Fallen (18 page)

In the next room, Jeremy’s bed was empty. Faith lingered at the door. She hadn’t changed his room, though it would’ve been nice to have an office. His posters were still on the wall—a Mustang GT with a bikini-clad blonde leaning over the hood, another with a half-naked brunette draped across a Camaro, a third and fourth showing concept cars with the ubiquitous big-bosomed model. Faith could still remember coming home from work one day to find his “Bridges of the Southeastern United States” posters replaced with these gems. Jeremy still thought that he’d cleverly tricked her into believing that puberty had brought on a sudden interest in automobiles.

“I’m in here.”

She found him in her room. Jeremy was lying on his stomach, head at the foot of her bed, feet in the air, iPhone in his hands. The sound on the TV was muted but the closed captioning was on.

She asked, “Everything okay?”

He tilted the iPhone in his hands, obviously playing a game. “Yeah.”

Faith remembered the fertile girlfriend. It was strange she wasn’t here. They were usually attached at the hip. “Where’s Kimberly?”

“We’re taking a break,” he said, and she almost sobbed with relief. “I heard you and Zeke yelling.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

He tilted the phone the other way.

She said, “I’ve been wanting one of those.” He got the hint and put the device in his pocket. “I know you heard the phone ring. It was Will. He’s working with Aunt Amanda.”

He stared at the TV. “That’s good.”

Faith started to untie his sneakers. In typical teenage boy logic, he’d thought keeping his feet raised off the bed would stop debris from raining down. “Tell me what happened when Zeke got here.”

“Dude was being an asshole.”

“Tell me like I’m your mother.”

She saw him color slightly in the glow of the TV. “Victor stayed with me. I told him he didn’t have to, but he said he wanted to, so …”

Faith untied his other sneaker. “You showed him Emma’s picture?”

He kept staring at the set. Jeremy had really liked Victor—probably more than Faith had, which was only part of the problem.

She told him, “It’s all right.”

“Zeke was kinda shitty—I mean rude—to him.”

“In what way?”

“Just kinda poking his chest out and pushing him around.”

Just being Zeke. “Nothing happened, right?”

“Nah, Victor’s not the type.”

Faith assumed as much. Victor Martinez worked in an office, read
The Wall Street Journal
, wore bespoke suits, and washed his hands sixteen times a day. He was about as passionate as a box of hair. It was Faith’s lot in life that she would only ever be able to fall in love with the kind of man who would wear sleeveless T-shirts and punch her brother in the face.

She slid off Jeremy’s shoe, frowning at the state of his sock. “Toes go on the inside, college boy.” She made a mental note to get him
more socks when she ordered his underwear. His jeans were looking ratty, too. So much for the three hundred dollars left in her checking account. Thank God they had suspended her with pay. Faith was going to have to dip into savings just to keep her son from looking like a hobo.

Jeremy rolled over onto his back to face her. “I showed Victor Emma’s Easter picture.”

She swallowed. Victor was a smart man, but it didn’t take a genius to do the math. Even without that, Faith was blonde and fair. Emma had her father’s dark coloring and rich brown eyes. “The one where she’s wearing the bunny ears?”

He nodded.

“That’s a good one.” Faith could see the guilt well up in him like water spilling out of a glass. “It’s all right, Jay. He would’ve found out eventually.”

“Then why didn’t you tell him?”

Because Faith was just the right mixture of emotionally stunted and controlling, which was something Jeremy would find out when his future wife screamed it in his face. For now, Faith said, “It’s not something I’m going to talk to you about.”

He sat up to face her. “Grandma likes Will.”

Faith guessed he’d overheard her conversation with Zeke. “She told you that?”

He nodded. “She said he was an all right guy. That he treated her fairly, and that he had a hard job to do but he wasn’t mean about it.”

Faith didn’t know whether her mother had been assuaging Jeremy’s concerns or revealing her true opinion. Knowing her mother, it was probably a mixture of both. “Did she ever talk to you about why she retired?”

He tugged at a loose thread on the bedspread. “She said she was the boss, so it was her fault for not noticing what was going on.”

This was more than she’d ever told Faith. “Anything else?”

He shook his head. “I’m glad Aunt Amanda has Will helping her. She can’t do everything by herself. And he’s really smart.”

