Karin Slaughter - Faithless

“Y’all are crowdin’ me,” Dale said. “I don’t like that.” He lifted the wrench to chest level, resting the end in his palm. Lena knew the man wasn’t an idiot. The wrench could do a lot of damage, but not to three people at the same time, especially considering the three people had guns on their belts. She watched Dale closely, knowing in her gut that he would make a try for the gun.

“You don’t want to do this,” Jeffrey told him. “We just want to talk to Terri.”

Dale moved swiftly for a man his size, but Jeffrey was faster. He yanked the baton from Brad’s belt and slammed it into the back of Dale’s knees as the taller man lunged for the gun. Dale dropped to the floor like a stack of bricks.

Lena felt nothing but shock as she watched the normally docile Brad jam his knee into Dale’s back, pressing him into the ground as he cuffed him. One swipe to the back of the knees and he had fallen. He wasn’t even putting up a fight as Brad jerked back his hands, using two sets of cuffs to keep his wrists bound behind his back.

Jeffrey told Dale, “I warned you not to do this.”

Dale yelped like a dog when Brad pulled him up to his knees. “Jesus, watch it,” he complained, rolling his shoulders like he was afraid they’d been popped out of the sockets. “I want to call my lawyer.”

“You can do that later.” Jeffrey handed the baton back to Brad, saying, “Put him in the back of the car.”

“Yes, sir,” Brad said, pulling Dale up to standing, eliciting another yelp.

The big man shuffled his feet on the way to the car, a storm of dust kicking up behind him.

Just so Lena could hear, Jeffrey said, “Not such a tough guy, huh? I bet it makes him feel real good beating on his little wife.”

Lena felt a bead of sweat roll down her back. Jeffrey swiped some dust off the leg of his pants before heading toward the house. He reminded Lena, “There are two kids in there.”

Lena cast around for something to say. “Do you think she’ll resist?”

“I don’t know what she’ll do.”

The door opened before they reached the front porch. Terri Stanley stood inside, a sleeping baby on her hip. At her side was another kid, probably about two. He was rubbing his little fists into his eyes as if he’d just woken up. Terri’s cheeks were sunken; dark circles rimmed her eyes. Her lip was busted open, a fresh, bluish-yellow bruise traced along her jaw, and angry red welts wrapped around her neck. Lena understood why Dale hadn’t wanted them to talk to his wife. He’d beaten the shit out of her. Lena couldn’t see how the woman was still standing.

Terri watched her husband being led to the squad car, studiously avoiding Jeffrey’s and Lena ’s eyes as she told them in a flat voice, “I’m not going to press charges. You might as well let him go.”

Jeffrey looked back at the car. “We’re just gonna let him stew there for a while.”

“Y’all are just making it worse.” She spoke carefully, obviously trying not to crack the lip back open. Lena knew the trick just as she knew it was hell on your throat, making you strain your voice just so your words could be understood. “He never hit me like this before. Not in the face.” Her voice wavered. She was trapped, overwhelmed. “My kids’ve gotta see this.”

“Terri…” Jeffrey began, but obviously didn’t know how to finish it.

“He’ll kill me if I leave him.” Her drawl was exaggerated by her swollen lip.

“Terri-”

“I’m not gonna press charges.”

“We’re not asking you to.”

She faltered, as if that hadn’t been the response she was expecting.

Jeffrey said, “We need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

He pulled an old cop’s trick. “You know about what.”

She looked at her husband, who was sitting in the back of Brad’s cruiser.

“He’s not going to hurt you.”

She gave him a wary look, as if he’d told a really bad joke.

Jeffrey said, “We’re not going anywhere until we talk to you.”

“I guess come on in,” she finally relented, stepping back from the open door. “Tim, Mama needs to talk to these people.” She took the boy’s hand, leading him into a den that had a large TV as the focal point. Lena and Jeffrey waited in the large entrance foyer at the base of the stairs while she put a DVD into the player.

Lena looked up at the high ceiling, which opened onto the upstairs hall. Where a chandelier should be hanging there were only a few stray wires jutting out of the Sheetrock. There were scuff marks on the walls by the stairs, and someone had kicked a small hole at the top. The spindles holding up the railing on the other side looked almost bent, several cracked or broken toward the landing at the top. Terri, she bet, picturing Dale dragging the woman up the stairs, her legs kicking wildly behind her. There were twelve steps in all, twice as many spindles to grab on to as she tried to stop the inevitable.

The shrill voice of SpongeBob SquarePants echoed off the cold tiles in the foyer, and Terri came out, still holding her youngest son on her hip.

Jeffrey asked her, “Where can we talk?”

“Let me put him down,” she said, meaning the baby. “The kitchen’s through the back.” She started up the stairs and Jeffrey motioned for Lena to follow her.

The house was larger than it looked from the outside, the landing at the top of the stairs leading to a long hallway and what looked like three bedrooms and a bath. Terri stopped at the first room and Lena paused, not following her in. Instead, she stood at the door to the nursery, watching Terri lay the sleeping baby in the crib. The room was brightly decorated, clouds on the ceiling, a pastoral scene on the walls showing happy sheep and cows. Over the crib was a mobile with more sheep. Lena couldn’t see the kid while his mother stroked his head, but his little legs stretched out when Terri took off the crocheted booties. Lena hadn’t realized that babies’ feet were so small, their toes little nubs, their arches curling like banana peels as they pulled their knees to their chests.

Terri was staring intently at Lena over her shoulder. “You got kids?” She made a hoarse noise that Lena took as an attempt at a laugh. “I mean, other than the one you left in Atlanta.”

Lena knew she was trying to threaten her, using her words to remind Lena that they had both been in that clinic for the same thing, but Terri Stanley wasn’t the type of woman who could carry this off. When the mother turned around, all Lena could do was feel sorry for her. The light was bright in the room, sunlight illuminating the bruise along Terri’s jaw as if it were in Technicolor. Her lip had cracked, a sliver of blood seeping out onto her chin. Lena realized that six months ago she could have been looking at a mirror.

“You’d do anything for them,” Terri said with a tone of sadness. “You’d put up with anything.”

“Anything?”

Terri swallowed, wincing from the pain. Dale had obviously choked her. The bruises weren’t out yet, but they would come soon enough, looking like a dark necklace around her throat. Heavy concealer would take care of it, but she would feel stiff all week, turning her head carefully, trying not to wince when she swallowed, biding her time as she waited for the muscles to relax, the pain to go away.

She said, “I can’t explain-”

Lena was in no position to lecture her. “You know you don’t have to.”

“Yeah,” Terri agreed, turning back around, pulling a light blue blanket up around the baby’s chin. Lena stared at her back, wondering if Terri was capable of murder. She would be the type to poison if she did anything. There was no way Terri could see someone face-to-face and kill them. Of course, she had obviously gotten her own back with Dale. He didn’t get the bruise on his eye from shaving.