“There’s more.” Faith’s bag was hanging on the chair. She found her notebook. She hadn’t been allowed to write down anything inside the SCIF, but she ducked into the bathroom before she’d left the CDC and recorded as much as she could remember.
Without preamble, Faith started reading, giving Will the same crash course into Nazi 101 she had received the day before. She highlighted the most active groups, the leaderless resistance doctrine. Will nodded occasionally, as if what she was telling him made sense. He stopped nodding when she arrived at the part about Dash and Martin Novak’s time in Mexico.
“Dash is a pedophile?” Will said the words without the disgust she’d expected. He looked out the window. His eyes glistened in the morning light. He was as close to crying as she had ever witnessed.
Faith was overcome by an angry helplessness. She had to stop this. To fix this.
“I thought—” Will’s voice had an unfamiliar rattle. “I guess I was worried. Because of the rape. The possibility of rape.”
She put her hand to her mouth in—surprise? Shock? Relief?
Her mind had not made that leap. Adam Humphrey Carter was dead. Vale and Monroe were dead. Hurley was in custody. As terrible as it was to learn that Sara was being held hostage by a pedophile, the fact of his mental illness meant that Dash was less likely to rape her.
Will wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He looked up, but not at Faith. There was something so broken about him. If someone had told Faith that he’d fallen off the side of a cliff, she would’ve believed them.
Faith got up from the table. She went to the sink. She turned on the water. She had nothing to clean. She took a plate out of the dishwasher.
He said, “Gerald Smith.”
Faith nodded, encouraging him to steer the conversation toward the case again.
Will said, “The twenty-one-year-old who walked out of a Mexican holding cell twenty years ago could be the same Gerald I met last night. The age range lines up. Did you get a description?”
“No.” Faith wiped her nose with her arm while she scrubbed the plate. “It would make sense they still know each other. These guys hang together.”
Will said, “I need a favor.”
Faith turned off the faucet. She kept her back to him as she dried the plate. “Sure.”
“I think that—I, mean, I know—” He stopped, took a breath. “Sara’s mother really hates me.”
Faith put the plate in the dishwasher. She closed the door. She wiped down the counter again.
He said, “I know that she would want me to—to take care of them. Don’t you think?”
Faith shook her head, because she didn’t.
“It’s a family thing, I guess, that you would do with families. I guess?”
Faith had to look at him, if only because his expression might help her understand.
He said, “Like, to let them know. Not that there’s a lot to know. Or that I can tell them. We can tell—would be easiest. But, progress, right? Or just maybe to feel like—I was thinking it would be better if it was us. But maybe—”
“Yes.” Faith almost started crying again, this time from relief. “I will go with you to talk to Sara’s parents.”
Faith stood beside Will, her eyes on the numbers above the elevator door. She had been to Sara’s apartment more times than she could count. There were only five people on earth she would leave her daughter with. The person below Evelyn on the list was not Emma’s father or her abuela or even her older brother. Faith was not going to pass up the chance to leave her baby with a board-certified pediatrician.
Tears flooded into Faith’s eyes. She had thrown herself into the case because that was the best way to help find Sara. That drive had kept Faith from thinking too long about what was really happening. That Sara could be hurt. That she could be raped. Beaten. Wounded. Killed.
What would Faith tell Emma?
The elevator doors opened. Faith wiped her tears. She only allowed herself to cry at home in the kitchen pantry. The only way through this was to get it over with as quickly as possible. She walked into the hall. She knocked on the door.
There was talking inside the apartment—two women, both speaking at the same register. Faith’s stomach flipped. One of them sounded exactly like Sara.
“Will?” A surprised-looking woman had opened the door. She was dressed in sweatpants and a white T-shirt. No shoes. No bra. No inhibitions. She threw her arms around Will. Her face pressed into his neck. “I’m so sorry we’re meeting like this.”
Faith could not tell if Will knew the woman or not. He clearly didn’t know what to do with his hands. He settled on touching his fingers to her shoulder blades. He said, “We don’t have any news.”
