Genesis (30 page)

Will unlocked the door and went inside the house. Faith kept the
brother on the porch. She asked him, "What's her routine?"

He closed his eyes for a moment as if to collect his thoughts. "She
works at the private bank in Buckhead, has for almost twenty years.
She goes in six days a week—every day but Monday, when she does
her shopping and other chores: cleaners, library, grocery store. She's
in the bank by eight, out by eight most nights unless there's some
kind of event. Her job is community relations. If there's a party or a
fundraiser or something the bank is sponsoring, she has to be there.
Otherwise, she's always at home."

"Did the bank call you?"

He put his hand to his throat, rubbing a bright red scar. Faith
guessed he'd had a tracheotomy or some type of throat surgery.

He said, "The bank didn't have my phone number. I called them
when I didn't hear from Olivia yesterday morning. I called them when
I landed. They have no idea where she is. She's never missed work
before."

"Do you have a recent picture of your sister?"

"No." He seemed to realize why she wanted the photograph.
"I'm sorry. Olivia hated to be photographed. Always."

"That's okay," Faith assured him. "We'll pull it from her driver's
license if we need to."

Will came down the stairs. He shook his head, and Faith led the
man into the house. She tried to make small talk, telling Michael,
"This is a beautiful home."

"I've never seen it before," he confessed. He was looking around
like Faith, probably thinking the same thing she was: The place was
like a museum.

The front hall went all the way back to the kitchen, which
gleamed with white marble countertops and white cabinets. The
stairs were carpeted in a white runner, and the living room was
equally Spartan; everything from the walls to the furniture to the
rug on the floor was a pristine white. Even the art on the wall consisted
of white canvases in white frames.

Michael shivered. "It's so cold in here."

Faith knew he didn't mean the temperature.

She led both men into the living room. There was a couch and
two chairs, but she didn't know whether to sit or stand. Finally, she
sat on the couch, the cushion so hard that she barely made a dent.
Will took the chair beside her and Michael sat at the other end of the
couch.

She said, "Let's take it from the beginning, Mr. Tanner."

"Doctor," he said, then frowned. "Sorry. It doesn't matter. Please
call me Michael."

"All right, Michael." Faith kept her voice calm, soothing, sensing
he was close to panic. She started with an easy question. "You're a
doctor?"

"A radiologist."

"You work at a hospital?"

"The Methodist Breast Center." He blinked his eyes, and she realized
he was trying not to cry.

Faith got to the point. "What made you call the police yesterday?"

"Olivia calls me every day now. She didn't do that before. We
weren't close for many years, then she went off to college and we
drifted even farther apart." He gave them a weak smile. "I got cancer
two years ago. Thyroid." He touched his hand to the scar on his neck
again. "I just felt an emptiness?" He said this as a question, and Faith
nodded as if she understood. "I wanted to be with my family. I
wanted to have Olivia back in my life. I knew it would be on her
terms, but I was willing to make that sacrifice."

"What terms did she impose?"

"I could never call her. She always was the one to call me."

Faith wasn't sure what to say to that. Will asked, "Was there a particular
pattern to the calls?"

Michael started nodding his head, like he was glad someone finally
understood why he was so worried. "Yes. She's called me every
single day for the last eighteen months. Sometimes she doesn't say
much, but she always calls at the same time every morning no matter
what."

Will asked, "Why doesn't she say much?"

Michael looked down at his hands. "It's hard for her. She went
through some things when we were growing up. She's not someone
who thinks of the word 'family' and smiles." He rubbed his scar
again, and Faith felt a profound sadness coming off him. "She doesn't
smile much about anything, actually."

Will glanced at Faith to confirm it was okay for him to take over.
She gave him a slight nod. Obviously, Michael Tanner was more
comfortable talking to Will. Her job now was to just blend in with
the background.

Will asked, "Your sister wasn't a happy person?"

Michael slowly shook his head, his sadness filling the room.

Will was silent for a moment, giving the man some space. "Who
abused her?"

Faith was shocked by the question, but the tears that fell from
Michael's eyes told her that Will was spot on. "Our father. Quite the
cliché these days."

"When?"

