Undone (25 page)

He was too late. Judith pulled out a photograph and handed it to Faith, who made the proper appreciative noises before passing it to Will.

He kept his expression neutral as he looked at the family photo. The Coldfield genes were certainly strong. The girl and boy in the picture were carbon copies of their father. Making matters worse, Tom had not found himself an attractive wife to dilute the Coldfield gene pool. She had stringy-looking blonde hair and a resigned set to her mouth that seemed to indicate this was as good as it would ever get.

“Darla,” Judith supplied, naming the wife. “They’ve been married for almost ten years. Isn’t that right, Tom?”

He shrugged in that embarrassed way children shrug at their parents.

“Very nice,” Will said, handing the picture back to Judith.

Judith asked Faith, “Do you have children?”

“A son.” Faith didn’t offer any more information. Instead she asked Judith, “Is Tom an only child?”

“That’s right.” Judith smiled again, covering her mouth. “Henry and I didn’t think we’d be able to…” Her voice trailed off, and she just stared at Tom with obvious pride. “He was a miracle.”

Again Tom shrugged, obviously embarrassed.

Faith subtly shifted the topic onto the reason they were all here. “And you were visiting Tom and his family the day of the accident?”

Judith nodded. “He wanted to do something nice for our fortieth anniversary. Didn’t you, Tom?” Her voice took on a distant quality. “Such a horrible thing to happen. I don’t think another anniversary will go by without remembering…”

Tom spoke. “I don’t understand how this could happen. How could that woman—” He shook his head. “It makes no sense. Who the hell would do something like that?”

“Tom,” Judith shushed. “Language.”

Faith gave Will a glance that indicated she was using every ounce of willpower in her body not to roll her eyes. She recovered quickly, directing her words toward the elderly couple. “I know you’ve already told Detective Galloway everything, but let’s start fresh from the beginning. You were driving down the road, you saw the woman, and then…?”

“Well,” Judith began. “At first I thought it might be a deer. We’ve seen deer on the side of the road many times. Henry always goes slow if it’s dark in case one darts out.”

“They see the lights and it just freezes them,” Henry explained, as if a deer caught in headlights was an obscure phenomenon.

“It wasn’t dark,” Judith continued. “It was dusk, I suppose. And I saw this thing in the road. I opened my mouth to tell Henry, but it was too late. We had already hit it.
Her.”
She took out a tissue from her purse and pressed it to her eyes. “Those nice men tried to help her, but I don’t think — surely, after all that…”

Henry took his wife’s hand again. “Has she… is the woman…?”

“She’s still in the hospital,” Faith provided. “They’re not sure if she’ll ever regain consciousness.”

“My Lord,” Judith breathed, almost a prayer. “I hope she doesn’t.”

“Mother—” Tom’s voice rose in surprise.

“I know that sounds mean, but I hope she never knows.”

The family went quiet. Tom looked at his father. Henry’s throat worked, and Will could tell the man was starting to get overwhelmed by his memories. “Thought I was having a heart attack,” he managed around a harsh laugh.

Judith lowered her voice, confiding as if her husband were not right beside her, “Henry has heart issues.”

“Nothing bad,” he countered. “Stupid air bag hit me square in the chest. Safety device, they call it. Damn thing almost killed me.”

Faith asked, “Mr. Coldfield, did you see the woman on the road?”

Henry nodded. “It’s what Judith said. It was too late to stop. I wasn’t speeding. I was going the posted limit. I saw something — thought it was a deer, like she said. Jammed my foot on the brake. She just appeared out of nowhere. Right out of nowhere. I still didn’t think it was a woman until we got out of the car and saw her there. Awful. Just awful.”

“Have you always worn glasses?” Will broached the subject carefully.

“I’m an amateur pilot. Get my eyes checked twice a year.” He took off the glasses, his feathers ruffled but his tone steady. “I may be old, but I’m flight ready. No cataracts, corrected to twenty-twenty.”

Will decided he might as well get it all out of the way. “And your heart?”

Judith intervened. “It’s nothing really. Just something to keep an eye on, make sure he’s not straining himself too much.”

Henry took over, still indignant. “Nothing that concerns the doctors. I take some horse pills. I don’t do any heavy lifting. I’m fine.”

