A Faint Cold Fear gc-3

by Karin Slaughter

  “Same stop he got off on,” Ethan shot back, anger flashing in his eyes again. He glanced down at his mug, recovering some of his calm. When he looked up again, he smiled, as if that smoothed everything over.

  Ethan said, “You always want a witness when a cop starts to go off on you like that.”

  “Got a lot of experience with it?” she asked. “What are you, twelve?”

  “I’m twenty-three,” he said, but he did not seem to take her question the way she had intended. “And I know about cops because I know about cops.”

  “Yeah, right.” When he just shrugged, she said, “Let me guess, you went to juvie for knocking over mailboxes? No, wait, your English teacher found some pot in your book bag?”

  He smiled again, not quite laughing. She could see that one of his front teeth was slightly chipped. He said, “I got mixed up in some stuff, but I’m not that way anymore. Okay?”

  “You’ve got a temper,” she said, though it was more an observation than a criticism. People were constantly telling Lena she had a quick temper, but she was Mother Teresa compared to Ethan Green.

  He said, “I’m not that kind of person anymore.”

  She shrugged, because she could not care less what kind of person he was. What Lena cared about right now was why the hell Jeffrey thought she was connected to Andy Rosen. Had Jill Rosen told him something? How could Lena find out?

  “So,” he said, like he was glad they had gotten that out of the way, “did you know Andy well?”

  Lena felt her guard coming back up. “Why?”

  “I heard what the cop said to you about your panties.”

  “He didn’t say ‘panties,’ for one.”

  “And for two?”

  “For two, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

  He smiled again. Either he thought it made him charming or he had some kind of weird Tourette’s.

  Lena stared at him, not saying anything. Ethan was a little guy, but he’d managed to make up for it by developing every muscle in his small frame. His arms did not bulge like Chuck’s, but his delts stood out as he played with the tea bag hanging inside his cup. His neck looked strong but not thick. Even his face was toned, with a solid jaw and cheekbones that jutted out like pieces of granite. There was something about the way he lost and regained his control that was fascinating, and on any other day Lena would have felt tempted to see if she could force him over the edge.

  He said, “You’re like a porcupine. Anybody ever tell you that?”

  Lena did not answer. As a matter of fact, Sibyl had said the exact thing to her all the time. As usual, the thought of Sibyl brought tears to her eyes, and she looked down, swirling the coffee in her mug, watching it cling to the sides.

  She looked up when she thought she had sufficiently masked her feelings. Ethan had picked one of the trendy new coffee places on the outskirts of campus. The small space was packed even at this time of day. She looked over her shoulder, thinking Jeffrey would be there, watching her. She could still feel his anger, but beyond that, what stung was the way he had looked at her, like Lena had crossed the line. Not being a cop was one thing, but being a hindrance to a case—maybe even being involved in a case but lying about it—would put her squarely on his shit list. Over the years Lena had pissed off Jeffrey more than her share of times, but today she knew without a doubt that she had lost the one thing she had worked her ass off to get: his respect.

  At the thought of this, a cold sweat broke out all over her body. Did Jeffrey really think of her as a suspect? Lena had seen Jeffrey work before, but had never been on the other end of one of his interrogations. She could see how easily someone could talk their way into a jail cell, even if it was for a couple of nights while Jeffrey worked something out. Lena could not spend even a second in a locked cell. To be a cop, even an ex-cop, in jail was a dangerous thing. What was Jeffrey thinking? What evidence did he have? There was no way her fingerprints could be in Rosen’s apartment. She did not even know where the kid lived.

  Ethan interrupted her thoughts. “This is about that girl who was stabbed, huh?”

  She looked at him, demanding, “What are we doing here?”

  He seemed surprised by her question. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Because you read that article in the paper? Am I fascinating to you because I was raped?”

  He glanced around nervously, probably because her voice had gotten louder. She thought about taking it down a notch, but everyone in the room knew that Lena had been attacked. She could not pay for a Coke at the movie theater without the asshole kid behind the counter glancing down at the scars on her hands. No one wanted to talk to her about it, but they were more than happy to talk with one another behind her back.

  “What do you want to know?” she asked him, trying to keep a conversational tone. “Are you doing some kind of project on it for school?”

  He tried to make light of it. “That’s more like sociology. I’m in materials science. Polymers. Metals. Composites. Tribomaterials.”

  “I was nailed to the floor.” She showed him her hands, turning them so he could see where the nails had gone all the way through. If she still had her shoes off, she would have shown him her feet, too. “He drugged me and raped me for two days. What else do you want to know?”

  He shook his head, like this was some big misunderstanding. “I just wanted to take you out for coffee.”

  “Well, you can mark that off your list now,” she told him, finishing her cup in one swallow. The hot liquid burned in her chest as she put the mug down on the table with a bang and started to stand. “See you around.”

  “No.” Lightning fast, he reached out and wrapped his fingers tightly around her left wrist. The pain was almost unbearable, sharp jolts traveling up the nerves in her arm. Lena remained standing, keeping her expression neutral even though the pain made her stomach roll.

  “Please,” he said, his hand still clamped on her wrist. “Just stay for another minute.”

