The Will Trent Series 7-Book Bundle

by Karin Slaughter

  Cayla asked, “What’re you gonna do, Shawn? Turn state’s evidence? Go to the cops and tell them you’re sorry?”

  “Stop talking.”

  “You gonna shoot me in the chest, Shawn? That what you promised Chuck you was gonna do? Murder me?” Her words were strong, but she took a step back. “You know we gotta get rid of him or he’ll go straight to the cops.”

  “He won’t go to the cops!” Franklin screamed. “He’s a con. He’s on parole!”

  Will stared down at the floor so he didn’t give himself away. He had no idea why Franklin had maintained his cover.

  And he would never find out.

  Tony Dell pushed open the saloon doors to the kitchen. Will couldn’t guess how long he’d been standing there. He’d obviously heard enough.

  Tony took three steps across the room and jammed his knife into Franklin’s neck.

  Franklin’s mouth opened. He dropped the gun. He put one hand to his throat, tried to steady the handle of the knife with the other.

  And then Tony pulled out the blade.

  Blood shot out of the wound like a water pistol.

  Franklin went down on one knee. He gasped for air. Will could hear his breath wheezing through the open slit in his neck.

  Cayla said, “Jesus, Tony, finish it.”

  Tony didn’t want to. He was soaking in the spectacle of Franklin’s death. The blood pouring out of his neck. The way his fingers quivered as he reached out for help. Franklin finally lost his balance. His whole body shifted, his knee slipping out from under him. His shoulder hit the floor. Blood pooled around his head. His fingers kept trembling. A pungent odor filled the air. His big chest rose for one last breath that he would never let go.

  And then it was over.

  “Damn,” Tony whispered. “I think he shit hisself.”

  Cayla slapped Tony on the back of the head. “How many times do I have to call you? I swear to God, I thought Shawn was gonna arrest me outside the hospital. I told you he wasn’t right with this.”

  “You wanna stop your yapping and thank me for risking my neck to get here?” Tony wiped the knife blade on his jeans before shoving it into his boot. “They’s twenty squad cars set up on the other side of the highway. I had to take the back way.”

  “Well, poor you.” Cayla picked up her still-burning cigarette from the floor. She grabbed Franklin’s Glock and tossed it into the kitchen. “Take care of Bud and bring my suitcase. If we gotta go the back roads, I’m gonna be late for my flight.”

  Tony said, “Shit, you don’t gotta get there four hours ahead. That’s for them, not you.”

  “You ever been on an international flight before?” she demanded. Tony’s expression gave him away. “Just be quick, and don’t forget to bring my suitcase.” She opened the door, but didn’t leave. She walked over to Will and jammed her fingers into his front pocket. He kept his body as still as he could. She pulled out the keys to Sara’s BMW. “Might as well drive there in style.”

  Tony slapped her ass. “Hell yeah, baby.”

  Cayla gave Will a nasty look. Her voice went from her usual high-pitched singsong to a witch’s snarl. “Make it hurt, baby. This asshole cost me thirty grand.”

  She slammed the door behind her.

  In the silence, Will heard a clicking sound. He realized it was the breath stuttering in and out of his mouth.

  Tony shook his head. “That gal is a piece of work, lemme tell ya.”

  Will said nothing. Twice now, he’d seen what Tony Dell was capable of. Watching Eric Haigh get stabbed, all Will could think was that he never wanted to go out that way. Now that he’d seen the alternative, he wasn’t so sure.

  Tony breathed out a heavy sigh. “Get up, Bud. I ain’t gonna kill you on the floor.”

  Will struggled to get on his knees. Finally, Tony grabbed his arm and yanked him up. Will tried to pull away, but it was no use. His hands and feet were tied. He was trapped. He was going to die in this house, on this floor, beside Paul Vickery and DeShawn Franklin.

  The only thing that brought him any peace was knowing that Benjamin was safe in the attic. He had Will’s phone. They would trace him. They would take Benjamin to his brother. Both boys would be home soon.

