"What's that?"

"Standing when a lady enters the room."

"You always had good manners."

He smiled, showing his busted teeth. "Take care of yourself, Mandy. Make sure Evelyn gets back home to her babies."

She walked around the table and stood a few feet from the prisoner. Will felt his stomach clench. The guard beside him tensed. There was nothing to worry about. Amanda put her hand to Boyd's cheek, and then she left the room.

"Christ," the guard breathed. "Crazy bitch."

"Watch it," Will warned the man. Amanda may have been a crazy bitch, but she was his crazy bitch. He opened the door and met her out in the hallway. The cameras hadn't been focused on her face, but Will could tell now that she had been sweating inside the tiny, airless room. Or maybe it had been Boyd who brought out that reaction in her.

The two guards were back on point, standing on either side of Amanda and Will. Over her shoulder, he saw Boyd being duck-walked down the hall in his hand and leg shackles. There was only one guard with him, a small man whose hand barely wrapped around the prisoner's arm.

Amanda turned around. She watched Boyd until he disappeared around the corner. She said, "It's guys like that who make me want to bring back Old Sparky."

The guards gave off deep belly laughs that echoed down the hallway. Amanda had been pretty soft on Spivey and she had to let them know it was all for show. Her act in the tiny room had been pretty convincing. Will had been momentarily fooled, even though the one time he'd heard Amanda ask about the death penalty, her response had been to say that the only issue she had with it was they didn't kill them fast enough.

"Ma'am?" one of the guards asked. He indicated the gate at the end of the hall.

"Thank you." Amanda followed him toward the exit. She checked her watch, telling Will, "It's coming up on four o'clock. We've got at least an hour and a half back to Atlanta if we're lucky. Valdosta is two and a half hours south of here, but it'll be closer to four with traffic. We'll never make it in time for a visit. I can pull some strings, but I don't know the new warden and even if I did, I doubt he'd be foolish enough to yank two men out of maximum security that late at night." Prisons ran on routine, and anything that changed that routine brought the risk of sparking up violence.

Will asked, "You still want me to go through my case files on the investigation?"

"Of course." She said it like there had never been any question that they would talk about the investigation that led to Evelyn Mitchell's forced retirement. "Meet me at the office at five tomorrow morning. We'll talk about the case on the drive down to Valdosta. That's about three hours each way. It shouldn't take more than half an hour each to talk to Ben and Adam-if they'll talk at all. That'll put us back in town by noon at the latest to talk with Miriam Kwon."

Will had almost forgotten about the dead kid in the laundry room. What he clearly remembered was that Amanda had skated over the fact that she knew Boyd Spivey well enough for him to call her Mandy. Will had to assume that Ben Humphrey and Adam Hopkins were on the same familiar terms, which meant that yet again Amanda was working her own case within the case.

She told him, "I'll make some calls to parole in Memphis and Los Angeles to reach out to Chuck Finn and Demarcus Alexander. All we can do is send them a message that Evelyn's in trouble and we're willing to listen if they're willing to talk."

"They were all very loyal to Evelyn."

She stopped at the gate, waiting for the guard to find the key. "Yes, they were."

"Who's Ling-Ling?"

"We'll get to that."

Will opened his mouth to speak, but the air was pierced by a shrill alarm. The emergency lights flashed. One of the guards grabbed Will by the arm. Instinct took over, and Will jerked away from him. Amanda had obviously had a similar reaction, but she didn't stop there. She ran down the hall, her heels popping against the tile floor. Will jogged after her. He rounded the corner and nearly knocked into her when she came to a dead stop.

Amanda didn't speak. She didn't gasp or cry out. She just grabbed his arm, nails digging through the thin cotton of his T-shirt.

Boyd Spivey lay dead at the end of the hallway. His head was turned at an unnatural angle from his body. The guard beside him was bleeding from a large slit in his throat. Will went to the man. He dropped to his knees and pressed his hands to the wound, trying to stanch the flow. It was too late. Blood pooled onto the floor like a lopsided halo. The man's eyes locked on Will's, filling with panic, and then filling with nothing at all.

CHAPTER FIVE.

FAITH SLOWED THE MINI AS SHE NEARED HER HOUSE. IT WAS past eight o'clock. She had spent the last six hours going over and over what had happened at her mother's house, saying the same thing again and again, as her lawyer, her union rep, three Atlanta cops, and one special agent from the GBI asked questions, took notes, and basically made her feel like a criminal. On some level, it made sense that they believed Faith was wrapped up in whatever had gotten her mother kidnapped. Evelyn had been a cop. Faith was a cop. Evelyn had shot and killed a man. Faith had shot two men-two possible witnesses-seemingly in cold blood. Evelyn was missing. If Faith had been on the other side of the table, she might've been asking the same questions.

Did she have any enemies? Had she ever taken a bribe? Had she ever been approached to do something illegal? Had she ever taken money or gifts to look the other way?

