If he squinted at the view back across the interstate, he could pick out the familiar salmon-colored façade of the Four Seasons Hotel.

“Another case solved by the glorious GBI.” Leo Donnelly laughed around the cigarette in his mouth. As usual, the homicide detective was dressed in a tan suit that was probably already wrinkled when he picked it up off the floor this morning. His new partner, a young guy named Jamal Hodge, nodded at Faith.

Leo winked at her. “Lookin’ good across the chest, Mitchell. I guess you’re still nursing?”

“Fuck off, Leo.” Faith took her notebook out of her purse. “When’d the call come in?”

Leo pulled out his own notebook. “Four thirty-eight in the cheery a.m. Janitor comes on shift, sees her and freaks. His name’s Otay Keehole.”

“Utay Keo,” Jamal corrected.

“Lookit Poindexter here.” Leo shot him a nasty look. “Ooo-Tay is a student at Tech. Twenty-four years old. Lives with his baby mama. No priors.”

Faith asked, “How’s he look for this?”

Jamal supplied, “Not likely.”

Leo made a show of closing his notebook. He took a drag on his cigarette, staring at Jamal. “Janitor’s two years out of Cambodia. Works off his student visa. Voluntarily submitted to fingerprinting and DNA. No record. No motive. I’m sure he’s popped a few whores in his day—who hasn’t?—but he doesn’t even have a car. Took the bus here.”

Will asked, “You ID’d the victim off her credit cards?”

Jamal held out his hands, indicating Leo should answer.

“We’re pretty sure it’s Snyder,” Leo said. “Face is a mess, but the blonde hair is a giveaway.”

Will asked, “Have you notified the family?”

“Mom’s dead. Daddy’s flying back from a business trip in Salt Lake. Should be here this afternoon.”

Jamal added, “We asked for dental records.”

“Great, thanks,” Faith mumbled. She was probably thinking about the father’s long flight home, the moment at the morgue when his life would forever be changed.

They all turned back to the Dumpster. The crowd had dispersed so the crime scene techs could begin the arduous process of cataloguing the scene.

Will looked down at the woman’s twisted body. Long blonde hair draped across her face. She was on her back. Her arms were turned, wrists open to the sky. Her face was a bloody pulp, probably unrecognizable to even her closest friends. Her fingernails were painted bright red. Blood glued her clothes to her skin. Will could guess what was underneath the tight T-shirt and flowered skirt.

Leo said, “Here’s something you don’t see every day: guy pummeled her gut until her intestines shit out. You can’t find that kind of thing on YouTube.” He chuckled to himself. “At least, not until I figure out how to work the camera on my phone.”

“Lord help us,” Jamal muttered. He headed toward Charlie Reed, the GBI crime scene investigator.

“Come on, Hodge,” Leo called to his back. “It’s funny.”

Faith said, “Smart, Leo. You really want to piss off the deputy chief’s grandson?”

Will glanced at Faith. Her voice sounded a little shaky. She had never been good around bodies, but through sheer determination she held her own. One crack in her shell and Leo or someone like him would turn Faith into a joke every squad room was laughing about by morning roll call. Faith had once told Will that working with Leo was like watching a wind-up monkey that couldn’t quite get the cymbals to meet.

Will knew better than to ask if she was okay. Instead, he knelt beside the body, keeping his distance so he wouldn’t taint the area. The crime scene photographers weren’t waiting for the sun. Their digital cameras and computers were laid out on a folding table. One of the women turned on the diesel generator. The xenon lights flickered. The victim’s hand showed stark against the asphalt. Her red manicured nails glistened as if they were still wet.

Faith asked Leo, “What’s this building? Is it still a community center?”

“Dunno.” Leo shrugged. “Guess they named it after that guy on the radio.”

Will stood up too quickly. He fought a wave of dizziness. “Clark Howell was the publisher of The Atlanta Constitution.”

“No shit?” Leo asked.

“He’s chock-full of fascinating trivia today,” Faith said. “Do you have any leads?”

“What’s it to you?”

Faith put her hands on her hips. “Don’t be an asshole, Leo. You know this is a state case. Do you have any leads, or should I ask Jamal?”

Leo reluctantly offered, “I made some calls, checked with downtown. There’s nobody on our books what would knock the shit out of a girl like this.” He laughed at his own joke. “Literally.”

“She have any enemies?”

“Y’all should know more about that than me.”

“What about a drug problem?”

Leo sniffed, rubbing his nose. “Nothing serious, from what I’ve heard.”

“Coke or meth?”

“She’s a student. What do you think?”

“Meth,” Faith said. “And watch the generalities, Leo. My kid goes to Tech. He doesn’t hit anything harder than Red Bull.”

“Sure.”

“Faith,” Amanda called. She was at the edge of the parking lot, waving them over. Faith shot Leo a nasty look as they headed toward Amanda.

Leo yelled at their backs, “No, don’t thank me, Officers. It was my pleasure.”

Amanda was digging around in her purse when they joined her. She pulled out her BlackBerry. The case was still cracked from her fall. She scrolled through her emails while she talked. “Patrol found a jogger who saw a suspicious green minivan circling the area shortly after four this morning.”

“He just came forward?” Faith looked at her watch. “Was he jogging for two hours?”

“That sounds like a good question to start with. He lives there, apartment two-six-twenty.” Amanda indicated the building across the street. “Make sure you get him on paper. All the t’s crossed and i’s dotted.”

Will said, “I’ll talk to him.” He made to go, but Amanda stopped him.

“Faith, you do this.”

Faith gave him a look of apology before heading toward the apartment building.

Amanda held up a finger, silencing Will. She read a few more emails before dropping her BlackBerry into her purse. “You know you can’t work this case.”

“I don’t see how you’re going to stop me.”

“This has to look good on paper. We can’t have it falling apart in court.”

“It held up in court the last time and he still got out.”

“Welcome to the criminal justice system. I rather thought you were familiar with it by now.”

Will stared across the interstate. Rush hour was gearing up. Cars were starting to clog the fourteen lanes. He saw a sign for one of the Emory hospitals. Sara had gone to Emory University. Grady was part of their teaching system. She would be getting ready for work right now. Showering, drying her hair. Will usually walked the dogs before he left. He wondered if she missed that.