Undone (55 page)

“What’s wrong with you?” Pauline asked, giving Faith a nasty look.

Faith’s head was spinning. She sagged against the wall, trying not to pass out. She felt something wet between her legs. There was another twinge in her belly, almost like a contraction. “Call an ambulance,” she repeated.

“Trash…” Tom Coldfield muttered. “You’re all nothing but trash.”

“Shut up,” Pauline hissed.

Tom rasped, “‘Put now this woman out from me… and bolt the door after her.

“Shut up,” Pauline repeated through clenched teeth.

A guttural sound came from Tom’s throat. He was laughing. “‘O, Absalom, I am risen.’”

Pauline struggled to get to her knees. “You’re going straight to hell, you sick bastard.”

“Don’t,” Faith warned, raising the gun again. “Get a phone.” She glanced over her shoulder at Darla. “Get my phone out of the bathroom.”

Faith snapped her head around as Pauline leaned over Tom.

“Don’t,” Faith repeated.

Pauline smiled a grotesque jack-o’-lantern sneer down at Tom Coldfield. Instead of wrapping her hands around his throat again, she spit in his face. “Georgia’s a death penalty state, motherfucker. Why else do you think I moved here?”

“Wait,” Faith said, bewildered. “You know him?”

Raw hatred flashed in the woman’s eyes. “Of course I know him, you stupid bitch. He’s my brother.”

WILL LAY ON HIS SIDE ON JUDITH COLDFIELD’S KITCHEN floor, watching Judith sob into her hands. His nose was itching, which was a funny thing to bother him, considering the fact that he had a kitchen knife sticking out of his back. At least he thought it was a kitchen knife. Every time he tried to turn his head to look, the pain got so bad that he felt himself start to pass out.

He wasn’t bleeding badly. The real threat came from the knife moving, shifting away from whatever vessel or artery it was damming and causing the blood to start flowing in earnest. Just thinking about the mechanics of the thing, the metal blade pressing between muscle and sinew, made his head swim. Sweat drenched his body, and he was starting to get chills. Oddly, holding up his neck was the hardest part. The muscles were so tense that his head throbbed with every heartbeat. If he let go for even a second, the pain in his shoulder brought the taste of vomit into his mouth. Will had never realized how many parts of his body were connected to his shoulder.

“He’s a good boy,” Judith told Will, her voice muffled by her hands. “You don’t know how good he is.”

“Tell me. Tell me why you think he’s good.”

The request startled her. She finally looked up at him, seemed to realize he was in danger of eventually dying. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m hurting pretty badly,” he admitted. “I need to call my partner. I need to know if she’s okay.”

“Tom would never hurt her.”

The fact that she felt compelled to make that statement sent an icy dread through Will. Faith was a good cop. She could take care of herself, except the times when she couldn’t. She had passed out a few days ago — just dropped to the pavement in the parking garage at the courthouse. What if she passed out again? What if she passed out and when she finally came to, she opened her eyes to see another cave, another torture chamber excavated by Tom Coldfield?

Judith wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I don’t know what to do…”

Will didn’t think she was looking for suggestions. “Pauline Seward left Ann Arbor, Michigan, twenty years ago. She was seventeen years old.”

Judith looked away.

He took a calculated guess. “The missing persons report filed on her said that she left home because her brother was abusing her.”

“That’s not true. Pauline was just… she made that up.”

“I’ve read the report,” he lied. “I saw what he did to her.”

“He didn’t do anything,” Judith insisted. “Pauline did those things to herself.”

“She hurt herself?”

“She hurt herself. She made up stories. From the moment she was born, she was always making trouble.”

Will should have guessed. “Pauline’s your daughter.”

Judith nodded, obviously disgusted by the fact.

“What kind of trouble did she get into?”

“She wouldn’t eat,” Judith told him. “She starved herself. We took her to doctor after doctor. We spent every dime we had trying to get help for her, and she repaid us by going to the police and telling them awful stories about Tom. Just awful, awful things.”

“That he hurt her?”

She hesitated, then gave the slightest of nods. “Tom has always had a sweet nature. Pauline was just too—” She shook her head, unable to find words. “She made things up about him. Awful things. I knew they couldn’t be true.” Judith kept coming back to the same point. “Even when she was a small child, she told lies. She was always looking for ways to hurt people. To hurt Tom.”

