Karin Slaughter - Broken

Lena felt her heart stop in her chest.

“You think I’m just gonna walk away from my pension, lay down my gun and my shield, because you’ve developed a conscience?” He spat out a laugh. “Trust me, girl, you don’t want me to start telling people what I know about you, because by the time I shut up, you’ll be lucky if you don’t find yourself sitting on the wrong side of a jail door.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You strut around town like you’re some hot piece of shit wearing your bad reputation on your sleeve. Wasn’t that what Jeffrey was always warning you about? Too many burned bridges. Too many people in town with knives in their backs.”

“Shut up, Frank.”

“The thing about having a bad reputation is that folks will believe just about anything people say about you.” He sat back on his heels. “The chief could’ve gotten away with murder because no one thought he was capable of doing anything bad. You think people feel that way about you? You think they trust your character?”

“You can’t prove anything and you know it.”

“Do I need to?” He smiled again, his lips peeling back from his teeth. “I’ve lived in this town all my life. People know me. They trust me—trust what I tell them. And if I say you’re a dirty cop …” He shrugged.

Lena’s chest was so tight she could barely breathe.

“Maybe I’ll ask ol’ Jared out for a beer,” Frank continued. “I bet Sara Linton wouldn’t mind tagging along, either. What do you think of that? The two of them together having a nice chat about you?” Lena stared her hate into him. Frank’s rheumy eyes glared back. “Don’t forget what a son of a bitch I am, girlie. And don’t for a minute think I won’t throw your worthless ass under the bus to save mine.”

She knew he was serious. She knew the threat was as real and as dangerous as a ticking bomb.

Frank took out his flask. He carefully unscrewed the top and took a long drink.

Lena’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What do you want me to do?”

Frank smiled in a way that made her feel like she was something he’d just scraped off his shoe. “Just stick to the truth. Tommy confessed to killing Allison. He stabbed Brad. Nothing else matters.” Frank shrugged again. “You play by my rules until we’re clear of this, and maybe I’ll let you go over to Macon and be with your little boyfriend.”

“What else?” she asked. There was always something else.

He pulled a plastic evidence bag out of his pocket. Now that it was close up, Lena wondered how she’d ever thought it was real—the thick, dull blade, the fake leather handle. The letter opener.

He tossed the bag onto her lap. “Get rid of it.”

SARA SAT AT THE DINING ROOM TABLE THUMBING THROUGH A magazine while her sister and mother played cards. Her cousin Hareton had joined them half an hour ago, dropping by without a phone call as usual. Hare was two years older than Sara. They had always competed in everything, which was why he had made her go out into the pouring rain to look at his brand-new BMW 750Li. How he could afford such a luxurious car on a rural doctor’s salary was beyond her, but Sara had made the appropriate noises because she didn’t have the strength to do otherwise.

She loved her cousin, but sometimes it seemed as if his goal in life was to get on her nerves. He made fun of her height. He called her “Red” just to annoy her. The worst part was that everyone thought he was charming. Even her own mother thought he walked on water—a particularly sore point considering Cathy did not extend this rose-colored view to her own children. The biggest problem Sara had with Hare was that he never came across a situation he couldn’t make light of, which could be a heavy burden to those around him.

Sara finished her magazine and started over from the beginning, wondering why none of the pages looked familiar. She was too distracted to read and too smart to try to have a conversation with anyone at the table. Especially Hare, who seemed determined to catch her eye.

Finally, she asked, “What?”

He slapped a card down on the table. “How’s the weather up there, Red?”

Sara gave him the same look she’d given him thirty years ago when he’d first asked her that question. “Balmy.”

He put down another card. Tessa and Cathy groaned. “You’re on vacation, Red. What’s the problem?”

Sara closed the magazine, fighting the desire to tell him that she was sorry she wasn’t more upbeat, but that she couldn’t quite get the image out of her mind of Tommy Braham lying dead on the jailhouse floor. A quick glance at her mother told Sara that Cathy knew exactly what she was thinking.

“I’m expecting someone,” she finally confessed. “Will Trent. He’s an agent with the GBI.”

Cathy’s eyes narrowed. “What’s a GBI agent doing here?”

“He’s investigating the murder at the lake.”

“And the death at the police station.” Cathy spoke pointedly. “Why is he coming to the house?”

“He missed supper. I thought you could—”

“Am I responsible for feeding strangers now?”

Tessa, as usual, didn’t help matters. “You’re gonna be responsible for putting him up for the night, too.” She told Sara, “The hotel’s closed for remodeling. Unless he wants to drive forty-five minutes into Cooperstown, you’d better go straighten up the apartment over the garage.”

Sara held back the curse that came to her lips. Hare was leaning forward, chin resting in his hands, as if he was watching a movie.

Cathy shuffled through the cards again. The noise was made louder by the tension. “How does this man know you?”

“Police officers are always at the hospital.” Not technically a lie, but close enough.

“What’s going on here, Sara?”

She shrugged, the gesture feeling so fake that she had trouble letting her shoulders drop back down. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Cathy echoed. “That sure did happen fast.” She slapped the cards down on the table as she stood up. “I guess I’ll go tell your father to put some pants on.”

Tessa waited until their mother had left. “You might as well tell her, Sissy. She’ll get it out of you somehow.”

“It’s none of her business.”

Tessa gave a shocked bark of laughter. Everything was their mother’s business.

Hare picked up the cards. “Come on, Red. Aren’t you taking this a little too seriously? This is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to Brad Stephens in his entire life. The guy still lives with his mother.”

“That’s not funny, Hare. Two people are dead.”

“A retard and a college student. The town mourns.”

Sara bit her tongue so that she wouldn’t cut him in two.

Hare sighed as he shuffled the cards between his hands. “All right. The thing about the girl in the lake was a cheap shot, but Tommy’s fair game. People don’t just up and kill themselves for no reason. He felt guilty for killing the girl. That’s why he stabbed Brad. End of story.”

“You sound like a cop.”

“Well …” He put his hand to his chest. “You know I did dress up as one for Halloween.” He turned to Tessa. “Remember the thong?”

“That was my birthday party, not Halloween,” Tessa reminded him. She asked Sara, “Why did you go to the jail in the first place?”

“Tommy needed …” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence. “I don’t know why I went down there.” She stood from the table. “I’m sorry. All right? I’m sorry I went to the station. I’m sorry for bringing this home. I’m sorry Mama’s mad at me. I’m sorry I came here in the first place.”