Karin Slaughter: Broken

Sara leaned her hands on her knees. Yet again, Lena needed help. Yet again, it fell to Sara to pick up the pieces. Oddly, she didn’t feel the usual reluctance or even the anger that had been her constant companion since that awful day she had watched her husband die. Sara felt at peace for the first time in four years. Tessa was right—you couldn’t fall off the floor. Eventually, you had to get up, dust yourself off, and get back to the business of living.

“Sara?”

She held out her hand toward Will. “Throw me some rope.”

WILL SLOWED THE PORSCHE TO TURN ONTO CAPLAN ROAD, trying to follow the directions Sara had given him. She had drawn arrows by the street names, and as long as Will held the sheet of paper in the right direction, he should be able to make it to Frank Wallace’s house without losing his way. Sara had even given him her reading glasses, which were so small on his face that he looked like Poindexter’s idiot cousin. Still, she was right. The glasses worked. The words on the page in front of him still did their tricks, but at least they were sharper.

His phone rang, and Will fished around in his pocket, steering with his knees for fear of dropping the directions. He saw Faith’s number in the caller ID.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve left two messages on your cell. I even called Amanda.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on maternity leave?”

“Emma’s asleep and I’m sick of being in this stupid hospital.” She began a litany of complaints that started with the bad Jell-O and quickly segued into breast tenderness.

Will stopped her there. “I got my bad guy.”

“What?” Faith’s voice went up in surprise, and he realized that she’d had no great hope that he would solve the case so quickly.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Oh, shut up. You know I’m just annoyed because you did it without me.”

Faith wasn’t given to sudden fits of emotional honesty. Will knew better than to pursue the point. Instead, he told her about the drug trial and the lengths that Darla Jackson had gone to in order to take out her blackmailers and get rid of Lena Adams.

Faith asked, “How much money are we talking about?”

“We don’t know how many records she was falsifying. Maybe tens of thousands of dollars.”

“Holy crap. Where do I sign up?”

“No kidding,” Will agreed. The money would’ve come in handy. He wasn’t looking forward to going back to Atlanta and digging up his front yard again. “Lena’s still at the hospital. I think they’re going to keep her for a while.”

“I’m surprised Sara helped her.”

Will had been surprised as well, but he guessed being a doctor meant you couldn’t pick and choose who you saved. Still, there hadn’t been much talking while Sara hooked up the IV and ordered Jared to get Lena water, then more blankets, then more water. Will wasn’t sure how much of this was meant to help Lena and how much of it was designed to keep Jared from having a nervous breakdown. Either way, it had worked to bring a much-needed level of calm to the situation.

Jared had been frantic from the moment they entered the children’s clinic to search for Lena. His erratic behavior had cost them several valuable minutes. He’d kicked down doors that weren’t locked. He’d overturned desks and toppled filing cabinets. By the time Will had found the locked basement door, the young man was so spent that he’d barely had the strength to help Will break it down.

And then Jared’s second wind had kicked in. He’d rushed downstairs, heedless of anyone hiding in the shadows. They had found another locked door at the back of the basement. Deep ruts were cut in the concrete where metal shelving had once covered the entrance to what had to be a bomb shelter. An old but sturdy deadbolt held the door firmly in place. Jared had pounded away, popping off the steel like a pinball, nearly dislocating his shoulder, before Will came back with a crowbar from the workbench.

Will had to admit that he didn’t think of Sara until after the door was pried open. Lena was barely awake, shaking with fever. Her body was drenched in sweat. Jared cried as he untied the rope from her hands and feet, begging Will to get help. That was when Will had gone upstairs to find Sara. He was staring at her empty BMW when he heard her screams from the river. It was sheer luck that she’d managed to call for help before Darla pulled her back down into the water. It was even better luck that the rope that was used to tie up Lena was long enough to help Sara get back to safer ground.

Not that she had needed it. Will was pretty sure she was capable of taking care of herself. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see her walk on water after the hell she had survived.

On the phone, Will heard a baby gurgle and another woman talking.

Faith’s voice was muffled as she said something to the nurse. She told Will, “I need to go. They brought Emma for her feeding. Didn’t they, baby?”

Will waited through several seconds of baby talk before her voice returned to normal. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried about you down there on your own.” There was a strain to her voice, as if she was about to cry. Faith had been pretty emotional these last few months. Will had hoped the baby’s birth would send the crazy train back to the station, but maybe it would take a while for her hormones to get back to normal.

“I should probably go,” he told her. “I’m almost at Frank’s.”

She gave a loud sniff. “Let me know what happens.”

“I will.”

He heard the phone rattle around in the cradle and assumed that was Faith’s way of ending the call. Will tucked his cell phone back into his pocket. He checked a street sign against the directions and took a turn. There was an arrow pointing over to the other side of the paper. His lips tugged up into a smile. Sara had drawn a smiley face for him.

He slowed the Porsche again, looking for street numbers. Will checked each mailbox, comparing the addresses to the directions. Halfway down the street, he found what he was looking for. Frank’s house was a one-story cottage, but there was nothing quaint or cottagey about it. An air of sadness hung over the place like a dark cloud. The gutters sagged. The windows were dirty. The garden gnome was surprising, but the empty bottles of Dewar’s by the trashcan were not.

The screen door opened as Will got out of his car. Lionel Harris laughed at him, obviously enjoying the surprise.

“Good morning,” he said. “I heard y’all went for a swim last night.”

Will smiled, though he felt the cold sweat come back like a sudden rain. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind of Sara standing on top of that rock. “I’m a little surprised to see you here, Mr. Harris.”

“Just dropping off a casserole.”

Will’s confusion must have been obvious. The old man patted him on the back. “Never underestimate the power of a shared history.”

Will nodded, though he still didn’t understand.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Lionel gripped his cane as he walked down the porch steps. Will watched him walk into the street. A neighbor waved him over and he stopped for a chat.

“Frank’s waiting for you.”

Will turned around. There was a woman standing at the door. She was older, with stooped shoulders and unnaturally red hair. Her makeup was caked on in the same style that her daughter preferred. Will saw the finger of a bruise under the woman’s eye. The bridge of her nose was swollen. Someone had punched her recently, and very hard.

“I’m Maxine.” She pushed open the screen door for him. “He’s waiting for you.”

As depressing as Frank’s house was on the outside, the inside was far worse. The walls and ceiling had yellowed from years of cigarette smoke. The wall-to-wall carpet was clean but worn. The furniture looked like it had come from a 1950s model home.