Callie told the bartender, “Double Kettle One with a lime twist.”
Faith heard a practiced cadence in the woman’s order. She would expect a high-priced tax attorney to be into wine or even whiskey. Vodka straight from the bottle was a drinker’s drink.
Callie said, “Are you with that other detective? Masterson?”
“No, and he’s not a detective.”
Callie shook her head in distaste. “Let me guess, he’s a reporter?”
Faith studied the woman. She looked so beaten down. Was she recovering the same way Tommi Humphrey was recovering? Faith silently berated herself for letting her emotions get in the way. She worked to summon her professional reserve.
“Ma’am?” The bartender tipped his hat as he placed the vodka double on the bar.
Faith looked down at the drink, which was a very generous pour.
Callie didn’t seem to notice. She stirred the cocktail straw around the glass. She waited for the bartender to leave before telling Faith, “I hate men who wear hats to make up for not having a personality.”
Faith immediately liked this woman.
“This is about Rod?” Callie asked.
“Why do you think I’m here about your ex-husband?”
“Because my ex-husband is the one who abducted me.”
Faith watched the woman gulp down half her drink. She didn’t know what to do. Rod Zanger had not been any part of any possibilities. She reached for her purse to find her notebook.
“Off the record,” Callie said. “That’s what you promised on the phone.”
Faith closed her purse.
Callie finished the drink in another gulp. She signaled for a refill. “Nothing’s really off the record, is it?”
Faith couldn’t lie to this woman. “No.”
Callie took the straw out of her empty glass and slid it end-over-end against the bar. “I was thirteen years old the first time a man touched me without my permission.”
Faith watched the straw slip through the woman’s fingers.
“I was getting my teeth cleaned, and the dentist grabbed my breasts. I never told anybody.” She looked at Faith. “Why didn’t I tell anybody?”
Faith shook her head. She had her own stories she could tell. “Because he’d call you a lying bitch.”
Callie laughed. “They call me that anyway.”
Faith laughed, too, but she was putting the clues together. “Did your husband hurt you?”
Callie nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly.
Faith bit her tongue to hold back the rush of questions. Will was so much better at leaning into silence. All Faith could do was sip her iced tea and wait.
The bartender returned. He did the hat tip, placed the double vodka on the bar. This time, the pour wasn’t just generous. It was more like a triple. He saw Faith looking and winked before walking away.
Callie stared down at the clear liquid. She had started chewing the inside of her lip. “I found one of those GPS things on my car.”
“This was two years ago?”
“Yes. During my divorce.” Callie started turning the glass in a circle. “The transceiver was in a black metal box, attached by a magnet to the wheel well. I don’t know why I checked for it. Well, yes, actually I do. I felt like I was being watched. I knew Rod wouldn’t let me go.”
Faith asked, “Did you tell anyone about it at the time?”
“My divorce lawyer.” She looked up at Faith. “Always listen to your lawyer. They know best.”
Faith gathered from her tone that she was being sarcastic.
“She told me to leave it on the car exactly where I found it. She didn’t want to tip off Rod. We wanted to maintain privilege, so her office contracted directly with an IT guy to try to trace the device. He finally told us that he couldn’t get the information without a subpoena, and filing a subpoena would tip off Rod, so …”
Faith longed for her notebook. If Callie gave her attorney permission to break privilege, Faith could have a subpoena within hours.
She asked Callie, “How did it happen?”
“I was sitting in my car. About to drive to work. I had a meeting, but—” She waved her hand, brushing it all away. “I don’t think it was actually Rod who did it. He must’ve hired someone. He always liked to watch my face when he was beating me. This guy didn’t want to be seen.”
Callie took a long pull from her glass. She thumped it down on the counter. Her hands weren’t shaking, but they were unsteady.
She said, “I can still see it, you know? The hammer. I happened to look up into the rearview mirror. I have no idea why. I saw this hammer swinging down. It was strange-looking, the head of the thing. I’ve done so many internet searches looking for what to call it, but there are hundreds of different hammers, and they’ve got fiberglass handles and wooden ones and this hammer is for framing and that hammer is for drywall and, do you know, there are even YouTube videos that show the best way to knock out someone with a hammer?”
Faith shook her head, pretending like her heart had not dropped into her stomach.
The last week of March. The early morning hour. The hammer.
Callie signaled the bartender for another, telling him, “Bring one for my friend, too.”
Faith tried to stop her.
Callie asked, “Are you off the record or not?”
Faith nodded for the man to bring two drinks.
Callie watched the bartender walk to the other end of the bar.
She said, “He’s got a nice ass.”
Faith didn’t care about the man’s ass. The air had folded in around them. She looked in the mirror. Will was still sitting at the table across the room. He was holding his phone in his hand, but his eyes were on the bar.
Faith asked Callie, “What’s the next thing you remember?”
“I woke up in the woods, of all places.” She took a breath. “Our first date was a picnic on the grounds of the Biltmore. Rod was always clever that way. He knew he couldn’t impress me with a fancy restaurant
