Will studied the raised white lines. “What was Tommy like?”

She was surprised by the question because her focus was on Allison. Sara hadn’t slept much last night. She’d had a lot of time to think about Tommy. “He was cheerful,” she told Will. “I don’t think there was ever a time I didn’t see him smile. Even when he felt bad.”

“Did you ever see him angry?”

“No.”

“Did he have many broken bones or bruises?”

She shook her head, knowing where this was going. “Gordon was very gentle with him. The only time I saw him angry was when Tommy ate a whole jar of paste.”

Will smiled fondly. “I used to eat paste.” He held the camera at his side. “I wonder if it tastes as good as it used to.”

Sara laughed. “I wouldn’t recommend finding out. Tommy was sick for days.”

“You didn’t tell me Lena was raped.”

The observation came out of nowhere. Sara was taken off guard, which was probably what he had intended. “It was a long time ago.”

“Faith found it on the Internet.”

She busied herself over by the back counter, finding a roll of brown paper under the cabinet so she could lay out the clothes. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It bothers me that you left it out.”

Sara spread out the paper. “A lot of women have been raped.” She looked up when he didn’t respond. “Don’t feel sorry for her, Will. She’s so good at making people feel sorry for her.”

“I think she regrets what happened to Tommy.”

Sara shook her head. “You can’t expect good from her. She’s not a normal person. There’s no kindness in her.”

He spoke carefully, staring his meaning into Sara. “I’ve met a lot of people in my life who were truly unkind.”

“Still—”

“I don’t think Lena’s completely devoid of a soul. I think she’s angry, and self-destructive, and feeling trapped.”

“I used to think that, too. And I felt sorry for her. Right before she got my husband killed.”

There wasn’t much more Sara could say after that. She unbuttoned Allison’s shirt and continued to undress the girl. Will changed out the memory card and took photographs when she asked him to. She didn’t ask for his help when she draped a clean white sheet over Allison’s body. Their companionable silence was a distant memory. The tension was so great that Sara felt herself getting a headache. She was angry with herself that it mattered. Will Trent was not her friend. His dyslexia, his quirky sense of humor, his dirty clothes—none of this was her concern. All she needed for him to do was get his job done and then go back to his wife.

Out in the hall, the metal door slammed shut. Moments later, Frank Wallace came into the room carrying a cardboard box. He was wearing a long trench coat and a pair of leather gloves. His hair was wet from the rain.

Will said, “Chief Wallace. It’s nice to finally meet you. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

“You wanna tell me why you’ve got half my guys out chasing their tails in the pouring rain?”

“I assume you’ve heard that we found the crime scene where Allison Spooner was stabbed.”

“You test that blood yet? Could be an animal for all I know.”

Will told him, “Yes, I tested it on scene. It’s human blood.”

“All right, so he killed her in the woods.”

“It appears so.”

“I called off the search. You can bring in your own team if you wanna comb through six inches of mud.”

“That’s a very good idea, Chief Wallace. I think I will call in a team.”

Frank was obviously finished with Will. He dropped the box at Sara’s feet. “Here’s all the evidence we’ve got.” She held her breath until he backed away. He smelled rancid, a combination of mouthwash, sweat, and tobacco.

Will said, “I hope you don’t mind, Chief Wallace. I’ve got Detective Adams re-canvassing the neighborhood and checking with Allison’s teachers from school.”

“Do whatever you want,” Frank grunted. “I’m finished with her.”

“Is there a problem?”

“You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t.” Frank coughed into his gloved hand. Sara winced at the sound. “Lena screwed this whole thing up top to bottom. I’m not covering for her anymore. She’s a bad cop. Her work’s sloppy. She managed to get somebody killed.” He gave Sara a meaningful look. “Somebody else.”

She felt hot and cold at the same time. Frank was saying all the things that she wanted to hear—all the things she knew in her heart—but the words sounded dirty coming from his mouth. He was exploiting Jeffrey’s death, while Sara was trying to avenge it.

Will said, “Lena told me you spoke with Lionel Harris last night?”

Suddenly, Frank seemed nervous. “Lionel doesn’t know anything.”

“Still, he might have some personal information about Allison.”

“Lionel’s daddy raised him right. He knows better than to be sniffing around a little white girl from the college.”

Sara felt her mouth open in surprise.

Frank shrugged off her shock. “You know what I’m saying, Sweetpea. There’s not a lot that a sixty-three-year-old black man has in common with a twenty-one-year-old white girl. At least not if he knows what’s good for him.” He nodded toward Allison. “What did you find?”

Sara couldn’t find her voice to answer him.

Will provided, “Knife wound to the neck. There’s no definitive cause of death yet.”

Will caught Sara’s eye. She nodded her complicity, though she still felt shocked by what Frank had said. He had never talked this way around her parents. Eddie would have shown Frank the door if Cathy hadn’t beaten him to it. Sara wanted to chalk it up to his exhaustion. He certainly looked worse than he had the day before. Every item of clothing he wore, from his cheap suit to his trench coat, was wrinkled as if he had slept in it. His skin sagged off his face. His eyes glistened in the light. And he still hadn’t taken off his leather gloves.

Will broke the moment. “Chief Wallace, have you completed your report yet on the incident in the garage?”

Frank’s jaw clenched tighter. “I’m working on it.”

“Can you run it through for me now? Just the highlights. I’ll get the details when you turn in your report.”

Frank’s voice was gruff, making it clear he didn’t like being questioned. “Tommy was in the garage with a knife in his hand. We told him to put it down. He didn’t.”

Sara waited for more, but it was Will who prompted, “And then?”

Frank gave another sloppy shrug. “The kid panicked. He pushed Lena out of the way. I went to help her. He came toward me with the knife, cut my arm. Next thing I know, Tommy’s tearing down the driveway. Brad went after him. I told Lena to go, too.” He stopped. “She sure took her time.”

“She hesitated?”

“Lena usually runs the other way when there’s a fire.” He glanced at Sara, as if he expected her to agree. In Sara’s experience, the opposite was true. Lena stood as close to the fire as she could. It was the best vantage point from which to watch people burn.