Criminal (Will Trent 6)

Amanda Wagner was not an affectionate woman. She rarely touched Will in kindness. She punched his arm. She smacked his shoulder. She’d even once pulled back the safety plate on a nail gun and feigned surprise when the nail shot through the webbing between his thumb and index finger.

But now, she held on to his hand. Her fingers were small, her wrist impossibly tiny. There was clear polish on her fingernails. Age spots dotted the back of her hand. Her shoulder leaned into his. Will gently returned the pressure. Her grip tightened for just a second before she let go.

She said, “You’re a good boy, Wilbur.”

Will didn’t trust himself to respond without his voice cracking. Normally, he would’ve made a joke about crying like a girl, but the phrase was a contradiction to the woman sitting beside him.

Amanda said, “We should go before Kitty turns the hose on us.” She dropped the ring into her purse as she stood from the bench. Instead of hefting the bag onto her shoulder, she gripped it in one hand.

Will offered, “Do you want me to carry that?”

“For God’s sakes, I’m not an invalid.” She pulled the bag onto her shoulder, as if to prove a point. “Button your collar. You weren’t raised in a barn. And don’t think we’ve had our last conversation on the subject of your hair.”

Will buttoned his collar as he walked with her to her car.

Kitty Treadwell stood at the open front door, watching them carefully. A cigarette hung from her lips. Smoke curled up into her eye.

She said, “I paid the property taxes.”

Amanda was reaching for the car door. She stopped.

“On the Techwood house.” Kitty walked down the stairs. She stopped a few feet from the car. “I paid the taxes. Worth every penny. It chapped Henry’s ass when James sold it.”

“Mine, too,” Amanda admitted. “Four million dollars is quite a profit.”

“Money’s the only thing Henry understands.” Kitty took the cigarette out of her mouth. “I thought it would go to Wilbur.”

“He doesn’t want it,” Amanda said.

“No.” Kitty smiled at Will. It gave him a cold feeling inside. “You turned out better than all of us. How on earth did that happen?”

Will couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t even bear to look at her.

Amanda asked, “Hank met Ulster at the soup kitchen?”

Kitty reluctantly turned back to Amanda. “He was looking for Lucy. He wanted to make sure she wouldn’t lay claim to their parents’ estate. It must’ve seemed like a match made in heaven.” She held the cigarette to her lips. “They struck a grand bargain. Hank gave him Lucy, no strings attached. In return, Ulster got me off the dope. Though I don’t recommend his methods.” She smiled as if this was all a joke. “I suppose James thought Lucy was a good trade. A fallen angel with no parents or family to make a stink.” She huffed out some smoke. “And besides, Mary wasn’t really doing it for him anymore.”

“Why did he kill her?”

“Mary?” Kitty shrugged. “She couldn’t be broken. Something about being pregnant changes you. At least it seems that way from the outside. Commendable, but look where it got her.”

“And Jane Delray?”

“Oh, they fought constantly about Jane. Henry wanted her out of the way. She wouldn’t shut up. She kept telling anyone who would listen about Lucy, about Mary, about me. I suppose I was lucky I didn’t meet the same end. I was constantly throwing around my father’s name.” She stuttered a laugh. “As if anyone in the ghetto gave a rat’s ass who my father was.”

“They fought about it?” Amanda echoed.

“James didn’t care who that little slut talked to. He got quite high and mighty about it, unsurprisingly. He was doing the Lord’s work, after all. He wasn’t a hired killer. God was going to protect him.”

Amanda made the obvious connection. “You were kept in the house with Lucy.”

“Yes. I was there the whole time.” She seemed to be waiting for Amanda to ask another question. “The entire time.”

Amanda said nothing.

“Anyway.” Kitty tapped some ash onto the driveway. “I reconciled with my father at the end.” She huffed a bitter laugh. “More money for Henry’s coffers. What’s the saying? God doesn’t close a door without first nailing shut all the windows?”

Amanda offered, “If you testify, I can—”

“You can’t really do anything. We both know that.”

“You can leave him. You can leave him right now.”

“Why would I do that?” She seemed genuinely perplexed. “He’s my husband. I love him.”

Her matter-of-fact tone was as shocking as anything Will had heard today. She really seemed to want an answer.

Amanda asked, “How could you? After all he did?”

Kitty snarled out a long stream of smoke. “You know how it is with men.” She flicked the cigarette into the yard. “Sometimes it’s criminal what a woman has to do.”

thirty-three

Present Day

ONE WEEK LATER

Sara’s greyhounds had been spoiled rotten. Will had started giving them cheese, which Sara had discovered the hard way. Apparently, it was an ongoing thing. The dogs were obsessed. The minute they recognized Will’s street, they started pulling on their leashes like huskies running the Klondike. By the time she got to his driveway, Sara’s arms felt as if they’d been ripped out of the sockets.

She gripped the leashes in one hand as she dug around in her pocket for the key to Will’s house. Thankfully, his Porsche pulled up behind her. He waved as he pulled past. The dogs pounced.

“Look at you,” Will cooed. He rubbed the dogs up and down. “Aren’t you good boys?”

“They’re nasty,” Sara said. “No more cheese.”

Will was laughing when he stood up. “Dogs need cheese. They can’t find it in the wild.”

Sara opened her mouth to counter his argument, but he kissed her so long and so well that she didn’t care anymore.

Will smiled down at her. “Did you hear back from your cousin?”

“We can have his beach house the whole week.”

His smile turned into a grin. He took the leashes. The dogs were considerably better behaved as they led Will up the walkway. Sara couldn’t help but think how much better Will looked. He was back at his real job. He was sleeping through the night. He wasn’t so shell-shocked anymore.

Will waited until Sara had closed the front door to let the dogs off their leashes. They bolted to the kitchen, but Will didn’t follow them. He told Sara, “Henry’s arraignment is next week.”

“We can postpone the beach if—”

“No.”

She watched him empty his pockets, putting his keys and money on the desk. “How’s the case going?”

“Henry’s fighting it, but you can’t argue with DNA.” He slid his paddle holster off his belt. “What about you? How was your day?”

“I need to tell you something.”

He looked wary. Sara couldn’t blame him. He’d had enough bad news lately.

“Your father’s tox screen came back.”