Page 104 of Sharp Force

“Okay, this needs to stop,” Calvin says, getting up from the sofa, staring at us in disgust as he moves in front of the window.

“The more you answer my questions with questions, the less you’re helping yourself,” Benton tells his nephew.

“That’s enough!” the senator warns while typing on his phone.

“It’s okay, Uncle Calvin. They need my help.”

“I’d like to take a look at you, Zain.” I open the file folder the surgeon gave me, glancing at the diagrams of his injuries before they were treated.

Zain throws back the sheet with his good arm, his slender legs scattered with blond hair that’s almost transparent. Self-conscious, he tugs down the johnnie. But not before I see the pale linear scars on his upper thighs.

“Tell us what happened.” Benton pulls a chair close to the bed, sitting down.

I’m noticing more of the fine pale scars on the underside of Zain’s right arm. He has them on his ankles, and Benton sees them, too. I think of the double-sided razor blades in the cabinet of the third-floor bathroom inside Georgine’s house.

“I was home all night,” Zain says.

“Alone?” Benton asks.

“Georgine had gone to a party at the hospital and was home around nine.”

“Do you mind opening your johnnie?” I say to him. “Just to the waist.”

He does, and the pale linear scars are on his abdomen. There are numerous healed burns near his navel.

“How did she get home?” Benton asks. “The weather was pretty bad by then.”

“Graden Crowley walked her home.”

“In the snow?” Benton frowns. “The house is a pretty good hike from the hospital in weather like that.”

“They weren’t outside,” Zain says. “They used the tunnel.”

He verifies that Georgine routinely left the house through the basement door, taking the tunnel back and forth to the hospital. She used the tunnel to work out in the fitness center. Zain explains that it has an indoor lap pool, and she liked to swim.

“Did it every day,” he says as I continue checking him. “It’s one of the things she likes best about staying on Mercy Island. She didn’t have to drive anywhere to work out in the gym.”

“What about you?” Benton asks. “Did you take the tunnel to get around?”

“Never.” He shakes his head as I check a bruise on his upper left forehead. “I find the tunnel creepy. And I’m not into the gym. Too boring.”

“I hear you have a vintage Cougar?” Benton says. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it parked at the White House.”

“I’m careful where I drive it.” Zain stares out the window.

“It was his father’s car.” The senator speaks up. “He died when Zain was fourteen.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” I reply.

“I drive Georgine’s car mostly,” Zain explains without looking at Benton or me. “Much safer. Airbags and all that. The Cougar is meant to be for fun. Most of the time it’s in the garage.”

“After his father passed away, I had the car refurbished and gave it to Zain as a high school graduation present,” his uncle says with a forced smile. “Not really for transportation as much as something he’ll always want to keep.”

“Surveillance cameras have recorded the electric Cadillac Lyriqparked at West Exec multiple times. I know because I asked,” Benton tells Zain.

“She’s generous about letting me use her car. She was.” His lower lip trembles. “And when she was on the island, she didn’t need to drive. I would run most of the errands. Like going to the store. But we use DoorDash a lot, ordering in.”

“When you stayed with her did you ever have the cameras on inside the house?” Benton asks, and Zain shakes his head.