Sara couldn’t tell if he’d read the email or was just making a lucky guess when he said, “They want the money.”

Faith took the phone away from him. “There is no money.”

Will just stared at her.

“It’s not true,” Faith said. “It was never true. You couldn’t prove anything. She wasn’t dirty. Boyd and the rest of them were on the take, but Mom never took anything.”

“Faith,” Will said. “Your mother had a bank account.”

“So what? Everyone has a bank account.”

“An out-of-state bank account. It’s in your father’s name. She still has it. There’s been about sixty grand in and out of it as far as I can tell. There might be other accounts in other states, other names. I don’t know.”

Faith shook her head. “No. You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Because you can’t admit that you were wrong about her. She wasn’t dirty.” Tears filled her eyes. She had the look of someone who knew the truth but could not accept it. “She wasn’t.”

There was another knock at the door. Sara guessed that Abel Conford had finally noticed the extra cars in the parking lot. Wrong again.

“Good morning, Dr. Linton.” Amanda Wagner did not look pleased to be standing in the hallway. Her eyes were red. The makeup had been wiped off her nose. Her skin was darker where foundation and blush covered her cheeks.

Sara opened the door wider. She tightened her robe again, wondering where the nervous tic had come from. Perhaps it was because she was completely naked underneath and the black silk was as thin as crepe paper. She hadn’t planned on hosting a party this morning.

Faith seemed incensed to see Amanda. “What are you doing here?”

“Roz Levy called. She said you stole her car.”

“I left a note.”

“Which she strangely did not interpret as the proper way to ask for permission. Fortunately, I was able to talk her out of calling the police.” She smiled at Will. “Good morning, Dr. Trent.”

Will feigned a sudden fascination with the tiles on Sara’s kitchen floor.

“Wait a minute,” Faith said. “How did you know where I was?”

“Roz LoJacked the car. I called in a few favors at dispatch.”

“LoJack? It’s a nine-hundred-year-old Corvair. It’s worth five dollars.”

Amanda took off her coat and handed it to Sara. “I’m sorry to intrude on your morning, Dr. Linton. I love what you’ve done to your hair.”

Sara forced a smile onto her face as she hung the coat in the closet. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.” She turned to Will and Faith. “Should I be hurt that I wasn’t invited to this party?”

No one seemed up to answering her. Sara took three mugs down from the cabinet and poured coffee into each of them. She heard Evelyn Mitchell’s voice on the iPhone as Faith played the video for their new guest.

Amanda asked her to play it again, then a third time, before asking, “When did this come in?”

“A little over half an hour ago.”

“Read me the message that came with it.”

Faith read, “ ‘Twelve-thirty at 339 Little John. Bring the cash in a black duffel bag. Do not alert anyone. We are watching you. If you deviate from these instructions, she will be dead and so will you and your family. Remember what I said.’ ”

“Roger Ling.” Amanda’s voice was one of restrained fury. “I knew that bastard was lying. You can’t trust a goddamn word any of them say.” She seemed to realize the greater meaning of her words. Her mouth opened in surprise. “She’s alive.” She laughed. “Oh, God, I knew the old girl wouldn’t give up without a fight.” She put her hand to her chest. “How could I think for a minute that …” She shook her head. The smile on her face was so wide that she finally covered it with her hand.

Will asked the more important question. “Why would they want to meet at your mother’s house? It’s not secure. They won’t have the advantage. It doesn’t make sense.”

Faith answered, “It’s familiar. It’s easy to keep an eye on.”

Will said, “But there’s no way that the crime scene’s been released. It’ll take days to process everything.”

Amanda supplied, “The kidnappers must know something we don’t.”

“It could be a test,” Will countered. “If we clear out the forensic team, it’ll be obvious that Faith called the police. Or us.” He told Faith, “You pull up to the house and you’re out in the open. You go inside and you’re walking right into their hands. What’s to stop them from shooting you and taking the money? Especially if we can’t put in a tactical team to secure the area.”

