“What, you waitin’ for the bank to open?”
“Safe deposit box.” She was making this up as she went along. “Boxes. There are three of them. All over the city. I need time.”
He smiled. One of his teeth was capped in a silver-colored metal. Platinum, probably worth more money than Faith had in her checking account. “I knew you’d deal. I told Mommy that little baby girl wouldn’t throw her over.”
“I need to know she’s alive. None of this happens unless I know for sure that she’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t say she’s okay, but the bitch is still breathing last time I checked.” He took an iPhone out of his pocket, a newer model than she could afford for Jeremy. He held his tongue between his teeth as his thumbs worked across the screen. He found what he was looking for and showed Faith the phone. The screen showed the image of her mother holding a newspaper.
Faith stared at the photo. Her mother’s face was swollen, barely recognizable. Her hand had a bloody rag wrapped around it. Faith pressed her lips together. Bile stung the back of her throat. She fought against the tears stinging her eyes. “I can’t tell what she’s holding.”
He used his fingers to enlarge the image. “It’s a newspaper.”
“I know it’s a USA Today,” she snapped. “That doesn’t prove she’s alive right now. It just proves that sometime after the papers were delivered this morning, you made her hold one up.”
He looked at the screen. She could tell he was worried. He bit his bottom lip the same way Jeremy did when she’d caught him doing something wrong.
The man said, “This is proof of life. You need to deal with me if you wanna keep it that way.”
Faith noticed that his grammar had improved. His voice had gone up an octave, too. There was something familiar about his tone, but she couldn’t place it. She just needed to keep him talking. “You think I’m stupid?” she demanded. “This doesn’t prove anything. My mother could already be dead. I’m not going to just hand you a pile of money because you have some stupid picture. You could’ve Photoshopped that. I don’t even know if it’s really her.”
He stepped closer, puffing out his chest. His eyes were almond shaped, deep blue with speckles of green. Again, she had the sensation of knowing him.
“I’ve arrested you before.”
“Shit,” he snorted. “You don’t know me, bitch. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”
“I need proof that my mother’s alive.”
“She won’t be for long if you keep this shit up.”
Faith felt that familiar snap inside of her. All the anger and frustration of the last few days came rushing out. “Have you ever even done this before? Are you some kind of amateur? You don’t show up like this without real proof. I’ve been a fucking cop for sixteen years. You think I’m going to buy this cheap trick?” She pushed him back hard enough to let him know she meant it. “I’m leaving.”
He slammed her face into the door. Faith was stunned by the blow. He jerked her around. His left arm pressed into her throat. His right hand gripped her face, fingers pressing into her skull. Spit flew from his mouth. “You want me to leave another present under your pillow? Maybe her eyes?” He pressed his thumb harder against her eye socket. “Maybe her tits?”
The door pushed against Faith’s back. Someone was trying to get into the restroom.
“Excuse me?” a woman said. “Hello? Is this open?”
The man stared at Faith, a hyena studying its prey. His hand shook from the effort of gripping her face. Her teeth cut into the inside of her cheek. Her nose started to bleed. He could break her skull if he wanted to.
“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “I’ll send you instructions.” He leaned in so close that Faith’s eyes blurred on his features. “You don’t tell anybody about this. You don’t tell your boss. You don’t tell that freak you work with. You don’t tell your brother, or anyone else in your precious family. Nobody. You hear me?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Impossibly, his grip tightened. “I won’t kill you first,” he warned her. “I’ll cut off your eyelids. Are you listening to me?” Faith nodded. “I’ll make you watch while I skin your son. Piece by piece, I’ll cut away his flesh until all you see is his muscles and bones and all you hear is him crying like the bitch little spoiled baby that he is. And then I’ll go to work on your daughter. Her skin’ll be easier, like wet paper peeling back. Do you understand me? You get what I’m saying?” She nodded again. “Don’t push me, bitch. You have no idea how little I’ve got left to lose.”
He let go of her as quickly as he’d grabbed her. Faith fell to the floor. She coughed, tasting blood in her throat. He kicked her out of the way so that he could open the door. She reached out to her purse. Her fingers felt the impression of the gun. She should get up. She had to get up.
“Ma’am?” a woman said. She peered around the door, looking down at Faith. “Do you want me to call a doctor?”
“No,” Faith whispered. She swallowed the blood in her mouth. The inside of her jaw was ripped open. More blood trickled from her nose.
“Are you sure? I could call—”
“No,” Faith repeated. There was no one to call.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WILL PULLED INTO HIS DRIVEWAY AND WAITED FOR THE garage door to open. All the lights were off in his house. Betty was probably floating on her full bladder like a balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. At least he hoped she was. Will was in no mood to clean up a mess.
He felt like he had killed Amanda. Not literally, not with his bare hands like he’d dreamed of doing for most of the day. Telling her what Roger Ling said, that Evelyn Mitchell was dead, was just as good as shooting her in the chest. She had deflated in front of him. All of her bravado was gone. All the arrogance and meanness and pettiness had rushed out of her, and the woman in front of him had been nothing but a shell.
Will had had the sense to wait until they were outside the prison building to relay the news. She hadn’t cried. Instead, to his horror, her knees had buckled. That was when he put his arm around her. She was surprisingly bony. Her hip was sharp under his hand. Her shoulders were frail. She seemed ten, twenty years older by the time he fastened her seatbelt around her lap and closed the car door.
The trip back had been excruciating. Will’s silence on the way down paled in comparison. He had offered to pull over but she’d told him not to stop. Just outside of Atlanta, he’d seen her hand grip the door. Will had never been to her house before. She lived in a condo in the middle of Buckhead. It was a gated community. The buildings were all regal looking with keyed corners and large, heavily trimmed windows. She had directed him to a unit in the back.
Will had idled the car, but she didn’t get out. He was debating whether or not to help her again when she said, “Don’t tell Faith.”
He’d stared at her front door. She had a flag hanging from the front post. Spring flowers. A seasonal motif. Amanda had never struck him as a flag person. He couldn’t imagine her standing on the porch in her heels and suit, leaning on tippy-toe to clip the appropriate flag onto the pole.