Faith stopped his hand and held it until Jeremy looked up at her. The television offered the only light in the room. It gave his face a green cast. “I know you’re worried about Grandma, and I know there’s nothing I can say to make this better for you.”

“Thanks.” He was being sincere. Jeremy had always appreciated honesty.

She pulled him up from the bed and wrapped her arms around him. His shoulders were thin. He was gangly, not yet the man he was going to be no matter the fact that he ate his weight in macaroni and cheese every day.

He let her hug him for longer than usual. She kissed his head. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

“That’s what Grandmamma always says.”

“And she’s always right.” Faith squeezed him closer.

“Mom, you’re suffocating me.”

Reluctantly, she let him go. “Get some sheets for Uncle Zeke. He’s going to sleep on the couch.”

Jeremy slid his feet back into his sneakers. “Has he always been that way?”

Faith didn’t pretend to miss his meaning. “When we were little, every time he had to fart, he would run into my room and tear it loose.”

Jeremy started laughing.

“And then he said if I told on him, he’d gorge himself on beans and cheese and then hold me down and do it in my face the next time.”

That sent him over the edge. He bent over, holding his stomach as he brayed like a donkey. “Did he do it?”

Faith nodded, which made him laugh even harder. She let him enjoy her humiliation a little longer before nudging him on the shoulder. “Time to go to bed.”

He wiped tears from his eyes. “Man, I’ve got to do that to Horner.”

Horner was his dorm mate. Faith doubted anyone would notice one more noxious odor in their shared quarters.

“Get Zeke a pillow from the closet.” She pushed him out of the room. He was still laughing as he walked down the hallway. It was a small price to pay to see the worry momentarily absent from her son’s face.

Faith pulled back the comforter on her bed. Dirt from Jeremy’s sneakers was smeared into the sheets. She was too tired to change the bed. She was too tired to put on her nightgown or even brush her teeth. She slipped off her shoes and got into bed wearing the same GBI regs she’d put on at five o’clock that morning.

The house was quiet. Her body was so tense that she felt like she was lying on a board. Emma’s soft snores came through on the baby monitor. Faith stared up at the ceiling. She’d forgotten to turn off the television. Light flashed like a strobe from the action movie Jeremy had been watching.

Boyd Spivey was dead. It seemed impossible to grasp. He was a big guy, larger than life, the sort of cop you imagined going out in a blaze of glory. He was the exact opposite of his partner. Chuck Finn was dour, full of gloomy predictions and terrified that he would be shot in the line of duty. His defense during the investigation was the only one Faith had found credible during the whole mess. Chuck had claimed he was just following orders. To those who knew him, it seemed entirely plausible. Detective Finn was the quintessential follower, which was exactly the personality type that men like Boyd Spivey knew how to exploit.

But Faith didn’t want to think about Boyd or Chuck or any of her mother’s team right now. The investigation had eaten up six months of her life. Six months of sleepless nights. Six months of worrying that her mother was going to have a heart attack or end up in prison or both.

Faith made herself close her eyes. She wanted to think of good times with her mother, to recall some moment of kindness or summon the pleasure of her company. What she saw instead was the man in her mother’s bedroom, the black hole in the center of his forehead where Faith had shot him. His hands jerked up. The hostage stared at
Faith in disbelief. His mouth gaped open. She saw the silver grill on his teeth, that his tongue was pierced with a matching silver ball.

Almeja
, he had said.

Money.

Faith heard the floorboards creak in the hall. “Jeremy?” She pushed herself up on her elbow and turned on the bedside lamp.

He gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry, I know you’re tired.”

“Do you want me to take the sheets down to Zeke?”

“No, it’s not that.” He pulled his iPhone out of his pocket. “Something came up on my Facebook page.”

“I thought you stopped using that when I made you friend me.” Faith had never been the kind of parent to completely trust her kid. Her own parents had trusted her and look where that had gotten them. “What’s going on?”

His thumbs moved across the screen as he talked. “I got bored. I mean, not bored, but there was nothing to do, so …”

“It’s okay, baby.” She sat up in bed. “What is it?”

“Lots of people have been posting stuff. I guess they heard about Grandma on the news.”

