“Mom’s dead. Daddy’s flying back from a business trip in Salt Lake. Should be here this afternoon.”
Jamal added, “We asked for dental records.”
“Great, thanks,” Faith mumbled. She was probably thinking about the father’s long flight home, the moment at the morgue when his life would forever be changed.
They all turned back to the Dumpster. The crowd had dispersed so the crime scene techs could begin the arduous process of cataloguing the scene.
Will looked down at the woman’s twisted body. Long blonde hair draped across her face. She was on her back. Her arms were turned, wrists open to the sky. Her face was a bloody pulp, probably unrecognizable to even her closest friends. Her fingernails were painted bright red. Blood glued her clothes to her skin. Will could guess what was underneath the tight T-shirt and flowered skirt.
Leo said, “Here’s something you don’t see every day: guy pummeled her gut until her intestines shit out. You can’t find that kind of thing on YouTube.” He chuckled to himself. “At least, not until I figure out how to work the camera on my phone.”
“Lord help us,” Jamal muttered. He headed toward Charlie Reed, the GBI crime scene investigator.
“Come on, Hodge,” Leo called to his back. “It’s funny.”
Faith said, “Smart, Leo. You really want to piss off the deputy chief’s grandson?”
Will glanced at Faith. Her voice sounded a little shaky. She had never been good around bodies, but through sheer determination she held her own. One crack in her shell and Leo or someone like him would turn Faith into a joke every squad room was laughing about by morning roll call. Faith had once told Will that working with Leo was like watching a wind-up monkey that couldn’t quite get the cymbals to meet.
Will knew better than to ask if she was okay. Instead, he knelt beside the body, keeping his distance so he wouldn’t taint the area. The crime scene photographers weren’t waiting for the sun. Their digital cameras and computers were laid out on a folding table. One of the women turned on the diesel generator. The xenon lights flickered. The victim’s hand showed stark against the asphalt. Her red manicured nails glistened as if they were still wet.
Faith asked Leo, “What’s this building? Is it still a community center?”
“Dunno.” Leo shrugged. “Guess they named it after that guy on the radio.”
Will stood up too quickly. He fought a wave of dizziness. “Clark Howell was the publisher of
“No shit?” Leo asked.
“He’s chock-full of fascinating trivia today,” Faith said. “Do you have any leads?”
“What’s it to you?”
Faith put her hands on her hips. “Don’t be an asshole, Leo. You know this is a state case. Do you have any leads, or should I ask Jamal?”
Leo reluctantly offered, “I made some calls, checked with downtown. There’s nobody on our books what would knock the shit out of a girl like this.” He laughed at his own joke. “Literally.”
“She have any enemies?”
“Y’all should know more about that than me.”
“What about a drug problem?”
Leo sniffed, rubbing his nose. “Nothing serious, from what I’ve heard.”
“Coke or meth?”
“She’s a student. What do you think?”
“Meth,” Faith said. “And watch the generalities, Leo. My kid goes to Tech. He doesn’t hit anything harder than Red Bull.”
“Sure.”
“Faith,” Amanda called. She was at the edge of the parking lot, waving them over. Faith shot Leo a nasty look as they headed toward Amanda.
Leo yelled at their backs, “No, don’t thank me, Officers. It was my pleasure.”
Amanda was digging around in her purse when they joined her. She pulled out her BlackBerry. The case was still cracked from her fall. She scrolled through her emails while she talked. “Patrol found a jogger who saw a suspicious green minivan circling the area shortly after four this morning.”
“He just came forward?” Faith looked at her watch. “Was he jogging for two hours?”
“That sounds like a good question to start with. He lives there, apartment two-six-twenty.” Amanda indicated the building across the street. “Make sure you get him on paper. All the t’s crossed and i’s dotted.”
Will said, “I’ll talk to him.” He made to go, but Amanda stopped him.
“Faith, you do this.”
Faith gave him a look of apology before heading toward the apartment building.
Amanda held up a finger, silencing Will. She read a few more emails before dropping her BlackBerry into her purse. “You know you can’t work this case.”
“I don’t see how you’re going to stop me.”
“This has to look good on paper. We can’t have it falling apart in court.”
“It held up in court the last time and he still got out.”
“Welcome to the criminal justice system. I rather thought you were familiar with it by now.”
Will stared across the interstate. Rush hour was gearing up. Cars were starting to clog the fourteen lanes. He saw a sign for one of the Emory hospitals. Sara had gone to Emory University. Grady was part of their teaching system. She would be getting ready for work right now. Showering, drying her hair. Will usually walked the dogs before he left. He wondered if she missed that.
Amanda said, “Give me time to do this right, Will. It has to be done right.”
Will shook his head. He didn’t care about the means, just the end. “We need to work his case from the beginning.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” she asked. “I’ve had two teams on this since I found out. We’re dealing with a thirty-plus-year time gap in a city that tears itself down every five years. His old stomping ground is currently a twelve-story office complex.”
“I’ll check it. Faith can go with me.”
“It’s already been checked top to bottom.”
“Not by me.”
She wasn’t looking at him. Like Will, she was staring over the interstate. “Motive, means, and opportunity.” It was Amanda’s mantra.
Will said, “You know he’s got all three.”
She gave a tight nod of her head. If Will hadn’t been watching, he would’ve missed it. He studied her profile. She seemed to be as tired as he was. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her makeup was caked into the creases around her eyes and mouth.
She said, “I have to say, I love what you did with the basement.”
Will’s hands clenched. The cuts opened up along his fingers.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
His jaw popped when he opened his mouth to speak. “Why were you there?”
“That’s a very interesting question.”
“How long have you known about my father?”
“You work for me, Will. It’s my job to know everything about you.”
“Why did that reporter call you?”
“It makes for a good story, I suppose—your chosen path of law and order. Your rise from the ashes. Atlanta’s symbol is the phoenix. What a fitting dovetail.”
He turned and headed toward North Avenue, the bridge over the interstate. Amanda’s stride was half as long as Will’s. She had to work to match his pace.
She asked, “Where are you going?”
“To talk to my father.”
“To what end?”
“You’ve read his file. You know he has a pattern. He kills one, he keeps one. He’s probably already picked her out.”