"Our mother died when Olivia was eight. I guess it started
shortly after that. It went on for a few months, until Olivia ended up
at the doctor. She was damaged. The doctor reported it, but my
father just . . ." Tears came in earnest now. "My father said she had
hurt herself on purpose. That she had put something down . . . there
. . . to injure herself. To draw attention to herself because she missed
our mother." He angrily wiped his tears away. "My father was a
judge. He knew everyone on the police force, and they thought they
knew him. He said that Olivia was lying, so everyone assumed she
was a liar—especially me. For years, I just didn't believe her."

"What changed your mind?"

He gave a humorless laugh. "Logic. It didn't make sense that she
would . . . that she would be the way she is unless something horrible
had happened."

Will kept staring straight into the man's eyes. "Did your father
ever hurt you?"

"No." He had answered too quickly. "Not anything sexual, I
mean. He punished me sometimes. Took out the belt. He could be a
brutal man, but I thought that's what fathers did. It was normal. The
best way to avoid a beating was to be a good son, so I was a good
son."

Again, Will took his time getting to the next question. "How did
Olivia punish herself for what happened?"

Michael struggled with his emotions, trying to contain them but
failing miserably. He finally pressed his thumb and forefinger into his
eyes, sobbing. Will just sat there, motionless. Faith followed his lead.
She knew instinctively that the worst thing she could do right now
was comfort Michael Tanner.

He used the back of his hands to wipe his tears. At last, he said,
"Olivia was bulimic. I think she might still be anorexic, but she
swore to me the purging was under control."

Faith realized she had been holding her breath. Olivia Tanner had
an eating disorder, just like Pauline McGhee and Jackie Zabel.

Will asked, "When did it start?"

"Ten, eleven. I don't remember. I'm three years younger. All I can
recall is that it was horrible. She just . . . She just started to waste
away."

Will only nodded, letting the man speak.

"Olivia was always obsessed with her looks. She was so pretty, but
she never accepted . . ." Michael paused. "I guess Dad made it worse.
He was always pinching her, teasing her, telling her she needed to get
rid of her baby fat. She wasn't fat. She was a normal girl. She was
beautiful.
Was
beautiful. Do you know what happens when you
starve yourself like that?"

Michael was looking at Faith now, and she shook her head.

"She got pressure sores on her back. Big, gaping wounds where
her bones rubbed holes in her skin. She couldn't ever sit down,
couldn't get comfortable. She was cold all the time, couldn't feel her
hands and feet. Some days she didn't even have the energy to walk to
the bathroom. She would just defecate on herself." He stopped as the
memories obviously flooded back. "She slept ten, twelve hours a day.
She lost her hair. She would go into these uncontrollable shaking fits.
Her heart would race. Her skin was just . . . it was disgusting. Flaky,
dry scales would just fleck off her body. And she thought it was all
worth it. She thought it made her beautiful."

"Was she ever hospitalized?"

He laughed, as if they couldn't begin to understand how horrible
the situation had been. "She was in and out of Houston General all
the time. They would put her on a feeding tube. She would gain
enough weight so that they would let her leave the hospital, then
she'd go back to purging herself again as soon as she got out. Her kidneys
shut down twice. There was a lot of concern about the damage
she was doing to her heart. I was so angry with her then. I didn't understand
why she was doing something, willingly doing something,
so awful to herself. It just seemed . . .why would you starve yourself?
Why would you put yourself through . . ." He looked around the
room, the cold place his sister had created for herself. "Control. She
just wanted to control one thing, and I guess that one thing was what
went into her mouth."

Faith asked, "Was she better? I mean, recently."

He nodded and shrugged at the same time. "She got better when
she got away from my father. Went off to college, got a business degree.
She moved here to Atlanta. I think the distance helped her."

"Was she in therapy?"

"No."

"How about a support group? Or maybe an online chat room?"

He shook his head, certain. "Olivia didn't think she needed help.
She thought she had it all under control."

"Did she have any friends, or—"

"No. She had no one."

"Is your father still alive?"

"He died about ten years ago. It was very peaceful. Everyone was
so pleased that he just passed in his sleep."

"Is Olivia a religious person? She doesn't go to church or—"

"She would burn down the Vatican if she could get past the
guards."

