Triptych (Will Trent #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,90

toward the door. “Tape wasn’t cut and I didn’t call anybody. I can ask Leo.”

“That’s fine. I was just curious.” Will pulled the door closed. He was twisting the key in the lock just as a loud bang rang through the stairwell, followed by a child’s scream.

Will passed Michael on the stairs, grabbing the banister as he swung across the landing. He could hear more screaming, a second child yelling, “Help!” as he bolted down the last set of stairs and threw open the door.

“Help!” a small boy screamed as he ran across the parking lot, a girl chasing him.

“Oh, fer fuck…” Michael breathed. He was panting from the run. “Jesus Christ,” he exhaled, bending at the waist.

The boy darted onto a small patch of grass that had the mailboxes for the building. He circled once before the girl caught up with him. She was sitting on his back by the time Will reached them.

“You give that back!” she demanded, delivering a sharp kidney punch to her captive.

“Jazz!” the boy screamed.

“Hold up,” Will said. “Come on.” Gently, he took the girl’s arm.

She jerked away from him, snapping, “This ain’t none of your business, fool.”

“All right,” Will said, kneeling down to talk to the boy. “You all right?”

The boy rolled onto his back. Will guessed the wind had been knocked out of him. He helped the boy sit up, knowing that would help. The kid was probably nine or ten, but the clothes he was wearing seemed better suited for a grown man. Even his shoes were too large for his feet.

Will asked the girl, “Tell me what happened here.”

“He took my—” She stopped as Michael joined them, her mouth open, eyes wide with fear as she stared at Michael.

“It’s all right,” Michael told her, holding out his hands. The girl hadn’t pegged Will but Michael might as well have worn a sign around his neck that read “cop.” She had probably been taught at her mother’s knee that you don’t talk to the police.

She stepped back, reaching for her brother and yanking him up by one arm. “You get away from us. We ain’t got nothing to say to you.”

Michael indicated the boy. “This your brother?” He smiled at the boy. “What’s your name, buddy? I’ve got a son about your age.”

“Don’t talk to him,” the girl cautioned.

“We’re not here to bang you up,” Will assured her. She looked about thirteen or fourteen, but the way her little fists were balled up told him he didn’t want to be sitting on the ground if she got angry enough to start swinging.

He told her, “We’re looking into something bad that happened here Sunday night.”

“Leesha,” the boy said, just as the girl clamped her hand around his mouth. He squirmed impatiently. Obviously, the boy had something to say that his sister did not want them to hear.

“What’s your name?” Michael asked.

“We ain’t got nothing to say,” the girl repeated. “We didn’t see nothing on Sunday night. We didn’t see nothing. Ain’t that right, Cedric?”

“You said—” the boy tried, but his mouth was covered again before he could get anything else out.

Michael lowered his voice, asking Will, “Which one do you want?”

Will offered, “Your choice.”

“You sure?”

Will nodded.

“All right.” Michael raised his voice. “Girl, this is the last time I’m going to ask this. What’s your name?”

She stood defiant, but answered, “Jasmine.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Michael tried. When she didn’t soften, his voice became authoritative again. “Come with me.”

“The fuck you say.”

Michael exchanged a look with Will. “That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you, little girl.”

“I ain’t your little girl!”

“Sweetheart, do you really want to make this hard?” Michael put his hands on his hips. The gesture would have been almost feminine if not for the fact that his jacket swung open, revealing his holstered nine-millimeter. Typical cop move: scare them early and scare them often. It worked. Fear flashed in her eyes, and she looked down at the ground, all of the fight gone out of her.

Michael actually winked at Will, as if to say, “That’s how you do it.” He asked Jasmine, “Is your mother inside?”

“She at work.”

“Who’s watching you?”

She mumbled something.

“What’s that?”

She glanced at the boy. “I asked if Cedric gonna be okay.”

“He’s your brother?” Michael asked.

She hesitated, then nodded.

“He’s going to be fine once you and I figure out who’s supposed to be watching you and why you aren’t in school.” He put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and led her back toward the building. “You shouldn’t be