The Silent Wife (Will Trent #10) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,171

and location. “I’m Dr. Sara Linton. I’m with Dan Brock, the Grant County coroner, and Jeffrey Tolliver, the chief of police.”

Sara bit her lip as the camera turned toward the face of each person her younger self named.

Jeffrey was in a charcoal suit. A cotton mask covered his mouth and nose. He looked concerned. They all looked concerned.

She watched the younger Sara begin the preliminary exam, using a penlight to check for petechia, turning the head to better see the round, red mark on Leslie Truong’s temple.

“This could be the first blow,” the younger Sara said.

The present Sara, the living breathing Sara, wanted to look at Will, to study his face, to deduce what he was thinking.

But she couldn’t.

On screen, the camera had tilted. The lens skewed out of focus. She could see the blurred white of Jeffrey’s mask. Sara could still remember the stench of feces and rot coming off the body. The smell had made her eyes water. Now, she studied the blue staining along Leslie Truong’s upper lip. She had expected to see a mark similar to the one that came from drinking the contents over a period of time. In retrospect, the blue looked like the liquid had been dropped onto her lips, then allowed to dry.

“Blockages?” Brock’s voice was loud. He had been holding the camera.

Sara listened to her younger self explain the findings. She sounded so damn sure of herself. Eight years later, Sara seldom spoke with the same conviction. The price for having lived those ensuing years was that she had come to understand that there were very few situations that could be viewed with absolute certainty.

Jeffrey said, “We think the killer was trying to paralyze the victims.”

A lump came into Sara’s throat. She had not thought far enough ahead to realize that she was going to hear Jeffrey’s voice again. It carried with the same deep resonance that she remembered. She had felt her heartbeat falter at the sound.

Her younger self was lifting up Leslie Truong’s shirt, finding a dislocated rib.

Sara let her gaze travel down until she was staring at the flashing clock on the VCR.

She heard her younger self tell Brock, “Get closer on this.”

Sara parted her lips. She took in a deep breath. She could feel Will’s eyes on her. Could almost hear the self-doubt troubling his mind. He was slightly taller than Jeffrey, but not as classically handsome. Will was more fit. Jeffrey more confident. Will had Sara. Did Jeffrey still have her, too?

On the video, Brock said, “Ready.”

Sara looked up at the TV. Brock was helping her roll Leslie Truong onto her side. Jeffrey was behind the camera. He had zoomed wide to get the full length of the body. Dirt and stray twigs were stuck to the young woman’s bare backside. Younger Sara was postulating about whether the girl had pulled up her pants, or if the killer had done it for her.

“Wait.” Faith stood up. “Pause it. Go back.”

Sara looked for the buttons, but Faith took the remote.

“Here.” She clicked the frame into slow motion. “By the trees.”

Sara squinted at the set. There were people in the distance, approximately fifty feet away. They were standing behind yellow police tape. She couldn’t make out Brad Stephen’s face, but she recognized his crisply starched uniform, his goofy gait, as he tried to cordon back the spectators.

“This guy.” Faith paused the image. She pointed to one of the students. “He’s wearing a black knit hat.”

Sara could make out the hat, but the face was a blur.

Faith said, “Lena’s notes outlined the witness statement she took from Leslie Truong at the Caterino scene. Truong reported seeing three women and one man in the woods. She couldn’t remember anything about the man, except that he was a student wearing a black, beanie-style knit cap.”

Sara walked over to the set for a closer look. The videotape was old, the technology even older. The man’s face was pixelated down to an amorphous blob. “I recognize Brad because I know Brad, but that’s it.”

Faith was looking at Amanda, a pleading expression on her face.

Amanda’s lips pursed. The chance that something could be done to enhance the image was slim. For Faith’s benefit, she said, “We’ll have IT look at it.”

Faith stopped the video. She punched the eject button. “I can take it downstairs now.”

“Go,” Amanda looked at her watch. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Faith grabbed her purse. Sara heard her running down the hallway. Like all of them, she was desperate for