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He opened a large folder on his desk and fanned out the photos of the cave. The torture devices, the marine battery, the unopened cans of soup—Charlie had documented all of it, recording the descriptions on a master list. Will thumbed through the photographs, finding the best view of the cave. Charlie had squatted at the base of the ladder the same way Will had last night. Xenon lights pulled every nook and cranny out of shadow. Will found another photo, this one showing the sexual devices laid out like artifacts at an archeological dig. He could figure out from first glance how most of them were used, but some were so complicated, so horrific, that his mind could not grasp how they operated.
Will was so lost in thought that his brain took its time registering the fact that his cell phone was ringing. He opened the pieces, saying, "Trent."
"It's Lola, baby."
"Who?"
"Lola. One of Angie's girls."
The prostitute from last night. Will tried to keep his tone even, because he was more furious with Angie than the hooker, who was just doing what bottom feeders always did—trying to exploit an angle. Will wasn't Angie's angle, though, and he was sick of these girls trying to play him. He said, "Listen, I'm not getting you out of jail. If you're one of Angie's girls, then get Angie to help you."
"I can't get ahold of her."
"Yeah, well, I can't either, so stop calling me for help when I don't even know her phone number. Understand?" He didn't give her time to respond. He ended the call and gently put his cell phone on his desk. The tape was starting to peel, the string coming lose. He had asked Angie to help him with the phone before she left, but, like a lot of things regarding Will, it hadn't been a priority.
He looked down at his hand, the wedding ring on his finger. Was he stupid or just pathetic? He couldn't tell the difference anymore. He bet Sara Linton wasn't the sort of woman who pulled this kind of crap in a relationship. Then again, Will bet Sara's husband hadn't been the kind of pussy who would let it happen.
"God, I hate autopsies." Faith pushed her way into his office, her color still off. Will knew she hated autopsies—it was an obvious aversion—but this was the first time he'd ever heard Faith admit to it. "Caroline left a message on my cell." She meant Amanda's assistant. "We can't talk to Joelyn Zabel without counsel present."
Jackie Zabel's sister. "Is she really going to sue the department?"
She dropped her purse on his desk. "As soon as she finds a lawyer in the Yellow Pages. Are you ready to go?"
He looked at the time on the computer. They were supposed to meet the Coldfields in half an hour, but the shelter was less than ten minutes away. "Let's talk this through a little bit more," he suggested.
There was a folding chair against the wall, and Faith had to close the door before she could sit down. Her own office was not much larger than Will's, but you could at least stretch your legs out in front of you without your feet hitting a wall. Will wasn't sure why, but they always ended up back in his office. Maybe it was because Faith's office had, in fact, been a storage closet. There was no window and it still held the lingering scent of urine cake and toilet cleaner. The first time she had closed the door, she'd nearly passed out from the fumes.
Faith nodded toward the computer. "What've you got?"
Will turned the monitor around so that Faith could read Amanda's email.
Faith squinted at the screen, scowling. He kept the background bright pink and the letters navy blue, which for some reason made it easier for him to make out the words. She mumbled under her breath as she adjusted the colors, then slid over the keyboard so she could type a reply. The first time she had done this, Will had complained, but over the last few months, he'd come to realize that Faith was just plain bossy, no matter who she was dealing with. Maybe it came from being a mother since the age of fifteen, or maybe it was just a natural inclination, but she wasn't comfortable unless she was doing everything herself.
With Jeremy off to college and Victor Martinez apparently out of the picture, Will was taking brunt of her bossiness. He supposed this was what it was like to have an older sister. But then again, Angie acted the same way with Will and he was sleeping with her. When she was around.
Faith said, "Amanda should already have the autopsy report on Jacquelyn Zabel by now." She typed as she talked. "What do we have? No fingerprints or trace evidence to follow. Plenty of DNA in sperm and blood, but no matches so far. No ID or even last name on Anna. An attacker who blinds his victims, punches out their eardrums, makes them drink Drano. The trash bags . . . shit, I can't even begin to understand that. He tortures them with God knows what. One had a rib removed . . ." She hit the arrow key, going back to add something earlier in the line. "Zabel was probably going to be next."
"The aspirin," Will said. The aspirin found in Jacquelyn Zabel's stomach was ten times more than the average person would take.
"Nice of him to give them something for their pain." Faith arrowed back down the screen. "Can you imagine? Trapped in that cave, can't hear him coming, can't see what he's doing, can't scream for help." Faith clicked the mouse, sending the email, then sat back in the chair. "Eleven trash bags. How did Sara miss that on the first victim?"
"I don't imagine you stop to do a pelvic exam when a woman comes in with nearly every bone in her body broken in her body and one foot in the grave."
"Don't get testy with me," she said, though Will didn't think he was being testy at all. "She doesn't belong in the middle of this case."
"Who?"
Faith rolled her eyes, using the mouse to click open the browser.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm going to look her up. Her husband was a cop when he died. I'm sure whatever happened to him made the news."
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" Faith tapped the keyboard. "What do you mean fair?"
"Faith, don't intrude in her personal—"
She hit the enter key. Will didn't know what else to do, so he reached down and unplugged the computer. Faith jiggled the mouse, then pressed the space bar. The building was old—the power was always going off. She glanced up, noticing the lights were still on.
"Did you turn off the computer?"
"If Sara Linton wanted you to know the details of her personal life, then she would tell you."
"You'd think you'd have better posture with that stick up your ass." Faith crossed her arms, giving him a sharp look. "Don't you think it's weird how she's inserting herself into our investigation? I mean, she's not a coroner anymore. She's a civilian. If she wasn't so pretty, you'd see how strange—"
"What does her beauty have to do with anything?"
Faith was kind enough to let his words hang over their heads like a neon sign flashing idiot. She gave it almost a full minute to burn out before saying, "Don't forget I have a computer in my office. I can look her up there just as easily."
"Whatever you find out, I don't want to know."
Faith rubbed her face with her hands. She stared at the gray sky outside the window for another solid minute. "This is crazy. We're spinning our wheels here. We need a break, something to follow."
