The Kept Woman (Will Trent 8)

The display showed the familiar chemiluminescence—bright glowing blue against the dark graffitied background, almost like an X-ray. Instead of an unusual blood pattern or a clear fingerprint, there were two words written in blood: HELP ME.

‘Dr Linton?’ Gary had finished the test card. ‘It says B-negative, just like the other two.’

Charlie verified, ‘Gary, you’re sure that blood was taken from the second room, which is where I found this note?’

‘Yes, sir. Positive. Triple positive.’

‘Sara?’ Charlie waited. ‘Did you get Angie’s blood type from Amanda yet?’

She couldn’t find it in herself to answer. Her eyes would not leave the glowing image on the camera. She stared at the two words, absorbing the familiar disjointed cursive like radiation into her brain.

Both of the Es were written like backward 3s.

Amanda opened the back door. She held out her hand for Charlie to help her into the van. Gary stood to offer his chair. Amanda took in his tattoos and gold chain and scowled. ‘Young man, wait for me outside.’

Gary quickly followed orders, gently clicking the door shut behind him.

Amanda sat in the vacated chair. She told Sara, ‘Will is searching the office building across the street.’ Her tone was accusatory, as if Sara could have stopped him. ‘The structural engineer said the whole damn thing is about to fall down, but Will wouldn’t listen. I can’t send anyone in after him without risking a lawsuit if the building collapses.’

Sara handed Amanda the camera.

‘What’s this?’ Amanda looked down at the screen. She stared at the words for a good long while. ‘You recognize the handwriting?’

Sara nodded. She had gotten so many nasty notes over the last year that she knew Angie’s handwriting almost better than her own.

Amanda said, ‘For now, let’s make sure this message goes no further than the three of us. Will doesn’t need anything else to set him off.’

Charlie said, ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Sara found she couldn’t answer.

Amanda said, ‘Records finally sent me Angie’s file.’ She let the camera rest in her lap. Her shoulders slumped. She seemed suddenly tired, older than her sixty-four years. ‘Please tell me that none of the blood you found is B-negative.’

THREE

The front doors to the office building had been chained shut, but the junkies had pulled the boards off a window. The door to the basement and the doors to the elevator shafts were a different beast. The metal had been welded to the jamb. This hadn’t put a damper on the party. The lobby was riddled with broken glass and pieces of steel from fractured desks and chairs. The building was old enough to be built from wood and not concrete. It was a wonder the thing hadn’t burned down. Fires had been started on the asbestos tile floors and the smoke had blackened the asbestos tile ceilings. Urine stained the walls. Everything of any value had been broken or carted off long ago. Even the copper wires had been stripped out of the walls.

The structure was ten stories, almost perfectly square. Will gathered that each of the floors was divided into twenty offices, ten on each side, with a long open cubicle area down the center and two bathrooms at the back. The layout was less like a maze and more like an Escher drawing. Some of the rooms had makeshift stairs built from stacked crates and desks that led to rotted holes in the ceilings. These wobbly stairs led to locked doors or smaller rooms on different floors that needed to be searched after he finished the one below. Will felt like a pinball banging from one side of the building to the other, up some creaky stacked crates, down some shifting stacked desks, prying open cabinets and lifting downed bookcases and kicking over piles of paperwork that had been left to rot for decades.

Angie.

He had to find Angie.

Amanda had wasted almost an hour of Will’s life, making him wait outside the governor’s office while she briefed the man on what little they had so far in the Dale Harding murder investigation. Will had spent the time convincing himself that she was right. He couldn’t look for Angie. He couldn’t be the one to find her. The press would latch onto the story and Will wouldn’t just see the end of his career, he would probably see the inside of a prison cell. He could ruin Amanda’s life in the process. Faith’s. Sara’s. The damage would be irreparable.

Unless he found Angie alive. Unless she was able to tell the story of what had really happened inside Rippy’s club.

That was when Will had walked outside the state capitol and hailed a cab.

Forty minutes had passed since then. If Sara was right, if Angie only had a few more hours, then he might be too late.

But he couldn’t stop looking.

Will pushed open the last door to the last office on the third floor. There were no boards on the windows. Sunlight drenched the small room. Will pushed a desk away from the wall. A rat darted out. Will jumped back. His foot went through a rotted floorboard. He felt the skin along the back of his calf rip open like a zipper. He quickly wrenched his leg out of the hole, praying a stray needle or piece of broken glass hadn’t infected him. His pants were torn. Blood streamed into his shoe. Nothing he could do about either right now.

A set of stairs was at the end of the hall. The concrete treads ran up the structure like a spine, broken windows on every other landing shooting blinding light into his eyes. Will grabbed the handrail and swung himself up to the next flight. His knee almost buckled on the landing. His leg might be hurt worse than he’d originally thought. He could feel blood pooling into the heel of his shoe. His sock made a squishing noise as he climbed to the next floor.

‘Hey.’ Collier was waiting for him. The yellow hard hat was back on his head. He was leaning against the door jamb. His arms were crossed over his chest. ‘End of the line, buddy. You gotta get outta here.’

Will said, ‘Move.’

‘Your boss lady shit a brick when I told her you were here. I literally watched it pinch out between her legs.’ Collier grinned. ‘Guess she’ll pinch out another one when she finds out I’m in here too.’

Collier didn’t move, so Will shoved him aside.

‘Come on, bro. This place ain’t safe.’ Collier had to jog to keep up with Will’s longer stride. ‘I’m in charge of the search teams. If you fall through the floor and break your neck, that’s on my record.’

‘I already fell through the floor.’ Will strode up the hallway. He entered the first office. Dingy carpet. Broken chairs. Rusted metal desk.

Collier followed him, standing in the doorway, watching Will search the room. ‘What’s your deal, bro?’

Will saw the edge of a mattress. Newspapers covered the surface. He could make out a shape underneath. He used his foot to kick away the papers, breath caught in his chest until he saw that the shape was a blanket, not Angie.

Collier said, ‘This is some crazy shit, man.’

Will turned around. Collier was still blocking the doorway.

Will asked, ‘Where’s your partner?’

‘Ng’s ball-deep in missing persons reports, plus he’s waiting for our domestic from last night to get out of surgery. He won’t see sunshine for days.’

‘Why don’t you go help him?’

‘’Cause I’m helping you.’