The Silent Wife (Will Trent #10) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,73

their search. Not that they searched much, because at that point, they didn’t care. But the girls knew how much the hair clip meant to Beckey, so while she was in the hospital, they looked for it. And they didn’t find it. And when the cops bothered to actually investigate what happened, they didn’t find it, either.”

Faith bit the tip of her tongue. She could not believe that this was a detail Lena Adams had forgotten.

“Those cops,” Gerald said. “Tolliver, he was the worst. He came across all sympathetic, like he cared, but he just wanted to tick a box and clear this case so he could keep getting paid.”

Faith knew what a cop’s paycheck looked like. It hardly inspired motivation.

“He told me, that lying, fucking asshole told me—” Gerald cut himself off, trying to regroup. “Tolliver framed Nesbitt. I’ll tell you that. If I could prove it, I’d sue that town to the ground. You know the college paid out, right? And the county. They knew that police force was corrupt. That’s why they paid through the nose.”

Faith was suddenly glad that she was filming the man who sued police departments. She asked, “Was there a trial for damages?”

“They didn’t want a trial because they knew all the incriminating details would come out. Don’t you see? The insurance company, the town, the lawyers—even my own legal team—they were all part of the cover-up.”

In Faith’s experience, legal teams did whatever they could to get the largest payout.

Gerald said, “The county settled with me, but they wouldn’t say they did anything wrong, even though we know they did. We know they did. Thirty god damn minutes. Thirty minutes of my daughter’s life. I’m breaking that non-disclosure agreement right now. I should’ve gone on the news. I still could go. Let them try to claw the money back. I dare them.”

Faith moved her thumb to cover the microphone, even though it was too late.

Gerald told Faith, “You have a son. How are you going to feel when you send him off to college? You trust them, right? You trust the police. You trust everybody to look out for your kid, and when they don’t, you make them pay.”

Will cleared his throat. “How much did they pay?”

“Not enough.” Gerald looked around the room. His lip started to quiver. “Not fucking enough.”

His voice had raked up on the last word, cut off by a sob. He covered his mouth, trying to keep it in. Gerald lost the battle. He bent over at the waist. A distraught wail seeped from his lips. His knees gave out. He dropped to the floor. He covered his face with his hands. He started keening like a child.

Faith turned off the video. Will stopped her from going to Gerald. He found a box of Kleenex in the corner. The trashcan beside it was already overflowing.

Gerald’s head was pressed to the carpet. His sobs filled the room. Comforting him wasn’t the answer. You could not comfort hope.

Will knelt down. He offered him the Kleenex.

“I’m sorry.” Gerald took a tissue. He wiped his eyes. “This happens sometimes. I can’t stop it.”

Will helped the father stand.

Gerald blew his nose. His face was red. He was embarrassed.

Faith gave him a few more seconds before leading him back to the present. “Mr. Caterino, downstairs, when my partner told you the spinal cord damage was C5, that seemed to set you off.”

He blew his nose again, straightened his shirt.

“Beckey had a puncture.” He pointed to a black-and-white image on the wall. “I was going to take this to you downstairs, but I thought it was better to bring you up here and show you. There’s so much, and I—I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Faith soothed. “I’m glad you allowed us to see this. It’s important that we keep all of the hard work you’ve done intact.”

“Okay. You’re right.” He pointed to the wall again. “This is the puncture.”

She turned the video back on. She zoomed in on the black-and-white image, which was taken from an MRI. Even to her untrained eye, she could see the damage to the spinal cord, like a tire puncture from a cartoon with fluid seeping out instead of air.

He said, “No one could explain it.”

“Is there anything else about your daughter’s case that we should know about?”

“It’s all lost. The leads have gone cold. There’s no one to talk to. No one who will talk about it, anyway.” Gerald threw away the Kleenex. “Tolliver worked his ass off to make sure we