[Georgia 03] Fallen

orders. To those who knew him, it seemed entirely plausible. Detective Finn was the quintessential follower, which was exactly the personality type that men like Boyd Spivey knew how to exploit.
    But Faith didn’t want to think about Boyd or Chuck or any of her mother’s team right now. The investigation had eaten up six months of her life. Six months of sleepless nights. Six months of worrying that her mother was going to have a heart attack or end up in prison or both.
    Faith made herself close her eyes. She wanted to think of good times with her mother, to recall some moment of kindness or summon the pleasure of her company. What she saw instead was the man in her mother’s bedroom, the black hole in the center of his forehead where Faith had shot him. His hands jerked up. The hostage stared at Faith in disbelief. His mouth gaped open. She saw the silver grill on his teeth, that his tongue was pierced with a matching silver ball.
    Almeja , he had said.
    Money.
    Faith heard the floorboards creak in the hall. “Jeremy?” She pushed herself up on her elbow and turned on the bedside lamp.
    He gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry, I know you’re tired.”
    “Do you want me to take the sheets down to Zeke?”
    “No, it’s not that.” He pulled his iPhone out of his pocket. “Something came up on my Facebook page.”
    “I thought you stopped using that when I made you friend me.” Faith had never been the kind of parent to completely trust her kid. Her own parents had trusted her and look where that had gotten them. “What’s going on?”
    His thumbs moved across the screen as he talked. “I got bored. I mean, not bored, but there was nothing to do, so …”
    “It’s okay, baby.” She sat up in bed. “What is it?”
    “Lots of people have been posting stuff. I guess they heard about Grandma on the news.”
    “That’s nice,” Faith said, though she found it a bit ghoulish and, to borrow a word from her brother, dramatic . “What are they saying?”
    “Mostly just that they’re thinking about me and stuff like that. But there’s this.” He turned the phone around and handed it to her.
    Faith read the message aloud. “ ‘Hey, Jaybird, hope you’re okay. I’m sure the bad guys will get fingered. Just remember what your grandma used to say: keep your mouth shut and your eyes open.’ ” Faith checked the screen name. “GoodKnight92. Is that someone you went to Grady with?” Jeremy’s high school’s mascot was the knight, and he had been born in 1992.
    He shrugged. “Never heard of him.”
    Faith noted that the post had come in at 2:32 that afternoon, less than an hour after Evelyn had been abducted. She tried not to sound concerned when she asked, “When did he friend you?”
    “Today, but a lot of people did. They kind of all came out of the woodwork.”
    She gave him the phone. “What does his profile say?”
    “Just that he lives in Atlanta and works in distribution.” He thumbed through the screen and showed it to Faith.
    Her eyes were so tired she had trouble focusing. Faith held the phone close to her face so she could read the words. There was nothing more, not even a picture. Jeremy was GoodKnight’s only friend. Faith felt her cop’s intuition telling her something was wrong, but she handed back the phone as if it was nothing. “I’m sure it’s someone you went to Morningside with. You were teased so bad about Grandma calling you Jaybird that you begged me to let you switch to another school.”
    “It’s weird, though—right?”
    She wasn’t going to let him worry. “Most of your friends are weird.”
    He wouldn’t be soothed. “How does he know that about Gran always saying that?”
    “It’s a pretty common saying,” Faith answered. “Mouth shut, eyes open. I had a drill instructor at the academy who practically tattooed it on his forehead.” She forced a lightness into her tone. “Come on. It’s nothing. It’s probably a cop’s kid. You know the rule. Something bad happens and we’re all family.”
    That finally seemed to mollify him. Jeremy had been dragged to his share of hospitals and strangers’ homes when a police officer had been wounded or killed. He put the phone back into his pocket.
    She asked, “You sure you’re okay?”
    He nodded.
    “You can sleep in here if you want.”
    “That’d be weird, Mom.”
    “Wake me if you need me.” Faith lay back down, slipping her hand under the pillow. Her fingers touched something wet.