Criminal

deep sigh came out like a groan. “Yes, this one I recognize.” He handed both licenses back to Amanda. “Now what?”
    She shook her head. It felt good to have Pete weigh in on the identities, but his validation wasn’t going to change much.
    The back door opened. Evelyn shook her head. “Nothing in the apartment. It’s still a mess, but I don’t think anyone’s—” She stopped. Amanda followed her gaze to the knitting needle. Evelyn put her hand to her mouth. Instead of turning away, she looked up at the tree. Then she looked down at the girl again.
    “What is it?” Amanda asked. Something was obviously wrong. She stood up and joined Evelyn. It was the same as the construction paper puzzle. Sometimes a change in perspective was all it took.
    The tree limb was broken. The girl lay on the ground. Her child had been aborted.
    “Oh, my God.” Amanda realized, “Ophelia.”

nineteen
    Present Day
    SUZANNA FORD
    The darkness. The cold. The noise.
    Air sucking in and out, like a car zooming through a tunnel.
    She couldn’t take it anymore. Her body ached. Her mouth was dry. Her stomach was so empty that she felt as if the acids were eating a hole in her belly.
    Meth.
    That was what had brought her here. Brought her low. She had fallen too far. She had put herself in the gutter. She had brought herself to this place.
    Dear Jesus , she prayed. If you get me out of here, I will worship You every day. I will exalt Your name .
    The claustrophobia. The absolute darkness. The unknowing. The fear of suffocation.
    Way back when they were still a family, her father had taken them all on a trip to Wales. There was a mine there, something from thousands of years ago. You had to wear a hard hat to go into the tunnels. They were small because people weren’t as tall back then. They were narrow because most of the workers were children.
    Suzanna had gone in twenty feet before she started freaking out. She could still see sunlight from the opening, but she’d nearly pissed herself running back toward the entrance.
    That was what it felt like now. Trapped. Hopeless.
    I will praise You. I will spread Your word. I will humble myself before You .
    Arms couldn’t move. Legs couldn’t move. Eyes couldn’t open. Mouth couldn’t open.
    Meth will never touch my lips, my nose, my lungs, ever again, so help me God .
    The tremble started slow, coursing through her body, straining her muscles. Her fingers flexed into a fist. She clenched her shoulders, her teeth, her ass. The threads pulled. The pain was excruciating. Hot needles touching raw nerves. Her heart was going to explode in her chest. She could rip herself away. She was stronger than this. She could rip herself away.
    Suzanna tried. She tried so hard. But each time, the pain won.
    She couldn’t make the skin tear. She couldn’t make the thread break.
    She could only lie there.
    Praying for salvation.
    Dear Jesus—

twenty
    Present Day
    TUESDAY
    Will awoke with a start. His neck cracked as he stretched it side to side. He was at home, sitting on his couch. Betty was beside him. The little dog was on her back. Legs up. Nose pointed toward the front door. Will glanced around, looking for Faith. She’d driven him home from the morgue. She’d gone to get him a glass of water and now, judging by the clock on the TiVo, it was almost two hours later.
    He listened to the house. It was quiet. Faith had left. Will didn’t know how he felt about that. Should he be relieved? Should he wonder where she had gone? There was no guidebook for this part of his life. No instructions he could follow to put it all back together.
    He tried to close his eyes again, to go back to sleep. He wanted to wake up a year from now. He wanted to wake up and have all of this over.
    Only, he couldn’t get his eyes to stay closed. Every time he tried, he found himself staring back up at the ceiling. Was that what it had been like for his mother? According to the autopsy report, her eyes had not always been sewn closed. Sometimes, they had been sewn open. The medical examiner posited in the report that Will’s father would have to stay close by during these periods. He would have to use a dropper to keep her eyes from drying out.
    Dr. Edward Taylor. That was the name of the medical examiner. The man had died in a car accident fifteen years ago. He’d been the first investigator Will had tried to track down. The first dead end. The first time Will had felt relief that there was no one around to