“Go change, Wilbur.” Amanda patted his leg. “Shower off. Take care of the dogs. I’ll grab us some food from Mary Mac’s. Shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. Then we’ll head to Panthersville.”
GBI headquarters. The body of the man who’d called himself Merle was in the morgue. Sara’s BMW was being scoured by arson investigators. The white potato chip van was being evaluated by the forensic team. The bomb squad was preparing a briefing on the explosive devices. The Hostage Rescue Team was on standby. Hurley had a twenty-four-hour babysitter in case he decided to talk. A group of agents was generating a profile on Adam Humphrey Carter—past known associates, prison cellmates, family ties, possible connections with underworld groups and gangs.
They would all submit their findings to Amanda. It would be good intelligence, but probably not actionable intelligence.
Will craved action.
He opened the car door. His legs ached when he stood up. He was still wearing the grass-stained shorts and sweaty T-shirt from before. His feet dragged as he walked into the building. He could’ve gone to his own house, his tiny two-bedroom house that felt weirdly smaller without Sara. Most of his clothes were at her apartment. His shaving kit. His toothbrush. His dog.
His life.
Will bypassed the stairs and punched the button for the elevator. His belly pain had simmered into a low boil. His headache was worse under the artificial light. He leaned against the wall as he waited for the doors to open. He was completely depleted. His heart ached in his chest. He shouldn’t be stopping for something as mundane as a shower and taking out the dogs, but what other options did he have?
He looked at his watch.
4:31 p.m.
The elevator doors opened. He got on. He pressed the button for Sara’s floor. He leaned back. He closed his eyes.
This morning, Sara had kissed him in the elevator. Really kissed him. He could still feel her hands on his shoulders. She’d stroked the nape of his neck and whispered into his ear—You look so sexy with your hair longer. Which was how he’d ended up being a jackass who paid sixty dollars for a haircut when the cool guy in the morgue would do it for the price of a sandwich.
The elevator dinged. Will opened his eyes. He looked at his watch.
4:32 p.m.
His shoes dragged across the carpet in the hallway. Will’s keys were in Sara’s purse. She kept a spare on the ledge. Will was reaching up to find it when the door opened.
Eddie Linton looked up at Will. Sara’s father. His eyes were bloodshot. His face was ashen. “Did you find her?”
Will shook his head as he lowered his hand. He felt like a thief caught in the act. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Eddie left the door open as he walked back into the apartment.
Sara’s dogs rushed at Will. The greyhounds looked worried. Their routine had been broken. Sara was supposed to be here. Betty, the Chihuahua Will had accidentally adopted, pranced around his feet until he picked her up. Her head went to his chest. Her tongue and tail wagged in opposite directions.
Will tried to soothe all of the animals while he watched Sara’s mother move around the kitchen. The apartment was modern, with an open floor plan that combined the living room, dining room and kitchen. Cathy was opening and closing kitchen cabinets. She found a glass. She poured tea from a pitcher. She sat down at the island. There were bowls of uneaten food in front of her.
She looked at Will, then looked away.
Eddie said, “All the news stations are repeating the same thing every thirty minutes. Nobody knows anything.” His eyes were focused on the muted television in the living room. Words ran in the banner along the bottom. “Sir Verb-A-Lot just wants to gallop in on his cartoon horse and stirrup trouble.”
Will stared at the TV, head tilted to the side. The reporter was actually Jake Tapper.
“We found your phone when we closed up the shed.” Eddie pointed to Will’s phone charging on the other end of the island. “And, uh, Tess is flying over. She’ll be here Tuesday morning. It’s a fifteen-hour flight, but she’s got to get to the airport, and . . .” His voice trailed off. “We haven’t told anybody but Tess that Sara was kid— was taken. We’re doing exactly what the police said, keeping her name out of it so they can’t go on their computers and find out who she is. We don’t want to jeopardize the investigation. We just want her home.” He rubbed his stomach. “Do you think they’ll demand a ransom?”
