Blindsighted (Grant County #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,69
the last thirty-three years building a fortress around herself. He wasn’t about to break through it in three days.
Instead, he said, “Lena, my number one focus right now is to find out who killed your sister and who raped Julia Matthews. This”—he indicated his leg—“I can deal with when it’s over. I think we both know where to start looking. It’s not like they’re all gonna leave town.”
He pushed the door open and physically lifted his injured leg out with his hand. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, feeling an intense protest from his knee. His leg had gotten stiff from sitting in the car for so long. By the time Jeffrey stood up from the car, a line of perspiration beaded over his lip.
Pain shot through his leg as he walked toward his house. His house keys were on the same ring as the car keys, so he walked to the back of the house, entering through the kitchen. For the last two years, Jeffrey had been remodeling the house himself. His latest project was the kitchen, and he had gutted the back wall of the house one three-day weekend, planning to have it built back in time to return to work. A shooting had cut his plans short, and he had ended up buying plastic strips from a freezer supply house in Birmingham and nailing them up over the naked two-by-fours. The plastic kept the rain and wind out, but meanwhile he still had a big hole at the back of his house.
In the living room, Jeffrey picked up the phone and dialed Sara’s number, hoping he could catch her before she left for work. Her machine picked up, so he dialed the Linton house.
Eddie Linton answered the phone on the third ring. “Linton and Daughters.”
Jeffrey tried to remain pleasant. “Hey, Eddie, it’s Jeffrey.”
The phone clattered as it was dropped onto the floor. Jeffrey could hear dishes and pans in the background, then muffled conversation. A few seconds later Sara picked up the phone.
“Jeff?”
“Yeah,” he answered. He could hear her opening the door onto the deck. The Lintons were the only people he knew who didn’t have a cordless phone in their house. There was an extension in the bedroom and one in the kitchen. If not for the ten-foot cord the girls had put on the kitchen phone when they were back in high school, privacy would not have been possible.
He heard the door close, then Sara said, “Sorry.”
“How’re you doing?”
She skipped an answer, saying, “I’m not the one who got shot last night.”
Jeffrey paused, wondering about the sharp tone to her voice. “I heard about what happened with Julia Matthews.”
“Right,” Sara said. “I ran the blood in Augusta. Belladonna has two specific markers.”
He cut short a chemistry lesson. “You found both of them?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“So, we’re looking for the same guy on both.”
Her voice was clipped. “Looks that way.”
A few seconds passed, then Jeffrey said, “Nick has this guy who’s kind of a specialist on belladonna poisoning. He’s bringing him by at ten. Can you make it?”
“I can pop over between patients, but I can’t stay long,” Sara offered. There was a change in her voice, something softer, when she said, “I need to go now, okay?”
“I want to go over what happened last night.”
“Later, okay?” She didn’t give him time to answer. The phone clicked in his ear.
Jeffrey let out a sigh as he limped toward the bathroom. On the way, he looked out the window, checking on Lena. She was still in the car, both hands gripping the wheel. It seemed like every woman in his life had something they were hiding today.
After a hot shower and shave, Jeffrey felt considerably better. His leg was still stiff, but the more he moved it the less it hurt. There was something to be said for staying mobile. The drive to the station was tense and quiet, the only noise in the car being the sound of Lena’s teeth gritting. Jeffrey was glad to see the back of her as she walked toward the hospital.
Marla met him at the front door, her hands clasped in front of her chest. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said, taking his arm, leading him back toward his office. He put a stop to her fussing when she opened the door for him.
“I’ve got it,” Jeffrey said. “Where’s Frank?”
Marla’s face fell. If Grant was a small place, its police force was even smaller. Rumors traveled faster within the ranks than a bolt