Fallen (7 page)

Leo started to leave, but Will asked him, “How did she sound?”

He turned around.

“The phone call to dispatch. How did she sound?”

Unsurprisingly, Leo hadn’t considered the question. He did now, and quickly started nodding his head. “Maybe a little scared, but clearheaded. Calm. In control.”

Will nodded, too. “That sounds exactly like Faith.”

Leo flashed a grin, but Will couldn’t tell if he was relieved or just playing his usual role of smartass. “I meant that about the shorts, man.” Leo slapped him on the arm. “You should try to get those pretty legs of yours on TV.”

Leo waved to the reporters standing at the yellow tape line. They pressed forward as one, thinking he was going to give them a statement. There was a collective groan as he walked away. The cops holding the line pushed them back just because they could. Will knew they couldn’t care less about crowd control. Their eyes kept going to the command center like they expected an announcement from on high. The cops were just as eager as the reporters to find out what had happened. Maybe more so.

Captain Evelyn Mitchell had served with the Atlanta force for thirty-nine years. She had come up the hard way, clawing her way out of the secretarial pool, advancing to meter reader, then traffic cop, and finally being given a twenty-two and a badge that wasn’t made of plastic. She was part of a group known for being first: first women driving solo, first women detectives. Evelyn was the first
female lieutenant on the Atlanta force, then the first female captain. No matter the reasons for her retirement, she had more medals and commendations than all of the cops on scene combined.

Will had learned a long time ago that police officers were blindly loyal. He’d also learned that there was a distinct pecking order to that loyalty. It was like a pyramid, with every cop in the world at the bottom and your partner at the top. Faith had been with the Atlanta Police Department since she joined up, but she’d moved to the GBI two years ago, partnering with Will, who wasn’t exactly the most popular guy in class. Leo might still be halfway on Faith’s side, but as far as the general members of the APD were concerned, she had lost her spot on their pyramid. Especially since the first cop on scene, an eager young rookie, had been rushed into emergency surgery after Faith elbowed his testicles up into his brain stem.

Will saw a flash of yellow as the tape line was lifted. Sara had put up her hair, pinning it tightly behind her head. The linen dress she was wearing looked worse for wear. She had a folded pair of jeans under her arm. At first Will thought she looked confused, but the closer she got, the more he thought she looked annoyed, maybe even angry. Her eyes were red rimmed. Her cheeks were flushed.

She handed him the jeans. “Why do you need me here?”

He put his hand at her elbow and led her away from the reporters. “It’s Faith.”

She crossed her arms, keeping some distance between them. “If she needs medical attention, you should take her to the hospital.”

“We can’t do that.” Will tried not to focus on the coldness in her voice. “She’s at the neighbor’s house. We don’t have much time.”

“I heard what happened on the radio.”

“We think there’s a drug connection. Keep that to yourself.” Will stopped walking. He waited for her to look at him. “Faith’s not acting right. She’s confused, not making sense. They want to talk to her, but—” He didn’t know what to say. Amanda had told Will to make the call to Sara. She knew the woman had been married to a cop, and assumed that her allegiance hadn’t died with the man. “This could be
really bad for Faith. She killed two men. Her mother’s been kidnapped. They’re going to be eyeballing her for a lot of reasons.”

“Did she overreact?”

“There was a hostage situation. The kids next door were in the line of fire.” Will skated over the missing details. “She shot one guy in the head and one in the back.”

“Are the children okay?”

“Yes, but—”

The back doors of the command center banged opened. Chief Mike Geary, the zone commander for Ansley and Sherwood Forest, jumped down from the steps. He was in full uniform, a scratchy, dark blue polyester that was too tight across the pouch of his stomach. He blinked up at the sun, a deep line creasing his well-tanned forehead. Like most of the old guard, he kept his gray hair clipped in a militarystyle crew cut. Geary put on his hat and turned back around to hold out his hand to Amanda. Something stopped him just shy of touching her, though, and he dropped his hand before she could take it.

“Trent,” he barked. “I want to talk to your partner right now. Go get her. We’re taking her to the station.”

Will shot Amanda a look as she navigated the rickety stairs in her high heels. She shook her head once. There was nothing more she could do.

To his surprise, it was Sara who saved them. “I have to examine her first.”

