Undone (20 page)

“Oh…” Sara’s voice trailed off, confused. Tears welled into her eyes. “I didn’t realize you were…” She cleared her throat, and tried to collect herself. “That day is still a blur for me.”

Amanda gave her a close look of appraisal, and her tone was surprisingly soft when she asked, “How long has it been?”

“Three and a half years.”

“I heard about what happened at Coastal.” Amanda was still holding Sara’s hand, and Will could see her give the woman a reassuring squeeze. “We take care of our own.”

Sara wiped her eyes, glancing at Faith as if she felt foolish. “I was actually about to offer my services to your agents.”

Will saw Faith’s mouth open, then close just as quickly.

Amanda said, “Go on.”

“I worked on the first victim — Anna. I didn’t have the opportunity to do a full exam, but I had time with her. Pete Hanson is one of the finest medical examiners I’ve ever met, but if you want me to sit in on the autopsy of the second victim, I might be able to offer a perspective on the differences and similarities between the two.”

Amanda didn’t waste time thinking over the decision. “I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said. “Faith, Will, come with me. Dr. Linton, my agents will meet you at City Hall East in an hour.” When no one moved, she clapped her hands. “Let’s go.” She was halfway down the hall before Faith and Will found it in themselves to follow.

Will walked behind Amanda, keeping his stride short so he wouldn’t run her over. She walked fast for such a small woman, but his height always made him feel a bit like the Green Giant as he tried to keep a respectful distance. Looking down at the back of her head, he wondered whether their killer worked for a woman like Amanda. Will could see where a different kind of man might feel outright hatred instead of the mix of exasperation with a dash of burning desire to please that Will felt toward the older woman.

Faith put her hand on his arm, pulling him back. “Can you believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“Sara elbowing in on our autopsy.”

“She had a point about seeing both victims.”

“
You
saw both victims.”

“I’m not a coroner.”

“Neither is she,” Faith shot back. “She’s not even a real doctor. She’s a pediatrician. And what the hell was Amanda talking about at Coastal?”

Will was curious about what had happened at Coastal State Prison, too, but mostly he wondered why Faith was so angry about it all.

Amanda called over her shoulder, “You’re to take any and all help Sara Linton is willing to offer.” She had obviously heard them whispering. “Her husband was one of the finest cops in this state, and I’d stake any investigation on Sara’s medical skills.”

Faith didn’t bother hiding her curiosity. “What happened to him?”

“Line of duty,” was all Amanda would say. “How are you doing after your tumble, Faith?”

Faith sounded unusually chipper. “Perfect.”

“Doctor cleared you?”

She got even chippier. “One hundred percent.”

“We’re going to have a talk about that.” Amanda waved the security guards away as they entered the lobby, telling Faith, “I’ve got a meeting after this with the mayor, but I’ll expect you in my office by the end of the day.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Will wondered if he was turning more stupid by the minute or if the women in his life were just getting more obtuse. Now was not the time to figure it out, though. He reached ahead of Amanda and opened the glass entrance door. There was a podium outside, a small carpet behind it for Amanda to stand on. Will took his usual spot to the side, safe in the knowledge that the cameras would capture his chest and maybe the knot in his tie as they went in for the tight focus on Amanda. Faith obviously knew she would not be as lucky, and she perfected a scowl as she stood behind her boss.

The cameras flashed. Amanda stepped up to the microphones. Questions were shouted, but she waited for the ruckus to die down before taking out a folded sheet of paper from her jacket pocket and smoothing it flat on the platform. “I’m Dr. Amanda Wagner, deputy director of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation’s Atlanta regional office.” She paused for effect. “Some of you have heard the spurious rumors about the so-called Kidney Killer. I am here to set the record straight that this rumor is false. There is no such killer in our midst. The victim’s kidney was not removed; there was no surgical interference whatsoever. The Rockdale County Police Department has denied starting said rumors, and we have to trust that our colleagues are being honest in this matter.”

Will didn’t have to look at Faith to know she was fighting the urge to smile. Detective Max Galloway had certainly gotten under her skin, and Amanda had just slammed the entire Rockdale County police force on camera.

