"It could happen."

"They were Texicanos. They were looking for something. That's why they took her."

Will asked, "What were they looking for?"

"I don't know. The house was turned upside down. The Asian said he'd trade my mother for whatever they were looking for."

"The Asian said he'd trade?"

"Yes, he had a gun on the Texicano-the one in the backyard."

"Hold on." They were doing this the wrong way. "Work with me, Faith. Treat your memory like a crime scene. Start from the beginning. You had that in-service this morning, right? Computer training?"

She started to nod. "I was late getting home by almost two hours." She laid out every detail from her morning until now, how she had tried to call her mother, how she'd heard music playing in the house when she got out of her car. Faith hadn't realized that something was wrong until well after the music stopped. Will let her run through the story-the torn-up house, the dead man she'd found and the two that she had killed herself.

When she was finished, he played it all back in his head, seeing Faith standing in the carport by the shed, going back to her car. Despite her recent medical issues, her memory seemed crystal clear now. She had called dispatch, and then she had gotten her gun. Will felt this detail picking at a spot in his brain. Faith knew that Will was home today. They had talked about it yesterday afternoon. She was complaining about having to go do computer training, and he told her he was going to wash his car and take care of the yard. Will lived 2.3 miles away from where they were sitting. He could've gotten here in under five minutes.

But Faith hadn't called him.

"What is it?" she asked. "Did I miss something?"

He cleared his throat. "What was the song that was playing when you pulled up?"

"AC/DC," she said. " 'Back in Black.' "

The detail seemed strange. "Is that what your mom usually listens to?"

She shook her head. She was obviously still in shock, her mind reeling from what had happened.

He wrapped his hands around her arms, trying to get her to concentrate. "Think this through, all right?" He waited for her to look at him. "There are two dead men in the house. Both are Asian. The guy in the backyard is Mexican. Los Texicanos."

She focused herself. "The Asian in the bedroom-he was wearing this loud Hawaiian shirt. He sounded southside." She meant his accent. "He had a gun on the Texicano. He was threatening to kill him."

"Did he say anything else?"

"I shot him." Her lip started to tremble again.

Will had never seen Faith cry and he didn't want to now. "The guy in the shirt had a gun pointed at someone's head," he reminded her. "The Texicano was already beaten up, possibly tortured. You feared for his life. That's why you pulled the trigger."

She nodded, though he could see self-doubt brimming in her eyes.

He said, "After Hawaiian Shirt went down, the Texicano ran out into the yard, right?"

"Right."

"And you chased after him, and he raised his gun toward those little girls and fired, so you shot him, too, right?"

"Yes."

"You were protecting the hostage in the bedroom and you were protecting those two girls in your neighbor's backyard. Right?"

"Yes," she said, her voice stronger. "I was."

She was getting back to her old self. Will allowed himself to feel a little bit of relief. He dropped her hands. "You remember the directive, Faith. Deadly force is authorized when your life or the lives of others are at stake. You did your job today. You just have to articulate what you were thinking. People were in danger. You shoot to immediately stop the threat. You don't shoot to wound."

"I know."

"Why didn't you wait for backup?"

She didn't answer.

"The dispatcher told you to wait outside. You didn't wait outside."

Faith still didn't answer.

Will sat back on the table, hands between his knees. Maybe she didn't trust him. They had never talked openly about the case he'd built against her mother, but he knew Faith assumed that it was the detectives on the squad, not the captain in charge, who had messed up. As smart as she was, she was still naive about the politics of the job. Will had noticed in every corruption case he'd worked that the heads that tended to roll in this business were the ones that didn't have gold stars on their collars. Faith was too low on the food chain to have that kind of protection.

He said, "You must've heard something inside. A yell? A gunshot?"

"No."

"Did you see something?"

"I saw the curtain move, but that was after-"

"Good, that's good." He leaned forward again. "You saw someone inside. You thought your mother might be in there. You sensed an immediate danger to her life and went in to secure the scene."

"Will-"

"Listen to me, Faith. I've asked a lot of cops these same questions, and I know what the answer is supposed to be. Are you listening to me?"

