He handed Sara the phone, but still would not look her in the eye.

Curiosity had always been her weakness. Sara’s reading glasses were on the counter. She slipped them on so she could see the small details. The screen showed Evelyn Mitchell sitting beside a large plasma-screen TV. The sound was off, but Sara saw the weather woman pointing to the five-day forecast. Evelyn was looking off-camera, probably at the man filming her. Her face was a bloody mess. She moved stiffly, as if in a great deal of pain. Her words slurred as she began, “It’s Monday morning.”

Sara let the video play out, then put the phone down.

Faith was watching Sara closely. “How does she look?”

Sara took off her glasses. She could hardly render a medical opinion based on a grainy video, but it was obvious to anyone that Evelyn Mitchell had been very badly beaten. Still, she said, “She looks like she’s holding up.”

“That’s what I thought.” Faith turned to Will. “I told them I’d meet them at noon, but the email says twelve-thirty. Mom’s house.”

“Your mother’s house?” he repeated. “It’s still an active crime scene.”

“Maybe it’s been released. APD isn’t telling me anything. Let me find the email.” Faith moved her thumbs across the screen again and handed the phone to Will. “Oh,” she said, reaching for the device. “I forgot—”

“I’ve got it.” Will took Sara’s glasses off the counter and slipped them on. He stared at the phone for a few seconds. Sara couldn’t tell if he’d read the email or was just making a lucky guess when he said, “They want the money.”

Faith took the phone away from him. “There is no money.”

Will just stared at her.

“It’s not true,” Faith said. “It was never true. You couldn’t prove anything. She wasn’t dirty. Boyd and the rest of them were on the take, but Mom never took anything.”

“Faith,” Will said. “Your mother had a bank account.”

“So what? Everyone has a bank account.”

“An out-of-state bank account. It’s in your father’s name. She still has it. There’s been about sixty grand in and out of it as far as I can tell. There might be other accounts in other states, other names. I don’t know.”

Faith shook her head. “No. You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Because you can’t admit that you were wrong about her. She wasn’t dirty.” Tears filled her eyes. She had the look of someone who knew the truth but could not accept it. “She wasn’t.”

There was another knock at the door. Sara guessed that Abel Conford had finally noticed the extra cars in the parking lot. Wrong again.

“Good morning, Dr. Linton.” Amanda Wagner did not look pleased to be standing in the hallway. Her eyes were red. The makeup had been wiped off her nose. Her skin was darker where foundation and blush covered her cheeks.

Sara opened the door wider. She tightened her robe again, wondering where the nervous tic had come from. Perhaps it was because she was completely naked underneath and the black silk was as thin as crepe paper. She hadn’t planned on hosting a party this morning.

Faith seemed incensed to see Amanda. “What are you doing here?”

“Roz Levy called. She said you stole her car.”

“I left a note.”

“Which she strangely did not interpret as the proper way to ask for permission. Fortunately, I was able to talk her out of calling the police.” She smiled at Will. “Good morning, Dr. Trent.”

Will feigned a sudden fascination with the tiles on Sara’s kitchen floor.

“Wait a minute,” Faith said. “How did you know where I was?”

“Roz LoJacked the car. I called in a few favors at dispatch.”

“LoJack? It’s a nine-hundred-year-old Corvair. It’s worth five dollars.”

Amanda took off her coat and handed it to Sara. “I’m sorry to intrude on your morning, Dr. Linton. I love what you’ve done to your hair.”

Sara forced a smile onto her face as she hung the coat in the closet. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.” She turned to Will and Faith. “Should I be hurt that I wasn’t invited to this party?”

No one seemed up to answering her. Sara took three mugs down from the cabinet and poured coffee into each of them. She heard Evelyn Mitchell’s voice on the iPhone as Faith played the video for their new guest.

Amanda asked her to play it again, then a third time, before asking, “When did this come in?”

“A little over half an hour ago.”

“Read me the message that came with it.”

Faith read, “ ‘Twelve-thirty at 339 Little John. Bring the cash in a black duffel bag. Do not alert anyone. We are watching you. If you deviate from these instructions, she will be dead and so will you and your family. Remember what I said.’ ”

“Roger Ling.” Amanda’s voice was one of restrained fury. “I knew that bastard was lying. You can’t trust a goddamn word any of them say.” She seemed to realize the greater meaning of her words. Her mouth opened in surprise. “She’s alive.” She laughed. “Oh, God, I knew the old girl wouldn’t give up without a fight.” She put her hand to her chest. “How could I think for a minute that …” She shook her head. The smile on her face was so wide that she finally covered it with her hand.

Will asked the more important question. “Why would they want to meet at your mother’s house? It’s not secure. They won’t have the advantage. It doesn’t make sense.”

Faith answered, “It’s familiar. It’s easy to keep an eye on.”

Will said, “But there’s no way that the crime scene’s been released. It’ll take days to process everything.”

Amanda supplied, “The kidnappers must know something we don’t.”

“It could be a test,” Will countered. “If we clear out the forensic team, it’ll be obvious that Faith called the police. Or us.” He told Faith, “You pull up to the house and you’re out in the open. You go inside and you’re walking right into their hands. What’s to stop them from shooting you and taking the money? Especially if we can’t put in a tactical team to secure the area.”

“We can make do,” Amanda insisted. “There are only three routes in and out of that neighborhood. They make a move in either direction and we’ll have pistols at the ready.”

Will ignored the bravado. He opened the drawer by the refrigerator and took out a pen and pad of paper. He held the pen awkwardly in his left hand, resting the barrel between his middle and fourth finger. Sara watched as he covered the page with a large T, then drew two irregularly shaped squares—one on the arm of the T, one at the base. His spatial recollection was better than Sara would have guessed, but then, he’d probably been to Faith’s house several times.

He explained, “Faith’s house is on the corner here. Evelyn is here on Little John.” He traced an L-shaped line between the two houses. “We’ve got all this open space. They could block the intersection here and take her. They could park a van at the same spot and shoot her from a distance. She could pull into the driveway here, and up comes their black van. Two in the head, just like Castillo at the warehouse, or they could grab her and be on the interstate or Peachtree Road within five minutes. Or they could make it easy and set up here—” He drew an oblong square beside Evelyn’s house. “Roz Levy’s carport. She’s got a knee wall here where they could set up with a rifle. The bathroom window to Evelyn’s house faces Mrs. Levy’s. It’s down an incline. You can see straight through to the kitchen door from Mrs. Levy’s without anyone knowing. Faith comes in the door with the bag of cash and they drop her.”