Genesis (38 page)

She jerked her hand up and down. "I tossed off Simkov. He's all
right."

"Why didn't you tell me when you called that first night that
there was a baby involved?"

"I figured I'd take care of him when I got out," she admitted. "I
was doing a good job, right? I mean, I was doing good by him, keeping
him fed and changing his little diapers. He's a sweet little boy.
You seen him, right? You know he's sweet."

That sweet little boy was dehydrated and hours from dying when
Will had seen him. "How did you know Simkov?"

She shrugged. "Otik's a longtime customer, you know?" She gestured
toward the street. "Met him here on Millionaire's Row."

"I wouldn't exactly call him a stand-up guy."

"He did me a favor letting me go up there. I made some good
cash. I kept the kid safe. What else you want from me?"

"Did Angie know about the baby?"

She coughed, the sound coming from deep in her chest. When she
spit onto the sidewalk, Will felt his stomach roll. "You're gonna have
to ask her about that."

Lola swung her purse over her shoulder and headed back toward
her group.

Will took out his cell phone as he walked toward his car. The
thing was on its last leg, but it still managed to make the call.

"Hello?" Faith said.

Will didn't want to talk about what had happened this afternoon,
so he didn't give her an opening. "I talked to Lola." He ran down
what the prostitute had told him. "Simkov called her in to help her
make some extra cash. I'm sure he took his share off the top."

"Maybe that's something we can use," Faith answered. "Amanda
wants me to talk to Simkov tomorrow. We'll see if his story matches
up."

"What did you find on him?"

"Not much. He lives in the apartment building on the bottom
floor. He's supposed to be on the desk from eight until six, but there's
been problems with that lately."

"I guess that's why they gave him his two-week notice."

"His criminal report came up clean. His bank account's all right,
considering he gets free rent." Faith paused, and he could hear her
turning the pages in her notebook. "We found some porn in his
apartment, but nothing young or kinky. His phone's clean."

"Sounded to me like he'd let anybody into the building for the
right amount of cash. Did Anna Lindsey give you anything?"

She told him about her fruitless conversation with the woman. "I
don't know why she won't talk. Maybe she's scared."

"Maybe she thinks if she puts it out of her mind, doesn't talk
about it, then it'll go away."

"I suppose that works if you've got the emotional maturity of a
six-year-old."

Will tried not to take her words personally.

Faith told him, "We looked at the front door logs from the apartment
building. There was a cable guy and a couple of delivery people.
I talked to all of them as well as the building maintenance guy.
They're checking out. Clean records, solid alibis."

Will got into his car. "What about neighbors?"

"No one seems to know anything, and these people are too rich to
talk to the police."

Will had met the type before. They didn't want to get involved
and they didn't want their names in the papers. "Did any of them
know Anna?"

"Same as with the others—anyone who knew her didn't like her."

"What about forensics?"

"Should be back in the morning."

"What about the computers?"

"Nothing, and the warrants aren't in for the bank yet, so we don't
have access to Olivia Tanner's cell phone, BlackBerry, or her computer
at work."

"Our bad guy is smarter at this than we are."

"I know," she admitted. "Everything is starting to feel like a dead
end."

There was a lull in the conversation. Will searched for something
to fill it, but Faith beat him to the punch.

"So, Amanda and I are going to interview the doorman at eight in
the morning, then I've got an appointment I need to go to. It's out in
Snellville."

Will couldn't think what anyone would be doing in Snellville.

"I figure it'll take an hour or so. Hopefully, we'll have an ID on
Jake Berman by then. We need to talk to Rick Sigler, too. I keep letting
him slip through the cracks."

"He's white, early forties."

"Amanda made the same point. She sent someone around to talk
to Sigler earlier today. He was at home with his wife."

Will groaned. "Did he deny even being at the scene?"

"Apparently, he tried to. He wouldn't even acknowledge he was
with Jake Berman, which makes it seem more and more like a hookup."
Faith sighed. "Amanda's got a tail on Sigler, but his background
is clean. No aliases, no multiple addresses, born and raised in Georgia.
He's got K-through-twelve school records in Conyers. There's no indication
that he's ever been to Michigan, let alone lived there."