“That’s good, right? Nothing is better than something? You’re Faith?” The woman reached for Faith’s hand. “I’m Tessa, Sara’s sister.”
Faith felt stupid for not putting it together herself. Tessa had probably gotten on a plane the minute she’d heard about her sister. The trip from South Africa would have been grueling, but Tessa showed no signs of wear. While Sara was attractive, her little sister was a knockout. Perfect, porcelain skin. Lustrous strawberry blonde hair. She was Faith’s age, but more successful at it. No woman’s breasts had a right to be that high after childbirth.
“Come in, please.” Tessa’s words were tinged with a soft, southern accent. “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m jetlagged and—Will, close the door. Mama, look who’s here.”
Cathy Linton was washing dishes at the kitchen sink. She offered Faith a slight nod of her head.
“Sara told me all about you. My goodness, you’re a tall drink of water. But this—” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Sara’s not gonna like this.”
Will’s face reddened under the beard. He offered his previous line. “We don’t have any news.”
Faith explained, “We wanted to update you on what we’re doing.”
Tessa said, “We had to turn off the TV because it was all just blabbering nonsense. We should wait for Daddy. Right, Mama?”
Cathy gave a begrudging, “Yes.”
“He’s walking the dogs,” Tessa explained. “The little one is so adorable. Mama, don’t you like Betty?”
Cathy did not answer. She was like a skunk who could not stop spraying in Will’s direction.
He cleared his throat. “I need to pack some clothes.”
Tessa watched him disappear down the hall. She gave him a few seconds to reach the bedroom, then turned on her mother. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Cathy asked Faith, “Would you like some coffee?”
“I—” Faith was caught between them. “No thank—”
Cathy was already filling the cup. She took down another one from the cabinet. She said, “I suppose he takes cream?”
“He drinks—” Faith and Tessa said the words at exactly the same time.
Tessa said, “Will drinks hot chocolate in the morning.”
Cathy scowled. “He’s not six. He can’t have chocolate for breakfast.”
Tessa said, “He usually gets a biscuit on the way to work, and then he buys a breakfast burrito from the machine at the office.”
“That makes it better?”
Faith prayed for invisibility.
“Tell me.” Cathy stabbed her finger in Tessa’s direction. “How is it that you know so much about that man’s dietary regimen?”
“Do you really want to do this?”
Faith feigned interest in Sara’s spacious living room.
Cathy said, “We need to come together as a family right now, and that man is not our family.”
“Good Lord God, Mama, listen to your blind self. You can’t even say Will’s name.”
“I don’t recall your five-year liberal arts degree coming with a psychiatric license.”
Faith slumped into the couch. She opened the pediatric journal on the coffee table.
Tessa said, “The way you’re acting
right now is exactly why Sara doesn’t talk to you about him.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m not finished,” Tessa said. “For the last year and a half, you’ve done your level damn best to push Will away from Sara because—”
“Because he was still married,” Cathy insisted. “If a man cheats on his wife, he’ll—”
“Will is a good man,” Tessa said. “He’s a mighty good man.”
“If that was true, if he really loved her, he would ask her to marry him. Living together is not a commitment. It’s a sleep-over with sex.”
“Oh for fucksake.”
“Exactly.”
Faith studied an article on mycoplasma pneumoniae-induced redness of the fingers.
“Mama, you can’t protect Sara from life happening again,” Tessa said. “You’re pushing Will out because you’re so worried that he’ll leave her, or break her heart, or cheat on her, or walk down to the mailbox one day and—”
“Stop.”
Tessa paused for a moment. “Sara has decided on Will. That makes him our family. You taught us that rule. You need to start following it.”
Faith prayed that the ensuing silence meant this nightmare had come to an end.
“All right.” Cathy’s tone did not indicate surrender. “You’re the expert, smartass. What do you want me to do? What would make Sara happy? Throw him a party? Adopt him?”
