The Last Widow: The latest new 2019 crime thriller from the No. 1 Sunday Times bestselling author

by Karin Slaughter

  Sara nodded. She couldn’t give him more than that. She was shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes went to the ground. Tears slid down her nose and pooled into the dirt.

  Dash patted her shoulder. “Straighten yourself up, Doctor. We don’t want the children seeing you like this.”

  Sara’s teeth were chattering as she followed him back to the clearing. She could barely lift her feet. Every nerve was exposed. After feeling nothing for so long, she could not stop feeling everything. Sara kept staring at the ground because she was afraid that if she looked at Will, she would collapse.

  At the picnic table, Gwen was hectoring the girls about manners. Sara allowed her gaze to skip over Will’s face. His hair was stringy with sweat. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. The beard was patchy and disgusting.

  She was suddenly light-headed. The sense memory of the man who had raped her flooded Sara’s body. The rough beard that smelled of cigarettes and fried food. The clamminess of his pale skin when he thrust against her.

  Bile surged into her mouth. She swallowed it down, her eyes burning.

  “Have a seat, Dr. Earnshaw.” Dash snapped out his cloth napkin and laid it across his lap. “Major Wolfe, this is our resident pediatrician. We’ve had some sick children up here. Thankfully, most of my girls have weathered the storm.”

  Will grunted. He was looking down at his steak.

  Sara took her usual spot by Grace. Will was across the table at the opposite end. A teenage boy was beside him, arms crossed, spine straight, mimicking Will’s posture.

  She dug her fingernails into her palms. She struggled to pull herself back into reality. It was just an ugly beard. Sara was not chained to a bathroom stall. Will would never hurt her. She loved this man. He loved her. He was here because of Sara. To save her.

  She looked around the clearing. The guards in the woods. The rifles and Glocks and hunting knives and the children.

  How could he save her?

  Dash told Sara, “Major Wolfe served in the Airborne forces alongside our friend Beau.”

  Sara’s hands were still trembling. She concentrated on the food. She had cheese and crackers again. An apple was by her plate. The other women had bowls of stew. The men had steaks and potatoes, bottles of water and yellow Gatorade.

  Dash told Sara, “We were down a few soldiers after our last incursion. I feel confident the major will be instrumental in helping us send the Message.”

  Sara couldn’t keep ignoring Will. She made herself look at him—to really see him.

  He was cutting into the steak. Blood seeped from the middle. Sara recognized his abject disgust. Will preferred his meat cooked into a rubber puck. She had treated him to one of the best steakhouses in Atlanta for his birthday and watched him pour ketchup onto a ninety-dollar Wagyu New York Strip.

  Her breath suddenly came back. She felt dizzy from the sudden rush of oxygen.

  This was the memory she needed to hold on to. The first time Sara had worn Will’s favorite black dress was for that dinner. She had read the menu to him in a sexy voice. She hadn’t let him see the prices because he would’ve mathematically quantified the volume of T-bones he could’ve consumed for the same amount at Waffle House.

  “Dr. Earnshaw?” Dash was too keyed into her moods. She had to stop this emotional rollercoaster.

  “Sorry.” Sara broke off a corner of cheese. She pushed it into her mouth. She could do nothing to stop the tears that formed a river down her cheeks. She had made Will taste her Scotch at the restaurant. He had nearly coughed up a lung. They had held hands all night, made out like teenagers in the car.

  Grace asked, “Daddy, can I ask Major Wolfe if he’s married?”

  Dash smiled. “I think you just did, sweetpea.”

  Grace bounced with excitement. “Major Wolfe, are you married?”

  Will chewed the steak the same way Sara’s greyhounds chewed the bitter medication she gave them for heartworms. He swallowed audibly. “No.”

  Grace deflated like a balloon.

  “I, uh—” Will swallowed again. “I went to a wedding once.”

  Sara knew that Will had barely attended his own wedding. The entire shitshow was predicated on a double-dog dare.

  Will said, “They served fresh muffins at the reception.”

  “Ohh.” Grace was intrigued. “What kind of muffins?”

