Genesis (49 page)

Tom had said as much in the hallway. "No one missed you or
Alex when Tom had you in the cave?"

"They thought we'd run away. Girls do that, right? They just run
away from home, and if the parents are there to say that the girls are
bad, that they lie all the time and can't be trusted, then it's no big deal,
right?" She didn't let them answer. "I bet Tom got a hard-on lying to
the cops, telling them he had no idea where we'd gone."

"How old was Tom when this happened?"

"Three years younger than me."

"Twelve," Will said.

"No," Pauline corrected. "He hadn't had his birthday yet. He was
only eleven when it happened. He turned twelve a month later.
Mom had a party. The little freak was out on bail and she threw him
a birthday party."

"How did you get out of the cave?"

"He let us go. He said he was going to kill us if we told anybody,
but Alex told her parents anyway, and they believed her." She
snorted a laugh. "Fuck me if they didn't believe her."

"What happened to Tom?"

"He was arrested. The cops called, and Mom took him down to
the station. They didn't come get him. They didn't arrest him. They
just called us on the phone and said to bring him in." She paused, collecting
herself. "Tom had a psychiatric evaluation. There was all this
talk about sending him to adult prison, but he was only a kid, and the
shrinks were screaming about how he needed help. Tom could look
younger when he wanted—much younger than he actually was.
Bewildered, like he didn't understand why people were saying all
these bad things about him."

"What did the courts decide to do?"

"He was diagnosed with something. I don't know. Psychopath,
probably."

"We have his Air Force records. Did you know he served?"
Pauline shook her head, and Faith told her, "Six years. He was discharged
in lieu of court martial."

"What does that mean?"

"Reading between the lines, I'd guess that the Air Force didn't
want—or know how—to treat his disorder, so they offered him an
honorable discharge and he took it." Tom Coldfield's military
records were written in the sort of departmental code only a seasoned
vet could decipher. As a doctor, Faith's brother Zeke had recognized
all the clues. The nail in the coffin was the fact that Tom had
never been called back up to serve in Iraq, even at the height of the
war when enlistment standards had dropped to almost nonexistent.

Will asked, "What happened to Tom in Oregon?"

Pauline answered in a measured tone. "He was supposed to go to
the state hospital, but Mom talked to the judge, said we had family
back east and could we take him back and put him in a hospital there
so he could be close to the people who cared about him. The judge
said okay. I guess they were glad to get rid of us. Sort of like with the
Air Force, huh? Out of sight, out of mind."

"Did your mother get him treatment?"

"Hell no," she laughed. "My mother did the same fucking thing
all over again. She said Alex and I were lying, that we had run away
and gotten hurt by a stranger, and we were trying to pin it on Tom
because we hated him and we wanted people to feel sorry for us."

Faith felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach, wondering how a
mother could be so blind to her child's suffering.

Will asked, "Is that when you changed your names to Coldfield?"

"We changed them to Seward after what happened to Tom. It
wasn't easy. There were bank accounts, all sorts of documents to file
to make it legal. My dad started asking questions. He wasn't happy,
because he actually had to
do
something, you know? Go down to the
courthouse, get copies of birth certificates, fill out forms. They were
in the middle of changing everything over to Seward when I ran
away. I guess when they left Michigan, they changed it back to
Coldfield. It's not like Oregon was following up on Tom. As far as
they were concerned, his case was closed."

"Did you ever hear from Alex McGhee?"

"She killed herself." Pauline's voice was so cold it sent a chill
down Faith's spine. "I guess she couldn't take it. Some women are
like that."

Will asked, "You're sure your father didn't know what was going
on?"

"He didn't want to know," Pauline answered. But there was no
way of confirming this. Henry Coldfield had suffered a massive coronary
upon hearing what had happened to his wife and son. He'd died
en route to the hospital.