Tessa’s sigh indicated that she’d given up. “Just make him some damn hot chocolate.”
Faith heard a saucepan hit the stovetop. The gas whooshed. Cabinets opened and closed. The fridge was slammed so hard that the bottles inside rattled.
Faith chanced a look at the two women. Cathy was pouring milk into the pan. Tessa had her arms crossed as she stared at the front door. The only thing that could make this more awkward was if they had the entire argument all over again.
What was taking Will so long?
Faith reached into her bag for her phone. She sent him a text message—
TF R U??
The delivered receipt came back, but Will did not respond. Faith was certain he’d heard the argument. The women had not kept their voices down. He was probably crawling out the window. The only thing Will hated more than talking about his feelings was hearing other people talk about theirs.
A cabinet door slammed. The milk was returned to the fridge.
Faith rested her elbows on her knees. She opened her emails. There were the usual things; requests for paperwork, a question from the state attorney’s office. Amanda had not sent her a list of things to do, which was some kind of miracle. She would be supervising the planning for Will’s rendezvous at the Citgo. Studying maps. Pulling up tax records and property lines. What happened at the park yesterday was not going to happen again. Amanda would be driving one of the chase cars. Faith planned to be right there with her.
The front door opened. Betty barked twice. She spun in a circle in the middle of the room. Sara’s two greyhounds trotted into the kitchen and drank from the water bowls.
Faith had never met Sara’s father before, but Eddie Linton looked nothing like she had expected. The first thing she noticed was his eyebrows, which shot off in every direction. He’d cut his jeans into a pair of shorts. The white pockets hung past the frayed ends. His legs were hairy. His T-shirt was more yellow than white. Holes were in the collar. His tennis shoes were falling apart.
Tessa said, “Daddy, this is Faith, Sara’s friend.”
Faith stood up to shake his hand. “I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”
He nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Your girl, her name is Emma?”
“Sara’s her favorite babysitter.” Before he could ask, Faith told him, “There’s no news, but we wanted to update you on what we’re doing.”
He asked, “We?”
Betty barked again. Will was standing in the hallway, his pained expression confirming that he had heard every single word of the argument. He was dressed in a black shirt and black jeans. His tactical boots were laced tight. His gym bag was over his shoulder. He looked like an actual burglar. The kind who would murder you for your grandmother’s jewelry.
“Okay.” Faith was so ready to get this over with. “Maybe we should all sit down over here?”
There were two couches. The Lintons took the one opposite Faith. Tessa curled into the corner. Cathy placed a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table before perching on the other end. Eddie stood in the middle, waiting, because he would not sit down until Faith did.
She took a deep breath, ready to start.
“Hold on.” Eddie waved Will over. “Come sit down, son.”
The soles of Will’s boots squeaked across the hardwood floors. He sat beside Faith. She saw him wince as he leaned back. Betty scurried into his lap. She stretched herself along the length of his leg so that her head rested on his knee.
Cathy pushed the mug in Will’s direction. He looked confused.
“It’s hot chocolate,” Tessa said. “I bet you’ve never had the real thing. Sara minored in organic chemistry, but she doesn’t know how to boil milk.”
Eddie put a hand on her foot to silence her. He told Faith, “Please, go ahead.”
She took another deep breath and dove in. “Thank you, Mr. Linton. I want to start by saying that you’ve all been very good about not talking to the media. Your continued silence is vital to our investigation.”
Their stoic expressions told her that they didn’t need this part.
Faith took a third deep breath. She couldn’t get into the details of the code Sara had left in the list of medications, but she was able to say, “We got confirmation that as of yesterday morning, Sara was still alive.”
Eddie pressed his palm to his heart. His wife and daughter moved closer to his side. They each took one of his hands.
Tessa asked, “What kind of confirmation?”
“All I can share is that we believe Sara is doing everything she can to get back to you.”
Eddie nodded, as if this was to be expected. “She’s a smart girl. She knows how to take care of herself.”