She nodded.

"You saw someone inside the house. You thought your mother might be in serious danger-"

"I saw blood on the carport. On the door. A bloody handprint on the door."

"Exactly. That's good. That gives you cause to go in. Someone was badly injured. Their life was at stake. The rest of it happened because you were provoked into a situation where deadly force was justified."

She shook her head. "Why are you coaching me? You hate when cops lie for each other."

"I'm not lying for you. I'm trying to make sure you keep your job."

"I don't give a shit about my job. I just want to get my mother back."

"Then stick to what we just talked about. You won't do anybody any good sitting in a jail cell."

He could read the shock in her eyes. As bad as things were right now, it had never occurred to her that they could get worse.

There was a loud knock at the door. Will started to get up, but Mrs. Levy beat him to it. She sashayed down the hall with her arms swinging. He guessed she'd put Emma in one of the beds and hoped she'd thought to stack some pillows around her.

Geary was the first to come in, then Amanda, then a couple of older-looking men, one black, one white. Both had bushy eyebrows, clean-shaven faces, and the kind of brass and ribbons on their chests that came from a glorious career of riding a desk. They were window dressing, here to make Geary look important. If he were a rap star, they would've been called a posse. Because he was a zone commander, they were called support staff.

"Ma'am," Geary mumbled to Mrs. Levy as he took off his hat. His boys followed suit, tucking their hats under their arms, just like the boss. Geary walked toward Faith, but the old woman stopped him.

"Can I get y'all some tea or perhaps some cookies?"

Geary snapped, "We're conducting an investigation, not a tea party."

Mrs. Levy seemed unfazed. "Well, then. Please, make yourself at home." She winked at Will before turning on her heel and heading back down the hallway.

Geary said, "Stand up, Agent Mitchell."

Will felt his stomach tense as Faith stood. None of her earlier shakiness was on display, though her shirt was untucked and her hair was still a mess. She said, "I'm ready to make a statement if-"

Amanda interrupted, "Your lawyer and a union rep are waiting at the station."

Geary scowled. He obviously didn't care about Faith's legal representation. "Agent Mitchell, you were told to wait for backup. I don't know how they do it in the GBI, but the men on my force follow orders."

Faith glanced at Amanda, but told Geary evenly, "There was blood on the kitchen door. I saw a person inside the house. My mother's S&W was missing. I feared there was an immediate threat to her life, so I went into the house to secure her safety." She couldn't have said it better if Will had supplied a script.

Geary asked, "The man in the kitchen?"

"He was dead when I entered the house."

"The one in the bedroom?"

"He had my mother's revolver pointed at another man's head. I was protecting the life of the hostage."

"And the man in the yard?"

"The hostage. He took the revolver after I shot the first man. The front door was breached and my attention was diverted. He ran into the backyard with the gun, which he fired at two young girls. I had my shot and I took it to save their lives."

Geary glanced at his brass window dressing as he decided what to do. The two men seemed unsure themselves, but ready to back up the boss without question. Will felt himself tense, because this was the part where things either went down hard or easy. Perhaps an overriding loyalty to Evelyn Mitchell persuaded the man to take a softer approach. He told Faith, "One of my officers will drive you to the station. Take a moment to collect yourself if you need to."

He started to put his hat back on, but Amanda stopped him.

"Mike, I feel the need to remind you of something." She gave him that same sweet smile as before. "The GBI has original jurisdiction over all drug cases in the state."

"Are you telling me you've found evidence that narcotics are a factor in these shootings?"

"I'm not telling you much of anything, am I?"

He glared at her as he put his hat back on. "Don't think I'm not going to find out why you've been wasting my time."

"That sounds like a wonderful use of your resources."

Geary stomped toward the door, his minions scrambling after him. Outside, Sara was coming up the front porch steps. She quickly put her hands behind her back, hiding the blood sugar monitor she had borrowed.

"Dr. Linton." Geary took off his hat again. His men followed suit. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize your name earlier." Will assumed this was because Sara hadn't offered it. Obviously, someone else had filled him in. "I knew your husband. He was a good cop. A good man."