“We can make do,” Amanda insisted. “There are only three routes in and out of that neighborhood. They make a move in either direction and we’ll have pistols at the ready.”

Will ignored the bravado. He opened the drawer by the refrigerator and took out a pen and pad of paper. He held the pen awkwardly in his left hand, resting the barrel between his middle and fourth finger. Sara watched as he covered the page with a large T, then drew two irregularly shaped squares—one on the arm of the T, one at the base. His spatial recollection was better than Sara would have guessed, but then, he’d probably been to Faith’s house several times.

He explained, “Faith’s house is on the corner here. Evelyn is here on Little John.” He traced an L-shaped line between the two houses. “We’ve got all this open space. They could block the intersection here and take her. They could park a van at the same spot and shoot her from a distance. She could pull into the driveway here, and up comes their black van. Two in the head, just like Castillo at the warehouse, or they could grab her and be on the interstate or Peachtree Road within five minutes. Or they could make it easy and set up here—” He drew an oblong square beside Evelyn’s house. “Roz Levy’s carport. She’s got a knee wall here where they could set up with a rifle. The bathroom window to Evelyn’s house faces Mrs. Levy’s. It’s down an incline. You can see straight through to the kitchen door from Mrs. Levy’s without anyone knowing. Faith comes in the door with the bag of cash and they drop her.”

Amanda took the pen and turned the base of the T into a circle. “Little John loops around. The whole neighborhood folds back on itself.” She drew more arcs. “This is Nottingham. Friar Tuck. Robin Hood. Beverly. Lionel.” She drew large X’s at the end points. “Beverly dumps out onto Peachtree here, where every car in the world eventually passes; the other end throws you back into the infinite loop of Ansley Park. Lionel does the same. They’re bottlenecks. Most of the houses along these routes have on-street parking. We could have ten cars at each point and no one would notice.”

Will said, “I’m not worried about their exit routes. I’m worried about Faith going into that house alone. If they really are watching the place, they’ll know the minute someone shows up who shouldn’t be there. They’ve had almost three full days to get the lay of the neighborhood, possibly more. Even if the CSU guys leave, they’ll be counting the number who go in and the number who go out.”

Amanda turned over the paper. She drew a rough diagram of a house, pointing out the rooms. “Faith comes in through the kitchen. The foyer is here, looking into the living room. Here’s the bookcase on the left—my left. Takes up the entire wall. Sofa backs up to here. The wingback chair is here on the right. A couple of other chairs are here and here. Stereo console here. Sliding glass doors opposite the foyer.” She tapped the pen to what must’ve been the master bedroom. “They’ll keep Ev in here until Faith comes with the money, then they’ll bring her into the living room. It’s the obvious area for the exchange.”

“Nothing is obvious here.” He grabbed the pen. “We can’t cover the front windows because we don’t know who’s watching the house. We can’t cover the back because the yard is wide open to the neighbors’ and they’ll see movement at any window. We still don’t know how many kids are left on this team. There could be one, there could be a hundred.” He threw down the pen. His tone was firm. “I don’t like it, Faith. You can’t go in there. Not on their terms. We’ll find another way to do this. We’ll suggest another location that we can secure ahead of time so that we can make sure you’re safe.”

Amanda’s tone betrayed her irritation. “Don’t be so fatalistic, Will. We’ve got six hours. All of us know the layout of the house, so that’s our advantage as well as theirs. I know every old broad in that neighborhood. It’s a residential street. We’ve got joggers, delivery-men, cable trucks, meter readers, postal carriers, and afternoon strollers we can tap into. I can dribble in four teams over the next few hours and no one will be the wiser. We’re not a bunch of Keystone Kops. We can figure out a way to do this.”

“I’ll do it,” Will offered, and Sara felt her heart jump into her throat.

“You can hardly pass for Faith.”

“We’ll send them an email to let them know I’m going to make the exchange. Roger Ling knows what I look like. Even if he’s not involved in this, he’s obviously enjoying the show. He knows who these guys are. He can tell them to trust me.”

Sara felt a wave of relief to see Amanda start shaking her head even before he’d finished talking.