Cathy pressed together her lips. She looked down at the coffee table.
Tessa was a step ahead of her parents, “You said that you got the confirmation yesterday morning. There’s been nothing since then?”
“No, but we didn’t expect to hear anything else.” Faith said, “We believe we know the name of the group that took her.”
“Group?” Tessa asked. She had the same look in her eyes that Sara got when she was putting together a case. “Did they reach out with a ransom demand? Did they show a proof of life? If they want money, we’ll find it. Why aren’t you—”
“Tessie,” Eddie said. “Let her answer your questions.”
Faith said, “They’re not that kind of group. She’s not being held for ransom.”
“Then what do they want?” Tessa asked. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense to me. A group took her, but why? Is it connected to the bombing? What about that other missing doctor? She worked at the CDC. The Emory campus is right down the street from there.”
“I want to acknowledge your questions, but I can’t answer them.” Faith tried to get on top of this. Tessa was just as clever as her sister. “None of this information I’m giving you is public knowledge. It’s very important that it stays that way. You don’t want to hear the questions you’re asking on the news.”
Eddie said, “They’ll dig a grave with all of their useless speculation.”
“Please,” Cathy said, her voice low. “Let’s not talk of graves.”
Tessa looked out the window. Tears fell from her eyes.
Faith tried again. “All that I’m authorized to tell you is that we’re developing a plan to locate her.”
“A plan.” Tessa rolled the words around in her mouth. She was looking at Will now. The way he was dressed. The beard. Sara didn’t seem to hold back much from her sister. She would’ve told Tessa th
at Will often went undercover. That he risked his life to save other people. That he came home with cuts and bruises and the next morning, he went out and did it all over again.
Tessa asked. “Is it dangerous, the plan?”
Faith said, “Everything we do—”
“No,” Tessa interrupted. “I’m asking Will. Is it dangerous?”
Will said, “No. It’s not dangerous.”
Tessa was not fooled. “I don’t think Sara would want anyone risking—risking anything. Do you understand what I’m saying? It wouldn’t be worth it to her.”
Will ignored the observation. He scratched Betty’s ears, taking himself out of the equation.
Eddie asked, “When do we find out if the plan worked?”
“I can’t tell you that.” Faith had already said too much. “I don’t want to mislead you. None of this is guaranteed. I just want you to understand that we’re doing everything we can. Sara means a lot to us. As a colleague. As a friend.” She ended the list there. “We all want her back.”
“We do,” Tessa said. “But we don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
Faith nodded, but not in agreement. Sara’s involvement made this deeply personal, but this was the job that they had signed up for. Faith was keenly aware of the risks she took every time she put on her badge.
“Okay. Thank you.” Cathy held on to her husband’s hand. She told Faith, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to pray with my family.”
“Of course.” Faith stood up. She lifted her bag onto her shoulder.
Will couldn’t move as quickly. He hugged Betty to his chest. He slid to the edge of the couch. He gave an uncomfortable laugh to acknowledge his slow pace.
“Will?” Cathy was reaching out for his hand. “Stay.”
15
Tuesday, August 6, 12:40 p.m.
Sara kept her toga dress hiked up, doing lunges across the cabin while “Baby Got Back” endlessly pounded away inside her skull. Back was the one thing she had never had, but she thought Will appreciated it, so she had started adding an extra ten minutes of glutes to her gym routine in a vain attempt to turn water into wine.
His ex-wife was full of back. And hips. And everything else. Angie was J. Lo “Ain’t Your Mama” curvy, though she had never worked out a day in her life. Her genes were those blessed kind that thrived on potato chips and cheap wine. Collagen would eventually be her downfall. Literally. That kind of skin looked great until it started slipping. Objectively, Sara could say that she had better breasts than Angie, but that was like saying that two Hershey’s Kisses looked better on an ironing board.
The Last Widow: The latest new 2019 crime thriller from the No. 1 Sunday Times bestselling author Page 32