The Will Trent Series 5-Book Bundle

by Karin Slaughter

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bitch runs in the family.”

  Will felt his eyebrows go up.

  “I’m just having a bad day,” Faith said, but that was hardly an explanation. “Joelyn lives in North Carolina. She said it’ll take her about five hours to drive down.” Almost as an afterthought, Faith added, “Oh, and she’s going to sue the police and get us fired if we don’t find out who killed her sister.”

  “One of those,” Will said. He didn’t know which was worse—family members who were so torn up with grief that you felt like they were reaching into your chest and squeezing your heart or family members who were so angry that you felt like they were squeezing you a little farther down.

  He said, “Maybe you should have another go at Felix.”

  “He seemed pretty tapped out to me,” Faith replied. “I probably couldn’t get any more out of him than you did.”

  “Maybe talking to a woman—”

  “You’re good with kids,” Faith interrupted, a hint of surprise in her tone. “More patient than me right now, anyway.”

  Will shrugged. He had helped out with some of the younger kids at the children’s home, mostly to keep the new ones from crying all night and keeping everyone awake. He asked, “Did you get Pauline’s work number from Leo?” Faith nodded. “We need to call and see if there’s a Morgan there. Felix says the abductor dressed like him—maybe there’s a kind of suit that Morgan favors. Also, our guy’s about five-six with dark hair and a mustache.”

  “The mustache could be fake.”

  Will admitted as much. “Felix is smart for his age, but I’m not sure he can tell the difference between real and fake. Maybe Sara got something out of him?”

  “Let’s give them a few more minutes alone,” Faith suggested. “You sound like you think Pauline’s one of our victims.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I asked you first.”

  Will sighed. “My gut is pointing that way. Pauline’s well-off, well employed. She’s got brown hair, brown eyes.” He shrugged, contradicting himself. “That’s not much to hang your hat on.”

  “It’s more than we had when we got up this morning,” she pointed out, though he couldn’t tell if she was agreeing with his gut or clutching at straws. “Let’s be careful about this. I don’t want to get Leo in trouble by snooping around his case, then leaving him hanging out to dry when nothing comes out of it.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I’ll call Pauline McGhee’s work and ask about Morgan’s suits. Maybe I can get some information out of them without stepping on Leo’s toes.” Faith took out her phone and looked at the screen. “My battery is dead.”

  “Here.” Will offered his. She took it gently in both hands and dialed a number from her notebook. Will wondered if he looked as silly as Faith did holding the two pieces of the phone to his face and figured he probably looked even more so. Faith was not really his type, but she was an attractive woman, and attractive women could get away with a lot. Sara Linton, for instance, could probably get away with murder.

  “Sorry,” Faith said into the phone, her voice raised. “I’m having trouble hearing you.” She shot Will a look, as if this was his fault, before heading down the hall where the reception was better.

  Will leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. Replacing the phone represented a seemingly insurmountable problem—the sort of problem that Angie usually handled for him. He’d tried to get the device replaced by calling the cell phone company, but they had told him he would have to go to the store and fill out paperwork. Assuming that miracle occurred, Will would then have to figure out the new features on the phone—how to set the ring tone to something that wouldn’t annoy him, how to program in the numbers he needed for work. Will supposed he could ask Faith, but his pride kept getting in the way. He knew that she would gladly help him, but she would want to have a conversation about it.

  For the first time in his adult life, Will found himself wishing that Angie would come back to him.

  He felt a hand on his arm, then heard an “Excuse me” as a thin brunette opened the door to the doctors’ lounge. He guessed she was Miss Nancy from social services, come to collect Felix. The day was early enough that the boy wouldn’t immediately be taken to a shelter. There might be a foster family who could look after him for a while. Hopefully, Miss Nancy had been at this job long enough so that she had some good families who owed her favors. It was hard to place children who were in limbo. Will had been in limbo himself, just long enough to get to that age where adoption was almost impossible.

  Faith was back. She had a disapproving frown on her face as she handed Will back his phone. “You should get that replaced.”

  “Why?” he asked, pocketing the phone. “It works fine.”

  She ignored his obvious lie. “Morgan only wears Armani, and he seemed pretty convinced that he’s the only man in Atlanta with enough style to pull it off.”

  “So, we’re talking anywhere from twenty-five hundred to five thousand dollars for a suit.”

  “I’d bet it’s on the high end, judging by his haughty tone. He also told me that Pauline McGhee is estranged from her family, going back at least twenty years. He says she ran away at seventeen and never looked back. He’s never heard her mention a brother before.”

  “How old is Pauline now?”

  “Thirty-seven.”

  “Did Morgan know how to get in touch with her family?”

  “He doesn’t even know what state she’s from. She didn’t talk about her past much. I left a message on Leo’s cell. I’m pretty sure he’ll track down the brother before the day is out. He’s probably already running all the fingerprints from her SUV.”