  “Chocolate chip. Oreo. Cranberry. Blueberry. Snorkelberry.” Will scratched his hideous beard. The girls could not tell if he was being serious or not. “Did you hear about the two muffins that were baking in the oven?”

  Grace was so excited she could only shake her head.

  “One muffin, he’s looking around the oven, and he says, ‘Wow, it is really, really hot in here.’” Will wiped his mouth, drawing out the suspense. “And the other muffin, he starts screaming, ‘Help! A talking muffin!’”

  The girls were not used to jokes. There was a slight pause before they erupted into laughter. Even Gwen smiled. Grace was so taken in that Sara had to keep her from falling backward off the bench.

  Dash started tapping his fingers on the table. The laughter stopped abruptly. Sara thought about the pre-pubescent boys Dash had sent away.

  He did not want the competition.

  Dash said, “I didn’t realize you were funny, Major Wolfe.”

  Sara tried to break the tension. “Grace, did I tell you about—”

  “Dobie,” Dash said. “Could you escort Dr. Earnshaw to her cabin? I’m afraid Lance is still under the weather. And Major Wolfe, you’ll keep him company. You can drill with the team later. It’s better in the dark anyway. I’ll send someone to find you when we’re ready for you.”

  Sara felt a rush of heat go through her body. Will taking her to the cabin. That silly kid hanging around. Will could easily knock him out. They could run, but where? Will had to have a plan. He always had a plan. She gripped her hands together under the table to keep them still.

  Dobie stood up. He sat down again when he realized Will wasn’t joining him.

  Sara felt her teeth on edge. What was he doing? This was their chance. They could run into the woods and—

  Get shot by the men in the deer stands. Or the guards in the forest. Or Will could return fire and end up killing one of the children.

  Sara’s tears began their endless flow again.

  Will swirled the Gatorade in the bottle and gulped the rest of it down. Beside him, Dobie did the same. His throat worked like a stork’s. Will finally stood. His little shadow followed him around the table.

  Will grabbed Sara’s arm.

  She cried out, though he hadn’t hurt her.

  Dash said, “Gently, Major Wolfe. Dr. Earnshaw is a very important part of the Message.” He nodded to Dobie. “Keep an eye peeled.”

  Sara stood up. She felt like her knees were going to give out. She walked ahead of them, through the clearing, down the path. The entire time, she thought about walking to her BMW two days ago, the fear that had welled up inside of her chest as she’d realized that she was going to be taken.

  What now? What now?

  Will’s footsteps were solid behind her. Dobie was dragging at a slower pace. Sara wanted to turn around. To pause the world and let Will hold her for just a few seconds.

  They were at the cabin. Sara stepped up onto the log. Will’s hand was at her back. He barely touched her, but her body shivered from the idea of him.

  The door shut behind her.

  “Dude, I guess we’re being punished.” Dobie’s voice was close by as he fumbled with the padlock.

  Sara wanted to scream. Only Dash had the key.

  Dobie said, “I wanted ice cream.”

  Will offered, “You can go and get some.”

  “Shit no, bro. Dash’ll rip my hide.” He howled out a tremendous yawn. “Damn, I’m tired.”

  “Adrenaline.” Will was sitting on the log outside the door. His voice was different; deeper, rougher. “Go ahead and get comfortable. We’re gonna be here for a while.”

&
nbsp; Sara laid flat to her belly. She looked under the door. She could see Will. The gap was wide enough for her to slip her hand underneath. She could touch him. Her heart fluttered with longing and fear and panic. The boy might see. Could she risk it? She could just brush her fingers along his back to anchor herself again.

  Couldn’t she?

  Dobie yawned. “What I think is—” Another yawn broke his train of thought.

  Will said, “It’s a big day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, the Message. Whatever that is.” Dobie’s head thumped repeatedly against the door. The padlock rattled. “Did Dash tell you what we’re doing?”

  Will must have shaken his head. “Do you know?”

  Dobie must have shaken his head, too. The rattling had stopped.