He insisted, “It’s safer this way. Safer for Faith.”

As usual, Amanda didn’t hold back. “That’s one of the most idiotic things I’ve ever heard come from your mouth. Think about what we’ve seen over the last couple of days. This is amateur hour. Julia Ling practically laid it out for us. We’re dealing with a bunch of young, stupid boys who think they know how to play cops and robbers. We’ll either have them on the ground or in it before they know what hit them.”

Will wasn’t swayed. “They may be young, but they’re fearless. They’ve killed a lot of people. They’ve taken a lot of stupid risks.”

“None more stupid than sending you in instead of Faith. That’s the way to get people killed.” Amanda decided, “We’ll do it my way. We’ll figure out how to strategically place our people. We’ll have eyes on Faith at all times. We’ll wait until the kidnappers show up with Evelyn. Faith will do the swap, and then we’ll nab them when they try to make their escape.”

Will wouldn’t give in. He was adamant. “She can’t do this. She can’t go in there alone. Either let me do it or we’ll find another way.”

Faith said, “If I’m not alone, then my mother is dead.”

Will looked down at the floor. He obviously thought that there was still the real possibility that Evelyn Mitchell was dead. Sara found herself silently agreeing with him. This didn’t sound like a plan to get Evelyn back. It sounded like a plan to get Faith killed. Amanda was so hellbent on saving her friend that she couldn’t see the collateral damage.

Sara had forgotten about the coffee. She kept one for herself, then passed the other mugs to Amanda, then Will.

“Thank you.” Will awkwardly took his. It was as if he was making sure that their hands didn’t touch.

Faith said, “He doesn’t drink coffee. I’ll take it.”

Sara felt her cheeks start to burn. “You probably shouldn’t be drinking caffeine right now.”

Will cleared his throat. “That’s okay. I like it sometimes.” He took a sip from the mug. He practically grimaced as he swallowed.

Sara couldn’t take much more of this. The only way she could be more out of place would be if she pulled out an accordion and started singing polka tunes. “I should give y’all some privacy.”

Amanda stopped her. “If you don’t mind, Dr. Linton, I’d like a fresh ear on this.”

They were all looking at her. Impossibly, Sara felt even more naked than before. She looked at Will for help, but his blank expression was probably the same one he gave to the woman at the bank or the guy who picked up his recyclables.

There was nothing to be done about it. She sat down beside Faith.

Amanda took the other seat. “All right, let’s go over what we know so we’re all on the same page. Will, run it down for us.”

He put down the coffee mug and started talking. He told Faith about everything that had happened since Evelyn had been taken, detailing the crime scene, their visit with Boyd Spivey at the D&C and his silent ex-colleagues at Valdosta State Prison. Faith’s lips parted in surprise when he told her about Roz Levy’s photographs of Evelyn’s gentleman friend. Still, she kept silent as he detailed Sara’s ordeal at the hospital and the shootout at Julia Ling’s warehouse. Sara felt that familiar tightness in her chest when he got to this last part. The cut on his ear. A bullet had whizzed by, less than an inch from his skull.

Will said, “Ricardo Ortiz and Hironobu Kwon knew each other from school. They both went to Westminster. They were most likely working in Ling-Ling’s cabinet shop together. They got it into their heads to start their own business. They obviously pulled together a crew from the other guys working in the shop. Ricardo went to Sweden and picked up some heroin for them to sell. According to Roger Ling, the boys were all bragging about it. Benny Choo, strongarm for the Yellow Rebels, picked up Ricardo and basically beat the crap out of him. He was about to pull the plug, but Ricardo, or maybe Hironobu, told him where they could get some serious money.”

Faith had been quietly taking all this in, but now she mumbled, “Mom.”

“Right,” Will confirmed. “Chuck Finn and Hironobu Kwon were in the same rehab facility for at least a month. Chuck must’ve told Hironobu about the money. Ricardo was about to die, so Hironobu says, ‘I know where I can get almost a million in cash.’ Benny Choo takes him up on the offer.”