Will asked, "Do the names Jacquelyn Zabel, Pauline McGhee or
Anna mean anything to you?"

He shook his head.

"Have you or your sister ever been to Michigan?"

He gave them a puzzled look. "Never. I mean, I haven't. Olivia
has lived in Atlanta all her adult life, but she might have taken a trip
there I wasn't aware of."

Will tried, "How about the words, 'I will not deny myself.' Does
that mean anything to you?"

"No. But it's the exact opposite of what Olivia does in her life.
She denies herself everything."

"How about 'thinspo,' or 'thinspiration'?"

Again, he shook his head. "No."

Faith took over. "What about kids? Did Olivia have children? Or
want children?"

"It would have been physically impossible," the man answered.
"Her body . . . the damage she did to herself. There was no way she
could carry a child."

"She could adopt."

"Olivia hated children." His voice was so low that Faith could
barely hear him. "She knew what could happen to them."

Will asked the question that was on Faith's mind. "Do you think
she was doing it again—starving herself ?"

"No," Michael said. "Not like before, at least. That's why she
called me every morning, six sharp, to let me know she was okay.
Sometimes I'd pick up the phone and she'd talk to me, other times,
she'd just say, 'I'm okay,' and hang up the phone. I think it was a lifeline
for her. I hope it was."

Faith said, "But she didn't call you yesterday. Is it possible that she
was mad at you?"

"No." He wiped his eyes again. "She never got mad at me. She
worried about me. She worried about me all the time."

Will only nodded, so Faith asked, "Why did she worry?"

"Because she was . . ." Michael stopped, clearing his throat a couple
of times.

Will said, "She was protecting him from their dad."

Michael kept nodding, and the room got quiet again. He seemed
to be working up his courage. "Do you think—" He stopped himself.
"Olivia would never change her routine."

Will stared him straight in the eye. "I can be kind or I can be honest,
Dr. Tanner. There are only three possibilities here. One is that
your sister wandered off. People do that. You wouldn't believe how
often it happens. The other is, she's been in an accident or she's
hurt—"

"I called the hospitals."

"The Atlanta police did, too. They checked all their reports and
everyone's accounted for."

Michael nodded, probably because he already knew this. "What's
the third possibility?" he asked softly.

"Someone has taken her," Will answered. "Someone who means
to do her harm."

Michael's throat worked. He stared down at his hands for a good
long while before finally nodding. "Thank you for your honesty,
Detective."

Will stood up. He asked, "Do you mind if we look around the
house, check through your sister's things?"

Again, the man nodded, and Will told Faith, "I'll check upstairs.
You take down here."

He didn't give her time to discuss the plan, and Faith decided not
to argue with him, even though Olivia Tanner probably kept her
home computer upstairs.

She left Michael Tanner in the living room and wandered into the
kitchen. Light poured in from the windows, making everything
seem even more white. The kitchen was beautiful, but just as sterile
as the rest of the house. The countertops were completely bare except
for the thinnest television Faith had ever seen. Even the cords
for the cable and plug were hidden, snaking down a thin hole in the
lightly veined marble.

The walk-in pantry had very little food. What was there was
stacked neatly in line, boxes face-out to show the brands, cans all
turned in the same direction. There were six economy-size bottles of
aspirin still in their packaging. The brand was different from the one
Faith had found in Jackie Zabel's bedroom, but she found it odd that
both women took so much aspirin.

Yet another detail that did not make sense.

Faith made some phone calls as she searched the kitchen cabinets.
As quietly as she could, she requested a background check on
Michael Tanner, just to clear him from the picture. Her next call was
a request to borrow some patrolmen from the Atlanta police to canvass
the neighborhood. She'd put a phone dump on Olivia Tanner's
home phone so they could see who she had been talking to, but the
woman's cell phone was probably registered to the bank. If they were
really lucky, there was a BlackBerry somewhere so they could read
her email. Maybe Olivia had someone in her life that her brother
didn't know about. Faith shook her head, knowing this was a long
shot. The house was a showplace, but it didn't feel lived in. There
were no parties here, no weekend get-togethers. Certainly, no man
was living here.