Faithless

by Karin Slaughter

“She was a bad girl,” he said, as if that was reason enough. “Cole knew that.”

  “You told Cole,” Terri said. “Don’t think I don’t know how that works.”

  “How what works?”

  “How you tell him we’re bad,” she said. “You put all these terrible ideas into his head, and he goes out and punishes us.” Her laugh was caustic. “Funny how God never tells him to punish the boys. You ever been in that box, Paul? You ever get buried for seeing your whores in Savannah and snorting your coke?”

  Paul’s tone was a snarl. “‘Go, see now this cursed woman and bury her— ’ ”

  “Don’t you dare throw the scriptures at me.”

  “‘She hath rebelled against her God,’ ” he quoted. “‘They shall fall by the sword.’ ”

  Terri obviously knew the verse. Her anger curdled the air. “Shut up, Paul.”

  “‘Their infants shall be dashed in pieces . . . Their women with child shall be ripped up.’ ”

  “‘Even the Devil can quote scripture for his cause.’ ”

  He laughed, as if she had scored a point off him.

  She said, “You lost your religion a million years ago.”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  “I don’t go around pretending it ain’t true,” she retorted, her tone getting stronger, sharper. This was the woman who had hit Dale back. This was the woman who had dared to defend herself. “Why did you kill her, Paul?” She waited, then asked, “Was it because of the insurance policies?”

  Paul’s back stiffened. He hadn’t been threatened by Terri’s mention of the cyanide, but Lena guessed that the insurance policies added a whole new level to the equation.

  He asked, “What do you know about that?”

  “Abby told me about them, Paul. The police know.”

  “What do they know?” He grabbed her arm, twisting it. Lena felt her body tense. She raised her Glock again, waiting for the right moment. “What did you tell them, you little idiot?”

  “Let go of me.”

  “I’ll take your head off, you stupid bitch. Tell me what you told the police.”

  Lena startled as Tim came out of nowhere, running past her, nearly tumbling down the stairs to get to his mother. Lena reached for the boy and missed, pulling herself back at the last minute so that Paul wouldn’t see her.

  “Mama!” the child screamed.

  Terri made a surprised sound, then Lena heard her say, “Tim, go back upstairs. Mama’s talking to Uncle Paul.”

  “Come here, Tim,” Paul said, and Lena’s stomach lurched as his little feet tapped their way down the stairs.

  “No—” Terri protested; then: “Tim, come away from him.”

  “Come on, big guy,” Paul said, and Lena chanced a quick look. Paul was holding Tim in his arms, the child’s legs wrapped around his waist. Lena pulled back, knowing if Paul turned around he would see her. She mouthed “Fuck,” cursing herself for not taking the shot when she could. Across the hall, she glimpsed Rebecca in the nursery, reaching out to pull the closet door shut. In Lena’s mind, she cursed even harder, damning the girl for her inability to hold on to the boy.

  Lena glanced into the foyer, trying to assess the situation. Paul’s back was still to her, but Tim clung tightly to him, his spindly little arm hooked around Paul’s shoulders as he watched his mother. At this distance, there was no telling what kind of damage her nine-millimeter would do. The bullet could rip through Paul’s body and go right into Tim’s. She could kill the child instantly.

  “Please,” Terri said, and Paul could have been holding her own life in his hands the way she was acting. “Let him go.”

  “Tell me what you told the police,” Paul said.

  “Nothing. I didn’t tell them anything.”

  Paul didn’t buy it. “Did Abby leave those policies with you, Terri? Is that what she did?”

  “Yes,” Terri said, her voice trembling. “I’ll give them to you. Please, just let him go.”

  “You get them now and then we’ll talk.”

  “Please, Paul. Let him go.”

  “Go get the policies.”

  Terri was obviously not a practiced liar. When she said, “They’re in the garage,” Lena knew Paul saw right through her. Still, he said, “Go get them. I’ll watch Tim.”

  Terri must have hesitated, because Paul raised his voice, saying, “Now!” so loudly that Terri screamed. When he spoke again, his tone was back to normal, and somehow to Lena it was more frightening. “You’ve got thirty seconds, Terri.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Twenty-nine . . . twenty-eight . . .”