Geary wasn’t pleased to be met with resistance. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a trauma doc from the Grady ER.” Sara deftly left out her name. “I’m here to evaluate Agent Mitchell so that any testimony she gives will be admissible.” She tilted her head to the side. “I’m sure it’s not your policy to take statements under duress.”

Geary snorted. “She’s not under duress.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Is that your official position? Because I would hate to have to testify that you conducted a coercive interrogation against medical advice.”

Confusion clouded in on Geary’s anger. Doctors were usually more than willing to help the police, but they had the power to shut down any interview if they thought it would jeopardize their patient. Still, Geary tried. “What kind of medical treatment does she need?”

Sara didn’t back down. “I can’t tell you that until I evaluate her. She could be in shock. She could be injured. She could need hospitalization. Maybe I should just transfer her to the hospital right now and start running tests.” Sara turned around to call to the EMTs.

“Wait.” Geary hissed out a curse, telling Amanda, “Your bullshit stalling tactics are being noted, Deputy Director.”

Her smile was fake sweetness and light. “It’s always nice to be recognized for something.”

Geary announced, “I want her blood drawn and taken to an independent lab for a full tox screen. You think you can do that, Doctor?”

Sara nodded. “Of course.”

Will put his hand back under Sara’s arm and led her toward the neighbor’s house. As soon as they were out of earshot, he said, “Thank you.”

Again, she pulled away from him as they walked up the driveway. By the time they reached the front porch, she was several feet ahead, though the distance between them felt more like a chasm. This wasn’t the Sara from half an hour ago. Maybe it was the crime scene, though Will had seen her on a crime scene before. Sara had been a coroner at one time. She was far from out of her element. Will didn’t know what to do about the change. He had spent a lifetime gauging the moods of other people, but getting a read on this particular woman was beyond his abilities.

The door opened and Mrs. Levy peered at them from behind her thick glasses. She was wearing a yellow housedress that was frayed at the collar. A white apron with baby geese waddling around the hem was wrapped around her thin waist. Her heels hung out of the back of her matching yellow bedroom slippers. She was somewhere north
of eighty, but her mind was sharp and she clearly cared for Faith. “Is this the doctor? I was told to only let a doctor in.”

Sara answered, “Yes, ma’am. I’m the doctor.”

“Well, aren’t you pretty? Come on in. What a crazy day this has been.” Mrs. Levy stepped aside, throwing wide the door so they could come into the foyer. Her breath whistled through her false teeth. “I’ve had more visitors this afternoon than I’ve had all year.”

The living room was sunken a few steps and furnished much as it probably had been when Mrs. Levy first bought the house. Harvest gold wall-to-wall shag carpet was flattened to the floor. The couch was a tightly cushioned, mustard-colored sectional. The only update to the décor was a recliner that looked like the kind that had a mechanical lift to make it easier to get in and out of. The only light in the room came from the flickering console television set. Faith was slumped on the couch with Emma held to her shoulder. All of the talk had drained out of her. Her spirit seemed to have gone with it. This was more what Will had been expecting when he’d heard that Faith was involved in a shooting. She tended to go quiet when she was really upset. But this wasn’t quite right, either.

She was too quiet.

“Faith?” he said. “Dr. Linton is here.”

She stared at the muted television, not answering. In some ways, Faith looked worse than she had before. Her lips were as white as her skin. Sweat gave her face a luminescence. Her blonde hair was matted to her head. Her breathing was shallow. Emma made a cooing sound, but Faith didn’t seem to notice.

Sara turned on the overhead light before kneeling in front of her. “Faith? Can you look at me?”

Faith’s eyes were still on the set. Will took the moment to slip on his jeans over his shorts. He felt a lump in his back pocket and pulled out his watch and wallet.

“Faith?” Sara’s voice became louder, firmer. “Look at me.”

Slowly, she looked at Sara.

“Why don’t you give me Emma?”

Her words slurred. “Sh’sleeping.”

Sara wrapped her hands around Emma’s waist. Gently, she lifted the baby from Faith’s shoulder. “Look at her. She’s gotten so big.” Sara did a cursory exam, looking into Emma’s eyes, checking her fingers and toes, then her gums. “I think she’s a little dehydrated.”

Mrs. Levy offered, “I’ve got a bottle ready, but she wouldn’t let me give it to her.”

“Why don’t you go get it now?” Sara motioned for Will to come over. He took Emma. She was surprisingly heavy. He put her on his shoulder. Her head fell against his neck like a moist sack of flour.