"We're only stuck on this brother thing because Pauline McGhee
told her son to watch out for his uncle."

"True, but what else do we have to follow? If we hit any more
brick walls, we're both going to start getting concussions."

Will waited a few seconds. "What kind of appointment?"

"It's a personal thing."

"All right."

Neither of them seemed to have anything to say after that. Why
was it so easy for Will to spill his guts to Sara Linton, but he could
barely manage to have a normal conversation with any other women
in his life—especially his partner?

Faith offered, "I'll talk about my thing if you'll talk about yours."

He laughed. "I think we need to start from the beginning. With
the case, I mean."

She agreed. "The best way to see if you've missed something is to
retrace your steps."

"When you get back from your appointment, we'll go to the
Coldfields, talk to Rick Sigler at his work so he's not freaking out in
front of his wife, then go over all the witnesses—anybody who's even
remotely connected to this thing. Fellow employees, maintenance
men who've been to the house, tech support, anybody they've had
contact with."

"Couldn't hurt," she agreed. There was another lull. Again, she
filled it. "Are you all right?"

Will had pulled up in front of his house. He put the car in park,
wishing that a bolt of lightning would just come down from the sky
and kill him dead.

Angie's car was blocking the driveway.

"Will?"

"Yeah," he managed. "I'll see you in the morning."

He ended the call and tucked the phone into his pocket. The
lights were on in the front room, but Angie hadn't bothered to turn
on the porch light. He had cash in his pocket, credit cards. He could
stay in a hotel tonight. There had to be a place that wouldn't mind
dogs, or maybe he could sneak Betty in under his jacket.

Betty stood and stretched on the seat. The front porch light
came on.

Will mumbled under his breath as he scooped up the dog. He got
out of his car and locked it, then headed up the driveway. He opened
the gate to the backyard and set Betty on the grass, then he stood outside
his own house a few minutes, debating, then decided he was being
stupid and made himself go in.

Angie was on the couch with her feet curled up under her. Her
long dark hair was down the way he liked it, and she was wearing a
tight black dress that hugged every curve. Sara had looked beautiful,
but Angie looked sexy. Her makeup was dark, her lips a blood red.
He wondered if she had made an effort. Probably. She always sensed
when Will was pulling away. She was like a shark smelling blood in
the water.

She greeted him the same way the prostitute did. "Hey, baby."

"Hey."

Angie stood up from the couch, stretching like a cat as she walked
over to him. "Good day?" she asked, putting her arms around his
neck. Will turned his head, and she turned it back, kissing him on the
lips.

He said, "Don't do that."

She kissed him again because she had never liked being told what
to do.

Will kept himself as impassive as he could, and she finally dropped
her arms.

"What happened to your hand?"

"I beat someone."

She laughed, like he was joking. "Really?"

"Yeah." He leaned his hand on the back of the couch. One of the
Band-Aids was peeling up.

"You beat someone." She was taking him seriously now. "Any
witnesses?"

"None that are talking."

"Good for you, baby." She was close to him, right behind him. "I
bet Faith wet her pants." Her hand traced down his arm, rested on
the back of his wrist. Her tone changed. "Where's your ring?"

"In my pocket." Will had taken it off before he'd gone up to Sara's
apartment. At the time, he'd fooled himself into thinking he'd done it
because his fingers were swelling and the ring was getting tight.

Angie's hand went to his pants pocket. Will closed his eyes, feeling
the day catch up with him. Not just the day, but the last eight
months. Angie was the only woman he had ever been with, and his
body had been lonely, almost aching for the feel of her.

Her fingers touched him though the thin material of his pocket.
His reaction was immediate, and when she breathed into his ear, he
gripped the couch so that he could still stand.

She took his ear between her teeth. "You miss me?"

