The Silent Wife (Will Trent #10) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,191
giving a lot of thought to this situation we both find ourselves in.”
Jeffrey figured only one of them was in it by choice.
“My wife told me something profound when Sara was born. You know my wife?”
Jeffrey gave him a look. “I believe she goes to my church.”
“Yeah, well, she’s a pretty smart lady. I remember something she told me when Sara was born. We were in the maternity ward. I was holding this beautiful little red-headed girl in my arms, and my wife—Cathy, that’s her name—told me that I’d better stay on the straight and narrow, because girls tend to marry men who are like their fathers.” He gave a wistful smile. “Right there in that hospital, I vowed to be kind and respectful to my baby girl. To listen to her and trust her and to make it clear that she should only expect the best.”
Jeffrey said, “I know there’s a point in there somewhere.”
“The point is, I wasted my time.” He shrugged. “I should’ve ignored her so she’d know how to deal with men who treat her like shit.”
Eddie grabbed the railing and pulled himself up the stairs. His shoulder bumped Jeffrey’s. The pulled muscle in his back screeched like a howler monkey, but he was not going to give Eddie Linton the satisfaction.
Jeffrey grimaced as he took a step down. Pain gripped his spine. It was nothing compared to how he felt when he saw the closed door to the morgue.
For his coroner duties, Brock used the basement of his family funeral home. Sara had used the hospital morgue. Her name was still etched into the glass from her last stint in the job. The letters read SARA TOLLIVER.
Masking tape covered his last name. LINTON was written over it in black marker.
Jeffrey guessed he could’ve chosen a different woman to cheat on Sara with than the town’s only sign maker.
He picked at the corner of the tape, but his sense of dignity kept him from ripping it away. He cocked his head, listening for sounds on the other side of the door. He wasn’t in the mood to be pounced on by Tessa. He didn’t hear voices. He heard music. Paul Simon.
“50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.”
Sara was playing their song.
Jeffrey straightened his shoulders. He ignored the twitch of protest in his back. He opened the door.
Sara was on her knees, rubber gloves on her hands, blue bandana tied around her head, as she scrubbed the tile floor.
She looked up at Jeffrey over the rim of her glasses. “Did you run into my father?”
“Yeah, he played me the full Götterdämmerung.”
She caught herself before she smiled. The scrub brush dropped into the bucket. The gloves came off. She stood up and wiped the grime off her knees. She was in shorts and a paint-spattered T-shirt that had a faded orange and blue Heartsdale High logo on the front.
She asked, “Nesbitt?”
“The DA is holding back on everything but the porn charges. Between us, I can’t blame him. It’s a weak case. Everything is circumstantial, and that’s being generous. We’re looking at a lawsuit over Caterino. Nobody wants to jump unless we know where we’re going to land.”
“You’re certain it’s Nesbitt?”
“Who else would it be?” Jeffrey asked. “Set aside the circumstantial evidence. The killer knows the woods. He knew about the fire road. He was familiar with the campus. He stalked the victims. He stole personal items. He knew their routines. All that points to a man who can easily blend in.”
She said, “All that points to someone who was raised in Grant County.”
“Daryl Nesbitt,” Jeffrey concluded.
Sara allowed, “He attacked two women within half an hour of each other. It says something that no one else has been hurt since he was arrested.”
“I’m hoping that a con with Daddy issues takes him out before he goes to trial.”
Sara frowned. She had the luxury of not believing in vigilante justice. As a cop, Jeffrey had learned that sometimes you had to skate into the gray areas to make sure the wrong people didn’t get hurt. The trick was making sure you didn’t spend your life there.
She asked, “Have you talked to Brock?”
Jeffrey had talked to Brock more times in the last week than he’d talked to any cop on his force. The man wanted to hear. every single detail of the investigations. “I’ve got five voicemails on my phone. He’s pretty upset about the attacks.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Sara said. “He’s floundering without his father. You know how hard it