The Last Widow. Karin Slaughter
cruiser. He wrenched together Hank’s wrists and pinned them together with one hand. He kicked out his legs. He patted down the man’s pockets. Android phone. Folded money. Some coins. Driver’s license and an insurance card.
Will matched the photo on the license to Hank’s face. He watched the tiny letters of the name jump like fleas across the white background. He handed over both to the cop. “I don’t have my glasses.”
“Hurley,” the cop read. “Robert Jacob Hurley.”
“Hurley.” Will saw the bullet hole in the back of his leg. He wanted to jam a pencil into it. “He’s going to bleed out. We have to get him to the hospital.”
Will grabbed Hurley up by the collar. He stumbled, the road tilted like a funhouse.
The cop tried, “Are you—”
“Let’s go.” Will shoved Hurley into the back of the cruiser and slammed the door so hard that the car rocked.
Will braced his hands on the roof. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his equilibrium. He was suddenly aware of all of the pain in his body. The skin on his knuckles was broken open. Rivulets of blood were streaming down his neck. There were no words to describe what was going on inside his belly. Every single organ felt like it was strapped tight with a thousand rubber bands. His ribs had turned into straight razors.
Will walked around the car. The front door was at the wrong end of a telescope. He blinked his eyes. He fumbled for the handle.
The minute he was inside, the car lurched forward.
Will didn’t look at Cathy as they pulled away.
She called his name.
Will.
Sara’s voice, but not her voice.
The cop said, “I’m getting something.” He had his phone to his ear. “It’s ringing.”
“A woman was—” Will felt his stomach clench. He leaned over and threw up into the floorboard. The splatter went everywhere. He had to wipe it off of his face. “Sorry.”
The cop rolled down the front windows.
Will’s eyes started to close. He could feel his body wanting to give up. He told the cop, “Silver BMW. Michelle Spivey was with them.”
“Mi—” the cop’s mouth dropped open.
“They were a team. Cops. Military.”
“Shit. Phone stopped ringing.” the cop hung up and dialed again. The cruiser cut into the empty lane. Coasted through Emory Village. There were people on the sidewalk running toward the hospital. Druid Hills was filled with doctors and medical support staff and people from the CDC. They were all doing what Will and Sara had tried to do—reach the site of the disaster as quickly as possible.
Will’s vision fought him as he tried to look at his watch. It took all of his focus to make the numbers sharpen.
2:06 p.m.
“Thank fuck,” the cop mumbled. “This is 3-2-9-9-4.”
Will felt the anvil lift off of his chest. The call had finally gone through.
“I need the commander. I’ve got one of the bombing suspects in custody. I have details on—”
“S-shilver BMW X5.” Will heard his words slur. “Three sushpects. They abducted two wahh—” He couldn’t get the information to come out. His head didn’t want to stay upright. “Amanda Wagner. You need to fah … tell … tell her they took Sara. Tell her …”. He had to close his eyes against the sunlight. “Tell her I fucked up.”
Will’s eyelids peeled open like wet cotton. Thumb tacks were drilling into his pupils. Tears leaked out as he struggled to maintain consciousness. There wasn’t a moment of disorientation or forgetfulness. He remembered exactly what had happened and knew exactly where he was.
He swung his legs over the side of the hospital gurney. He nearly fell to the floor.
“Steady.” Nate, the cop from the cruiser, was still with him. “You passed out. You’re in the ER.”
Will strained to hear him over the loud noises. “Did they find Sara?”
“Not yet.”
“The car?” Will pressed. “They can’t find the car?”
“There’s a full-on manhunt. They’ll find her.”
Will didn’t just want them to find her. He wanted—needed—them to find her alive.
The cop said, “Maybe you should lay down, buddy.”
Will rubbed his eyes to clear them. The fluorescent lights were like sewing needles. He realized that he was sitting on one of dozens of gurneys that were parked on each side of the hallway. Patients were bleeding, moaning, crying. Debris covered their faces in gray dust. The atmosphere was eerily calm. No one was shouting. Nurses and doctors walked briskly back and forth with tablets tucked under their arms. The hospital staff were prepared for this. The real panic would be out in the streets.
Will asked Nate, “How many people are dead?”
“There’s no official count. Maybe as few as twenty, maybe as many as fifty.”
Will’s brain couldn’t comprehend the number. He had heard the bombs go off. He had run to help the survivors. He had been mentally prepared to do whatever it took to save as many people as possible.
Now, his only concern was Sara.
Nate said, “They’re clearing each building in teams. Looking for more—”
Will slid off the bed. He waited for the nausea and dizziness to return. Neither made a repeat appearance, but his head throbbed with each beat of his heart.
He closed his eyes, tried to breathe. “What about the BMW?”
“It’s in the system, but the system—”
“What time is it?”
“Two thirty-eight.”
Which meant that Sara had been gone for over half an hour. Will’s head dropped to his chest. His stomach was still grinding inside of his belly. His hands were bleeding from punching Hurley while Sara was taken right out from under him.
My son-in-law would’ve never let this happen.
Her son-in-law.
Sara’s husband.
The chief of their town.
Would not have let this happen.
“Hey,” Nate said. “You want some water or something?”
Will rubbed his jaw with his fingers. He could still smell Sara on his hands.
“Will!” Faith was running down the hallway. Amanda walked behind her. She was talking into a satellite phone.
Will’s throat felt so raw that he could barely get out the question. “Did you find Sara?”
“The entire state is looking for her.” Faith pressed her hand to his forehead the same way she did when she was worried that Emma had a fever. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I let them steal her.”
Faith put her hand back to his head.
“We stopped to help them.” Will bullet-pointed the details of the car accident. “They drove up The By Way. That’s the last I saw of her. I don’t—” He stopped to cough. It felt like another punch to his gut. “I don’t know why she went with them.”
Amanda asked, “Why are you slumped over like a hobo?”
Before he could answer, she raised his shirt. Red and purple splotches showed the broken blood vessels