Triptych (Will Trent #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,70

on his back where he had lain beside Mary Alice all night.

John ran, his heart pulsing in his throat.

He had to get out of there.

He had to get home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

FEBRUARY 6, 2006

8:02 PM

Will Trent was brushing his dog when the doorbell rang. Betty started barking, her body nearly skittering off the table from the force. He shushed her and was rewarded with a curious look. Will had never told the dog no.

A full minute passed. Will and Betty waited, hoping whoever was at the door would go away, but the doorbell rang again, then three more times in rapid succession.

The dog started barking in earnest. Will sighed, put down the brush and rolled down his shirtsleeves. He scooped up the dog in his hand. The doorbell rang again—six times in a row—as he walked to the front door.

“What the fuck took you so long?”

He looked into the street to see if she was alone. “I’ve been plagued by Jehovah’s Witnesses lately.”

“Might be a good way for you to meet women.” Angie wrinkled her nose. “God, that is one ugly dog.”

Will followed Angie into his house, holding the dog close to his chest, feeling the slight even if the animal hadn’t. Angie was still dressed for work and he remarked, “You look like a prostitute.”

“You look like a corpse in a coffin.”

He pressed his hand to the tie. “You don’t like the suit?”

“What happened to those jeans I bought you?” She flopped onto his couch and let out a sigh of relief, not waiting for his answer. “These fucking shoes,” she complained, sliding out of the six-inch heels and letting them hit the rug. She unpinned her long brown hair and shook it out so it fell around her shoulders. “I am so sick of this fucking job.”

Will put Betty down on the floor. The Chihuahua’s nails clicked across the hardwood as she headed toward the kitchen. He heard her drink some water, then nibble on what was left of her supper. The dog was an unwelcome and, hopefully, temporary companion. Two weeks ago, Will had come back from his morning run to find his elderly neighbor being loaded into an ambulance. The woman had some sort of speech impediment and, judging from the timbre of her voice, a five-pack-a-day habit.

“Watch Betty!” she had screamed across the front lawn, though Will had heard it as Wash Betty!

“What do I do with her?” he had asked, somewhat horrified at the prospect. The woman just glared, so he pointed to the tiny Chihuahua standing on her front porch. “The dog. What about the dog?”

“Brush her!” the woman had screeched, and the ambulance doors had slammed shut.

Will didn’t know the neighbor’s name. Other than her love of listening to The Price Is Right at full volume, he knew little about her. He had no idea where the ambulance had taken her or if she had any family or, for that matter, if she was ever coming back. The only reason he knew the dog’s name was because the woman had a habit of yelling at it.

“Betty!” he would hear in the middle of the night, her voice a deeper baritone than any man’s. “Betty, I told you not to do that!”

Angie had her arms crossed over her chest as she stared up at Will. “You realize you look absolutely ridiculous carrying that little dog around.”

Will sat across from her, leaning back in his chair. He picked up the remote control for the stereo and stopped the audio book he had been listening to. Two very long years had passed since he had talked to Angie Polaski, and now here she was back in his living room like they hadn’t missed a day. She had always been like that, ever since they were children. Pretend nothing was surprising and you would never be surprised.

He said, “Thanks for helping me with the vending machine this morning,” leaving out that he’d almost had a heart attack when he saw her standing in the hallway at City Hall East today.

“What were you doing with Michael Ormewood, anyway?” Again, she didn’t let him answer. “Jesus, I can’t believe that about his neighbor. How weird is that?”

He tried to settle on one topic at a time. “He pulled a case that interested me. How do you know him?”

“Used to work Vice,” she told him. “Do you have anything to snack on?”

Will got up to check the refrigerator, Betty close on his heels. He ate most of his meals out, but