Amanda picked up the story. “That’s what they were looking for at Evelyn’s. They thought she had money at the house. When she didn’t give it up, they took her.”

Sara thought it was convenient that Amanda had skipped over the fact that Hector Ortiz, the cousin of one of the most powerful drug lords in Atlanta, was dead in Evelyn’s trunk. She should’ve kept her mouth shut, but this was her house, they had barged in without notice, and Sara was tired of being polite. “That doesn’t explain why Hector Ortiz was there.”

Amanda raised one eyebrow. “No, it doesn’t, does it?”

Sara didn’t work for this woman. She wasn’t going to walk on eggshells. “You’re not going to answer the question?”

There was a crocodile smile on Amanda’s lips. “The more important issue here is that they did all of this because they want money. We can negotiate with people who want money.”

Will said, “It’s not about money.”

“We don’t have time for your woman’s intuition,” Amanda snapped.

His voice sounded tired, but he didn’t back down. “They’re trying to get Faith trapped in that house for a reason. If we go in without knowing that reason, then it’s not going to end well. Not for any of us.” What he said sounded perfectly reasonable, but Sara could tell Amanda wasn’t buying it. Still, he kept trying. “Look, if it was just about money, they would’ve made a ransom demand the first day. They wouldn’t be doing this back-and-forth through Facebook. They wouldn’t risk meeting Faith face-to-face in the grocery store. It would be a simple transaction. Make the call. Pick up the money. Leave the hostage somewhere, and you’re home free.”

Again, a reasonable assumption. Again, Amanda ignored it.

She said, “There is no secret endgame here. They want cash. We’ll give them cash. We’ll shove it so far down their throats they’ll be shitting paper all the way to prison.”

“He’s right.” Faith had been staring blankly ahead for most of this exchange, but with her hypoglycemia finally leveled out, she was back to thinking like a detective. “What about the bank account?”

Amanda stood up to get more coffee. “The account doesn’t matter.”

Will seemed ready to disagree, but for his own reasons, he kept silent.

Amanda told Faith, “Your father was a gambler.”

Faith shook her head. “That’s not true.”

“He played poker every weekend.”

“For quarters.” She kept shaking her head. “Dad was an insurance salesman. He hated risk.”

“He wasn’t risking anything. He was very careful.” Amanda went back around the kitchen island and sat down by Faith. “How many times did he and Kenny go to Vegas when you were little?”

Faith was still unconvinced. “That was for work conventions.”

“Bill was methodical about it. He was methodical about everything. You know that. He knew how to bluff and he knew when to walk away. Kenny wasn’t as smart, but that’s a story for another time.” She looked at Will. “Bill didn’t pay taxes on the money. That’s why the bank account was a secret.”

Sara could see her own confusion reflected in Will’s face. Past a certain amount, you couldn’t just walk out of a Vegas casino, or any legal casino in America, for that matter, without paying taxes.

Faith didn’t pick up on this. “I can’t see Dad taking that kind of risk. He hated gambling. He was all over Kenny about it.”

“Because Kenny was an idiot with his money,” Amanda countered. The bitter edge to her voice reminded Sara that the two had dated for many years. “For Bill, it was just fun, blowing off steam, and sometimes he won a lot of money, and sometimes he lost a little, but he always knew when to walk away. It wasn’t an addiction for him. It was sport.”

Will finally spoke up. “Why didn’t Evelyn tell me that when I was investigating her?”

Amanda smiled. “She didn’t tell you a hell of a lot about anything when you were investigating her.”

“No,” he agreed. “But she could’ve easily gotten rid of the suspicion if—”

“There was no suspicion,” Amanda interrupted. She directed her words toward Faith. “Your mother was the one who turned in the team. That’s why they called her Almeja. She was a snitch.”

“What?” Faith’s confusion was almost palpable. She looked at Will as if he had the answers. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

Amanda said, “Because she wanted to protect you. The less you knew, the safer you were.”

Will said, “Then why are you telling her now?”

Amanda was obviously annoyed. “Because you won’t get off that stupid account, even though I’ve told you time and again that it doesn’t matter.”

