[Georgia 03] Fallen

while he talked to Faith. Roz Levy had rendered her opinion as soon as the call ended, telling them the room was a clock and that she’d be more than happy to run over there with her Python and take out the punk standing at noon.
    Will told Faith, “I’d like to think that I would’ve figured it out eventually.”
    “You realize that a blood sugar of eighteen hundred would probably mean I was either dead or in an irreversible coma?”
    “Sure, I knew that.”
    “Jesus Christ,” she whispered. “So much for our well-oiled machine.”
    He felt the need to tell her, “The helicopter was all me. The infrared camera told us where you were, confirmed that his partner was dead.” She didn’t seem impressed, so Will added, “And the lights were my idea.” They’d lined up two squad cars and blasted their xenon lights at the front windows. Caleb’s shadow against the curtains had given them something to aim for.
    “Well, thanks anyway for shooting him.” She could obviously read his expression. “Oh, Will, it wasn’t you?”
    He let out a long breath. “Amanda promised me she’d give me one of my testicles back if I let her take the shot.”
    “I hope you got that in writing. She didn’t exactly hit a bull’s-eye.”
    “She blames my rifle. Something about me being left-handed.”
    The grip was universal, but Faith didn’t argue. “Well, I’m glad you were there. It made me feel safer.”
    He smiled, though he was fairly certain all of this could’ve happened without his presence. Amanda was resourceful, and Will had basically hidden behind a wall while Faith risked her life.
    She said, “I’m glad you’re with Sara.”
    He fought the silly grin that wanted to come. “I’m just hanging in there until she decides she can do better.”
    “I wish I thought you were joking.”
    So did Will. He didn’t understand Sara. He didn’t know what made her tick or why she was with him. And yet, she was. And not just that—she seemed to be happy about it. Sara had been smiling so much this morning that she could barely purse her lips to kiss him goodbye. Will had thought maybe some toilet paper was stuck to his face where he’d cut himself shaving, but she’d told him that she was smiling because he made her happy.
    He didn’t know what to do with that. It didn’t make sense.
    Faith knew how to stop the grin on his face. “What about Angie?”
    He shrugged, as if Angie hadn’t left so many messages on his home and cell phone that both voicemail boxes had run out of space. Each message got nastier and nastier. Each threat more severe. Will had listened to every message. He couldn’t help himself. He could still see Angie with that gun in her mouth. He could still feel his heart rattle at the thought of pushing open his bathroom door and finding her bleeding out in his bathtub.
    Thankfully, Faith didn’t dwell for long on the negative. “Have you told Sara you’re terrified of chimpanzees?”
    “It hasn’t really come up.”
    “It will eventually. That’s what happens in relationships. Everything comes up whether you like it or not.”
    Will nodded, hoping his quick acquiescence would shut her up. He wasn’t that lucky.
    “Look.” She put on her mom voice, the one she used when he wasn’t standing up straight or wore the wrong tie. “The only way you’re going to screw this up is if you keep worrying about screwing it up.”
    Will would rather be stuck in Mrs. Levy’s trunk again than have this conversation. “It’s Betty I’m worried about.”
    “Really.”
    “She’s become quite attached.” That much was true. The dog had refused to leave Sara’s apartment this morning.
    “Just promise me that you’ll wait at least a month before you tell her that you’re in love with her.”
    He let out a stream of breath, longing for the isolation of the Corvair. “Did you know that Bayer used to own the trademark for heroin?”
    She shook her head at the subterfuge. “The aspirin company?”
    “They lost the trademark after World War I. It’s in the Treaty of Versailles.”
    “You learn something new every day.”
    “Sears used to sell preloaded syringes of heroin in their catalogue. A buck fifty for two.”
    She put her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Will.”
    He patted the back of her hand once, then again, because just once was probably not enough. “It’s Roz Levy you should thank. She’s the one who figured it out.”
    “She’s not quite the sweet little old lady, is