  But Sara would have nothing. Will was still legally married to Angie Polaski. The courts wouldn’t care that Will hadn’t seen her in months, that he’d hired a divorce lawyer to track her down. His wife had all claim to him—not just his body, but his memories. Angie had grown up with Will. By virtue of proximity, she knew more about him than anyone else on earth. She was his Pandora’s box that only opened when it was time to mete out pain.

  Sara had Will’s dog, his toothbrush, and whatever clothes he’d left in her apartment.

  “Welp.” Tony slid the knife out of his boot. “Might as well get this over with.” He held it up for Will to see. He’d obviously picked up the trick from the redneck. And as it had before, the trick worked. Will felt his gut clench.

  Tony smiled at the effect. “You scared, Bud?”

  Will tried to summon Bill Black. He couldn’t let himself die a coward. “Go ahead and do it, man. Don’t drag it out.”

  Tony had always been contrary. He lowered the knife. “I guess you pissed somebody off real good.” He indicated Will’s face. “Got two black eyes, broke nose. I know Junior didn’t do that to you.”

  Will swallowed. His throat was still hurting. He thought about the whiskey Sara had forced him to drink. She was right. It had made him feel better. Everything she did made him feel so much better.

  Tony asked, “Who tore into you, Bud?”

  Will knew Tony wanted an answer. This wasn’t part of the killing game. “The cop. He caught up with me last night. Sucker punched me.” He looked at Paul Vickery. “Guess he won’t do it again.”

  Tony laughed. “Thass a good’un, Bud. I guess he won’t.” He used the knife to clean under his fingernails. The blade dug into the skin under his thumb. Instead of flinching, Tony watched the blood bead up. “Where’d you get that fancy car?”

  Sara’s BMW. Her registration was in the glove compartment. “Stole it off a woman in the cafeteria.”

  “That right?”

  “She left her keys on the table. I went out into the parking lot and pressed the button until I found it.”

  “That’s a good trick. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Tony hefted the knife in his hand, then started flipping it end over end. “I was wonderin’ about somethin’, Bud.” He glanced over his shoulder as if he wanted to make sure they were alone. “I ain’t queer or nothin’, but I seen you done some grooming.” He explained, “Back at the club, when Denny made you pull your shorts down?”

  Will shook his head. “What?”

  “Seems to me, a man don’t groom hisself like that unless he’s doin’ it for a woman. Am I right?”

  Will swallowed again. He couldn’t accept that he was going to die talking about his genitals.

  Tony kept flipping the knife. “Cayla talked me into shavin’ my balls once. They itched so bad I near ’bout scratched ’em off.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s better what you did?”

  Will couldn’t tell if he was asking a question or making an observation.

  Tony caught the knife by the handle. He smiled, like he’d just figured something out. “You’re still sweet on that lady up in Tennessee, ain’t ya?”

  Will tried to summon up a Bill Black answer, but then he remembered that this was exactly the kind of death a man like Bill Black would face. “Yes,” Will said. “I’m in love with her. That’s where I was heading—up to Tennessee. I don’t want my kid growing up without his daddy.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Tony said. “You was just trying to make her jealous, wasn’t you? Going out with Cayla like that.”

  Will nodded. “Yes.”

  “You came here to tell Cayla that, right? That nothin’ was gonna happen?”

  “I know she’s your girl, Tony.” Will grasped for an excuse to explain
why he was here. “I heard at the hospital they were looking for her. I came here to tell her that she might wanna lay low for a while. I was looking out for her in case you couldn’t.”

  Tony’s jaw twisted to the side as he considered the excuse. Finally, he decided, “You’re a real gentleman, Bud, lookin’ out for her like that. I always knew you was good.” He paused. “What’s this about you leaving town?”

  Will tried not to flinch as he swallowed. “I was heading up to Tennessee right after I checked on Cayla for you. There’s nothing in Macon for me.”

  “That right?” Tony asked. “You was gonna skip out on your parole?”

  “Heat’s too much around here. Too many dead cops. Just a matter of time before the pigs try to pin it all on me.”

  “You could always turn.”

  “I don’t snitch on my friends. And I won’t—” Will cut himself off before he started begging. Tony liked to hear people beg. “I wanna see my kid grow up. No reason for me to ever come back here again.”