  The front door slammed open and she was gone. Lena stood utterly still, her heart thumping like a drum.

  Downstairs, Paul spoke as if he was talking to Tim, but made sure his voice was loud enough to carry. “You think your aunt Rebecca’s upstairs, Tim?” he asked, cheerful, almost teasing. “Why don’t we go see if your aunt Rebecca’s up there, huh? See if she’s hiding out like the little rat she is . . .”

  Tim made a noise Lena couldn’t understand.

  “That’s right, Tim,” Paul said, like they were playing a game. “We’ll go up and talk to her, and then we’ll beat her face. You like that, Tim? We’ll beat her face until her bones crack. We’ll make sure Aunt Becca’s pretty little face is so broken that no one ever wants to look at it again.”

  Lena listened, waiting for him to climb the stairs so that she could blow his head off his shoulders. He did not. Obviously, this taunting was part of the game for him. Even knowing this, the dread that filled her at the sound of his voice could not be stopped. She wanted so badly to hurt him, to shut him up forever. No one should ever have to hear him again.

  The door opened and slammed shut. Terri was out of breath, her words tumbling over one another. “I couldn’t find them,” she said. “I looked—”

  Fuck, Lena thought. Dale’s gun. No.

  Paul said, “You’ll forgive me if I’m not surprised.”

  “What are you going to do?” Terri’s voice was still shaking, but there was something underneath the fear, some hidden knowledge that gave her power. She must have gotten the revolver. She must have thought she could do something to stop him.

  Tim said something and Paul laughed. “That’s right,” he agreed, then told Terri, “Tim thinks his aunt Rebecca is up there.”

  Lena heard another sound, this time a click. She recognized it instantly— a hammer being pulled back on a gun.

  Paul was surprised, but hardly alarmed. “Where’d you get that?”

  “It’s Dale’s,” she said, and Lena felt her gut clench. “I know how to use it.”

  Paul laughed as if the gun was made of plastic. Lena peered over the top of the stairs, watching him walk toward Terri. She had missed her chance. He had the kid now. She should have confronted him on the stairs. She should have taken him then. Why the fuck had she listened to Jeffrey? She should’ve just swung around the corner and emptied her gun into the bastard’s chest.

  Paul said, “There’s a big difference between knowing how to use a gun and actually using it,” and Lena felt the cut to his words, hating herself for her indecision. Goddamn Jeffrey and his orders. She knew how to handle herself. She should’ve listened to her gut in the first place.

  Terri said, “Just get out, Paul.”

  “You gonna use that thing?” he asked. “Maybe you’ll hit Tim?” He was teasing her like it was a game. “Come on. See what kind of shot you are.” Lena could see him clearly, closing the space between him and Terri, Tim in his arms. He was actually jostling the child, goading his niece. “Come on, Genie, let’s see you do it. Shoot your own baby. You’ve already killed one, right? What’s another?”

  Terri’s hands were shaking. She had the gun up in front of her, legs spread apart, palm supporting the butt of the revolver. Her determination seemed to falter more with every step he took closer.

  “You stupid whore,” he taunted. “Go on, shoot me.” He was only a f
oot away from her. “Pull the trigger, little girl. Show me how tough you are. Stand up for yourself for once in your pathetic little life.” Finally, he reached out and grabbed the gun from her, saying, “You stupid bitch.”

  “Let him go,” she pleaded. “Just let him go and leave.”

  “Where are those papers?”

  “I burned them.”

  “You lying slut!” He slammed the revolver into her left cheek. Terri fell to the floor, blood sloshing out of her mouth.

  Lena felt her own teeth start to ache as if Paul had hit her and not Terri. She had to do something. She had to stop this. Without thinking, she went to her knees, then flattened her chest to the floor. Procedure said she should identify herself, give Paul the opportunity to drop the gun. She knew there was no chance he would surrender. Men like Paul didn’t give up if they thought there was a chance of escape. Right now, he had two chances: one on his hip, the other on the floor.

  Lena angled her body across the hall, placing herself at the top of the landing, gripping her gun in both hands, resting the butt on the edge of the stair.

