Page 82 of This is Why We Lied

Amanda kept her eyes on Sara for a moment longer, then turned and walked away. “Faith?”

Faith guessed that was her cue that they were leaving. She pumped her fist in solidarity with Sara before jogging to catch up again. She told Amanda, “You have to know Sara’s not going to let a teenager who just lost his mother disappear off the grid.”

“Jeremy was self-sufficient by the age of sixteen.”

Jeremy had eaten so much cheese at the age of sixteen that Faith had been forced to seek medical intervention. “Teenage boys aren’t as resilient as you think.”

Amanda bypassed the elevators and took the stairs. Her mouth was set in a tight line. Faith wondered if she was thinking about Will at that age, but then she reminded herself there was no use trying to get inside Amanda’s head. She tried to focus her brain on interviewing Dave instead.

During the two hours she’d been parked on the interstate, Faith had taken the time to look up David Harold McAlpine’s criminal record. His juvenile file was sealed, but there were plenty of charges on his adult sheet, all of them the types of crimes you’d expect from an addict who beats his wife. Dave had been in and out of jail for various offenses, from bar fights to stealing cars to boosting baby formula to drunk driving to domestic violence. Very few of the charges had stuck, which was curious, but unsurprising.

Like Amanda, like Faith’s own mother, Faith had started her career as a beat cop with the Atlanta Police Department. She knew how to read between the lines of a rap sheet. The explanation behind the repeated failures to prosecute DV charges successfully was obvious—Mercy had refused to testify. The curious lack of serious consequences on the other offenses pointed to a man who indiscriminately snitched on his fellow inmates in order to get his ass out of jail or keep himself from going to Big Boy prison.

That’s where the unsurprising part came in. A lot of men who beat on their wives were remarkably petty cowards.

Amanda pushed open the door at the top of the stairs. Faith joined her a few seconds later. The hallway lights were dimmed. There was no one manning the nurses’ station across from the elevator. Faith saw a board on the wall that listed patient names and nurse assignments. There were ten rooms, all full, but only one nurse.

“Dave McAlpine,” Faith read. “Room eight. What are the odds?”

They both turned when the elevator doors opened. Will was wearing a button-down plaid shirt and a pair of scrubs that were too short for his long legs. Faith could see his black socks peeking out of the tops of his boots. He was cradling his bandaged right hand to his chest. There were tiny scrapes on his neck and face.

Amanda gave him her usual warm welcome. “Why are you dressed like a surgeon in a Ska band?”

Will said, “Dave vomited all over my pants.”

“Yeah he did.” Faith saved the high-five for later. “Sara told us you smashed his balls into his bladder.”

Amanda gave a short sigh. “I’ll go inform the sheriff that he will welcome our assistance on this investigation.”

“Good luck,” Will said. “He’s been adamant about keeping the case.”

“I imagine he’s also adamant about not wanting every business in his county scrutinized for undocumented workers and child labor violations.”

Faith watched Amanda walk away, which was the theme of her morning. She told Will, “I’m handling the interrogation. Anything I should know?”

“I placed him under arrest for assault and resisting. Biscuits agreed not to say anything about the murder, so as far as I know, Dave doesn’t know we found the body. His biggest concern is he thinks I saw him strangle Mercy on the trail yesterday.”

“Dude thinks you’d just stand there while he strangled a woman?” Faith liked a gullible suspect. “Sounds like I might be home in time to drive Emma to Clown Camp.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Will said. “Don’t underestimate Dave. He puts on a stupid hillbilly act, but he’s manipulative, cunning, and cruel.”

Faith was having a hard time getting a read off what Will was trying to tell her. “His sheet is littered with idiot crimes. The worst sentence he ever got was half a nickel in county lock-up for grand theft auto. The judge gave him work-release.”

“He’s a snitch.”

“Exactly. Snitches don’t tend to be criminal masterminds, and he’s gotten caught a lot of times for somebody you’re calling cunning. What am I missing?”

“That I know him.” Will looked down at his bandaged hand. “Dave was at the children’s home when I was there. He ran away when he was thirteen. He came up here. There’s an old campground. It’s a long story, but Dave will probably bring it up that we have a history, so you should be ready for it.”

Faith felt like her eyebrows were going to disappear into her scalp. Now it was making sense. “What else?”

“He used to bully me,” Will said. “Nothing physical, but he was an asshole. We called him the Jackal.”

Faith couldn’t imagine Will being bullied. Setting aside that he was a giant, there was the age difference. “Dave’s four years younger than you. How did that work?”

“He’s not four years younger than me. Where did you get that?”

“His criminal sheet. His birthday’s all over the place.”