Page 119 of Sharp Force
“Maybe her husband’s death, their financial disasters, I don’t know,” I reply. “But I was working her patient’s hanging scene while she was staying at Thirteen Shore Lane, probably with Zain.”
I leave Samson Digley’s file on a table with others I want copied.
“She had to know I was inside his hospital room with Graden Crowley hovering in the doorway,” I add. “And he never mentioned Georgine, and she didn’t reach out to me even as my office continued going after information. I intended to call one moretime for his records before showing up on Mercy Island with a warrant.”
“Calvin Willard owned her. She was as controlled as Zain, and it must have sucked away her soul,” Benton says.
The night is breezy and clear, the temperature dropping as we return to the Williamsburg-Jamestown airport. I’ve alerted Lucy that we’re several minutes out, and she’s fired up the Doomsday Bird.
The thundering engines and whumping rotor blades are audible long before we’re parking on the tarmac. I can barely hear myself talk as I thank our FBI driver Hank for his help. I’ve tried several times to reimburse him for lunch, but he won’t hear of it.
Bowing our heads against the helicopter’s fierce wind, Benton and I climb into the rear cabin, pulling the door shut. We fasten our harnesses and put on our headsets.
“Did you find anything useful?” Lucy’s voice sounds over the intercom, and I detect uneasiness.
Of course it’s crossed her thoughts that Georgine Duvall kept a record of their therapeutic sessions. And that Benton and I might see them.
“We went through Zain Willard’s files.” I move the mic closer to my lips. “And yes, it was helpful.”
“I’m sorry he saw her for as long as he did,” Lucy says with surprising resentment.
“So am I,” I reply.
“Any early indications of him having violent tendencies?” Tron’s voice.
“Only toward himself,” Benton answers. “But we did find a repeated reference to aneventthat occurred in December of hisfreshman year. Something that Georgine was secretive about. And that suggests to me she was concerned about legal ramifications.”
“She knew how to cover her ass,” Lucy says. “That much she was good at. And controlling the hell out of people when they’re vulnerable. But now’s not the time to get into it.”
“Whatever this event might have been,” I summarize, “Zain’s anxiety and self-harm got exponentially worse.”
“Pulling pitch,” Lucy announces. “And going back tocrew onlyfor now. If you need us just buzz.”
“What’s our ETA?” I ask, and neither of them answer.
They can’t hear us, and we can’t hear them. Even so, I’ll be careful what Benton and I talk about. Without warning, Lucy or Tron could switch the intercom to include the back cabin. I want to discuss with Benton what he read in Lucy’s file, but it will have to wait.
She opens the throttles all the way, and soon we’re lifting above the black void of forests. We gain altitude as we fly north, the lights below flickering like tiny flames in trees. I text Marino that we’re on our way back to Dulles. He answers that he’s with Dorothy at Benton’s and my house.
Fabian visited the property earlier, baiting a trap with marshmallows, setting it by the hollowed-out chestnut tree. He caught the injured raccoon in record time and is whisking it away to the wildlife rescue service, where it will be treated for lacerations and infection, Marino informs me.
How is she?I text him about my sister next.
Kind of weird but okay I guess.
Apparently, Dorothy has been busy in my kitchen, and I’m touched by dread. I don’t look forward to what we’ll encounter when we get home. But I sense one of my sister’s emotional storms brewing.
“Benton, no telling what dinner will be like tonight.” I talk through my mic while looking out my window as the moon rises higher.
“All that matters is everybody gets along.” His voice in my headset as we sit in the dark.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” I warn.
A thousand feet below on I-95, traffic is a necklace of lights diamond white and ruby red winding into infinity. Benton is reading more updates on his phone.
“The governor has issued another statement that the public needs to remain on high alert about the Slasher,” he reports. “Just because the police have identified someone of interest doesn’t mean the serial killer has been caught. That’s what she’s pounding the pulpit about.”
“Doing Calvin Willard’s bidding,” I reply.
