Page 80 of This is Why We Lied

“I was trapped behind an accident for two hours. How did you get past?”

“How did you not?”

Amanda’s phone buzzed. She showed Faith the top of her head as she looked down at the screen. Her perfectly coifed salt and pepper hair was spiraled into its usual helmet. There was nary a wrinkle on her skirt and matching blazer. Her thumbs were a blur as she responded to a text that would be one of the thousands she received today. Amanda was a deputy director at the GBI, responsible for hundreds of employees, fifteen regional offices, six drug enforcement offices, and over a half dozen specialized units that were active in all 159 of Georgia’s counties.

Which begged the question from Faith, “What are you doing here? You know I can handle this.”

Amanda’s phone went into her jacket pocket. “The sheriff’s name is Douglas Hartshorne. His father was on the job for fifty years until a stroke forced him into retirement four years ago. Junior ran unopposed for the office. He seems to have inherited his father’s dislike of the agency. I was given a hard no when I offered to take over the case.”

“They call him Biscuits,” Faith supplied. “Which is good, because I keep wanting to say Douglath like Mr. Dink.”

“Do I look like a person who would enjoy that reference?”

Amanda looked like a person who was walking into the hospital. Faith followed her into the waiting room, which was packed with misery. All of the chairs were filled. People were leaning against the walls as they silently prayed for their names to be called. Faith had a flashback to her own early morning jaunts to the emergency department with her children. Jeremy had been the type of baby who could scream his way into a high fever. Fortunately, Emma had come along around the time Will had met Sara. There was something to be said for having a pediatrician as a close friend.

Which reminded Faith, “Where’s Sara?”

“She’s in lockstep with Will, as usual.”

Not exactly an answer, but Faith was over trying to poke that bear. Plus, Amanda was already opening the door to the back, despite the sign that warned STAFF ONLY.

They were met with even more misery. Patients were parked on gurneys along the hallway, but Faith didn’t see any nurses or doctors. They were probably behind the closed-off curtained areas that served as rooms. She could hear Amanda’s kitten heels stabbing the laminate tiles over the staccato of heart monitors and respirators. Faith silently tried to puzzle out why Amanda had driven two hours at oh-dark-thirty to come to a podunk town for an already-solved murder case that was well below her paygrade. Hell, it was even below Faith’s paltry paygrade. The GBI only stepped in after an investigation went sideways, and even then, their services had to be requested. Biscuits had made it clear he wasn’t interested.

Amanda stopped at the empty nurses’ station and tapped the bell. The ring barely registered over the sounds of moaning and machinery.

Faith asked, “Why are you really here?”

Amanda was on her phone again. “Will is supposed to be on his honeymoon. I’m not going to let this job suck the life out of him.”

Faith suppressed a whiny what about me? Amanda had always had a stealthy connection to Will. She’d been working patrol with the Atlanta Police Department when she’d found baby Will in a trash can. Until recently, he’d had no idea that Amanda’s invisible hand had been guiding him his entire life. Faith was dying to know more than the bullet points, but neither one of them were given to sharing deep, dark secrets, and Sara was annoyingly loyal to her husband.

Amanda looked up from her phone. “Do you like Dave for the murder?”

Faith hadn’t considered the question because it seemed so obvious. “He admitted to strangling Mercy. He didn’t offer an alibi. The aunt documented a long history of domestic violence. He was hiding in the woods. He resisted arrest. If you can call ten seconds of machismo and thirty seconds of vomiting resisting.”

“The family seems strangely unaffected by the loss.”

Faith guessed that meant Amanda had listened to Will’s audio files, too. Faith had spent so much time listening to them in the car that she’d practically memorized some of Delilah’s observations. “The aunt says there’s a solid money motivation. She described Mercy’s brother as serial-killer-collecting-women’s-panties-reclusive. She called her own brother an abusive asshole. She said her sister-in-law was a cold fish. And that Bitty threatened to put a knife in Mercy’s back a few hours before she had a knife broken off in her back.”

“Delilah also said something about the exhibitionists in cottage five.”

Faith had wanted to know more about that part, too, but only because she was as nosey as Delilah. “Chuck sounds like he’d be interesting to talk to. He’s close to the brother. He might know some secrets. Then there’s the rich assholes who were trying to buy the lodge.”

“We’ll never get to them. They’ll have lawyers on top of lawyers,” Amanda said. “How many guests are staying at the lodge?”

“I’m not sure. The website says they don’t allow more than twenty total guests at a time. If you like being outside and sweating, the place looks fantastic. I couldn’t find out how much it costs, but I’m assuming eleventy billion dollars. Will must’ve spent an entire year’s pay on that place.”

“Another reason to keep him out of this,” Amanda said. “I want you to handle the interview with Dave. He was transported here by ambulance. Sara wanted to rule out testicular torsion.”

Faith knew it wasn’t funny, but she found it a little funny. “What code should I use for that in the report? Eighty-eight?”

Amanda walked straight past Faith. She had spotted Sara at the end of the hallway. Once again, Faith found herself skipping to catch up. Sara was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and cargo pants. Her hair was piled onto the top of her head. She looked exhausted as she squeezed Faith’s arm.

“Faith, I’m so sorry you got pulled into this. I know you had your whole week planned out with Emma.”

“She’ll be fine,” Amanda said, because toddlers were super chill about unexpected changes. “Where’s Will?”

“Getting cleaned up in the bathroom. I had him soak his hand in a dilute Betadine solution before he was stitched up. The blade missed the nerves, but I’m still worried about infection.”