Will kept pressing. "Your father never noticed—"

"He traveled all the time. He was gone for weeks, sometimes as
much as a whole month. And even when he was home, he was never
really home. He was flying his plane or off hunting or playing golf or
just doing whatever the hell he wanted to do." Pauline's tone got angrier
with every word. "They had this kind of bargain, you know?
She kept the house running, didn't ask him to help with anything,
and he got to do whatever he wanted so long as he handed over his
paycheck and didn't ask any questions. Nice life, huh?"

"Did your father ever hurt you?"

"No. He was never there to hurt me. We saw him at Christmas
and Easter. That was about it."

"Why Easter?"

"I don't know. It was always special to my mother. She would dye
eggs and hang up streamers and stuff. She would tell Tom the story
of his birth, how he was special, how she had wanted a son so badly,
how he'd made her life complete."

"Is that why you chose to run away on Easter?"

"I ran away because Tom was digging another hole in the backyard."

Faith gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. "This was in
Ann Arbor?"

Pauline nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. "I didn't recognize
him, you know?"

"When he abducted you?"

"It happened so fast. I was so damn happy to see Felix. I thought
I'd lost him. And then my brain started to make the connection that it
was Tom standing there, but it was too late by then."

"You recognized him?"

"I
felt
him. I can't describe it. I just knew with every part of my
body that it was him." She closed her eyes for a few seconds. "When
I came to in the basement, I could still feel him. I don't know what he
did to me while I was passed out. I don't know what he did."

Faith suppressed a shudder at the thought. "How did he find
you?"

"I think he always knew where I was. He's good at tracking
people down, watching them, figuring out their habits. I guess I
didn't make it too hard, using Alex's name like I did." She gave a humorless
laugh. "He called me at work about a year and a half ago.
Can you believe that? What are the odds that I'd take a call like that
and it would be Tom on the other end?"

"Did you know it was him on the phone?"

"Fuck no. I would've grabbed Felix and run."

"What did he want when he called?"

"I told you. It was a cold call." She shook her head, disbelieving.
"He told me about the shelter, that they would take donations and
give blank receipts. We've got all these rich clients, and they give
away their furniture to charity for the tax write-off. It makes them
feel better about ditching a fifty-thousand-dollar living room set and
buying an eighty-thousand-dollar one."

Faith couldn't even comprehend the numbers. "So, you decided
to refer your clients to the shelter?"

"I was pissed at Goodwill. They give you a timeframe, like between
ten and noon. Who can wait for that? My clients are millionaires.
They can't sit around all morning waiting for some homeless
dude to show up. Tom said the shelter would make an exact appointment
and be there on time. And they always were. They were
friendly and clean, which, trust me, is saying a lot. I told everybody
to use them." She realized what she had said. "I told everybody."

"Including the women on your Internet board?"

She kept silent.

Faith told her what they had found out over the last few days.
"Anna Lindsey's firm started giving the shelter legal advice six
months ago. Olivia Tanner's bank became a major donor last year.
Jackie Zabel called the shelter to pick up things from her mother's
house. They all heard about the shelter somewhere."

"I didn't . . . I didn't know."

They still hadn't managed to break into the chat room. The site
was too sophisticated, and cracking the passwords no longer had
a priority for the FBI, since their guy was already sitting in jail. Faith
needed the confirmation, though. She had to hear it from Pauline.
"You posted about the shelter, didn't you?"

Pauline still did not answer.

"Tell me," Faith said, and for some reason, the request worked.

"Yeah. I posted it."

Faith hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath. She let
it out in a slow stream. "How did Tom know they all had eating disorders?"

Pauline looked up. Some of her color seeped back into her cheeks.
"How did you know?"

Faith thought about the question. They knew because they had
investigated the women's lives, just as methodically as Tom Coldfield
had. He'd followed them around, spied on their most intimate moments.
And none of them had known he was doing it.

Pauline asked, "Is the other woman all right? The one I was
with."

"Yes." Olivia Tanner was well enough to refuse to talk to the
police.