“That’s nice,” Faith said, though she found it a bit ghoulish and, to borrow a word from her brother,
dramatic
. “What are they saying?”

“Mostly just that they’re thinking about me and stuff like that. But there’s this.” He turned the phone around and handed it to her.

Faith read the message aloud. “ ‘Hey, Jaybird, hope you’re okay. I’m sure the bad guys will get fingered. Just remember what your grandma used to say: keep your mouth shut and your eyes open.’ ” Faith checked the screen name. “GoodKnight92. Is that someone you went to Grady with?” Jeremy’s high school’s mascot was the knight, and he had been born in 1992.

He shrugged. “Never heard of him.”

Faith noted that the post had come in at 2:32 that afternoon, less than an hour after Evelyn had been abducted. She tried not to sound concerned when she asked, “When did he friend you?”

“Today, but a lot of people did. They kind of all came out of the woodwork.”

She gave him the phone. “What does his profile say?”

“Just that he lives in Atlanta and works in distribution.” He thumbed through the screen and showed it to Faith.

Her eyes were so tired she had trouble focusing. Faith held the phone close to her face so she could read the words. There was nothing more, not even a picture. Jeremy was GoodKnight’s only friend. Faith felt her cop’s intuition telling her something was wrong, but she handed back the phone as if it was nothing. “I’m sure it’s someone you went to Morningside with. You were teased so bad about Grandma calling you Jaybird that you begged me to let you switch to another school.”

“It’s weird, though—right?”

She wasn’t going to let him worry. “Most of your friends are weird.”

He wouldn’t be soothed. “How does he know that about Gran always saying that?”

“It’s a pretty common saying,” Faith answered. “Mouth shut, eyes open. I had a drill instructor at the academy who practically tattooed it on his forehead.” She forced a lightness into her tone. “Come on. It’s nothing. It’s probably a cop’s kid. You know the rule. Something bad happens and we’re all family.”

That finally seemed to mollify him. Jeremy had been dragged to his share of hospitals and strangers’ homes when a police officer had been wounded or killed. He put the phone back into his pocket.

She asked, “You sure you’re okay?”

He nodded.

“You can sleep in here if you want.”

“That’d be weird, Mom.”

“Wake me if you need me.” Faith lay back down, slipping her hand under the pillow. Her fingers touched something wet. Familiar.

Jeremy immediately picked up on the change. “What’s wrong?”

Faith’s breath was trapped in her chest. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Mom?”

“Tired,” she managed. “I’m just tired.” Her lungs ached for oxygen. She felt sweat break out all over her body. “Get the sheets before Zeke comes up here.”

“Are you—”

“It’s been a long day, Jeremy. I need to go to sleep.”

He was still reluctant. “All right.”

“Can you shut my door?” She wasn’t sure she could move even if she wanted to.

Jeremy gave her another worried look as he pulled the door closed. Faith heard the click of the latch, then the soft padding of his feet as he walked down the hall to the laundry room. It was only when she heard the third stair from the bottom squeak that Faith allowed herself to pull her hand out from under the pillow.

She opened her clenched fist. The sharp pain of fear receded and now all Faith could feel was blinding fury.

The message on Jeremy’s iPhone. His high school. His birth year.

Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open
.

Her son had lain in this bed, his feet inches from what she had found.

I’m sure the bad guys will get fingered
.

The words only made sense when Faith held her mother’s severed finger in her hand.

S
ARA LINTON WAS NO STRANGER TO SELF-LOATHING. SHE’D
felt ashamed when her father saw her steal a candy bar from the honor box at church. She’d felt humiliated when she caught her husband cheating on her. She’d felt guilty when she lied to her sister about liking her brother-in-law. She’d felt embarrassed when her mother pointed out that she was too tall to wear capri pants. What she’d never felt like was trashy, and the knowledge that she was no better than a reality TV star cut her to the core of her being.

Even now, hours later, Sara’s face still burned at the thought of her confrontation with Angie Trent. There was only one other time in her life that she could recall a woman talking to her the way Angie had. Jeffrey’s mother was a mean drunk, and Sara had caught her on a very bad night. The only difference in this instance was that Angie had absolutely every right to label Sara a whore.