  Will said, “I’ve got to admit, I’m a little scared, man. It’s not easy doing something like this. People are going to die. I counted around ten thousand rounds in the staging area. Three dozen AR-15s. Forty men. Five black vans. Two teams training to take over a hotel lobby or a mosque or a shopping center or—I don’t know what.”

  Sara felt a switch flip on in her brain. He was telling her what he had seen.

  Will said, “Bravo goes in one direction. Charlie goes in the other. We’re Charlie, right? That’s six of us, all in Team Two. But what about the thirty-two guys in Team One? What are they going to do before we get there? And I keep wondering, why go to the trouble to cover the bullets in pork brine? Dead is dead, am I right? And what about those boxes we replaced at the warehouse?”

  Black boxes?

  Will said, “Why replace a bunch of boxes with the exact same type of box? There were at least two dozen. Brown cardboard with shipping labels, about thirty-by-thirty inches. The ones we stole are stuck over in that metal storage building on the other side of the fake building. What happened to the ones we left in the warehouse?”

  “Dunno.” Dobie’s voice was faint. He sounded like he was drifting off to sleep.

  “We’re running those drills,” Will continued. “Up the stairs, T off at the top. There’s an LG spray-painted on one side. A G on the other. What does that even stand for? The LG is close to the top of the stairs, but the G is at the other end of the balcony. Maybe it’s not an L in the LG. Could be a capital I.”

  Dobie smacked his lips.

  Will said, “It’s crazy. Right, bro?”

  Dobie offered no response. His breathing was deep. Sara looked under the door, but she could only see his narrow shoulders.

  She heard Will snap his fingers. The sound was like a stick breaking.

  “Dobie?” he asked. Then, “Hey, kiddo?”

  Sara watched Will lift him up like a child. He turned away from her. He walked into the woods. She saw him disappear in pieces, his legs, then his shoulders, then the top of his head. Sara waited. And waited. She got up on her knees, pressed her palm to the door.

  What was he doing? Was he leaving? Would he come back?

  “Sara?” Will’s hand reached under the crack in the door. He wriggled his fingers, searching for her. “Sara? Are you there?”

  She was overcome. All she could do was lean over and press her lips to the palm of his beautiful hand.

  “Sara,” Will’s voice was strained, “are you okay?”

  She sobbed quietly, her face resting against his palm. His fingers held on to her. All of the longing from the last two days broke open inside of her.

  I love you. I need you. I missed you so much. Please don’t leave me.

  “I’m here.” Will cleared his throat. He sniffed. “I’m here.”

  Sara cried harder, because she knew he was trying not to.

  “Babe.” His voice raked up on the word. He cleared his throat again. “Is that—is that a new dress?”

  Sara laughed through her tears.

  He said, “It really brings out the red in your skin.”

  She laughed again. She held on to his hand with both of hers. “I made it myself.”

  “Really?” Relief filled his voice. “I couldn’t tell. It’s so—it’s beautiful.”

  Sara leaned her forehead against the door. She closed her eyes, banishing the piece of wood that separated them. Her head on his shoulder. Her arms around his waist. “What happened to Dobie? Can he hear us?”

  “Well, uh, there’s a funny story behind that.” Will paused. “I’ve been taking some pills Amanda gave me. I think it’s Percocet.”

  “What?” Sara’s shock overrode her concern. He never took anything for pain. He just winced and groaned until she wanted to strangle him.

  “Amanda told me it was aspirin, but then I realized it was the same thing she gave Beau when we went to the park.” Will skipped the details. “Anyway, it all got smooshed in the pouch, because I got too hot, but I guess I put about two and a half tablets in Dobie’s Gatorade.” He paused. “Did I kill him?”

  “I don’t—no.” Sara shook her head in frustration. Why the hell was he drawing out a stupid story about Dobie?

  Her heart sank.

  Will was talking about Dobie because there was nothing else to talk about.

  He didn’t have a plan. At least, not a plan that would get Sara out of this living hell. He had seen the Structure. There was something new about cardboard boxes. Ten thousand rounds of ammunition covered in brine. Forty armed men. All for an attack that was going to take place somewhere—anywhere—tomorrow.