One of the reporters asked, “What can you tell us about the woman who was brought into Grady last night?”

Not for the first time, Amanda knew more about their case than Will or Faith had told her. She responded, “We should have a sketch of the victim for you by one o’clock this afternoon.”

“Why no photographs?”

“The victim suffered some blows to the face. We want to give the public their best chance to identify her.”

A woman from CNN asked, “What’s her prognosis?”

“Guarded.” Amanda moved on, pointing to the next person with his hand up. It was Sam, the guy who had called to Faith when they first entered the hospital. He was the only reporter Will could see who was taking notes the old-fashioned way instead of using a digital recorder. “Do you have a comment about the statement from Jacquelyn Zabel’s sister, Joelyn Zabel?”

Will felt his jaw tighten as he forced himself to stare impassively ahead. He imagined Faith was doing the same thing, because the crowd of reporters was still focused on Amanda instead of the two shocked agents behind her.

“The family is obviously very upset,” Amanda answered. “We’re doing everything we can do to solve this case.”

Sam pressed, “You can’t be pleased that she’s using such harsh language about your agency.”

Will could imagine Amanda’s smile just by the look on Sam’s face. They were both playing a game, because the reporter obviously knew full well that Amanda had no idea what he was talking about.

She said, “You’ll have to ask Ms. Zabel about her statements. I have no further comment on the matter.” Amanda took two more questions, then wrapped up the press conference with the usual request for anyone with information to come forward.

The reporters started to dissipate, off to file their stories — though Will was fairly certain that none of them would take responsibility for failing to fact-check their reports before running the specious rumor about the so-called Kidney Killer.

Amanda’s voice was a low grumble that Will could barely make out when she told Faith, “Go.”

Faith didn’t need an explanation, nor did she need backup, but she still grabbed Will by the arm as she walked toward the crowd of reporters. She brushed past Sam, and she must’ve said something to him because the man started following her toward a narrow alley between the hospital and the parking garage.

Sam said, “Caught the dragon off guard, didn’t I?”

Faith indicated Will. “Agent Trent, this is Sam Lawson, professional asshole.”

Sam flashed him a smile. “Pleased to meet you.”

Will didn’t offer a response, and Sam didn’t appear to mind. The reporter was more interested in Faith, and he was looking at her in such a predatory way that Will felt a caveman urge to punch the guy squarely in the jaw.

Sam said, “Damn, Faith, you’re looking really hot.”

“Amanda’s pissed at you.”

“Isn’t she always?”

“You don’t want to be on her bad side, Sam. You remember what happened last time.”

“The great thing about drinking so much is that I don’t.” He was grinning again, looking her up and down. “You look really good, babe. I mean — just fantastic.”

She shook her head, though Will could tell she was softening. He’d never seen her look at a man the way she was looking at Sam Lawson. There was definitely something unresolved between them. Will had never felt more like a third wheel in his life.

Thankfully, Faith seemed to realize she was here for a reason. “Did Rockdale give you Zabel’s sister?”

“Reporters’ sources are confidential,” Sam answered, all but confirming her guess.

Faith asked, “What’s Joelyn’s statement?”

“In a nutshell, she said you guys stood around with your thumbs up your asses for three hours arguing about who would get the case while her sister was dying up in a tree.”

Faith’s lips were a thin white line. Will felt physically ill. Sam must have talked to the sister right after Faith had, which explained why the reporter had been so sure Amanda was in the dark.

Finally, Faith asked, “Did you feed Zabel that information?”

“You know me better than that.”

“Rockdale fed her the information, then you got her on the record.”

He shrugged another confirmation. “I’m a reporter, Faith. I’m just doing my job.”

“That’s a pretty shitty job — ambushing grieving family members, trashing the cops, printing what you know are lies.”

“Now you know why I was a drunk for so many years.”

Faith tucked her hands into her hips, gave a heavy, frustrated sigh. “That’s not what happened with Jackie Zabel.”