  “Why?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. If he squeezed her wrist any tighter, the bones would probably break.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of guy.”

  “What kind of guy are you?” she asked, letting herself look down at his hand.

  He waited a beat before letting go of her wrist. Lena could not stop the small gasp of relief that hissed out between her lips. She let her hand dangle beside her, not testing the bones and tendons for damage. Her wrist throbbed as the blood rushed through, but she would not give him that satisfaction of looking down.

  She repeated herself. “What kind of guy are you?”

  His smile was far from reassuring. “The kind of guy who likes to talk to pretty girls.”

  She gave a sharp laugh, looking around the coffeehouse, which had started to empty out over the last few minutes. The man behind the counter had been watching them, but when Lena caught his eye, he turned around to the espresso machine like he had been cleaning it all along.

  “Come on,” Ethan said. “Sit down.”

  Lena stared at him.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  “What makes you think you hurt me?” she asked, though her wrist was still throbbing. She bent her hand, trying to test it, but the pain stopped her. She was going to pay him back for this. There was no way this kid would get away with hurting her.

  He said, “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

  “I hardly know you,” she told him. “And in case you didn’t notice, I’ve got some problems of my own right now, so thanks for the coffee, but—”

  “I knew Andy.”

  Her mind clicked back to Jeffrey and what he had said about Lena being in Andy’s apartment. She tried to read Ethan’s expression to see if he was lying, but she could not. The threat from Jeffrey came rushing back to Lena. She asked him, “What do you know about Andy?”

  “Sit down,” he said, more an order than a request.

  “I c
an hear you fine from here.”

  “I’m not gonna talk to you standing up,” he said, sitting back in his chair, waiting.

  Lena stood beside the chair, debating her options. Ethan was a student. He was probably privy to a lot more gossip than Lena was. If she could get some information about Andy for Jeffrey, maybe Jeffrey would reconsider his crazy accusations. Lena felt herself smile at the thought of throwing Jeffrey clues that would break the case. He had made it clear that she was not a cop anymore. She would make him regret cutting her loose.

  “Why are you smiling?” Ethan asked.

  “It’s not for you,” Lena said, turning the chair around. She sat, hanging her hands over the back even though the pressure made her wrist feel like it was burning from the inside out. There was something seductive about controlling the intensity of her own pain. It made her feel strong for a change.

  She dangled her hand, ignoring the ache. “Tell me what you know about Andy.”

  He seemed to be searching for something to tell her but finally admitted, “Not much.”

  “You’re wasting my time.” She started to stand, but he held out his hand to stop her. Ethan did not touch her this time, but the memory of his grip was enough to keep Lena in her chair.

  She asked, “What?”

  “I know someone who was close to him. A close friend.”

  “Who?”

  “Do you party?”

  Lena recognized the drug-culture euphemism. “Do you?” she asked. “You into E or what?”

  “No,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Are you?”

  “What do you think?” she snapped. “Was Andy?”

  Ethan stared at her for a moment, as if he was trying to figure something out about her. “Yeah.”

  “How do you know if you’re not into it?”

  “His mom’s at the clinic. It’s kind of like good gossip that she can’t help her own kid.”

  Lena felt the need to take up for Jill Rosen, even though Lena had thought the same thing about the doctor. “There’s only so much you can do for people. Maybe Andy didn’t want to stop. Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to quit.”

  He seemed curious. “You think so?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered, but part of her now understood the lure of drugs like she never had before the rape. “Sometimes people just want to escape. To stop thinking about things.”

  “It’s only temporary.”

  “You sound like you know about it.” She glanced down at his arms, which were still covered by the sleeves of his shirt even though it was warm inside the building. She suddenly remembered him from class the week before. He had been wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt then, too. Maybe he had track marks on his arms. Lena’s uncle Hank had nasty scars from shooting up dope, but he seemed almost proud of them, as if quitting speed made him some kind of hero and the needle marks were battle scars from a noble war.

  Ethan saw her looking at his covered arms. He tugged the sleeves down farther on his wrists, “Let’s just say I got into some trouble and leave it at that.”

  “Right.” She studied Ethan, wondering if he could give her anything useful. Lena wished to God she could pull his sheet—and there was no doubt in her mind that Ethan Green had one—and use it as leverage to find out what she needed to know.

  She asked, “How long have you been at Grant Tech?”

  “About a year,” he said. “I transferred from UGA.”

  “Why?”

  “Didn’t like the atmosphere.” He shrugged, and she read more in the shrug than anything else. There was something defensive about his posture, even though what he said made perfect sense. Maybe the school had kicked him out.

  He continued, “I wanted to be at a smaller college. UGA is a jungle right now. Crime, violence . . . rape. It’s not the kind of place I need to be.”

  “And Grant is?”

  “I like things slower,” he said, playing with the tea bag again. “I didn’t like the person that being on that campus made me. It was just too much being there.”

  Lena understood, but she did not tell him so. Part of the reason she’d left the force—other than Jeffrey’s giving her an ultimatum—was that she needed less stress in her life. She had never anticipated that working with Chuck could be even more stressful in a lot of ways. She could have found a way to bullshit Jeffrey and still keep her job. He had never asked for proof that she was seeing a shrink. Lena could have lied and made everything okay instead of ruining her life. Hell, she’d ended up ruining it anyway. Less than an hour ago, Jeffrey had looked ready to take her away in handcuffs.

