Karin Slaughter - A Faint Cold Fear

Sara smiled but withheld comment.

“I’ll be glad when he gets here,” Cathy said, more to herself than Sara. “Tessa needs to hear it from him that this is over.”

Sara knew that her mother had no way of knowing what had happened between her and Mason James, but she felt exposed anyway.

“What?” Cathy asked, always able to sense when something was wrong.

Sara confessed easily, needing to unburden herself. “I kissed Mason.”

Cathy seemed nonplussed. “Just kissed him?”

“Mama,” Sara said, trying to hide her embarrassment with outrage.

“So?” Cathy squirted more lotion into her palm and rubbed her hands together to warm it. “How’d it feel?”

“Good at first, then . . .” Sara put her hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat.

“Then?”

“Not so good,” Sara admitted. “I just kept thinking about Jeffrey.”

“That should tell you something.”

“What?” Sara asked, wanting more than anything for her mother to tell her what to do.

“Sara,” Cathy sighed. “Your greatest downfall has always been your intelligence.”

“Great,” Sara said. “I’ll be sure to tell my patients that.”

“Don’t get haughty with me,” Cathy snipped, her tone low, the way it always got when she was annoyed. “You’ve been so damn restless lately, and I’m sick and tired of watching you pine after the life you could have had if you’d stayed here in Atlanta.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Sara said, but she had never lied well, especially to her mother.

“You have so much in your life now, so many people who love you and care for you. Is there anything you want for that you don’t have?”

Sara could have made a list a few hours ago, but now she could only shake her head.

“It might do you some good to remember that at the end of the day, no matter how smart that brain of yours is up there, it’s your heart that needs looking after.” She gave Sara a pointed look. “And you know what your heart needs, don’t you?”

Sara nodded, though honestly she wasn’t sure.

“Don’t you?” Cathy insisted.

“Yes, Mama,” Sara answered, and somehow she did.

“Good,” she said, squeezing more lotion into her hand. “Now go talk to your father.”

Sara kissed Tessa, then her mother, before leaving the room. She saw her father at the end of the hallway, standing at the window watching traffic the same way Sara had been doing in Tessa’s room. His shoulders were still stooped, but the faded white T-shirt and worn-out jeans he had on were unmistakably Eddie. Sara was so like her father sometimes that it frightened her.

She said, “Hey, Daddy.”

He didn’t look at her, but Sara could feel his grief as clearly as she could feel the cold coming off the window. Eddie Linton was a man who was defined by family. His wife and children were his world, and Sara had been so focused on her own suffering that she hadn’t noticed the struggle her father had endured. He had worked so hard to build a safe and happy home for his children. Eddie’s reticence toward Sara this week had not been because he blamed her; it was because he blamed himself.

Eddie pointed out the window. “See that guy changing a tire?”

Sara saw a bright greenish yellow box van, one of the HERO squads the city of Atlanta hired to keep traffic moving. They were equipped to change tires, give a jump start or a free gallon of gas if you broke down on the side of the road. In a city where the average commute could be two hours and it was perfectly legal to carry a concealed handgun in your glove box, this was tax money well spent.

“In the box van?” she asked.

“They don’t charge for that. Not a dime.”

“How about that?” she said.

“Yeah.” Eddie let out a long breath. “Tessie still sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“Jeffrey on his way?”

“If you don’t want him—”

“No,” Eddie interrupted, his tone definitive. “He should be here.”

Sara felt a lightness in her chest, as if a heavy weight had been lifted.

She said, “Mama and I were just talking about the time he drove to Florida to pick up Tess.”

“I told her not to drive that damn car down there.”

Sara looked at the traffic, hiding her smile.

Eddie cleared his throat more times than needed, as if he did not already have Sara’s undivided attention. “Guy walks into a bar with a big lizard on his shoulder.”

“O-kaaay . . . ,” she said, drawing out the word.

“Bartender says, ‘What’s your lizard’s name?’ “ Eddie paused. “The guy says, ‘Tiny.’ The bartender scratches his head.” Eddie scratched his head. “Says, ‘Why do you call him tiny?’ “ He paused for effect. “Guy says, ‘Because he’s my newt!’ ”

Sara repeated the punch line out loud a few times before she finally got it. She started laughing so hard that she got tears in her eyes.

Eddie merely smiled, his face lighting up as if the sound of his daughter laughing was pure joy to him.

“God, Dad,” Sara said, wiping her eyes, still laughing. “That’s the worst joke ever.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, putting his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “That was pretty bad.”

FRIDAY

18

Lena sat on the floor in the middle of her dorm room, surrounded by boxes containing everything she owned in the world. Most of her belongings would be stored at Hank’s until she could find a job. Her bed was going to Nan’s, and she would sleep in the spare room until she had enough money to move out on her own. The college had offered her Chuck’s job, but under the circumstances she never wanted to see the security office again. That bastard Kevin Blake had not even given her severance pay. Lena took consolation in the fact that the board had announced this morning that they were going to start looking for a replacement for Blake.

The door creaked as Ethan pushed it open. The lock had not been fixed since Jeffrey broke it days ago.

He smiled when he saw her. “You put your hair up.”

Lena resisted the temptation to take it down. “I thought you were leaving town.”

Ethan shrugged. “It’s always been hard for me to leave where I’m not wanted.”

She gave a thin smile.

“Besides,” he said, “it’s kind of hard to transfer out right now, considering the university’s under investigation for ethics violations.”

“I’m sure it’ll get worked out,” Lena said. She had worked at the college for only a few months, but she knew how scandals operated. There would be fines and a lot of stories in the papers for a few months, but a year later the stories would be gone, the fines would still be unpaid, and some other asshole professor would be stabbing someone in the back—literally or figuratively—to ensure his own fame and fortune.

“So,” Ethan began. “I guess you squared things with the cop.”

Lena shrugged, because she had no idea where things stood with Jeffrey. After interviewing her about Richard Carter, he had told her to show up at the station bright and early Monday morning. There was no telling what he had to say.

Ethan asked, “They ever figure out about the panties?”

“He jumped to the wrong conclusion. It happens.” Again, she shrugged. “Rosen was a freak. He probably stole them from some girl.” She could imagine Andy sniffing more than glue on a lonely Friday night. As for the book, Lena could have read it on one of her own lonely nights, buying some peace in the library before it was time to go back to her hovel and try to sleep.

Ethan leaned against the open door. “I wanted you to know that I’m not leaving,” he said. “In case you see me around.”