“His name isn’t really Tom, is it?”

She was looking somewhere over his shoulder, probably at the handle of the knife. “Tom is his middle name. His first is—”

“Matthias?” he guessed. She nodded again, and for just a moment Will let himself think about Sara Linton. She had been joking at the time, but she had also been right.
Find the guy named Matthias and you find your killer
.

“After Judas’s betrayal, the apostles had to decide who would help them tell the story of the resurrection of Jesus.” She finally met his gaze. “They chose Matthias. He was a holy man. A true disciple to our Lord.”

Will blinked to get the sweat out of his eyes. He told Judith, “Every woman who is missing or dead has a connection to your shelter. Jackie donated her mother’s things. Olivia Tanner’s bank sponsored your community outreach. Anna Lindsey’s law firm did pro bono work. Tom must’ve met them all there.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then tell me another connection.”

Judith’s eyes scanned his back and forth, and he could read the desperation in her face. “Pauline,” she suggested. “She might be—”

“Pauline is missing, Mrs. Coldfield. She was abducted from a parking lot two days ago. Her six-year-old son was left in the car.”

“She has a child?” Judith’s mouth opened in shock. “Pauline has a baby?”

“Felix. Your grandson.”

She put her hand to her chest. “The doctors said she wouldn’t — I don’t understand. How could she have a baby? They said she’d never be able to carry—” She kept shaking her head in disbelief.

“Did your daughter have an eating disorder?”

“We tried to get help for her, but in the end…” Judith shook her head, as if it was all useless. “Tom teased her about her weight, but all little brothers tease their older sisters. He never meant her any harm. He never meant…” She stopped, holding back a strangled sob. There was a crack in her
facade as she let herself consider the possibility that her son might be the monster Will had described. Just as quickly, she recovered, shaking her head. “No. I don’t believe you. Tom would never hurt anyone.”

Will’s body started to shiver. He still wasn’t losing much blood, but his mind wasn’t capable of ignoring the pain for longer than a minute at a time. His head would drop, or he would flick sweat out of his eye, and it would flare up like hellfire. The darkness kept calling to him, the sweet relief of letting go. He let his eyes close for a few seconds, then a few more. Will jerked himself awake, groaning at the searing pain.

Judith said, “You need help. I should get you help.” She made no move to do this. The phone started to ring again, and she simply stared at the receiver on the wall.

“Tell me about the cave.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Did your son like to dig holes?”

“My son likes to go to church. He loves his family. He loves helping people.”

“Tell me about the number eleven.”

“What about it?”

“Tom seems drawn to it. Is it because of his name?”

“He just likes it.”

“Judas betrayed Jesus. There were eleven apostles until Matthias came along.”

“I know my Bible stories.”

“Did Pauline betray you? Were you incomplete until your son came along?”

“This means nothing to me.”

“Tom’s obsessed with the number eleven,” Will told her. “He took Anna Lindsey’s eleventh rib. He shoved eleven trash bags up inside her womb.”

“Stop!” she shouted. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“He electrocuted them. He tortured and raped them.”

She screeched, “He was trying to save them!”

The words echoed around the tiny room like a pinball striking metal.

Judith covered her mouth with her hand, horrified.

Will said, “You knew.”

“I didn’t know anything.”

“You must have seen it on the news. Some of the women’s names were released. You had to recognize them from your work at the shelter. You saw Anna Lindsey in the road after Henry hit her with the car. You called Tom to take care of her, but there were too many people around.”

“No.”

“Judith, you know—”

“I know my son,” she insisted. “If he was with those women, it was only because he was trying to help them.”

“Judith—”

She stood up, and Will could tell she was angry. “I’m not going to listen to you lie about him. I nursed him when he was a baby. I held him—” She cradled her arms. “I held him to my chest and promised him that I would protect him.”

“You didn’t do that with Pauline, too?”

Her face became emotionless. “If Tom doesn’t come, I’m going to have to take care of you myself.” She took a knife out of the butcher block. “I don’t care if I go to prison for the rest of my life. I will not let you destroy my son.”

“You sure you can do that? Stabbing someone in the back isn’t the same as stabbing them to their face.”

“I’m not going to let you hurt him.” She held the knife awkwardly, gripped in both hands. “I won’t let you.”