Faith tried to soothe him, changing the subject. “An Army brat flying airplanes?”

Henry seemed to be debating whether or not to let the topic of his health go. Finally, he answered, “My dad got me lessons when I was a kid. We were stationed up in Nowhere, Alaska. He thought it was a good way to keep me out of trouble.”

Faith smiled, helping him relax again. “Good flying weather?”

“If you were lucky.” He laughed, wistful. “Had to be careful landing — cold wind would whip that plane around like a flyswatter. Some days, I’d just close my eyes and hope I touched down on the field and not in the ice.”

“Cold field,” Faith pointed out, making a play on his name.

“Right,” Henry said, as if he’d heard the pun many times. He put his glasses back on, all business. “Listen, I’m not one to tell other people how to go about their business, but why aren’t you asking us about that other car?”

“What other car?” Faith echoed. “The one that stopped to help?”

“No, the other one we saw streaking down the road, opposite. It must have been about two minutes before we hit that girl.”

Judith filled their stunned silence. “Surely you know this already. We told the other policeman all about it.”

THE DRIVE TO THE ROCKDALE COUNTY POLICE STATION WAS a blur that Faith filled with every expletive she could think of.

“I knew that jackass was lying to me,” she said, cursing Max Galloway and the entire Rockdale police force. “You should’ve seen that smug way he looked at me when he left the hospital.” She slammed her palm into the steering wheel, wishing she were slamming it into Galloway’s Adam’s apple. “Do they think this is some kind of game? Didn’t they see what was done to that woman? For the love of God.”

Beside her, Will remained silent. As usual, she had no idea what was going through his mind. He’d been quiet the entire trip, and did not speak until she pulled into the visitors’ parking lot in front of the Rockdale County police station.

He asked, “Are you finished being mad?”

“Hell, no, I’m not finished. They lied to us. They haven’t even faxed us the damn crime-scene report. How the hell can we work a case when they’re holding back information that could—”

“Think about why they did it,” Will countered. “One woman is dead, the other’s just as good as, and they’re still hiding evidence from us. They don’t care about the people involved, Faith. All they care about is their egos, and showing us up. They’re leaking information to the press, they’re refusing to cooperate. You think us going in there with guns blazing is going to get us what we want?”

Faith opened her mouth to answer, but Will was already getting out of the car. He walked around to the driver’s side and opened her door like they were on a date.

He told her, “Trust me on this one thing, Faith. You can’t push a string.”

She waved his hand away. “I’m not going to eat shit from Max Galloway.”

“I’ll eat it,” he assured her, holding out his hand like she needed help getting out of the car.

Faith grabbed her purse from the back seat. She followed him up the sidewalk, thinking it was no wonder everyone who met Will Trent took him for a certified public accountant. She could not fathom the man’s meagerness of ego. In the year she had worked with him, the strongest emotion she’d seen Will display was irritation, usually at her. He could be moody or wistful and God knew he could beat himself up about a lot of things, but she’d never seen him truly angry. He’d once been alone in a room with a suspect who had just hours before tried to put a bullet in his head, and the only feeling Will had shown was empathy.

The uniformed patrolman behind the front counter obviously recognized Will. His lip went up into a sneer. “Trent.”

“Detective Fierro,” Will replied, though the man was obviously no longer a detective. His sizable stomach pressed against the buttons of his patrol uniform like the filling oozing out of a jelly doughnut. Considering what Fierro had said to Amanda about greasing Lyle Peterson’s pole, Faith was surprised the man wasn’t using a wheelchair.

Fierro said, “I should’ve put that board back over your head and left you in that cave.”

“I’m really glad you didn’t.” Will indicated Faith. “This is my partner, Special Agent Mitchell. We need to speak with Detective Max Galloway.”

“About what?”

Faith was over the niceties. She opened her mouth to blast him, but Will cut her off with a look.

He said, “Maybe we could talk to Chief Peterson if Detective Galloway isn’t available.”

Faith added, “Or we could talk to your buddy Sam Lawson at the
Atlanta Beacon
and tell him those stories you’ve been feeding him are just your way of covering your fat ass for all the mistakes you’ve made in this case.”