  “Now, now,” Paul said. His back was to Lena as he stood over Terri, Tim’s legs wrapped around his waist. She couldn’t tell where the boy’s body was, could not line up the shot and know with 100 percent certainty that she would not hit the child, too.

  “You’re upsetting your son here.” Tim was silent. He had probably watched his mother get the shit beaten out of her so many times before that it no longer penetrated.

  Paul said, “What did you tell the police?”

  Terri had her hands out in front of her as once more Paul lifted his foot to kick her. “No!” she screamed as his Italian loafer came down on her face. Again, she slammed into the floor, the air going out of her with a painful groan that cut Lena to the core.

  Again, Lena sighted the gun, her hands steady as she tried to line up the shot. If Paul would just stop moving. If Tim would just slide down a little bit more, she could end all of this now. He had no idea Lena was at the top of the stairs. Paul would be on the ground before he knew what hit him.

  Paul said, “Come on, Terri.” Even though Terri made no move to rise, he picked up his foot again and smashed it into her back. Terri’s mouth opened, breath groaning out.

  “What did you tell them?” he repeated, his mantra. Lena saw him move the revolver to Tim’s head and she lowered her own gun, knowing she could not take the risk. “You know I’ll shoot him. You know I will blow his little brains all over this house.”

  Terri struggled to her knees. She clasped her hands in front of her, a supplicant, praying, “Please, please. Let him go. Please.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing!”

  Tim had started to cry, and Paul shushed him, saying, “Be quiet now, Tim. Be a strong man for Uncle Paul.”

  “Please,” Terri begged.

  Lena saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Rebecca stood in the doorway of the nursery, poised on the threshold. Lena shook her head once, then, when the girl did not move, she hardened her expression, waving her back in forceful pantomime.

  When Lena turned back to the foyer, she saw that Tim had buried his face in the crook of Paul’s shoulder. The boy’s body stiffened as he looked up and saw Lena at the top of the stairs, her gun pointing down. Their eyes locked.

  Without warning, Paul whirled around, revolver raised, and fired a shot that went straight toward her head.

  Terri screamed at the explosion, and Lena rolled to the side, hoping to God she was out of the line of fire as another shot rang through the house. There was a splintering of wood as the front door burst open, followed by Jeffrey’s “Don’t move!” but Lena heard it as if from a great distance, the sound of the bullet ringing in her ear. She wasn’t sure whether it was sweat or blood that dribbled down the side of her cheek as she looked back over the stairs. Jeffrey was standing in the foyer, his gun pointed at the lawyer. Paul still held Tim tight to his chest, the revolver trained at the boy’s temple.

  “Let him go,” Jeffrey ordered, his eyes darting up to Lena.

  Lena put her hand to her head, recognized the sticky feel of blood. Her ear was covered in it, but she couldn’t feel any pain.

  Terri was crying, keening, as she held her hands to her stomach, begging Paul to release her child. She sounded as if she was praying.

  Jeffrey told Paul, “Lower your gun.”

  “Not going to happen,” he quipped.

  “You’ve got nowhere to go,” Jeffrey said, again looking up at Lena. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

  Paul let his gaze follow Jeffrey’s. Lena made an attempt to stand, but vertigo got the best of her. She settled back onto her knees, her gun down at her side. She couldn’t keep her eyes focused.

  Paul said calmly, “Looks like she needs help.”

  “Please,” Terri pleaded, almost in her own world. “Please, just let him go. Please.”

  “There’s no way out of this for you,” Jeffrey said. “Drop the gun.”

  Lena tasted something metallic in her mouth. She put her hand to her head again, testing her scalp. She didn’t feel anything alarming, but her ear started to throb. Gently, she tested the cartilage until she found out what was causing the blood. The top part of her earlobe was missing, maybe a quarter of an inch. The bullet must have grazed her.

  She sat up on her knees, blinking, trying to clear her vision. Terri was looking at her, almost drilling a hole into her, eyes begging Lena to do something to stop this.

  “Help him,” she implored. “Please help my baby.”

  Lena wiped a trickle of blood out of her eye, finally seeing what the bulge under Paul’s jacket was. A cell phone. The bastard had a cell phone clipped to his belt.

