Karin Slaughter - Fallen

Now that the easy part was out of the way, neither of them seemed capable of talking. She hadn’t spoken to Victor in thirteen months, not since she’d sent him a text that he needed to get his stuff out of her house or she was going to leave it on the street.

Victor broke the silence. “Is there any news on your mother?”

“No. Nothing.”

“It’s been over twenty-four hours, right?”

She didn’t trust herself to speak. Victor had a habit of pointing out the obvious, and his love of crime shows meant that he knew as well as Faith that time was against them.

“Is Jeremy all right?”

“Yes. Thank you for bringing him home yesterday. And staying with him.” She thought to ask, “You didn’t see anything unusual when you were here, right? No one hanging around the house?”

“Of course not. I would’ve told the police.”

“How long were you here before they arrived?”

“Not long. Your brother came about an hour later and I left.”

Faith’s exhausted brain struggled to do the math. Evelyn’s kidnappers hadn’t hesitated. They’d driven straight here from her house. They were familiar enough with the space to walk right upstairs to her room and plant the finger under Faith’s pillow. Maybe they were watching the house even before that. Maybe they had listened to Faith’s phone calls or checked her calendar on her laptop and knew that she would be away. Nothing in the house was password protected because she had always assumed that she was safe here.

Faith had missed something Victor said. “What?”

“I said, your brother’s kind of an asshole.”

Faith snapped, “It’s not exactly an easy time for him, Victor. Our mother is missing. God knows whether she’s dead or alive. Zeke dropped everything to be with Jeremy. I’m sorry if you thought he was rude. It’s kind of hard to be friendly right now.”

“Hold on, all right? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her breathing was revved up again. Faith tried to get her control back. She wanted to yell at someone. That person probably didn’t need to be Victor.

“Are you there?” he asked.

Faith couldn’t drag this out any longer. “I know that Jeremy showed you Emma’s picture.”

He cleared his throat.

“What you’re thinking about her …” Faith pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids. “You’re right.”

He was silent for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he said, “She’s beautiful.”

Faith dropped her hand. She looked up at the ceiling. Her hormones were so out of whack that the stupidest thing could set her off. She cradled the phone against her shoulder and tried to reload Jeremy’s Facebook page again.

“I’d like to meet her when this is all over.”

Faith watched the wheel spin on the computer screen as the processor worked. She couldn’t think about seeing Victor with Emma. Holding her in his arms. Stroking her hair. Pointing out that looking into her light brown eyes was like looking into a mirror. Faith could only think about right now, and how every second that ticked by made it less likely that Evelyn Mitchell would see her granddaughter’s first birthday.

“Your mom’s a fighter,” Victor said. Then, almost ruefully, “Just like you.”

The page finally loaded. GoodKnight92 had posted a comment eight minutes ago.

“I have to go.” Faith hung up the phone. Her hand hovered over the laptop. She stared at the words on the screen. They had a familiar ring.

You must be feeling cooped up. Why don’t you get out of the house and take some fresh air?

They had contacted Jeremy again, and her son, her little boy, had been ready to walk out the front door and put his life on the line so that he could get his grandmother back.

She raised her voice, calling, “Jeremy?”

Faith waited. There were no footsteps overhead, no squeaks on the stairs or floorboards.

“Jeremy?” she called again, going into the living room. An eternity passed. Faith grabbed the back of the couch so she wouldn’t fall down. Her voice trilled in panic. “Jeremy!”

Her heart stopped at the thumping sound from upstairs, heavy footsteps across the floor. But it was Zeke who called from the top of the landing. “Jesus, Faith, what’s wrong?”

Faith could barely speak. “Where’s Jeremy?”

“I told him he could go for a walk.”

Ginger came in from the kitchen, a puzzled look on his face. Before he could say anything, Faith grabbed the gun out of his shoulder holster and bolted from the room. She didn’t remember opening the front door or running down the driveway. It wasn’t until she was in the middle of the street that Faith stopped. She saw a figure up ahead. He was about to turn the corner onto the next street. Tall, lanky, baggy jeans and a yellow Georgia Tech sweatshirt.

“Jeremy!” she yelled. A car pulled up to the intersection, stopping a few feet from her son. “Jeremy!” He didn’t hear her. He walked toward the car.

Faith ran all out, arms pumping, bare feet pounding the pavement. She gripped the gun so tightly in her hand that it felt like part of her skin.

“Jeremy!” she screamed. He turned around. The car was in front of him. Dark gray. Four doors. New-model Ford Focus with chrome trim. The window rolled down. Jeremy turned back to the car, bent down to look inside. “Stop!” Faith yelled, her throat clenching around the word. “Get away from the car! Get away from the car!”

The driver was leaning toward Jeremy. Faith saw a teenage girl behind the wheel, mouth agape, obviously terrified by the armed madwoman running down the street. The car screeched off as Faith reached her son. She bumped into him, almost pushing him down.

“Why?” she asked, gripping his arm so tight that her fingers hurt.

He pulled away, rubbing his arm. “Jesus, Mom, what is wrong with you? She was lost. She needed directions.”

Faith was dizzy from fear and adrenaline. She bent over and put her hand on her knee. The gun was at her side. So was Ginger.

He snatched the weapon back. “Agent Mitchell, that was not cool.”

His words filled her with anger. “Not cool?” She thumped her open palm against his chest. “Not cool?”

“Agent.” His tone of voice implied she was acting hysterical, which only served to amp up her fury another notch.

“How about letting my son walk out the door when you were assigned to watch him? Was that not cool, too?” She pushed him again. “How about you and your partner standing around holding your dicks while my boy is gone?” Another push. “Is that cool?”

Ginger held up his hands in surrender.

“Faith,” Zeke said. She hadn’t noticed her brother standing there, maybe because for once he wasn’t making things worse. “Let’s just go back to the house.”

She held out her hand to Jeremy, palm up. “iPhone.”

He looked appalled. “What?”

“Now,” she ordered.

“That’s got all my games on it.”

“I don’t care.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Read a book!” she screamed, her voice screeching. “Just stay offline. Do you hear me? No Internet!”

“Jesus.” He glanced around for support, but Faith didn’t care if God Himself came down and told her to give the kid a break.

She said, “I’ll tie you to my waist with a rope if I have to.”

He knew she wasn’t bluffing; she’d done it before. “This isn’t fair.” He slapped the phone in her hand. She would’ve thrown it to the ground and crushed it with her foot if the damn thing hadn’t cost so much.

“No Internet,” Faith repeated. “No phone calls. No communication of any kind, and you stay in the fucking house. Do you hear me?” He walked toward the house, giving her his back. Faith wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “Do you hear me?”