“Put the knife down.”

“What makes you think you can tell me what to do?”

“My boss is behind you with a gun pointed at your head.”

She gasped, the sound catching in her throat when she whirled around and saw Amanda standing on the other side of the window. Without warning, Judith raised the knife and lunged toward Will. The window exploded. Judith fell to the floor in front of him, the knife still gripped in her hand. A perfect circle of blood seeped into the back of her shirt.

He heard a door break open. People ran in, heavy shoes on the floor, orders being barked. Will couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped his head and the pain shot through to his core. Amanda’s high heels swam into his vision. She knelt down in front of him. Her mouth was moving, but Will couldn’t hear what she was saying. He wanted to ask about Faith, about her baby, but it was too easy to surrender to the darkness.

PAULINE MCGHEE WAS HARD TO LOOK AT, EVEN AS SHE HELD her child in her lap. Her mouth had been ripped to shreds by the metal wire she’d chewed through, so she mumbled as she tried to speak, her lips tightly held together. Tiny sutures held the skin in place like something out of
Frankenstein
. And yet, she was hard to feel any sympathy for, perhaps because she kept referring to Faith as “bitch” more than any man ever had.

“Bitch,” she said now, “I don’t know what I can tell you. I haven’t seen my family in twenty years.”

Will shifted in his chair beside Faith. His arm was in a sling tight to his chest and he was in visible pain, but he had insisted on coming in for the interview. Faith couldn’t blame him for wanting answers. Unfortunately, it was fast becoming obvious that they weren’t going to get them from Pauline.

“Tom has lived in sixteen different cities over the last thirty years,” Will told her. “We’ve found cases in twelve of them — women who were abducted and never returned. They were always in pairs. Two women at a time.”

“I know what a fucking pair is.”

Will opened his mouth to speak, but Faith reached under the table, pressing his knee. Their usual tactics weren’t working. Pauline McGhee was a survivor, willing to step over anything or anyone to save her own skin. She had kicked Olivia Tanner into unconsciousness in order to make sure she was the first one to escape the basement. She would have strangled her own brother to death if Faith hadn’t stopped her. She wasn’t someone who could be reached through empathy.

Faith took a gamble. “Pauline, stop the bullshit. You know you can leave this room at any time. You’re staying for a reason.”

The injured woman looked down at Felix, stroking his hair. For just an instant, Pauline McGhee seemed almost human. Something about the child transformed her so that Faith suddenly understood the hard outer shell was a defense against the world that only Felix could penetrate. The boy had fallen asleep in her arms as soon as his mother sat down at the conference table. His thumb kept going to his mouth, and Pauline moved it away a few times before giving in. Faith could understand why she wouldn’t want to let her son out of sight, but this was hardly the kind of thing you’d want to bring a kid to.

Pauline asked, “Were you really going to shoot me?”

“What?” Faith asked, even though she knew exactly what the woman meant.

“In the hall,” she said. “I would’ve killed him. I wanted to kill him.”

“I’m a police officer,” Faith answered. “It’s my job to protect life.”

“That
life?” Pauline asked, incredulous. “You know what that bastard did.” She lifted her chin toward Will. “Listen to your partner. My brother killed at least two dozen women. Do you really think he deserves a trial?” She pressed her lips to the top of Felix’s head. “You should’ve let me kill him. Put him down like a fucking dog.”

Faith didn’t answer, mostly because there was nothing to say. Tom Coldfield was not talking. He wasn’t bragging about his crimes or offering to tell where the bodies were buried in exchange for his life. He was resolved to go to prison, probably death row. All he had asked for was bread and water and his Bible, a book that had so many scribbled notations in the margins that the words were barely legible.

Still, Faith had tossed and turned in bed over the last few nights, reliving those few seconds in the hallway. Sometimes she let Pauline kill her brother. Sometimes she ended up having to shoot the woman. None of the scenarios sat well with her, and she had resigned herself to knowing that these emotions were the type that only time could heal. The process of moving on was helped by the fact that the case was no longer Faith and Will’s responsibility. Because Matthias Thomas Coldfield’s crimes had crossed state lines, he was the FBI’s problem now. Faith was only allowed to interview Pauline because they thought the women shared a bond. They were dead wrong.