“We have to verify this,” she’d said, though what Roger Ling had told Will was merely a confirmation of a truth Will realized he had been sensing for most of the day.

Amanda must’ve known it, too. That was the only explanation for her earlier capitulation inside the prison waiting room. She had admitted that Evelyn was tainted because she’d known there was no reason to protect her anymore. The twenty-four-hour mark had come and gone. There had been no contact from the kidnappers. There was blood all over Evelyn’s kitchen floor, a lot of it—maybe most of it—from Evelyn. The young men they were dealing with had proven themselves to be remorseless killers, nothing more than assassins, even when it was against members of their own crew.

The odds that Evelyn Mitchell had even made it through the night were close to nil.

Will had told her, “Faith has to know.”

“I’ll tell her when I know for sure.” Her voice sounded flat, lifeless. “We meet at seven tomorrow morning. The whole team. If you’re a minute late, then don’t bother coming.”

“I’ll be there.”

“We’re going to find her. I have to see her with my own eyes.”

“Okay.”

“And if what Roger said is true, we’ll find the boys who did this, and we will rain down hell on them. Every last one. We will hound them into the ground.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her voice was so low and tired he could barely hear her. “I will not rest until every single one of them is put to death. I want to watch them slip the needle in and see their feet twitch and their eyes roll and their chests freeze. And if the state won’t kill them, then I’ll do it myself.” Amanda had pushed open the door and gotten out of the car. Will could see the effort it took her to keep her back straight as she walked up the stairs. If it were up to Amanda, if there was a way for her to will her friend to be alive, then there would be no question of Evelyn’s survival.

But that just wasn’t the case.

The garage door finally finished opening. Will pulled in and pressed the button to close the door. The garage had not been an original part of the house. Will had added on the structure in the neighborhood’s more transitional days, back when junkies knocked on his door wondering if this was still a crack den. The entrance was awkward and led into the spare bedroom. Betty raised her head from the pillow when she saw Will. There was a puddle in the corner that neither one of them was ready to talk about.

Will turned on the lights as he walked through the house. There was a chill in the air. He cracked open the kitchen door so Betty could go outside. She hesitated.

“It’s all right,” he told her, using as soothing a tone as he could muster. Her injuries were healing, but the dog still remembered last week when a hawk had swooped into the yard and tried to pick her up. And Will could still remember the groomer’s uncontrollable laughter when he’d told the man that a hawk had mistaken his dog for a rat.

Betty finally went outside, but not without a wary glance over her shoulder. Will put his car key on the hook and placed his wallet and gun on the kitchen table. The pizza from yesterday was still in the refrigerator. Will took out the box but couldn’t do anything more than stare at the gelatinous slices.

He wanted to call Sara, but this time his motivations were purely selfish. He wanted to tell her what had happened today. He wanted to ask her if it was right to wait to tell Faith that her mother was dead. He wanted to describe to her the way it felt to see Amanda brought so low. That it scared him to see her fallen so far from her pedestal.

Instead, he returned the pizza box to the fridge, made sure the back door was still cracked open, and went to take a shower. It was almost midnight. He’d been up since five this morning, having slept only a few hours the night before. Will stood under the stream of hot water, trying to wash away his day. The grime of Valdosta State Prison. The warehouse where he’d been shot at. Grady, where he’d felt dizzy with fear. Coastal, where he’d sweated so much that rings were still under the arms of his shirt.

Will thought about Betty while he dried his hair. She’d been stuck in the house all day. The puddle was a responsibility they both shared. As late as it was, he couldn’t see himself sleeping. He should take her for a walk. They could both do with stretching their legs.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and a dress shirt that was too worn to wear to work anymore. The collar was frayed. One of the buttons was broken, dangling by a thread.

He walked into the kitchen to get Betty’s leash.

Angie was sitting at the table. “Welcome home, baby. How was your day?”

Will would’ve rather driven to Coastal and faced Roger Ling again than have to talk to his wife right now.

She stood. Her arms went around his shoulders. She put her mouth close to his. “Aren’t you going to tell me hello?”

Her hands stroking his neck felt nothing like Sara’s. “Stop.”

She pulled away, feigning a pout. “Is that any kind of welcome for your wife?”

“Where have you been?”

“Since when do you care?”

He thought about it. She had posed a legitimate question. “I don’t, really. I just—” The words came out easier than he’d thought. “I don’t want you here.”

“Hmm.” She tucked her chin down, crossed her arms. “Well, I suppose this was inevitable. I can’t leave you alone after all.”

She had closed the back door. He opened it. Betty ran in. She saw Angie and growled.

Angie said, “Looks like none of the women in your life are happy to see me.”

He felt the hair on the back of his neck go up. “What are you talking about?”

“Sara didn’t tell you?” Angie paused, but he couldn’t answer her. “It’s Sara, right? That’s her name?” She gave a breathy laugh. “I have to say, Will, but she’s a little plain for you. I mean she’s all right up top, but she’s got no ass to speak of and she’s almost taller than you are. I thought you liked your women more womanly.”

Will still couldn’t talk. His blood had frozen in his veins.

“She was here when I got home yesterday. Lingering in the bedroom. Didn’t she tell you?”

Sara hadn’t told him. Why hadn’t she told him?

“She colors her hair. You know that, right? Those highlights aren’t natural.”

“What did you …?”

“I’m just letting you know she’s not the perfect little angel you think she is.”

Will forced the words out of his mouth. “What did you say to her?”

“I asked her why she was fucking my husband.”

His heart stopped. This was the reason Sara had been crying yesterday afternoon. This explained her initial coldness when he showed up at her house last night. Will’s heart clenched like a vise was around it. “You are not allowed to talk to her ever again.”

“You’re trying to protect her?” She laughed. “Jesus, Will. That’s hilarious considering I’m trying to protect you.”

“You don’t—”

“She’s got a thing for cops. You know that, right?” She shook her head at his stupidity. “I looked into her husband. He was quite a catch. Fucked anything that moved.”