  Lena’s tried to think of anything that would connect her to Andy Rosen. There must have been some kind of mistake. Maybe she had touched something in Jill Rosen’s office that had ended up in Andy’s room. That was the only explanation. As for the underwear, that would prove itself out soon enough. Though, what made Jeffrey think it was hers? Lena should have talked to him instead of pissing him off. She should have told Ethan to mind his own fucking business. He had been the one to escalate things with Jeffrey, not Lena. She hoped to God Jeffrey knew that. Lena had seen how Jeffrey could behave when he turned against somebody. He could make real trouble for her, not just in town but at the college. She could lose her job, not have a place to live or money to buy food. She could end up homeless.

  “Lena?” Ethan asked, as if she had drifted off.

  She said, “Who’s this close friend of Andy’s?”

  He mistook the desperation in her voice for authority. “You sound like a cop.”

  “I am a cop,” she answered automatically.

  He smiled without humor, as if she had just admitted something that made him sad.

  “Ethan?” she prompted, trying not to show how panicked she was.

  “I like the way you say my name,” he told her, like it was a joke. “All pissed off.”

  She gave him a scathing look. “Who was Andy hanging out with?”

  He thought about it, and she could see that he liked keeping the information from her, liked holding it over her head. Ethan had the same look on his face he’d had when Lena’s wrist was about to crack in his hand.

  “Look, don’t fuck around,” she told him. “I’ve got too much shit in my life right now without some dumb kid holding out on me.” She caught herself, knowing that Ethan was her best bet for gathering any information on Andy Rosen. “Do you have something to tell me or not?”

  His mouth set in a tight line, but he did not answer her.

  “Right,” she said, preparing to leave again, hoping he would not see through her bluff.

  “There’s a party later on tonight,” he relented. “Some friends of Andy’s will be there. This guy I’m thinking of, too. He was pretty good friends with Andy.”

  “Where is it?”

  He had that same superior look in his eyes. “You think you can just walk right in and start asking questions?”

  “What is it you think you can get from me?” Lena asked, because it was always something. “What do you want?”

  Ethan shrugged, but she could read the answer in his eyes. He was obviously attracted to her, but he liked to control things. Lena could play that game; she was a lot better at it than some twenty-three-year-old kid.

  She leaned over the back of the chair, saying, “Tell me where the party is.”

  “We got off on the wrong foot,” he said. “I’m sorry about your wrist.”

  Lena glanced down at her wrist, which had a dark purple bruise forming where his fingers had pressed into her bones.

  She said, “It’s nothing.”

  “You look scared of me.”

  Lena was incredulous. “Why would I be scared of you?”

  “Because I hurt you,” he said, indicating her wrist again. “Come on, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

  “You think after what happened to me last year I’m scared of some little boy trying to hold my hand?” She gave a derisive laugh. “I’m not scared of you, you stu
pid twat.”

  His expression pulled another Jekyll and Hyde, his jaw working like a bulldozer’s shovel.

  “What?” Lena said, wondering how far she could push him. If he tried to grab her wrist again, she would kick the shit out of him and leave him bleeding on the floor.

  Lena goaded, “Did I hurt your little feelings? Is little Ethie gonna cry?”

  His voice was even and controlled. “You live in the faculty dorm.”

  “Is that supposed to threaten me?” Lena laughed. “Big deal, you know where I live.”

  “I’ll be there at eight tonight.”

  “Is that right?” she asked, trying to see his angle.

  “I’ll pick you up at eight,” Ethan said, standing. “We’ll check out a movie, then go to the party.”

  “Uh,” she began, waiting for the joke, “I don’t think so.”

  “My guess is you need to talk to Andy’s friend and try to get that cop off your back.”

  “Yeah?” she said, though she knew it was true. “Why is that?”

  “Cops are like dogs; you gotta be careful around them. You never know which one is rabid.”

  “Great metaphor,” Lena said. “But I can take care of myself.”

  “It’s a simile, actually.” He hefted his gym bag over his shoulder. “Wear your hair back.”

  Lena balked. “I don’t think so.”

  “Wear it back,” he repeated. “I’ll see you at eight.”

  7

  Sara sat in the main lobby of Grady Hospital, watching a steady stream of people coming and going through the large front entrance. The hospital had been built over a hundred years ago, and Atlanta had been adding on to it ever since. What started out as a small facility designed to service the city’s indigent population, with only a handful of rooms, now had nearly a thousand beds and trained over 25 percent of the doctors in Georgia.

  Since Sara had worked here, several new sections had been built onto the main building, but not much had been done to blend the old with the new. The new lobby was huge, almost like the entrance of a suburban shopping mall. Marble and glass were everywhere, but most of the old hallways leading off it were lined with avocado green tiles and cracked yellow floors from the forties and fifties, so that stepping from one to the other was like stepping through time. Sara guessed that the hospital authority had probably run out of money before the refurbishment was complete.