Sara kept her hands behind her back, twisting the plastic monitor. Will recognized the look she gave the men-she didn't want to talk. For Geary, she managed a dry "Thank you."

"Please let me know if I can ever be of assistance."

She nodded. Geary put on his hat, and the gesture was mimicked like a wave at a football game.

Faith spoke as soon as the door was closed. "The Texicano in the yard said something to me before he died." Her mouth moved as she tried to remember what she'd heard. " 'Alma' or 'al-may.' "

"Almeja?" Amanda asked, giving the word an exotic sound.

Faith nodded. "That's right. Do you know what it means?"

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, Amanda provided, "It's Spanish slang for 'money.' It means 'clams.' Do you think they were looking for cash?"

Faith shook her head and shrugged at the same time. "I don't know. They never really said. I mean, it makes sense. Los Texicanos means drugs. Drugs mean money. Mom worked in narcotics. Maybe they think she ..." Faith glanced at Will. He could practically read her mind. After his investigation, a lot of people thought that Evelyn Mitchell was just the kind of cop who had stacks of cash lying around her house.

Sara took advantage of their silence. "I should go." She handed Faith the blood sugar monitor. "You need to follow your schedule religiously. Stress is going to make it harder. Call your doctor and talk about your dosage, whatever adjustments you need to make, what signs you need to look for. Are you still seeing Dr. Wallace?" Faith nodded. "I'll call her service on my way home and tell her what happened, but you need to be on the phone with her as soon as possible. This is a stressful time, but you have to stay on your routine. Understood?"

"Thank you." Faith had never been easy with gratitude, but her words were more heartfelt than anything Will had ever heard come from her mouth.

Will asked Sara, "Are you going to do a tox screen for Geary?"

She directed her words to Amanda. "Faith works for you, not APD. They need a warrant to draw her blood and I'm guessing you don't want to go to the trouble."

Amanda asked, "Hypothetically, what would a tox screen find?"

"That she wasn't intoxicated or impaired by any of the substances they test for. Do you want me to do a blood draw?"

"No, Dr. Linton. But I appreciate your help."

She left without another word, or even a glance Will's way.

Amanda suggested, "Why don't you go check on the merry widow?"

Will thought she meant Sara, then logic intervened. He walked to the back of the house to find Mrs. Levy, but not before seeing Amanda pull Faith into a tight hug. The gesture was shocking coming from a woman whose maternal instincts were more closely related to those of a dingo.

Will knew that Faith and Amanda shared a past that neither woman ever talked about or even acknowledged. While Evelyn Mitchell was blazing a trail for women in the Atlanta Police Department, Amanda Wagner was doing the same in the GBI. They were contemporaries, about the same age, with the same ball-breaking attitudes. They had also been lifelong friends-Amanda had even dated Evelyn's brother-in-law, Faith's uncle-a detail Amanda had failed to mention to Will when she assigned him to investigate the narcotics squad that was headed by her old friend.

He found Mrs. Levy in the back bedroom, which seemed to have been turned into a catchall for whatever struck the old woman's fancy. There was a scrapbooking station, something Will only recognized because he had worked a shooting in the suburbs where a young mother had been murdered while she was pasting crinkle-cut photographs of a beach vacation onto colored construction paper. There was a pair of roller skates with four wheels. A tennis racket leaned against the corner. Various types of cameras were laid out on the daybed. Some were digital, but most were the old-fashioned kind that used film. He guessed from the red light over the closet door that she developed her own photographs.

Mrs. Levy was sitting in a wooden rocking chair by the window. She had Emma in her lap. Her apron was wrapped around the baby like a blanket. The little geese were reversed across the hem. Emma's eyes were closed as she sucked fiercely on the bottle in her mouth. The noise reminded Will of the baby in The Simpsons.

"Why don't you have a seat?" the old woman offered. "Emma seems to be perking up just fine."

Will sat on the bed, careful not to jostle the cameras. "It's a good thing that you just happened to have a bottle for her."

"It is, isn't it?" She smiled down at the baby. "Poor lamb missed her nap with all this excitement."