Will had put his coffee mug on the counter. He slowly turned the handle so that it was parallel to the backsplash.

Faith asked what Sara was thinking. “How did she find out they were taking money?”

Amanda shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Will answered. He obviously wanted to hear the story so that he could find the holes.

Amanda took a deep breath before starting, “There was a bust on the southside, one of the projects in East Point. Evelyn led the raid team into the apartment. Early morning. The bad guys were still asleep, hungover from the night before, with a pile of money sitting on the coffee table and enough coke to take down an elephant.” Amanda started to smile, clearly enjoying the story. “They rounded them up and perp walked them into the street. They had their hands behind their backs, sitting on their knees, staring at the doors on the squad cars to remind them who was in charge. In comes the media, which Boyd could never resist. He lines up the team for photos, with the bad guys in the background. Charlie’s Angels territory. Your mother always hated that part. She usually left—went back to the office to do the paperwork—when the press came. This time, the street was blocked, so she went back into the apartment and looked around for herself.” Amanda pursed her lips. “First thing she notices is that the cash pile doesn’t look like it did before. She said it was stacked into a pyramid when they busted down the door. You know your mom was always the first one in.” Faith nodded. “She said she noticed the pyramid right off, because Zeke used to—”

“Pyramid everything.” Faith explained, “When he was ten or eleven, he started stacking stuff—books, Legos, Matchbox cars—into pyramids.”

“Your mother thought he was autistic. Maybe she was right.” Amanda continued, “Anyway, she noticed the pile, is the point here. That the pyramid was a square when she went back into the apartment. She started watching the team more closely after that, keeping her ear to the ground, tracking which cases made it and which fell apart because evidence was lost or witnesses went missing. And then when she was sure, she came to me.”

Will said, “You told me the tip was anonymous.”

“Evelyn had to be investigated just like everyone else. These weren’t choirboys we were dealing with. Boyd and the crew were raking in tons of cash. They were also being paid to look the other way. You don’t cut into that kind of business without risking your life. Ev had to be protected. So we decided that we’d call it an anonymous tip and put her through the ringer just like everyone else.”

Faith said, “But they must’ve suspected the tip came from Mom. She was the only one who wasn’t in on it.”

“There’s a big leap between suspecting and knowing.” Her tone became strained. “And Boyd Spivey protected her. He let it be known that she was off limits. He stood up for her at every turn. I suppose that’s why they took him out. They could take the GBI and the APD on their tails, but someone with Boyd’s juice could get to them in ways we can’t.”

Faith was quiet, probably thinking about the dead man who had protected her mother. For her part, Sara was thinking about the time and money that went into putting a hit on a man who lived on death row. The whole thing had been carefully planned and executed by people who knew Evelyn Mitchell’s weak points: Boyd Spivey, her muscle; Faith, her daughter; Amanda, her best friend. This was sounding more and more like a revenge attack and less like a money grab. Sara could tell that Will had made the same connections. But as usual, when he finally spoke, he didn’t make mention of the obvious.

Instead, he asked Amanda, “Did you redact the bank account out of my report?”

“We’re not the IRS.” She shrugged. “No reason to punish someone for doing the right thing.”

Sara could tell Will was angry, but he still said nothing. He didn’t even seethe. He just tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned his back against the counter. She had never had an argument with him. At this point, she wasn’t sure she ever would, but Sara could imagine that it would be a grand exercise in futility.

For her part, Faith seemed oblivious to the holes in Amanda’s story. Considering her blood sugar had been spiking and plummeting like a Ping-Pong ball for the last few days, it was surprising she could even sit up straight. That was why Sara was sure she’d heard wrong when Faith finally spoke.

“They left her finger under my pillow.”

Amanda didn’t blink an eye. “Where is the finger?”

“In my medicine cabinet.” Faith put her hand to her mouth. She looked as if she was going to be sick. Sara jumped up and grabbed the trashcan, but Faith waved her away. “I’m all right.” She took a few deep breaths. Sara got a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water.