“I figured it wasn’t.” Sam took out his notepad and pen. “So give me something else to lead with.”

“You know I can’t—”

“Tell me about the cave. I heard he had a boat battery down there so he could burn them.”

The boat battery was what they called “guilty knowledge,” the sort of information only the killer would know. There were a handful of people who had seen the evidence Charlie Reed had collected belowground, and they all wore badges. At least for now.

Faith said what Will was thinking. “Either Galloway or Fierro is feeding you inside information. They get to screw us over, and you get your front-page story. Win-win, right?”

Sam’s toothy grin confirmed her speculation. Still he said, “Why would I talk to Rockdale when you’re my inside man on this case?”

Will had seen Faith’s temper turn on a dime over the last few weeks, and it was nice to not be on the receiving end of her anger for a change. She told Sam, “I’m not your inside anything, asshole, and your facts are wrong.”

“Set me straight, babe.”

She seemed about to, but sanity caught up with her at the last minute. “The GBI has no official comment on Joelyn Zabel’s statement.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Quote this,
babe.”

Will followed Faith to the car, but not before flashing a smile at the reporter. He was pretty sure the gesture Faith had made was not something you could put in a newspaper.

SARA HAD SPENT THE LAST THREE AND A HALF YEARS PERFECTING her denial skills, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that it took a solid hour before she realized what a horrible mistake she had made by offering her services to Amanda Wagner. In that hour, she’d managed to drive home, shower, change her clothes and get all the way to the basement of City Hall East before the truth hit her like a sledgehammer. She had put her hand to the door marked GBI MEDICAL EXAMINER, then stopped, unable to open it. Another city. Another morgue. Another way to miss Jeffrey.

Was it wrong to say that she had loved working with her husband? That she had looked at him over the body of a gunshot victim or drunken driver and felt like her life was complete? It seemed macabre and foolish and all the things that Sara had thought she’d put behind her when she moved to Atlanta, but here she was again, her hand pressed against a door that separated life and death, incapable of opening it.

She leaned her back against the wall, staring at the painted letters on the opaque glass. Wasn’t this where they had brought Jeffrey? Wasn’t Pete Hanson the man who had dissected her husband’s beautiful body? Sara had the coroner’s report somewhere. At the time, it had seemed of vital importance that she have all the information pertaining to his death — the toxicology, the weights and measures of organ, tissue and bone. She had watched Jeffrey die back in Grant County, but this place, this basement under City Hall, was where everything that had made him a human being had been reduced, removed, redacted.

What was it, exactly, that had convinced Sara to bring herself to this place? She thought about the people she had come into contact with over the last few hours: Felix McGhee — the lost look on his pale face, his lower lip trembling as he searched the hospital corridors for his mother, insisting she would never leave him alone. Will Trent offering the child his handkerchief. Sara had thought that her father and Jeffrey were the only two men left on earth who carried them around anymore. And then Amanda Wagner, commenting on the funeral.

Sara had been so sedated the day Jeffrey was buried that she’d barely been able to stand. Her cousin had kept his arm around her waist, literally holding her up so that she could walk to Jeffrey’s grave. Sara had held her hand over the coffin that lay in the ground, her fingers refusing to release the clump of dirt she held. Finally, she had given up, clutching her fist to her chest, wanting to smooth the dirt onto her face, inhale it, climb into the earth with Jeffrey and hold him until her lungs could no longer draw breath.

Sara put her hand in the back pocket of her jeans, felt the letter there. She had folded it so many times that the envelope was tearing at the crease, showing the bright yellow of the legal paper inside. What would she do if one day it suddenly opened? What would she do if she happened to glance down one morning and saw the neat scrawl, the pained explanations or blatant excuses from the woman whose actions had led to Jeffrey’s death?

“Sara Linton!” Pete Hanson boomed as his foot hit the bottom stair. He was wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt, a style she recalled that he favored, and the expression on his face was a mix of delight and curiosity. “To what do I owe this tremendous pleasure?”

She told him the truth. “I managed to worm my way onto one of your cases.”

“Ah, the student taking over for the teacher.”