Criminal

Technology.”
    Amanda said more, but Will tuned out the words. He watched her mouth move. He saw her point to different reporters. Their questions were long. Her answers were brief. She didn’t put up with much. There was none of her usual bantering back and forth. Finally, Amanda left the podium. Monica Pearson returned. The photo of the missing girl was back over her shoulder. Blonde, pretty, thin.
    Familiar.
    Will took his phone out of his pocket. He touched his thumb to the speed dial for Amanda, but didn’t press the number.
    By state law, the GBI had to be asked by the local police before they could take over a case. One of the rare exceptions was with kidnappings, where timing was critical and abductors could quickly cross county and state lines. An Alert Bulletin would mobilize all of the GBI field offices. Agents would be called back in. Any collected evidence would be given top priority at the labs. All the agency’s resources would be directed toward this one case.
    Every resource but Will.
    He probably shouldn’t read anything into this. It was just another way Amanda had found to punish him. She was still mad about Will’s hair. She was petty enough to make a point of keeping him off a case. That was all it was. Will had worked kidnappings before. They were awful cases. They seldom ended well. Still, every cop wanted to work one. The ticking clock. The tension. The chase. The adrenaline jolt was part of the reason they joined in the first place.
    And Amanda was punishing Will by keeping him off the case.
    Techwood.
    A student.
    Will turned off the TV. He felt a drop of sweat slide down his back. His mind couldn’t settle on any one particular thought. Finally, he shook his head to clear it. That was when he noticed the time on the cable box. Sara’s shift had ended twelve minutes ago.
    “Crap.” Will had to move the dogs before he could stand up. He headed to the front door. Abel Conford, Sara’s neighbor, was in the hallway waiting for the elevator.
    “Good after—”
    Will ducked into the stairwell. He took the steps two at a time, eager to leave so Sara wouldn’t think he’d been mooning over her. She lived a few blocks from the hospital. She would be here any minute.
    She was actually already here.
    Will saw her sitting in her BMW as soon as he opened the lobby door. For a foolish split second, he considered darting into the trees. Then he realized that Sara had already seen his car. His ’79 Porsche was parked nose-out beside her brand-new SUV. Will couldn’t open his door without hitting Sara’s.
    He muttered under his breath as he plastered a smile onto his face. Sara didn’t return it. She was just sitting there gripping the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. He walked toward the car. The sun was bright enough to turn her windshield into a mirror, so he didn’t notice until he was right up on her that she had tears in her eyes.
    Instantly, his issue with Amanda ceased to matter. Will pulled the handle on the door. Sara unlocked it from the inside.
    He asked, “You okay?”
    “Yep.” She turned around to face him, propping her feet on the running board. “Bad day at work.”
    “Want to talk about it?”
    “Not really, but thank you.” She traced her fingers along the side of his face, tucked his hair behind his ear.
    Will leaned in closer. All he could do was look at her. Sara’s auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The sunlight brought out the intense green of her eyes. She was wearing her hospital scrubs. There were a few drops of dried blood on the sleeve. She had a series of numbers scribbled on the back of her hand. Blue ink on milky white skin. All the patient charts at Grady were on digital tablets. Sara used the back of her hand to calculate dosages for patients. Knowing this last week would’ve saved Will two sleepless nights of insane jealousy, but he wasn’t one to quibble.
    She asked, “Were the dogs okay?”
    “They did all the things dogs are supposed to do.”
    “Thank you for taking care of them.” Sara rested her hands on his shoulders. Will felt a familiar stirring. It was like there was an invisible string between them. The slightest tug and he was incapacitated.
    She stroked the back of his neck. “Tell me about your day.”
    “Boring and sad,” he answered, which was mostly true. “Some old guy told me I have a nice package.”
    She gave a sly smile. “Can’t arrest him for being honest.”
    “He was pleasuring himself when