Faith drank greedily, her throat making gulping sounds.

Sara refilled the glass and put it in front of her. She leaned back against the counter and kept an eye on Faith. Will was leaning a few feet down from her. His hands were still in his pockets. She felt the distance between them like a cold rush of air.

Faith took a sip of water before telling them, “They tried to get Jeremy. I sent him away with my brother. Emma, too. And then I went to the grocery store and the guy cornered me in the bathroom.”

Amanda asked, “What did he look like?”

Faith gave them a very detailed description of his height, weight, clothing, grammar. “I think he was Hispanic. He had blue eyes.” She looked at Sara. “Is that normal?”

“It’s not common, but it’s not rare.” Sara explained, “Mexico was settled by Spaniards. Some of them married Native Americans. Not all Mexicans have brown skin and dark hair. Some have blond hair and lighter skin. Some have blue or green eyes. It’s a recessive gene, but it shows up.”

Amanda asked, “But this guy had blue eyes?”

Faith nodded.

“No tattoos?”

“A snake on his neck.”

It was Amanda’s turn to nod. “We can put that on the wire. At the very least, we can get a list of Hispanic men eighteen to twenty who have blue eyes.” She seemed to remember something. “No luck on the search for tattoo parlors. Whoever did Marcellus Estevez’s tattoo of the archangel Gabriel is either out of state, off the books, or isn’t talking.”

“There was something familiar about him,” Faith said. “I thought maybe I’d arrested him, but he told me no.”

“I’m sure he was telling the truth.” Amanda pulled out her BlackBerry and started typing as she talked. “I’ll have records look through your reports. I know someone in the APD who can sneak in the back door for your cases before you started working with us.”

“I doubt you’ll find anything.” Faith rubbed her temples. “He’s Jeremy’s age. Maybe he knows him. Maybe they went to school together. I don’t know.”

Amanda finished her email. “Did you ask Jeremy?”

Faith nodded her head. “I gave him a rough description last night. He doesn’t know anybody who fits the bill. At least no one he can recall.”

Will asked, “Is there anything else you can remember?”

Obviously, there was something. Faith looked reticent. “It’s something really stupid. Maybe …” She looked at Sara. “My blood sugar has been crazy. It’s making me hallucinate.”

Sara asked, “In what way?”

“I just—” She shook her head. “It’s stupid. The silverware drawer was wrong.” She laughed at herself. “It’s really stupid. Never mind.”

“Go on,” Sara told her. “What was wrong with it?”

“The forks were turned the wrong way. And the spoons. And my pens were in the wrong drawer. I always put them in the same place, and … And then I went into the living room and the snow globes were all turned toward the wall. They usually face out. I’m really careful with them. They belonged to my father. I dust them every week. Jeremy isn’t allowed to touch them. Zeke wouldn’t go near them. I just …” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I did it last night and I don’t remember. Maybe I just thought they were turned around. But I remember turning them back around, so …” She put her head in her hands. “My mind has been off-kilter since all of this happened. I’m not sure what’s real and what’s not. Maybe I’m just going crazy. Could I be hallucinating?”

Sara told her, “Your numbers are erratic, but they don’t point to metabolic derangement. You’re not that dehydrated, but you’re certainly under a lot of stress. Do you feel like you have a cold or infection?” Faith shook her head. “I’d expect confusion, which you’ve shown, and paranoia, which is understandable, but not full-on hallucinations.” She felt the need to add, “Turning the snow globes around sounds more like something a kid would do for attention. You’re sure your son didn’t do it?”

“I haven’t asked him. It’s embarrassing even to talk about. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Amanda was shaking her head. “Jeremy wouldn’t do something like that, especially with what’s been going on. He wouldn’t want to cause you more stress. And he’s almost twenty years old. He’s too mature for that sort of thing.”

“Maybe I just imagined it,” Faith said. “Why would these guys turn around all the snow globes?” She seemed to remember something else. “And unscrew the light bulbs.”