But Faith wasn't on that side of the table, and no matter how much she racked her brain, there was no reason she could think of that anyone would want to take her mother. The worst part about being trapped in the interrogation room was that every minute that ticked by reminded Faith that five able-bodied officers were wasting time in an airless interrogation room when they could all be out looking for her mother.

Who would do this? Did Evelyn have enemies? What were they looking for?

Faith was just as clueless now as when the interrogation began. She pulled the car up to the curb in front of her house. All the lights were on, something she had never allowed in her life. The house looked like a Christmas decoration. A very expensive Christmas decoration. Four cars were parked in the driveway. She recognized Jeremy's old Impala that he'd bought from Evelyn when she'd gotten the Malibu, but the two trucks and black Corvette were new to her.

"Shhh ...," she shushed Emma, who was getting antsy now that the car had stopped. Defying all laws and basic common sense, Faith had put Emma in the front seat beside her. The drive from Mrs. Levy's was just a few minutes, but it wasn't laziness so much as neediness that made Faith want to keep her child close. She picked up Emma and held her tight. The baby's heart beat a soothing staccato against her chest. Her breathing was soft and familiar, like tissues being pulled out of a box.

Faith wanted her mother. She wanted to put her head on Evelyn's shoulder and feel her wiry, strong hands patting her back as she whispered that everything was going to be all right. She wanted to watch her mother tease Jeremy about his long hair and bounce Emma on her knee. Most of all, she wanted to talk to her mother about how awful today had been, to get her advice on whether or not to trust the union rep who was telling her she didn't need a lawyer, or to listen to the lawyer who was telling her the union rep was too tight with the Atlanta force.

"Oh, God," she breathed into Emma's neck. Faith needed her mother.

Tears flooded into her eyes, and for once she did not try to stop them. She was alone for the first time since she'd stepped foot inside her mother's house hours ago. She wanted to fall apart. She needed to fall apart. But Jeremy wanted his mother, too. He needed Faith to be strong. Her son needed to believe her when she said that she would do whatever it took to get his grandmother back in one piece.

Judging by the cars, there were at least three cops waiting inside with her son. Jeremy had been crying when she called him from the station-confused, worried, terrified for his grandmother as well as his mother. Amanda's warning came back to Faith. Standing in Mrs. Levy's living room, Faith had been surprised by Amanda's hug, but not by her words, whispered in a low warning: "You've got two minutes to pull yourself together. If these men see you cry, all you will be to them for the rest of your career is a useless woman."

Sometimes Faith thought that Amanda was fighting a battle that had been waged long ago, but sometimes she realized her boss was right. Faith used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. She pushed open the car door and slipped her purse onto her free shoulder. Emma shifted, startled by the cold air. Faith pulled up her blanket and pressed her lips to the top of the baby's head. Her skin was warm. The fine hairs tickled Faith's lips as she walked up the driveway.

She thought of all the things she had to do before she could go to bed. The house would need to be straightened, no matter the circumstances. Emma needed to be put to bed. Jeremy would need reassurances, and probably dinner. She would have to talk to her brother Zeke at some point. If there was any grace in the world, he was somewhere over the Atlantic right now, flying home from Germany, so she wouldn't have to speak with him tonight. Their relationship had never been good. Thankfully, Amanda had handled the phone calls or Faith would've wasted most of the afternoon yelling at Zeke rather than talking to the Atlanta police. Faith felt a modicum of relief as she climbed the front stairs. Only the threat of having to talk to her brother could make the way she'd spent the last six hours look inviting. She reached for the doorknob just as the door swung open.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Faith stood with her mouth open, staring up at her brother Zeke. "How did you-"

"What happened, Faith? What did you do?"

"How-" Faith felt incapable of forming a complete sentence.

"Dude, chill." Jeremy pushed past his uncle and took Emma from Faith's arms. "You okay, Mom?"

"I'm fine," she told him, but it was Zeke who had her attention. "Did you come from Germany?"

Jeremy supplied, "He's living in Florida now." He pulled Faith into the house. "Did you eat? I can make you something."

"Yes-I mean, no. I'm fine." She stopped worrying about Zeke for a moment and concentrated on her son. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, but she saw he was putting on a brave face.

Faith tried to pull him closer, but he didn't budge, probably because Zeke was watching their every move. She told Jeremy, "I want you to stay here with me tonight."

He shrugged. No big deal. "Sure."

"We're going to get her back, Jaybird. I promise you."

Jeremy looked down at Emma, jostling her in his arms. "Jaybird" had been Evelyn's name for him until his entire elementary school heard her use it one day and teased him into tears. He said, "Aunt Mandy told me the same thing when she called. That she'll get Grammy back."

"Well, you know Aunt Mandy doesn't lie."

He tried to make a joke of it. "I'd hate to be those guys when she finds them."

