Page 75 of Undone (Will Trent 3)

"It's been at least a week, Will." Faith's voice shook. "Look around you. This place is a mess."

"You want to turn the apartment over to crime scene?" he asked, leaving the rest of the question unspoken: You want someone else to find the body?

Faith tried another tact. "Sara said that Anna told her that her last name is Lindsey. She's a corporate lawyer. We can call her office and see—"

Gently, Will lifted the plastic liner of the diaper pail beside the changing table. The diapers were old, certainly not the source of the more pungent smells in the apartment.

"Will—"

He went to the attached bathroom and checked the trash there. "I want to talk to the doorman."

"Why don't you let—"

Will left the room before she had finished. He walked into the living room again, checking under the couches, pulling the stuffing out of some of the chairs to see if anything—anyone—was hidden inside.

The cop was testing the coke, pleased with what he found. "This is a righteous bust. I need to call this in."

"Give me a minute," Will told him.

One of the paramedics asked, "You want us to stick around?"

Faith said "No" just as Will said "Yes."

He made himself clear. "Don't go anywhere."

Faith asked the man, "Do you know an EMT named Rick Sigler?"

"Rick? Yeah," the guy said, like he was surprised she'd asked.

Will blocked out their conversation. He went back to the front powder room, breathing through his mouth so the shit and piss wouldn't make him throw up. He closed the door then went back to the front entrance, the confetti dots. He stooped down to study at them. He was pretty sure they were in dried urine.

Will stood, going out into the hall and looking back in at the apartment. Anna's penthouse took up the entire top floor of the building. There were no other units, no neighbors. No one who could hear her scream or see her attacker.

The killer would've stood outside her door where Will stood now. He glanced down the hall, thinking the man might've come up the stairs—or maybe down. There was a fire exit. He could've been on the roof. Or maybe the worthless doorman would've let him in through the front entrance, even pressed the button for him on the elevator. There was a peephole in Anna's penthouse door. She would've checked it first. All of these women were cautious. Who would she let in? A delivery person. Maintenance. Maybe the doorman.

Faith was coming toward him. Her face was unreadable, but he knew her well enough to know what she was thinking: It's time to go.

Will looked down the hall again. There was another door halfway down on the wall opposite the apartment.

Faith said, "Will—" but he was already heading for the closed door. He opened it. There was a small metal door inside for the trash chute. Boxes were piled in a stack, recyclables. There was a basket for glass, one for cans. A baby rested in the bin for plastics. His eyes were closed to a slit, his lips slightly parted. His skin was white, waxy.

Faith came up behind Will. She grabbed his arm. Will could not move. The world had stopped spinning. He held on to the doorknob so his knees would not give out on him. A noise came out of Faith's mouth that sounded like a low keening.

The baby turned his head toward the sound, his eyes slowly opening.

"Oh, my God," Faith breathed. She pushed Will out of the way, dropping to her knees as she reached for the child. "Get help! Will, get help!"

Will felt the world speed back up again. "Out here!" he called to the paramedics. "Bring your kit!"

Faith held the baby close as she checked for cuts and bruises. "Little lamb," she whispered. "You're okay. I've got you now. You're okay."

Will watched her with the child, the way she smoothed back his hair and pressed her lips to his forehead. The baby's eyes were barely open, his lips white. Will wanted to say something, but his words kept getting caught in his throat. He felt hot and cold at the same time, like he might start sobbing right there in front of the world.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Faith murmured, her voice choked with anguish. Tears streamed down her face. Will had never seen her being a mother, at least not with an infant. It broke his heart to see this gentle side of Faith, the part of her that cared so deeply about another human being that her hands shook as she held the child close to her chest.

She whispered, "He's not crying. Why is he not crying?"

Will finally managed to speak. "He knows no one will come." He leaned down, cupping his hand around the boy's head as it rested on Faith's shoulder, trying not to think about the hours the child had spent alone up here, crying himself out, waiting for someone to come.

The paramedic gasped in surprise. He called to his partner as he took the baby from Faith. The diaper was full. The boy's belly was distended; his head lolled to the side.

"He's dehydrated." The medic checked his pupils for a reaction, lifting his chapped lips to check his gums. "Malnourished."

Will asked, "Is he going to be okay?"

The man shook his head. "I don't know. He's bad off."

"How long—" Faith's voice caught. "How long has he been in here?"

"I don't know," the man repeated. "A day. Maybe two."

"Two days?" Will asked, sure he was wrong. "The mom's been gone at least a week, maybe more."

"More than a week and he'd be dead." Gently, the medic turned the child over. "He's got sores from lying in one place for too long." He cursed under his breath. "I don't know how long it takes for this to happen, but someone's been giving him water, at least. You can't survive without it."

Faith said, "Maybe the prostitute . . ."

She didn't finish, but Will knew what she was saying. Lola had probably been keeping an eye on Anna's baby after Anna had been abducted. Then she'd gotten locked up and the kid was left alone. "If Lola was taking care of him," Will said, "she would need to get in and out of the building."

The elevator doors slid open. Will saw a second cop standing with Simkov, the doorman. There was a darkening bruise underneath his eye and his eyebrow was split where it had been slammed against the hard marble counter.

"That one." The doorman pointed triumphantly at Will. "He's the one who jumped me."

Will's fists tightened. His jaw was so clenched he thought his teeth might break. "Did you know this baby was up here?"

The doorman's sneer was back. "What do I know about a baby? Maybe the night guy was—" He stopped, looking into the open door of the penthouse. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he mumbled, then said something in his foreign tongue. "What did they do up here?"

"Who?" Will asked. "Who was up here?"

"Is that man dead?" Simkov asked, still staring into the trashed penthouse. "Holy Christ, look at this place. The smell!" He tried to go into the apartment, but the cop jerked him back.

Will gave the doorman another chance, carefully enunciating each word of his question. "Did you know this baby was up here?"

Simkov shrugged, his shoulders going up high to his ears. "What the fuck do I know what goes on up here with the rich people? I make eight dollars an hour and you want me to keep up with their lives?"

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