“I can’t believe how many conversations I’ve had with you over the last two years, and you never told me about this.”

Will left her to wonder why on her own.

Faith crossed the interstate. The athlete dorms that had been built for the Olympics had the Georgia Tech logo on them now. The old stadium was being remodeled. The streets were freshly paved. Brick inlays carpeted the sidewalks. Even this early in the morning, students were out jogging. Faith turned at the next light. She was more than familiar with the area. Her son was currently enrolled at Georgia Tech. Her mother had gotten her doctorate here. Faith had finished her four-year degree at the university so she could qualify for employment with the GBI.

Faith slid a piece of notebook paper out from her visor. Will saw that she’d scribbled directions on it. She slowed the car, mumbling, “Centennial Park North … here we go.” Finally, she turned onto a side street, downshifting as they went up a hill. The area was filled with upscale brick apartment buildings and townhouses. The cars on the street were nice—newer Toyotas and Fords with an occasional BMW thrown in. The grass was trimmed. The eaves and windows were painted a crisp white. Satellite dishes dotted every other balcony. The compound was designed to be mixed income, which meant a handful of poor people lived in the less desirable units and the rest went for top dollar. Will imagined that some of the betteroff students lived here rather than the dorms, where Faith’s son resided.

“Zell Miller Center,” Faith read from the sign. “Clark Howell Community Building. Here we go.” She slowed the car to a crawl. The directions weren’t really needed anymore. Two cruisers blocked the street. Police tape cordoned off a group of residents. Most were in pajamas and robes. A few of the joggers had stopped to find out what was happening.

Faith had to drive down several blocks to find a space. She pulled up onto a berm and jerked up the parking brake. She asked Will, “Are you okay?”

He was going to ignore the question, but that didn’t seem fair. “We’ll see,” he managed, then got out of the car before she could say anything else.

The streetlights were still on, supplementing the rising sun. Two newscopters hovered overhead. Their whirring blades chopped the air into white noise. More reporters were camped out down the road. Cameras were set up on tripods. Reporters were checking their makeup, scribbling their notes.

Will didn’t wait for Faith. He headed back toward the crime scene, where he could see Amanda Wagner was waiting.

Her arm was in a sling, the only indication that she’d spent the night in the hospital. She stood on the sidewalk dressed in her usual monochromatic skirt, blouse, and jacket. Two burly patrolmen were looking down at her, nodding as she gave them orders. They looked like football players huddled before a snap.

As Will and Faith approached Amanda, the patrolmen jogged off toward the bystanders, probably to get names and photos so they could run them through the database. Amanda was old school with all her investigations. She didn’t rely on a blood sample or a stray hair to sway a jury. She worked the case until she got a resolution that no logical human being could ever doubt.

She also didn’t bother with small talk. “I don’t want you here.”

“Then why did you call me?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t stay away.”

Amanda didn’t wait for a response. She turned on her heel, heading toward the community building. Will easily matched her brisk pace. Uncharacteristically, Faith kept her distance, trailing several feet behind.

Amanda said, “We’re covered up in red tape. As you know, this whole area used to be a slum. The state emptied it out for the Olympics. The city got its finger in the pie. Tech got a piece of it. The Parks Department had its say. The Housing Authority. The Historical Register, which is a joke if there ever was one. We’ve got more jurisdictions than news vans. APD is supplementing for now, but it’s our techs and our ME handling the evidence.”

“I want to sit in on the autopsy.”

“It’ll be hours before—”

“I’ll wait.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Will thought it was a terrible idea, but that wasn’t going to stop him. “You need to bring him in for questioning.”

“Why would I do that?”

The fact that her voice sounded so reasonable made Will want to punch her. “You read my father’s file.”

She stopped, looking up at him. “Yes.”

“You think it’s a coincidence that he got out of prison and a dead student was found dumped at Techwood?”

“Coincidences happen all the time.” Her usual certainty was showing some cracks. “I can’t bring him in without probable cause, Will. Due process? The Fourth Amendment? Any of these inalienable rights ringing a bell?”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“I’ve found it’s within the purview of rich white men to avoid such unpleasantries.”

Will realized that she’d backed him into a corner. “Still—”

“There’s nothing more to say.” Amanda continued walking. “We have a tentative ID on Ashleigh Snyder. They found her purse in the Dumpster. Her credit cards were there but her license was missing. So was her cash.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Bless the Sunshine Laws.” Georgia’s freedom of information act was one of the most liberal in the country. Inmates were especially fond of the law.

Will said, “He’s staying at the Four Seasons Hotel.”

“I’m aware of that,” she acknowledged. “We lost track of him for two hours yesterday afternoon, but I’ve made certain that won’t happen again.”

“He’s been out almost two months.”

Amanda didn’t immediately answer. “I’ve never understood time off for good behavior. It’s prison. Shouldn’t you be on your best behavior at all times?”

“No one told me when he got out.”

“That’s the thing about having a sealed juvenile record, Will. They aren’t allowed to notify you unless you ask them to.”

“He was supposed to die in there.”

“I know.”

One of the patrolmen called out, “Dr. Wagner?”

Amanda said, “You two go on.” She waited for the cop to join her.

Will kept walking. Faith had to jog to keep up. She asked, “What was that about?”

He could only shake his head as they entered the mouth of the parking lot. The ground sloped downward. In the back of the lot, a group of detectives formed a half circle around the body. The woman was in front of a large Dumpster area. Brick walls horseshoed the metal container. The tall metal doors stood open. The lock was hanging off the latch, the ring broken. Someone had already marked it with a yellow tag so it could be catalogued as evidence.

Will glanced around, feeling watched. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. He scanned the area. The community center was on the opposite side of the parking lot. More apartments edged the perimeter. Their white garage doors were like teeth against the gum of the red brick. There was a playground in the distance, with brightly colored tunnels and swings. The Coca-Cola building loomed on the horizon.