Maybe Will was right. Michael was certainly a jerk, and he beat his wife, and he had probably raped Angie that night she had been too drunk to know better, but that didn’t mean he was mixed up in all of this. So why was she here?

“Shit,” she hissed, turning around to crawl back out the way she’d come. She stopped mid-crouch as she heard a noise. A whimper? Was that what she had heard? Did Michael have a dog now?

Angie froze, listening. The sound didn’t repeat itself, and she wondered for a half second if she was losing her mind. The fact that she had broken into a man’s house did bring her sanity into question.

Still, Angie stood up. She might as well finish what she started. She left her shoes by the door. She hated being barefooted, but she didn’t want the flip-flop sound to follow her through the house.

She stopped midway through the kitchen, hearing a car drive by. Angie listened, her ears straining. A door opened and slammed shut, but it was across the street. She heard somebody call a hello, a conversation start up, and she unclenched her ass. Christ, all she needed was for Michael to come home and find her snooping around his house.

The living room was what she would expect: an overstuffed couch and a big-screen television. She glanced down the hallway, but Angie didn’t want to go into the bedrooms. She didn’t want to see where Michael screwed his wife, know that this was the place where he probably beat Gina.

Had he beaten Angie? She didn’t know. Her arms were bruised the next day, her privates on fire with pain. She had passed out in the car and he had done whatever he wanted to do. The stupid fucker. Couldn’t he tell by looking at her that she could do pretty much anything? It wasn’t like he had to wait for her to pass out.

There was a door at the back of the living room. A hasp lock bolted it shut. She tried to orient herself, figuring the garage was on the other side of the door. Why would he have such a serious lock on the garage door when anybody could come in through the dog door? And why would the windows be blacked out?

Angie walked over to the door, put her ear to the cool metal. The hinge on the lock squeaked as she pried it open. She put her hand on the knob and opened the door. The room was pitch-black, and she groped along the wall for the light switch. The fluorescent bulbs flickered on and off several times, and in the strobe she saw a workbench, a lawn mower, a pool table.

The lights stayed on. A naked young girl was tied to the pool table. Her mouth was gagged, her face bloody. Her eyes opened wide at the sight of Angie, the whites showing in a complete circle around her irises. Except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest, she wasn’t moving.

Angie’s breath caught. She felt a sharp, searing pain at the back of her skull, then saw a blinding explosion as she crumpled to the floor. She heard the girl sobbing, a man laughing, and then nothing at all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

10:13 AM

Will leaned back in his chair, looking out at the dismal view his office afforded. He picked up his phone and tried Angie’s cell again, waiting until it went over into voice mail before disconnecting. He’d been trying to call her for the last hour, first on her home line, then on her cell. She’d told him she was going straight home, and it wasn’t like her not to answer when he called. Even if she was mad at Will, Angie would have picked up the phone at least to cuss him out and tell him to stop calling.

She had been right about one thing at least. John Shelley hadn’t said a word from the moment Will had put him in the car.

Leo Donnelly knocked on Will’s office door, opening it before he was told to. “Lawyer’s here.”

“Thank you.”

“Claims she’s a friend of his sister’s.”

Will stood up, slipped on his jacket. “You don’t believe her?”

Leo handed Will a business card, saying, “She’s a real estate lawyer.” He lowered his voice. “Hot-looking dyke.”

Will didn’t know what he was expected to say. He stared at the card for an appropriate amount of time before tucking it into his vest pocket.

Leo walked beside Will up the hallway. “I gotta tell you, she’s a big loss for our side. Know what I mean?”

Will didn’t want to have this conversation, so he asked, “Have you ever heard Michael mention John Shelley?”

“The perp?” Leo pursed his lips, thought about it. “Nope.”

“There’s a woman who works in Vice—Angie Polaski.”

Leo’s mouth shot up in a knowing grin. “Yeah, I know her.”

Will opened the doorway to the stairs. Leo didn’t look pleased that they weren’t taking the elevator down the two flights to the interrogation rooms, but the man should be glad Will wasn’t punching that grin off his face.

He told Leo, “Detective Polaski said that a couple of months ago, Michael warned her and some of the girls to look out for a con named John Shelley.”

Leo’s smile faltered as they reached the landing. “Mike knew about this guy before?”

“Seems like it.”

Leo continued down the stairs, his fingers trailing the handrail. He stopped on the landing and Will turned around.

“Listen,” Leo said. He glanced over the railing, lowered his voice. “This Polaski chick…Mike threw her a bone a while back. He’s a married guy, you know, really loves his wife but it’s not like he’s gonna say no to getting his knob polished, especially by something like that. Know what I mean?”

“What happened?”

“Polaski didn’t understand the rules. She was looking for something a little more permanent. Mike tried to let her down easy, but she’s had a real hard-on for him ever since.”

Will almost laughed at the thought of someone thinking Angie wanted to be in a serious relationship. He continued down the stairs, asking, “You think she’s making it up?”

“I think hell hath no fury, you know?”

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “But why would she make up something like that?”

Leo took a few seconds to think of an answer. He finally shrugged. “Women, you know?”

“Didn’t you tell me the other day that Gina filed a restraining order against Michael for beating her?”

“Well…” Leo stopped again. “Yeah. So?”

Will kept walking. “You didn’t seem to think she was making that up.”

“No,” Leo admitted. He rubbed his thumb along his chin, a tell Will had picked up on within minutes of meeting the detective. He hoped the man never played poker. “It’s like this,” Leo eventually said, “Mike called me last night and asked me how the case was going.”

“He called me, too.”

“What’d you tell him?”

Will opened the door to the second floor. “Probably the same as you. We don’t have anything to go on.”

“Yeah, but then I mentioned that you’d asked me to pull the sex offenders list. He got all hot and bothered about it. Said it was fucking brilliant.” Leo gave Will an apologetic half-smile. “I don’t think I’m squeezing your toes when I say that going through those files was a Hail Mary if there ever was one.”

Will nodded. Shelley had been included in his group of registered offenders, but the parole sheet lacked the details Caroline had pulled for him. If Angie hadn’t asked Will to look into the man, then Shelley would probably still be out in the street.