“You are some kind of bitch, lady.”

“I haven’t even started,” Faith told him. “Get Galloway out here right now before we put our boss on this. She already took your shield. What do you think she’s going to take next? My guess is your little—”

“Faith,” Will said, more a warning than a word.

Fierro picked up the phone, punched in an extension. “Max, you got a couple’a cocksuckers wanna talk to you.” He dropped the phone back into the cradle. “Down the hall, take your first right, first room on the left.”

Faith led the way because Will would not know how to. The station was the usual 1960s government building with plenty of glass block and very poor ventilation. The walls were lined with commendations, photographs of police officers at city barbecues and fundraisers. As instructed, she took a right and stopped in front of the first door on the left.

Faith read the sign on the door. “Asshole,” she breathed. He’d sent them to an interrogation room.

Will leaned across and opened the door. She saw him register the table bolted to the floor, the bars running along the sides so that suspects could be cuffed down while they were interviewed. All he said was, “Ours is more homey.”

There were two chairs, one on either side of the table. Faith threw her purse on the one with its back to the two-way mirror, crossing her arms, not wanting to be sitting when Galloway entered the room. “This is bullshit. We should get Amanda involved in this. She wouldn’t put up with this goat roping.”

Will leaned against the wall, tucked his hands into his pockets. “If we get Amanda in on this, then they’ve got absolutely nothing to lose. Let them save a little face by jerking us around. What does it matter, if we get the information we need?”

She glanced at the two-way mirror, wondering if there was a peanut gallery. “I’m filing a formal report when this is over. Obstruction of justice, impeding an active case, lying to a police officer. They bumped that fat fuck Fierro back to uniform. Galloway’s gonna be lucky if he gets to be county dogcatcher.”

Down the hall, she heard a door open, then click closed. Seconds later, Galloway stood in the doorway, looking every bit the ignorant hick he had the night before.

“I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

Faith told him, “We just talked to the Coldfields.”

Galloway nodded at Will, who returned the gesture, his back still against the wall.

Faith demanded, “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me about the other car last night?”

“I thought I had.”

“Bullshit.” Faith didn’t know which was making her angrier, the fact that he was playing at this like it was some kind of game or that she felt compelled to use the same tone she used when she was about to put Jeremy on restriction.

Galloway held up his hands, smiling at Will. “Your partner always this hysterical? Maybe it’s her time of month.”

Faith felt her fists clench. He was about to see hysterical in the worst way.

“Listen,” Will interrupted, stepping between the two of them. “Just tell us about the car, and anything else you know. We’re not going to make trouble for you. We don’t want to have to get this information the hard way.” Will walked over to the chair and picked up Faith’s purse before sitting down. He kept the bag in his lap, which made him look ridiculous, a man standing outside the changing room while his wife tried on clothes.

He indicated that Galloway should sit across from him, saying, “We’ve got one victim in the hospital who’s probably in an irreversible coma. Jacquelyn Zabel, the woman from the tree, her autopsy didn’t give us any leads. There’s another woman missing now. She was taken from the parking lot of a grocery store. Her child was left in the front seat. Felix — six years old. He’s in custody now, staying with strangers. He just wants his mom back.”

Galloway was unmoved.

Will continued, “They didn’t give you that detective shield for your good looks. There were roadblocks last night. You knew about the second car the Coldfields saw. You were stopping people.” He changed tactics. “We didn’t go to your boss on this. We didn’t get our boss to come down like a hammer. We don’t have the luxury of time here. Felix’s mom is missing. She could be in another cave, strapped to another bed, with another spot underneath for the next victim. You want that on your head?”

Finally, Galloway heaved a heavy sigh and sat down. He leaned up in the chair, pulling his notebook out of his back pocket, groaning like it caused him physical pain.

Galloway said, “They told you it was white, probably a sedan?”

“Yes,” Will answered. “Henry Coldfield didn’t know the model. He said it was an older car.”

Galloway nodded. He handed Will his notebook. Will looked down, flipped through the pages like he was taking the information on board, then handed it to Faith. She saw a list of three names with a Tennessee address and phone number. She took her purse back from Will so she could copy the information.