  “Please,” Terri begged. “Lena, please.”

  Lena pointed her gun at Paul’s head, feeling a searing hatred burn her throat as she told him, “Drop it.”

  Paul swung around, taking Tim with him. He looked up at Lena, gauging the situation. She could tell part of him didn’t believe a woman could actually threaten him, and this made her hate him even more.

  She made her voice a deadly threat. “Drop it, you bastard.”

  For the first time, he looked nervous.

  “Drop the gun,” Lena repeated, keeping her hand steady as she rose to her feet. If she could have been sure of her shot, she would’ve killed him there and then, unloaded her magazine into his head until there was nothing but a stump of spine sticking out.

  Jeffrey said, “Do it, Paul. Drop the gun.”

  Slowly, Paul lowered his gun, but instead of letting it fall to the ground, he trained it on Terri’s head. He knew they wouldn’t shoot him as long as he had Tim as a shield. Pointing the gun at Terri was just one more way to assert his control over the situation.

  He said, “I think y’all should take your own advice.”

  Terri sat there on the floor, her hands reaching out to her son. She pleaded, “Don’t hurt him, Paul.” Tim tried to go to his mother but Paul held him tight. “Please don’t hurt him.”

  Paul backed toward the front door, saying, “Put down your guns. Now.”

  Jeffrey watched him, not doing anything for several beats. Finally, he put his weapon on the floor and held up his hands, showing they were empty. “Backup’s on the way.”

  “Not fast enough,” he guessed.

  Jeffrey said, “Don’t do this, Paul. Just leave him here.”

  “So you can follow me?” Paul sneered, shifting Tim on his hip. The child had realized what was going on and his breath was coming hard, like he was having trouble getting air. Paul kept moving closer to the door, oblivious to the boy’s pain. “I don’t think so.” He looked up at Lena. “Your turn, Detective.”

  Lena waited for Jeffrey’s nod before crouching down to place her gun on the floor. She stayed low, keeping close to the weapon.

  Tim’s breathing was more labored, and he started making a whooping
sound as he struggled to inhale.

  “It’s okay,” Terri whispered, inching toward him, crawling on her knees. “Just breathe, baby. Just try to breathe.”

  Paul edged toward the front door, keeping his eye on Jeffrey, thinking he was the real threat. Lena took a few steps down the stairs, not knowing what she would do if she reached the bottom. She wanted to tear him apart with her hands, hear him scream with agony as she ripped into him.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Terri crooned, crawling on her knees toward them. She reached out, touching her son’s foot with the tips of her fingers. The boy was gasping in earnest now, his thin chest heaving. “Just breathe.”

  Paul was almost out the door. He told Jeffrey, “Don’t try to follow me.”

  Jeffrey said, “You’re not going to take that kid.”

  “Watch me.”

  He made to leave, but Terri held Tim’s foot in the palm of her hand, keeping them both in place. Paul pressed the gun to her forehead. “Get back,” Paul warned, and Lena froze on the stair, unsure who he was talking to. She took another step as Paul warned Terri, “Move away.”

  “His asthma—”

  “I don’t care,” Paul barked. “Move away.”

  “Mama loves you,” Terri whispered over and over, oblivious to Paul’s threat as she clung to Tim’s foot. “Mama loves you so much—”

  “Shut up,” Paul hissed. He tried to pull away, but Terri held on tight, wrapping her hand around Tim’s leg to get a better grip. Paul raised the revolver, slamming the butt of it down on her head.

  Jeffrey grabbed up his gun in one fluid motion, pointing it at Paul’s chest. “Stop right there.”

  “Baby,” Terri said. She had staggered, but remained on her knees, holding on to Tim’s leg. “Mama’s here, baby. Mama’s here.”

  Tim was turning blue, his teeth chattering as if he was cold. Paul tried to pull him away from his mother, but she held on, telling her son, “‘. . . my grace is sufficient for thee . . .’ ”

  “Let go.” Paul tried to jerk him back, but still she would not release her son. “Terri—” Paul looked panicked, as if some kind of rabid animal had clamped on to him. “Terri, I mean it.”

  “‘. . . my strength is made perfect in weakness . . .’ ”