  “Maybe she’s living under an alias? You don’t run away from home at seventeen without a reason. Pauline’s obviously doing pretty well for herself financially. Maybe she had to change her name to make that happen.”

  “Obviously, Jackie’s been in touch with her family and hasn’t changed her name. Her sister was going by Zabel, too.” Faith laughed, pointing out, “All of their names rhyme—Gwendolyn, Jacquelyn, Joelyn. It’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”

  Will shrugged. He’d never been able to recognize words that rhymed, a problem he thought might be coupled with his reading issues. Fortunately, it wasn’t the sort of thing that came up much.

  Faith continued, “I don’t know what it is, but something about having a baby makes you think the stupidest names are beautiful.” She sounded wistful. “I almost named Jeremy Fernando Romantico after one of the guys from Menudo. Thank God my mother put her foot down.”

  The door opened. Sara Linton joined them in the hallway, looking exactly how you’d expect someone to look if they felt like they’d just abandoned a child to social services. Will wasn’t one to rail against the system, but the reality was that no matter how nice the social workers were, or how hard they tried, there weren’t enough of them and they didn’t get nearly the support they needed. Add to that the fact that foster parents were either the salt of the earth or money-hungry, child-hating sadists, and you quickly understood how soul-killing the entire enterprise could be. Unfortunately, it was Felix McGhee’s soul that would pay the most.

  Sara told Will, “You were good in there.”

  He fought the urge to smile like a kid who’d just been patted on the head.

  Faith asked, “Did Felix say anything else?”

  Sara shook her head. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better,” Faith answered, a defensive edge to her tone.

  Sara said, “I heard about the second victim you found last night.”

  “Will found her.” Faith paused a moment, as if to draw out the information. “This isn’t for public consumption, but she snapped her neck when she fell from a tree.”

  Sara frowned. “What was she doing in a tree?”

  Will took over the story. “She was waiting for us to find her. Apparently, we didn’t get there quickly
enough.”

  “You have no way of knowing how long she was in the tree,” Sara told him. “Time of death isn’t an exact science.”

  “Her blood was warm,” he returned, feeling that same darkness come as he thought about the hot liquid hitting the back of his neck.

  “There are other reasons the blood might still be warm. If she was in a tree, then the leaves could’ve acted as an insulation from the cold. She could’ve been medicated by her abductor. Several pharmaceuticals can raise the body’s core temperature and keep it high even after death.”

  He countered, “The blood hadn’t had time to clot.”

  “Something as simple as a couple of aspirin could keep it from coagulating.”

  Faith provided, “Jackie had a large bottle of aspirin by her bed. It was half empty.”

  Will was unconvinced, but Sara had moved on. She asked Faith, “Is Pete Hanson still the coroner for this region?”

  “You know Pete?”

  “He’s a good ME. I did a couple of courses with him when I first got elected.”

  Will had forgotten that in small towns, the medical examiner’s job was an elected position. He couldn’t picture Sara’s face on a yard sign.

  Faith said, “We were actually about to head over there for the autopsy on the second victim.”

  Sara seemed to take on an air of uncertainty. “Today’s my day off.”

  “Well,” Faith began, again drawing out the moment. “I hope you enjoy your day.” She said it as a parting shot, but didn’t make a move to leave.

  Will noticed that the hallway had gone quiet enough to hear the clacking of high heels on the tiles behind him. Amanda Wagner walked briskly toward them. She looked well rested despite the fact that she had stayed out in the forest as late as Will. Her hair was in its usual unmoving helmet and her pantsuit was a muted dark purple.

  As usual, she jumped right into the middle of things. “The bloody fingerprint on Jacquelyn Zabel’s Florida driver’s license belongs to our first victim. Are you still calling her Anna?” She didn’t give them time to answer. “Is this grocery store abduction related to our case?”

  Will told her, “It could be. The mother was abducted around five-thirty this morning. The kid, Felix, was found sleeping in his mother’s car. We’ve got a sketchy description from him, but he’s only six years old. The Atlanta police are cooperating. As far as I know, they haven’t asked for help.”

  “Who’s on point?”

  “Leo Donnelly.”

  “Worthless,” Amanda grumbled. “We’ll let him keep his case for the time being, but I want a very tight leash on him. Let Atlanta do the footwork and pay for the forensics, but if he starts to screw things up, yank him off.”

  Faith said, “He’s not going to like that.”

  “Do I look like I give a damn?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Our friends in Rockdale County apparently have some regrets about turning over their case,” she informed them. “I’ve called a press conference outside in five minutes and I want you and Faith flanking me, looking reassuring as I explain to the public at large that their kidneys are safe from the hands of vicious organ harvesters.” She held out her hand to Sara. “Dr. Linton, I suppose it’s not a stretch to say we’re meeting under better circumstances this time around.”

  Sara shook her hand. “For me, at least.”

  “It was a moving service. A fitting tribute to a great officer.”

  “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, an
d 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.