“No.” He stood behind Sara, holding the camera in front so she could see. “Zoom here,” he said, flicking the toggle.
“You could probably-”
“This is macro.”
“Will-”
“Super macro.” He kept talking over her until she gave up. “Here’s where you adjust for color. This is light. Anti-shake. Red-eye.” He clicked through the features like a photography instructor.
Sara finally relented. “Why don’t I point and you shoot?”
“All right.” His back was stiff, and she could tell that he was irritated.
“I’m sorry I-”
“Please don’t apologize.”
Sara held his gaze for a few moments longer, wishing she could fix this. There was nothing to say if he wouldn’t even let her apologize.
She told him, “Let’s start.”
Sara directed him around the table as he photographed Allison Spooner head to toe. The warm-up jacket. The stab wound that went through to her neck. The sliced material where the knife had cut through. The teeth marks on the inside of her lip.
She folded back the torn jeans, exposing the knee. There was a half-moon-shaped tear, the skin hanging on by a flap. A dark bruise outlined the area of impact. “This kind of laceration comes from blunt trauma. She fell very hard on her knee, probably with her full weight, definitely on something hard, like a rock. The impact busted open the skin.”
“Can we look at the wrists?”
The jacket had bunched up around the girl’s hands. Sara pushed up the material.
He took a few photographs. “Ligature marks?”
Sara leaned down for a closer look. She checked the other wrist. The veins were an iridescent blue. Lines of red shot through the skin where clots held the blood in place.
She explained, “Bodies start to float anywhere from two hours to two days after they’re in the water. Decomposition starts quickly-as soon as the heart and lungs stop, the body turns on itself. Bacteria leaks out of the intestines. Gases build up, causing buoyancy. The cinder blocks would have kept her from floating to the surface. The cold water would’ve retarded decomposition. I don’t know what the temperature of the lake was, but we can assume it was close to freezing. She was probably facedown, her hands hanging in front of her. Livor mortis settled into her fingertips, pooled up into her wrists. I suppose you could mistake the discoloration for ligature marks. It would’ve been dark that time of morning.” Sara couldn’t make any more excuses for Frank. “Honestly, I thought Frank was lying to me when he said it the first time.”
“Why lie about that?” Will asked. “The stab wound is evidence enough that something was seriously wrong.”
“You’ll have to ask Frank.”
“I’ve got a lot of questions for him if he ever shows up.”
“He’s probably with Brad. Frank has known him since he was a kid. We all have.”
Will only nodded.
Sara put the ruler by Allison’s wrist so he could take a photograph. When he was finished, she turned the hand over. There was a faint scar along the crease of the wrist. She checked the other hand. “She tried to kill herself before. A razor, maybe a sharp knife. I’d say within the last ten years.”
Will studied the raised white lines. “What was Tommy like?”
She was surprised by the question because her focus was on Allison. Sara hadn’t slept much last night. She’d had a lot of time to think about Tommy. “He was cheerful,” she told Will. “I don’t think there was ever a time I didn’t see him smile. Even when he felt bad.”
“Did you ever see him angry?”
“No.”
“Did he have many broken bones or bruises?”
She shook her head, knowing where this was going. “Gordon was very gentle with him. The only time I saw him angry was when Tommy ate a whole jar of paste.”
Will smiled fondly. “I used to eat paste.” He held the camera at his side. “I wonder if it tastes as good as it used to.”
Sara laughed. “I wouldn’t recommend finding out. Tommy was sick for days.”
“You didn’t tell me Lena was raped.”
The observation came out of nowhere. Sara was taken off guard, which was probably what he had intended. “It was a long time ago.”
“Faith found it on the Internet.”
She busied herself over by the back counter, finding a roll of brown paper under the cabinet so she could lay out the clothes. “Does it matter?”
“I don’t know. It bothers me that you left it out.”
Sara spread out the paper. “A lot of women have been raped.” She looked up when he didn’t respond. “Don’t feel sorry for her, Will. She’s so good at making people feel sorry for her.”
“I think she regrets what happened to Tommy.”
Sara shook her head. “You can’t expect good from her. She’s not a normal person. There’s no kindness in her.”
He spoke carefully, staring his meaning into Sara. “I’ve met a lot of people in my life who were truly unkind.”
“Still-”
“I don’t think Lena’s completely devoid of a soul. I think she’s angry, and self-destructive, and feeling trapped.”
“I used to think that, too. And I felt sorry for her. Right before she got my husband killed.”
There wasn’t much more Sara could say after that. She unbuttoned Allison’s shirt and continued to undress the girl. Will changed out the memory card and took photographs when she asked him to. She didn’t ask for his help when she draped a clean white sheet over Allison’s body. Their companionable silence was a distant memory. The tension was so great that Sara felt herself getting a headache. She was angry with herself that it mattered. Will Trent was not her friend. His dyslexia, his quirky sense of humor, his dirty clothes-none of this was her concern. All she needed for him to do was get his job done and then go back to his wife.
Out in the hall, the metal door slammed shut. Moments later, Frank Wallace came into the room carrying a cardboard box. He was wearing a long trench coat and a pair of leather gloves. His hair was wet from the rain.
Will said, “Chief Wallace. It’s nice to finally meet you. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”
“You wanna tell me why you’ve got half my guys out chasing their tails in the pouring rain?”
“I assume you’ve heard that we found the crime scene where Allison Spooner was stabbed.”
“You test that blood yet? Could be an animal for all I know.”
Will told him, “Yes, I tested it on scene. It’s human blood.”
“All right, so he killed her in the woods.”
“It appears so.”
“I called off the search. You can bring in your own team if you wanna comb through six inches of mud.”
“That’s a very good idea, Chief Wallace. I think I will call in a team.”
Frank was obviously finished with Will. He dropped the box at Sara’s feet. “Here’s all the evidence we’ve got.” She held her breath until he backed away. He smelled rancid, a combination of mouthwash, sweat, and tobacco.
Will said, “I hope you don’t mind, Chief Wallace. I’ve got Detective Adams re-canvassing the neighborhood and checking with Allison’s teachers from school.”
“Do whatever you want,” Frank grunted. “I’m finished with her.”
“Is there a problem?”
“You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t.” Frank coughed into his gloved hand. Sara winced at the sound. “Lena screwed this whole thing up top to bottom. I’m not covering for her anymore. She’s a bad cop. Her work’s sloppy. She managed to get somebody killed.” He gave Sara a meaningful look. “Somebody else.”
She felt hot and cold at the same time. Frank was saying all the things that she wanted to hear-all the things she knew in her heart-but the words sounded dirty coming from his mouth. He was exploiting Jeffrey’s death, while Sara was trying to avenge it.