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She seemed to be debating between screaming at him and being a cop. As usual, her cop side won out. "That's why Galloway was jerking us around. He was covering Rockdale County's ass." She moved on to the next problem. "And Tom Coldfield didn't tell us he was at the scene."
Will paused for some more static. "I know."
"He's early-thirties, closer to my age. Pauline's brother was older, right?"
Will wanted to talk to her about this in person rather than through his cracked phone. "Where are you?"
"I'm right outside the Coldfields."
"Good," he told her, surprised she had gotten there so fast. "I'm right around the corner. I'll be there in two minutes."
Will ended the call and dropped the phone on the seat beside him. Another wire had slipped out between the clam shells. This one was red, which was not a good sign. He glanced at his rearview mirror. The skier was making her way toward him. She was coming up fast, and Will pushed the car up to fifteen miles per hour so he could get away from her.
The street signs were larger than normal, the letters a crisp white on black, which was a horrible combination for Will. He turned as soon as he could, not bothering to try to read the first letter on the sign. Faith's Mini would stand out like a beacon among the Cadillacs and Buicks the retired folks seemed to favor.
Will got to the end of the street, but there was no Mini. He turned down the next street, and nearly smacked into the skier. She made a motion with her hand, indicating he should roll down the window.
He put on a pleasant smile. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Right there," she said, pointing to the cottage on the corner. This particular model had a lawn jockey outside, its white face freshly painted. Two large cardboard boxes were by the mailbox, each labeled in black marker. "I guess you're not taking those back in this tiny car of yours."
"No, ma'am."
"Judith said her son was going to bring the truck later on today." She glanced up at the sky. "Better not be too late."
"I'm sure it won't be long," Will told the skier. She didn't seem as keen to continue the conversation this time. She tossed him a wave as she continued her walk down the street.
Will looked at the boxes in front of Judith and Henry Coldfield's house, reminded of the trash Jacquelyn Zabel had set outside her mother's place. Though the cardboard boxes and black trash bags Jackie had put on the curb weren't meant to be trash. Charlie Reed had said he'd shooed off a Goodwill truck just before Will and Faith arrived. Had he meant Goodwill specifically, or was he using the word as a catch-all, the way people always called plastic bandages Band-Aids and tissues Kleenexes?
All along, they had been looking for a physical link between the women, one thing that tied them all together. Had Will just stumbled onto it?
The front door to the house opened and Judith came out, walking cautiously as she tried to navigate her way down the two porch stairs with a large box in her hands. Will got out of the car and rushed over, catching the box before she dropped it.
"Thank you," she told him. She was out of breath, her cheeks flushed. "I've been trying to get this stuff out all morning and Henry's been no help whatsoever." She walked toward the curb. "Just put it here by the others. Tom's supposed to be by later to pick them up."
Will set the box down on the ground. "How long have you volunteered at the shelter?"
"Oh . . ." She seemed to think about it as she walked back toward the house. "I don't know. Since we moved here. I guess that's a couple of years now. Goodness, how time flies."
"Faith and I saw a brochure the other day when we were at the shelter. It had a list of corporate sponsors on it."
"They want to get their money's worth. They're not being charitable because it's the right thing to do. It's public relations for them."
"There was a logo for a bank on the one we saw." Even now, he recalled the image of the four-point deer at the bottom of the pamphlet.
"Oh, yes. Buckhead Holdings. They donate the most money, which, between you and me, isn't nearly enough."
Will felt a bead of sweat roll down his back. Olivia Tanner was the community relations director for Buckhead Holdings. "What about a law firm?" he asked. "Does anyone do pro-bono work for the shelter?"
Judith opened the front door. "There are a couple of firms who help out. We're a women's only shelter, you know. Lots of the women need help filing divorce papers, restraining orders. Some of them are in trouble with the law. It's all very sad."
"Bandle and Brinks?" Will asked, giving her the name of Anna Lindsey's law firm.
"Yes," Judith said, smiling. "They help out quite a lot."
"Do you know a woman named Anna Lindsey?"
She shook her head as she went into the house. "Was she staying in the shelter? I'm ashamed to say there are so many that I often don't have the time to speak to them individually."
Will followed her inside, glancing around. The layout was exactly as he would have guessed from the street. There was a large living room that looked onto a screen porch and the lake. The kitchen was on the side of the house that had the garage, and the other side held the bedrooms. All the doors leading off the hallway were closed. The startling thing was that it looked as if an Easter egg had exploded inside the house. Decorations were everywhere. There were bunnies in pastel suits sitting on every available surface. Baskets with plastic eggs lying in silky green grass were scattered along the floor.
Will said, "Easter."
Judith beamed. "It's my second favorite time of the year."
Will loosened his tie, feeling a sweat come over him. "Why is that?"
"The Resurrection. The rebirth of our Lord. The cleansing of all our sins. Forgiveness is a powerful, transformative gift. I see that at the shelter every day. Those poor, broken women. They want redemption. They don't realize it's not something that can just be given. Forgiveness has to be earned."
"Do they all earn it?"
"Considering your job, I think you know the answer to that better than I do."
"Some women aren't worthy?"
She stopped smiling. "People like to think that we've moved on from Biblical times, but we still live in a society where women are cast out, don't we?"
"Like trash?"
"That's a bit harsh, but we all make our choices."
Will felt a bead of sweat roll down his back. "Have you always loved Easter?"
She straightened a bowtie on one of the rabbits. "I suppose part of it's because Henry's work only gave him off Easter and Christmas. It was always such a special time for us. Don't you love being with family?"
He asked, "Is Henry home?"
"Not at the moment." She turned her watch around on her wrist. "He's always late. He loses track of time so easily. We were supposed to go to the community center after Tom picked up the kids."
"Does Henry work at the shelter?"
"Oh, no." She gave a small laugh as she walked into her kitchen. "Henry's much too busy enjoying his retirement. Tom's good about helping out, though. He complains, but he's a good boy."