Cathy stiffened.
Eddie changed the subject, asking Will, “Are you hungry?”
Will’s jaw was so tight that he could only shake his head. Betty licked his neck. He put her down on the floor. Her toenails clicked across the hardwood as she joined the greyhounds on their dog bed.
“Come eat.” Eddie waved toward the vacant stool beside Cathy.
She jumped up like the seat had caught on fire. She went into the kitchen. She started opening and closing the cabinets again. Will didn’t know if she was looking for something or just relishing the slamming of cabinet doors.
He sank down onto the bar stool, the one Sara always sat in. He tilted up his phone, but only to see the wallpaper. The screen showed Sara with the dogs, a greyhound on each side, Betty in her lap. Smiling for Will.
4:38 p.m.
Cathy slammed the cabinet door so hard that the glasses clinked.
Will cleared his throat. He tried, “Are you—”
Cathy cut him off with a furious look. She bent down and rummaged through the lower cabinets. She slapped an empty storage bowl on the counter. Then another. She was looking for lids. Will knew she wouldn’t find ones that fit. Sara said that lids were the unicorns of the storage world.
“I should—” Will tried to get up from the stool. A stabbing pain in his ribs almost doubled him over. “I came to take a shower. And to change. For work. I have clothes here. All my—”
“Stuff,” Cathy finished. “Your stuff is here. Your dog is here. He lives here, Eddie. Did you know that?”
The words had rushed out like an accusation.
Eddie sat down beside Will. He clasped his hands on the counter. “No, I did not know that.”
Will chewed at the side of his tongue. Why hadn’t Sara told her father that they were together?
“You can’t—” Cathy put her fist to her mouth. Her earlier anger had only intensified. “Sara is my oldest daughter. My first born. You have no idea—no idea—what she’s been through.”
Will said nothing, but he did know what Sara had been through. He was basically living with her. He shared her bed. Loved her more than any woman he had ever known. He spent every free moment he had with her.
All of which she had apparently not shared with her parents.
“She is not a fighter!” Cathy was talking to Eddie, screaming at him. “You think that she is, but she’s not! She’s my baby. We should’ve never let her leave home. Nothing good has ever come of it. Nothing!”
“Cath.” Eddie shook his head, clearly pained by her recriminations. “Not now.”
“It’s too late!” she yelled. “She was swallowed up again by this horrible place. This horrible city. With this—”
Will waited to hear what he was, the this in Sara’s life.
Not her husband. Not Cathy’s son-in-law. Not someone Sara had talked to her father about.
“I . . . uh . . .” Will cleared his throat. He had to get out of this room.
He managed to slide off the stool without the pain stopping him. The dogs scrambled up from their bed. They thought they were going out. Will pushed past them as he walked toward the hallway. He had five yards before turning the corner, but his feet were encased in concrete.
There wasn’t a part of this apartment that didn’t conjure a memory of Sara. The couch where she sprawled across him like a cat while they watched TV. The dining room table where he’d met her friends from the hospital. Will had never been to a dinner party before. He’d been nervous because he knew that he was bad with people, but Will had done okay because Sara had made it okay. That’s what she did for him. She made everything okay.
He turned around.
He looked at Sara’s parents. Cathy’s arms were crossed. She was staring angrily at the floor. Only Eddie would look him in the eye. He was waiting for Will to say something, to justify his existence in this space that belonged to their beloved, oldest child.
Will didn’t want to say anything, but words started coming out of his mouth.
“She listens to Dolly Parton when she’s sad.”
Cathy kept her gaze on the floor.
Eddie’s brows zigged in confusion.
Will said, “She doesn’t listen to Dolly with me.” He added, “At least, not like—”
When your son-in-law cheated on her, or when he got himself murdered because his ego was more important than his wife.
Will said, “We’ve been riding our bikes on the Silver Comet trail. Did she tell you?”
Eddie hesitated, then said, “She showed us the thing, the satellite stuff.”