Will didn’t envy the job of the techs who had to inventory every condom, needle and crack pipe on-site. There was no telling how many fingerprints and shoeprints were inside. The broken glow necklaces and pacifiers indicated that ravers had made good use of the space.

Faith asked, ‘What’s the story on the club?’

‘The investors put construction on hold while they waited for Rippy’s problems to go away.’

‘Do you know if they’re back in?’

Will muttered an expletive under his breath—not because of the question, but because his boss was standing in front of the building with her hands on her hips. Amanda looked at her watch, then looked at them, then looked at her watch again.

Faith added her own expletive as she got out of the car. Will blindly reached for the round door handle, which was roughly the circumference of an M&M. The door popped back on its hinges. Hot air rushed in. Atlanta was at the tail end of the hottest, most humid summer on record. Going outside was like walking straight into the mouth of a yawning dog.

Will unfolded himself from the car, trying to ignore the audience of cops standing several feet away. Their voices didn’t carry, but he was pretty sure they were waging bets on how many more clowns would come out of the tiny vehicle.

Fortunately, Amanda’s attention had been pulled away by one of the crime scene analysts. Charlie Reed was easily recognizable by his handlebar mustache and Popeye build. Will scanned the area, looking for other familiar faces.

‘Mitchell, right?’

Will turned around to find himself looking at a remarkably handsome man. The guy had dark wavy hair and a cleft in his chin, and he looked at Faith with the eyes of an all-conquering frat boy.

‘Hi.’ Faith’s voice had a weird, high pitch. ‘Have we met?’

‘Never had the pleasure.’ The man ran his fingers through his boyish, floppy hair. ‘You look like your mom. I worked with her when I was in uniform. I’m Collier. This is my partner Ng.’

Ng gave an almost imperceptible tilt of his chin to convey his coolness. His hair was buzz-cut, military style. He was wearing dark wraparound glasses. Like his partner, he wore jeans and a black APD POLICE T-shirt—in contrast to Will, who looked like the maître d’ at an old Italian steakhouse.

‘I’m Trent,’ Will said, straightening his shoulders, because at least he had the height advantage. ‘What’ve we got here?’

‘A clusterfuck.’ Ng looked out at the building instead of looking up at Will. ‘I hear Rippy’s already on a plane to Miami.’

Faith asked, ‘Have you been inside?’

‘Not upstairs.’

Faith waited for more, then tried again. ‘Can we talk to the unis who found the body?’

Ng feigned a strain on his memory. He asked his partner, ‘You remember their names, bro?’

Collier shook his head. ‘Drawing a blank.’

Faith was no longer enamored. ‘Hey, 21 Jump Street, should we leave so you two can finish jerking each other off?’

Ng laughed, but he didn’t provide any more information.

‘For godsakes,’ Faith said. ‘You know my mom, Collier. Our boss is her old partner. What do you think she’s gonna say when we have to ask her to catch us up to speed?’

Collier gave a weary sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked off into the distance. The sun picked out slivers of gray in his hair. There were deep lines at the corners of his eyes. He was probably in his mid-forties, which made him a few years older than Will, which for some reason made Will feel better.

‘All right.’ Collier finally relented, but not before doing the fingers-through-the-hair thing again. ‘Switchboard gets an anonymous tip there’s a dead body, this location. Twenty minutes later, a two-man uni rolls up. They sweep the building. Find the DB, male, upstairs inside one of the rooms. Stabbed in the neck. A real bloodbath. One of ’em recognizes Harding from choir practice—drunk, gambler, poon hound, typical old-school five-o. I’m sure your mom’s got some stories.’

Ng said, ‘We were working a domestic when we got the call. That was some violent shit. Chick’s gonna be in surgery for days. Full moon always brings out the crazy.’

Faith ignored his war story. ‘How’d Harding or whoever gain access into the building?’

‘Looks like bolt cutters.’ Collier shrugged. ‘The padlock was cut clean, which probably took some muscle, so we’re thinking a man did it.’

‘You find the bolt cutters?’

‘Nope.’

‘What’s the story on the car?’

‘It was throwing off heat like Chernobyl when we got here. We called in AFD to hose it down. They say an accelerant was used. Gas tank exploded.’

‘No one called in a vehicle fire?’

‘Yeah, it’s shocking,’ Ng said. ‘You wouldn’t think all the junkies and whores squatting in these warehouses would pull a Kitty Genovese.’

Faith said, ‘Look who knows his urban legends.’

Will scanned the abandoned warehouses—one on either side of Rippy’s club. A construction sign advertised mixed-use housing coming soon, but the faded condition indicated that soon hadn’t come soon enough. The buildings were four stories each, at least a block deep. Red brick from the turn of the century before last. Gothic arches with stained glass that had been broken out long ago.

He turned around. There was a matching office building across the street, at least ten stories tall, maybe more if it had a basement. Yellow signs posted over the chained doors indicated that the building was scheduled for demolition. The three structures were massive relics of Atlanta’s industrial past. If Rippy’s investors had gone all in now that the rape case had disappeared, the project could net them all millions, maybe billions, of dollars.

Faith asked, ‘Were you able to pull the VIN off the car?’

Collier supplied, ‘White, 2016 Kia Sorento, registered to one Vernon Dale Harding. AFD says it was probably burning for four or five hours.’

‘So, someone killed Harding and torched his car, then someone else, or maybe the same guy, called it into nine-one-one five hours later.’

Will stared at the nightclub. ‘Why here?’

Faith shook her head. ‘Why us?’

Ng didn’t understand that the question was rhetorical. He threw his hand out toward the building. ‘This was supposed to be some kind of nightclub. Dance floor below, VIP rooms circled around the top, like an atrium in a mall. I thought there might be a gang involved, slinging up a dope club like this in the middle of Shitown, so I called my girl, she did a record check, Rippy’s name came up and I was like, “Oh shit.” So I kicked it up to my boss. He gives your ballbreaker a courtesy call and she’s out here ten minutes later flossing her teeth with our short hairs.’

They all looked at Amanda. Charlie Reed was gone, and a tall, willowy redhead had taken his place. She was pinning up her hair as she talked to Amanda.

Ng gave a low whistle. ‘Damn, son. Lookit that fine Girl Scout. Wonder if the paint matches the trim?’

Collier grinned. ‘I’ll let you know in the morning.’

Faith glanced down at Will’s clenched fists. ‘That’s enough, guys.’