Faith put her hand to Jeremy's cheek. There was stubble there, something she would never get used to. Her little boy was taller than her, but she knew that he wasn't as strong. "Grandma's tough. You know she's a fighter. And you know she'll do whatever it takes to get back to you. To us."

Zeke made a disgusted sound, and Faith gave him a nasty look over Jeremy's shoulder. He said, "Victor wants you to call him. You remember Victor, right?"

Victor Martinez was the last person on earth she wanted to talk to right now. She told Jeremy, "Go put Emma down for me, all right? And turn out some of those lights. Georgia Power doesn't need all of my paycheck."

"You sound like Grandpa."

"Go."

Jeremy glanced back at Zeke, reluctant to leave. His instinct had always been to protect Faith.

"Now," she told him, gently pushing him toward the stairs.

Zeke at least had the decency to wait until Jeremy was out of earshot. He crossed his arms over his chest, puffing up his already sizable frame. "What the hell kind of mess did you get Mom into?"

"Glad to see you, too." She pushed past him and walked down the hall toward the kitchen. Despite what she'd told Jeremy, Faith hadn't eaten anything of substance since two o'clock, and she could feel that familiar throbbing headache and wave of nausea that signaled something wasn't right.

"If anything happens to Mom-"

"What, Zeke?" Faith spun around to face him. He had always been a bully, and just like all of his kind, standing up to him was the only way to stop it. "What are you going to do to me? Throw away my dolls? Give me an Indian burn?"

"I didn't-"

"I've spent the last six hours being grilled by assholes who think I got my mother kidnapped and went on a murderous rampage. I don't need the same kind of crap from my asshole brother."

She turned back around and walked toward the kitchen. There was a ginger-haired young man sitting at her table. His jacket was off. A Smith and Wesson M&P hung out of his tactical-style shoulder holster like a black tongue. The straps were tight around his chest, making his shirt blouse out. He was thumbing through the Lands' End catalogue that had come in the mail yesterday, pretending he hadn't just heard Faith screaming at the top of her lungs. He stood when she entered the room. "Agent Mitchell, I'm Derrick Connor with the APD hostage negotiation task force."

"Thank you for being here." She hoped her tone sounded genuine. "I take it there haven't been any phone calls?"

"No, ma'am."

"Any updates?"

"No, ma'am, but you'll be the first to hear."

Faith doubted that very seriously. Ginger wasn't just here to catch phone calls. Until the brass said otherwise, Faith had a dark cloud hanging over her head. "There's another officer here?"

"Detective Taylor. He's checking the perimeter. I can get him for you if-"

"I'd just like some privacy, please."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be right outside if you need me." Connor nodded to Zeke before leaving by the sliding glass door.

Faith groaned as she sat down at the table, feeling like she'd been on her feet for hours, even though she'd been sitting for most of the day. Zeke still had his arms crossed over his chest. He was blocking the doorway as if he thought she might try to bolt.

She asked, "Are you still in the Air Force?"

"I got transferred to Eglin four months ago."

Right around the time Emma was born. "In Florida?"

"Last time I checked." Her questions were obviously ratcheting up his anger. "I'm in the middle of a two-week in-service at the VA hospital on Clairmont. It's a good thing I just happened to be in town or Jeremy would've been alone all day."

Faith stared at her brother. Zeke Mitchell had always looked like he was standing at attention. Even at ten years old, he'd acted like an Air Force major, which was to say that he had been born with a giant steel rod shoved up his ass.

She asked, "Does Mom know you were stateside?"

"Of course she does. We were supposed to have dinner tomorrow night."

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"I didn't want the drama."

Faith let out a long sigh as she sat back in the chair. There it was-the defining word of their relationship. Faith had brought drama to Zeke's senior year by getting pregnant. Her drama had forced him to leave high school early and sign away ten years of his life to the military. There was more drama when she decided to keep Jeremy, and a heaping pile of drama when she'd cried uncontrollably at their father's funeral.

"I've been watching the news." He said it like an indictment.

Faith pushed herself up from the table. "Then you know I killed two men today."

"Where were you?"

Her hands shook as she opened the cabinet and took out a nutrition bar. She had said it like it was nothing-she had killed two men today. Faith had noticed during the interrogation that the more she talked about it, the more anesthetized she became to the reality of the act, so that saying it now only made her feel numb.

Zeke repeated, "I asked you a question, Faith. Where were you when Mom needed you?"

"Where were you?" She tossed the bar onto the table. Her mind was spinning out again. She should test her blood sugar before she ate anything. "I was at a training seminar."

"You were late."

She assumed he was making a lucky guess. "I wasn't late."

"I talked to Mom this morning."

Faith felt her senses sharpen. "What time? Did you tell the police?"

"Of course I told the police. I talked to her around noon."

Faith had gotten to their mother's house less than two hours later. "Did she seem okay? What did she say?"