Amanda sighed. “It doesn’t matter, Faith. What matters is that we’ve got to get a plan together.” She checked her watch. “It’s almost seven o’clock. We need to put our thinking caps on.”

Faith said, “Will’s right. They’re watching Mom’s house. I know they’re watching mine. If we bring in the APD—”

“I have no intention of doing something so stupid,” Amanda interrupted. “We still don’t know if Chuck Finn is involved in this or not.” Faith opened her mouth to protest, but Amanda held up her hand to stop her. “I know you think that Chuck was pushed into a life of crime while the others willingly jumped in, but guilty doesn’t come in shades. He took the money. He spent it. He confessed to his crimes and he’s out on the street somewhere with a very serious habit that costs a great deal of money. You also need to remember that Chuck still has friends on the Atlanta force, and where he doesn’t have friends, he might have the money to buy them. I know you don’t want to hear this, but there’s no getting around that he either gave Hironobu Kwon the tip-off or he’s pulling the strings on this new group of young guns.”

Faith countered, “That doesn’t sound like Chuck.”

“Skimming money off busts didn’t sound like Chuck, either, but here we are.” She told Will, “You mentioned the vantage point from Roz Levy’s house. There’s no way they could set up there. She’d shoot them the second they set foot in the driveway.”

“It’s true,” Faith agreed. “Mrs. Levy watches the street like a hawk.”

Will countered, “Unless someone’s getting shot or kidnapped next door.”

Amanda ignored the observation. “The point, Will, is that we can exploit the position just as easily as the kidnappers can. Short of shipping you in the world’s largest box, we need to figure out how we’re going to get you and your rifle into Roz Levy’s carport without being seen.” She looked at Faith. “Are you sure you weren’t followed here?”

Faith shook her head. “I was careful. I wasn’t followed.”

“Good girl,” Amanda told her. She was back in her element, almost giddy with the task at hand. “I need to make some phone calls to find out what’s going on at Evelyn’s house. Our bad guys wouldn’t have suggested a meeting there if they thought the Atlanta Crime Scene Unit was going to be steady at work. We’ll see if Charlie can make some inquiries, too. Failing that, I think I’ve got a few more favors in my pocket with some old gals in Zone Six who would love nothing more than to show the kids how it’s done. Dr. Linton?”

Sara was surprised to hear her name. “Yes?”

“Thank you for your time. I trust you’ll keep this little party to yourself?”

“Of course.”

Faith stood behind Amanda. “Thank you,” she said. “Again.”

Sara hugged her. “Be careful.”

Will was next. He held out his hand. “Dr. Linton.”

Sara looked down, wondering if she was having one of Faith’s hallucinations. He was actually shaking her hand goodbye.

He said, “Thank you for your help. I’m sorry we imposed on you this morning.”

Faith mumbled something Sara couldn’t hear.

Amanda opened the closet. Sara guessed the smile on her face wasn’t there because she was happy to see her coat. “I know a lot of Evelyn’s neighbors. They’re mostly retired and I think that with the exception of that old battle-ax across the street, they’ll be okay with us using their places. I’ll need to get my hands on some cash. I think I can make that happen, but we’ll be tight for time.” She slipped on her coat. “Faith, you’ll need to go home and wait until you hear from us. I imagine at some point we’ll need you to run to a bank or two. Will, go home and change that shirt. The collar’s frayed and you’re missing a button. And while you’re at it, you’d better start building a Trojan horse or come up with a plan to romance Roz Levy. She was ready to have Faith arrested an hour ago. God knows what bee is up her wrinkled old butt this morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sara opened the front door for them. Amanda started toward the elevator. Will, ever the gentleman, stepped aside so that Faith could leave first.

Sara shut the door after Faith.

“What—” Will began, but she put her finger to his lips.

“Sweetheart, I know you’ve got work to do and I know it’s going to be dangerous, but whatever you get into today will not be nearly as life-threatening as what’ll happen if you ever do to me what you did to me last night and then think you can get off with a handshake the next morning. Okay?”

He swallowed.

“Call me later.” She kissed him goodbye, then opened the door so that he could leave.