  Will said, “I have a tracker in my holster. I tried to turn it on, but I think the battery shorted. Or maybe we’re too high in the mountains. It doesn’t have a satellite uplink. It works off cellular networks.”

  Sara leaned against the door. She laced her fingers through his.

  He gripped her hand. “I could shoot a lot of people, but—”

  “The children.” Sara knew there was more to it than that. The only way for Will to stop Dash was to keep pretending to be Major Wolfe so that Dash took him on the Mission.

  Every ounce of her being was yearning to be away from here, but Sara told Will, “Dash wants me to be his witness, whatever that means. He promised me that I would be freed tomorrow.”

  Will was silent, but she felt his skepticism permeate the door.

  Sara took a deep breath. “I’m okay up here. He’s not hurting me. No one is hurting me. And there are children—they’re very sick, Will. I thought it was measles; well, it was measles, but now it’s something else. I don’t know what’s wrong with them. People keep falling ill, and I need to stay here to take care of them. Michelle was working on something in a greenhouse. It’s—”

  “On the other side of the trail,” Will finished. “I saw it. The thermal tent. There are two guards outside. One in the trees. I don’t know who else is there. I can’t get inside now. Maybe later, but I don’t know.”

  Sara felt herself sinking into despair. “Michelle wrote a message on her hand. I found it when I—I found her body.” She bit her lip so the pain would keep her from crying. “She wrote the words ‘black box’.”

  “Black box,” he repeated. “Like on an airplane?”

  “I don’t know. It could be a bomb. It could be a biological agent.” She told him, “Will, you have to stop them. You can’t worry about me. This is bigger than one person. You must’ve seen what they did at Emory. I know Dash. He’s planning an even more spectacular display. That’s what the Message is. He’s going to murder hundreds, maybe thousands of people.”

  Will did not respond. She knew that he had already thought this through, tested the weak spots, looked for the angles. There was no way out of this but forward. He would not be worrying about the danger he was going to face tomorrow. He was agonizing over the thought of leaving Sara.

  “It’s okay.” She couldn’t be strong for herself, but she had to be strong for him. “Baby, I’ll be okay.”

  Will took a stuttered breath.

  “My love.” Sara’s throat tightened into a fist. “I’ll be okay. We’ll both be okay. We’ll get through this. I know we’ll get thro
ugh this.”

  He cleared his throat again. She could feel him doing the same thing that she was doing, trying to hold himself together, to be strong for her.

  He said, “Your family prayed for you. Your mom asked me to do it, too. We all bowed our heads. I think I did it right.”

  Sara closed her eyes. Her family. They had taken him in.

  He said, “Your sister is a touchy kind of person. As in, she touches people. A lot.”

  Sara smiled as she imagined the look on Will’s face when he got the full Tessa treatment. “You’re going to have to get used to that.”

  “Yeah.” Will sniffed again. “You know I, uh, I need to tell you something else. Confess something else.” He paused, purposefully drawing it out. “I watched the Buffy episode where Giles gets fired for messing with the Cruciamentum.”

  Sara made herself play along. “You motherfucker.”

  His laugh sounded just as forced. “You’ve been gone for two days. What was I supposed to do?”

  Sara let herself revel in the deep pitch of his voice. The roughness was gone. This was her Will.

  She asked, “Hey, babe, do you know that song, the one where the guy is, like, you were at a motel bar, but you got too big for your britches and the girl is like, yeah, I was at the bar and it was great, loser, but I’m outta here?”

  He cursed under his breath.

  “And then he’s like—”

  “‘Don’t You Want Me’. Human League. And it was a cocktail bar.”

  “Dammit, I was so close.” Sara didn’t have to fake her relief. “Also—”

  “Sara, if you fuck up another song, I swear to God I’ll leave.”

  She grinned, because everything about this felt so normal. “It’s not another song. It’s that fungus growing on your face.”

  “Babe, it’s my disguise.”

  “It’s gross, and it has to go.” Sara felt her smile start to falter. She was running out of things to talk about while they tried not to talk about the things that mattered. “Will?”

  “What now? You don’t like my outfit?”