  “That’s real sweet, Bud. I bet you woulda made a good daddy.”

  “It’s all I ever wanted,” Will lied. There were too many bad things that could happen to children for Will to ever want one of his own. Still, he told Tony, “My daddy ran out on me when I was a kid. I don’t want to do that to mine.”

  Tony studied him carefully. He finally said, “My daddy ran out on me, too.”

  Every muscle in Will’s throat strained to keep the conversation going, to create some fictional fairy tale about the woman in Tennessee, their wonderful lives together.

  But Will knew it was too late. Tony was done listening. He was trying to make a decision. Will could tell by the way his eyes scanned back and forth as if he could read Will’s mind.

  Finally, Tony sheathed his knife back in his boot. “Be careful on them mountain roads.”

  Will felt his lips part. Just like that, the good ol’ boy Tony was back.

  “I hear Tennessee’s real pretty.” Tony walked toward the door, then he remembered Cayla’s suitcase. He had to grab the handle with both hands. “Shit, she’s got just about every damn thing in the house packed in here.”

  Will didn’t speak.

  Tony said, “I like you, Bud. It’s a shame I ain’t never gonna see you again.” He gave Will a hard look. “Right?” Will nodded furiously. “Right.”

  Tony dragged Cayla’s suitcase out the front door. He didn’t bother closing it behind him.

  Will felt his body sway as he listened to the suitcase scrape against the porch. It banged against the concrete steps, then scratched down the driveway.

  They couldn’t work Sara’s keyfob. The panic alarm went off, but they managed to stop the piercing siren before it got too loud. A door opened and closed, then another one. A few seconds later, a door opened and closed again.

  The engine turned over. The tires screeched as Tony stepped on the gas.

  Slowly, Will’s body adjusted to the fact that he wasn’t going to be stabbed to death. He had to lean on his hands and drag his knees behind him in order to get to the front door. He saw the brake lights on Sara’s BMW glow as Tony roared out of the subdivision.

  Will sat back on his heels. He closed his eyes and just breathed. His heart was pounding so hard that he could almost feel it tapping against his ribs.

  Benjamin.

  The boy was still in the attic.

  Will didn’t want to call for him in case Tony changed his mind. Besides, Will’s hands and feet were bound. He couldn’t exactly run up the stairs and catch the kid when he jumped down through the hatch.

  And there were two dead bodies down here. Benjamin had seen enough bad things to last him a lifetime.

  Paul Vickery was lying on his side. The gouge in his head had stopped bleeding. His wrists were bright red where the twine cut into his flesh.

  Will pressed his hands to the floor and dragged his knees, thinking he was moving like a caterpillar. It was hard to believe that he’d told the boy that football joke just a few hours ago. He was probably at Grady Hospital by now. So was Sara. She was safe. That was all that ever really mattered.

  Will stopped beside Vickery’s body. He checked the man’s pockets for his cell phone. He found a wallet, a set of car keys, and a handful of change, but no phone. Will patted Vickery’s chest. There was something hard underneath his shirt.

  Vickery groaned, and Will jerked back like a snake had tried to strike.

  “ ’Uck.” Vickery pulled down the gag. He cursed a few more times as he loosened his collar. Will could see the black Kevlar vest underneath his shirt. “What the hell happened?”

  “You got shot.” Will checked Vickery’s back. Four flattened bullets were lodged in the vest.

  “By you?” Vickery asked.

  “No.” Will sat back on his knees again. “I saw you on the road talking to Tony Dell last night.”

  Vickery blinked, like he couldn’t understand. “No, you didn’t.”

  “White Honda. You were pulled up by Tony’s truck.”

  “Do you know how many white Hondas there are on the road?” Vickery tried to roll over onto his back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a cop?”

  “I was too busy getting the shit kicked out of me.”

  Vickery chuckled, like it was a fond memory. And then he looked at DeShawn Franklin and his face fell. “I trusted that bastard with my life.”

  Will didn’t say he was probably right to. “Where’s your phone?”

  “Front pocket.” Vickery tried to reach down, but the twine stopped him.

  Will knew the pocket was empty, anyway.