"She's a tough bitch."

"So are you." Faith told her, "It might help to talk to her."

"I don't need help."

Faith didn't bother to argue.

Pauline said, "I knew Tom would find me eventually. I kept training
myself. Making sure I could go without food. Making sure I
could last." She explained, "When it was me and Alex, he would
hurt whoever screamed the loudest, whoever broke first. I made sure
it wasn't me. That's how I helped myself."

Will asked, "Your father never asked why your mother wanted to
change your names and move?"

"She told him it was to give Tom a fresh start—give us all a fresh
start." She gave a humorless laugh, directing her words toward Faith.
"It's always about the boys, isn't it? Mothers and their sons. Fuck the
daughters. It's the sons they really love."

Faith put her hand to her stomach. The gesture had become second
nature over the last few days. All along, she had been thinking
that the child inside of her was a boy; another Jeremy who would
draw pictures and sing to her. Another toddler who would puff out
his chest when he told his friends that his mom was a cop. Another
young man who was respectful of women. Another adult who knew
from his single mother how hard it was to be the fairer sex.

Now, Faith prayed that she would have a daughter. Every woman
they had met on this case had found a way to hate herself long before
Tom Coldfield had gotten hold of them. They were used to depriving
their bodies of everything from nourishment to warmth to something
as vital as love. Faith wanted so show her own child a different
path. She wanted a girl she could raise who might have a chance of
loving herself. She wanted to see that girl grow into a strong woman
who knew her value in the world. And she never wanted either of her
children to meet someone as bitter and damaged as Pauline McGhee.

Will told Pauline, "Judith's in the hospital. The bullet just missed
her heart."

The woman's nostrils flared. Tears came into her eyes, and Faith
wondered if there was still a part of her, no matter how small, that
wanted some kind of bond with her mother.

Faith offered, "I can take you to see Judith if you want."

She snorted a laugh, angrily wiping away her tears. "Bitch, don't
even. She was never there for me. I'm sure as shit not going to be
there for her." She shifted her son on her shoulder. "I need to get him
home."

Will tried, "If you could just—"

"Just what?"

He didn't have an answer for her. Pauline stood up and walked to
the door, trying to hold Felix as she reached for the knob.

Faith told her, "The FBI will probably be getting in touch with
you."

"The FBI can kiss my ass." She managed to get the door open.
"And so can you."

Faith watched her walk down the hallway, shifting Felix as she
turned toward the elevators. "God," she said softly. "It's hard to feel
sorry for her."

"You did the right thing," Will told her.

Faith saw herself in the Tom Coldfield's hallway again, her gun
pointed at Pauline's head, Tom bucking on the floor. They weren't
trained to wing suspects. They were trained to fire a rapid bullet
spread straight over the center of the chest.

Unless you were Amanda Wagner. Then, you squeezed off a single
shot that did enough damage to take them down but not take
their life.

Will asked, "If you had to do it again, would you let Pauline kill
Tom?"

"I don't know," Faith confessed. "I was operating on auto-pilot. I
just did what I was trained to do."

"Considering what Pauline's been through . . ." Will began, then
stopped himself. "She's not very nice."

"She's a cold-blooded bitch."

"I'm surprised I haven't fallen in love with her."

Faith laughed. She had seen Angie at the hospital when they
brought Will out of surgery. "How is Mrs. Trent doing?"

"She's making sure my life insurance policies are paid up." He
took out his phone. "I told her I'd be back by three."

Faith didn't make a comment about the new phone, or the wary
look on his face. She supposed Angie Polaski was back in Will's life
now. Faith would just have to get used to her, the same way you tolerated
an annoying sister-in-law or the boss's whorishly obnoxious
daughter.

Will pushed back his chair. "I guess I should go."

"You want me to drive you home?"

"I'll walk."

He only lived a few blocks over, but he'd been in surgery less than
seventy-two hours ago. Faith opened her mouth to protest, but Will
stopped her.