“Faith?” Sara spoke succinctly, as if she was trying to get an old person’s attention. “How are you feeling?”

“Took her to the doctor.”

“You took Emma?” Sara cupped Faith’s face in her hand. “What did the doctor say?”

“Dunno.”

“Can you look at me?”

Faith’s mouth moved like she was chewing gum.

“What’s today, sweetie? Can you tell me what day of the week it is?”

She pulled away her head. “No.”

“That’s all right.” Sara pressed open Faith’s eyelid. “When’s the last time you had something to eat?”

She didn’t answer. Mrs. Levy came back with the bottle. She handed it to Will, and he cradled Emma in his arm so that she could drink.

“Faith? When is the last time you had something to eat?”

Faith tried to push Sara away. When that didn’t work, she pushed harder.

Sara kept talking, holding down Faith’s hands. “Was it this morning? Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

“Go ’way.”

Sara turned to Mrs. Levy. “You’re not diabetic, are you?”

“No, dear, but my husband was. Passed away almost twenty years ago, bless his soul.”

Sara told Will, “She’s having an insulin reaction. Where’s her purse?”

Mrs. Levy supplied, “She didn’t have it when they brought her here. Maybe she left it in the car.”

Again, Sara directed her words to Will. “She should have an emergency kit in her purse. It’s plastic. It says ‘Glucagon’ on the side.” She seemed to remember herself. “It’s oblong, about the size of a pen case. Bright red or orange. Get it for me now, please.”

Will took the baby with him, jogging toward the front door and out into the yard. The lots in Sherwood Forest were larger than most, but some of them were long and narrow rather than wide. Will could see directly into Evelyn Mitchell’s bathroom from Mrs. Levy’s carport. He could see a man standing in the long hallway. Will wondered not for the first time how the old woman hadn’t heard the gun-fight next door. She wouldn’t be the first witness who didn’t want to get involved, but Will was surprised by her reticence.

It didn’t occur to him until he was a few feet from the Mini that Faith’s car was part of the crime scene. There were two cops standing on the other side of the car, four more in the carport. Will scanned the interior. He saw the plastic case Sara had told him about mixed in with various lady items on the passenger’s seat.

He told the cops, “I need to get something out of the car.”

“Tough shit,” one of them shot back.

Will indicated Emma, who was sucking on the bottle like she’d been on a ten-mile hike. “She needs her teething thing. She’s teething.”

The cops stared at him. Will wondered if he’d screwed up. He’d changed his share of diapers at the children’s home, but he had no idea when babies got their teeth. Emma was four months old. All her food came from Faith or a bottle. As far as he could tell, she didn’t need to chew anything.

“Come on.” Will held up Emma so they could see her little pink face. “She’s just a tiny baby.”

“All right,” one of them relented. He walked around the car and opened the door. “Where is it?”

“It’s that red plastic thing. Looks like a pen case.”

The cop didn’t appear to find this odd. He picked up the kit and handed it to Will. “She all right?”

“She was just thirsty.”

“I meant Faith, dipshit.”

Will tried to take the kit, but the man wouldn’t let go.

He repeated his question. “Is Faith going to be okay?”

Will realized there was more going on here. “Yes. She’s going to be fine.”

“Tell her Brad says we’re gonna find her mom.” He let go of the kit and slammed the door.

Will didn’t give the man time to change his mind. He jogged back to the house, trying not to jostle the baby. Mrs. Levy still stood sentry at the door. She opened it before Will could knock.

The scene inside had changed. Faith was lying on the couch. Sara was cupping the back of her head, making her drink from a can of Coke.

Sara immediately started in on Will. “You should’ve called in the medics first thing,” she admonished. “Her blood sugar is too low. She’s stuporous and diaphoretic. Her heart is racing. This isn’t something you play around with.” She took the kit from him and popped it open. Inside was a syringe filled with a clear liquid and a vial of white powder that looked a lot like cocaine. Sara cleaned the needle with a cotton ball and some rubbing alcohol that she had obviously gotten from Mrs. Levy. She talked as she pressed the syringe into the vial and squirted in the liquid. “I’m assuming she hasn’t eaten since breakfast. The adrenaline from the confrontation in the house would’ve giving her an enormous sugar kick, but it made the crash harder, too. Considering what happened, I’m surprised she didn’t slip into a coma.”