He swallowed, unable to speak as she pressed her breasts, her
body, into his back. He leaned his head back and she kissed his neck,
but it wasn't Angie he was thinking about when her fingers wrapped
around him. It was Sara, her long, thin fingers working on his hand
as they both sat on the couch. The way her hair had smelled, because
he had let himself bend down just for a moment and inhaled as quietly
as he could. She smelled of goodness and mercy and kindness.
She smelled of everything that he had ever wanted—everything that
he could never have.

"Hey." Angie had stopped. "Where'd you go?"

With effort, Will managed to zip up his pants. He shouldered
Angie out of the way as he walked across the room.

She asked, "Is it your time of the month again?"

"Did you know about the baby?"

She cocked her hand on her hip. "What baby?"

"I don't care what the answer is, but I want the truth. I need to
know the truth."

"You gonna beat me if I don't tell you?"

"I'm gonna hate you," he answered, and they both knew what he
was saying was true. "That baby could've been you or me. Hell, that
baby
was
me."

Her tone was sharp, defensive. "Mommy leave him in the trash
can?"

"It was that or whore him out for speed."

She pressed her lips together, but would not look away.
"Touche," she finally said, because Diedre Polaski had done just that
very thing to her baby girl.

Will repeated his question, the only question that mattered anymore.
"Did you know that there was a baby in that penthouse?"

"Lola was taking care of it."

"What?"

"She's not bad. She was making sure it was okay. If she hadn't got
popped—"

"Wait a minute." He put out his hands to stop her. "You think
that whore was taking care of that baby?"

"He's fine, right? I made some calls to Grady. Mother and son are
united again."

"You made some calls?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Jesus Christ, Angie. He's a tiny baby. He would've been dead if we'd
waited any longer."

"But you didn't and he's not."

"Angie—"

"People always take care of babies, Will. Who looks out for people
like Lola?"

"You're worried about some crack whore when there's a baby in a
trash heap starving to death?" He didn't let her answer. "That's it.
That's it for me."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I'm finished. It means the string on our yo-yo has broken."

"Fuck you."

"No more back and forth. No more screwing around on me, running
out on me in the middle of the night, then running back in a
month or a year later pretending like you can lick my wounds all
better."

"You make it sound so romantic."

He opened the front door. "I want you out of my house and out
of my life." She didn't move, so he walked over to her, started pushing
her toward the door.

"What are you doing?" She pushed back, and when he wouldn't
budge, she slapped him. "Get the fuck away from me."

He lifted her from behind, and she used her foot to kick the door
closed.

"Get out," he said, trying to reach the doorknob even as he held
on to her.

Angie had been a beat cop before she'd been a detective, and she
knew how to take him down. Her foot kicked out, popping him in
the back of the knee, dropping him to the floor. Will held on, pulling
her down with him so they were struggling on the floor like a couple
of angry dogs.

"Stop it," she screamed, kicking him, punching him, using every
part of her body to cause pain.

Will rolled her onto her stomach, pushing her flat against the
wood floor. He grabbed both her hands in one of his, squeezing them
together so she couldn't fight him. Without even thinking, he
reached down and ripped away her underwear. Her nails dug into the
back of his hand as he slid his fingers inside her.

"Asshole," she hissed, but she was so wet Will could barely feel his
fingers moving in and out. He found the right spot, and she cursed
again, pressing her face into the floor. She never came with him. It
was part of her power play. She always squeezed every last bit of soul
out of Will, but she would never let him do the same to her.

"Stop it," she demanded, but she was moving against his hand,
tensing with each stroke. He unzipped his pants and pushed himself
inside her. She tried to tighten against him, but he pushed harder,
forcing her to open up. She groaned and there was a sweet release as
she took him in deeper, then even more. He pulled her up to her
knees, fucking her as fast as he could while his fingers worked
to bring her to the edge. She started to moan, a deep, guttural sound
he had never heard before. Will rammed himself into her, not caring
if he left marks up and down her body, not caring if he broke her.
When she finally came, she gripped him so hard that it almost hurt to
be inside of her. His own release was so savage that he ended up collapsed
on top of her, panting, every part of him sore.