  Reluctantly, he crawled over to Franklin’s body. The blood had stopped pumping along with his heart. The wound in his neck had slowed to a dribble. Will tried not to shudder as he searched the body. His wrists being practically glued together didn’t make the task easy. An eternity passed before he found the phone in Franklin’s shirt pocket.

  Will backed away from the dead man before he even looked at the phone. By necessity, he held it in both hands. His thumb swiped the screen. Instead of a keypad, a microphone icon flashed up. The red button below it was flashing. There was a clock counting off the seconds, and below that, a flat line like on a heart monitor.

  The line bobbed up and down when Will told Vickery, “I think he recorded us.”

  Vickery shook his head, but didn’t answer.

  Twelve minutes, twenty-three seconds. That’s how long the recorder had been running. Franklin must’ve started it when Will woke up from his Taser fugue.

  Vickery said, “You gonna call somebody or what?”

  Will pressed the red button. The timer stopped. He wasn’t familiar with the phone’s operating system, but they were all pretty much the same. He touched his thumb to the icon of a house. He touched the symbol with a telephone receiver. The keypad rolled up. Will dialed Faith’s number. He rested his hand on his face as he waited for the connection to go through.

  She answered on the first ring. “Franklin, what is it?”

  “It’s me,” Will told her. “I’m at Cayla’s house.”

  “Will?” Faith’s voice trilled up. “We’ve got sixty cops combing the woods for you. We can’t pinpoint your phone.”

  “You need to put an APB on Sara’s car. Tony Dell and Cayla Martin stole it. They’re headed toward the Atlanta airport, taking the back roads. International terminal. She’s going to Germany.”

  Faith didn’t bother to cover the phone as she shouted orders to her team. As soon as she finished, she asked Will, “What about Benjamin?”

  “He’s safe.” Will looked at Paul Vickery. He still didn’t trust the man. “What about the other thing?”

  “They’re at Grady. Sara called over an hour ago. They’re both fine.”

  Will felt relief flood his senses.

  Faith said, “The boy started talking in the ambulance. His name is Aaron Winser. Amanda was right. His parents live in Newfoundland. They were going through a bad custody b
attle. The father was on a fishing trip. The mom thought he’d abducted the boys. The police were about to arrest him.” Faith seemed to realize she was talking too fast. She slowed down her words. “The parents are on their way to Atlanta right now. Jesus, Will. You had me scared to death.”

  “Hold on.” Will couldn’t stay on his knees any longer. He didn’t want to sit down, so he pushed himself up against the wall. Vickery’s eyes tracked his every movement. They both heard sirens in the distance.

  Will asked, “How far out are the cruisers?”

  Faith said, “Five minutes, tops. Call Sara.”

  “She’s probably busy.”

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  Will heard a click as she hung up the phone. He glanced at Paul Vickery. The man was still on his back, his elbows and knees bent at an uncomfortable angle.

  Vickery asked, “You gonna help me here? This hurts like a bitch.”

  “It certainly looks painful.” Will felt some give in the twine that was digging into his ankles. After a few unsuccessful shuffles, he hopped toward the kitchen.

  “Where’re you going?” Vickery shouted. “Come back here!”

  Will didn’t stop until the saloon doors flapped behind him. He leaned against the counter to catch his breath. And also to catch himself, because hopping around was harder than it looked.

  DeShawn Franklin’s phone had gone back to screensaver mode. The picture showed two little girls dressed in Mickey Mouse ears. Will didn’t want to think about someone telling the man’s nieces what had happened. He swiped the screen and dialed Sara’s number.

  She was used to getting strange calls on her hospital phone. Still, her tone was strained when she answered, “Dr. Linton.”

  Will said, “I’m okay,” in a voice that sounded exactly the opposite.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” Now that he had her on the line, Will felt it all start to catch up to him. Sara had literally saved him by the short hairs.

  “Will?”

  “Everything’s fine.” He made his voice stronger. “I’m just a little tied up at the moment.” He stopped himself from laughing at his own joke, mostly because he was pretty sure Sara wouldn’t find it that funny. “I don’t know about your car, though.”