Her eyes were moist.
Will glanced at the receptionist, who was still typing on her computer.
He lowered his voice, ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Oh yes.’ Her teeth showed in a wide smile, but the lip would not stop its tremble. ‘Everything is wonderful.’
Will noticed that the receptionist had stopped typing. She had the phone to her ear. Mrs Lindsay’s lip had not stopped quivering. She was obviously upset about something.
He tried to sound conversational. ‘Do you live around here?’
‘Just up the street.’
‘Buckhead,’ Will said. ‘My boss lives down the road in those town homes near Peachtree Battle.’
‘That’s a nice area. I’m in the older building at the curve across from the churches.’
‘Jesus Junction,’ Will supplied.
‘The Lord is everywhere.’
Will wasn’t religious, but he said, ‘It’s good to have somebody looking out for you.’
‘You’re so right. I am truly blessed.’
Will felt like he was trapped inside a plasma globe with little sparks of electricity arcing back and forth between him and Mrs Lindsay. They kept staring at each other for at least another ten seconds before the door behind the receptionist’s desk opened.
‘Miss Lindsay?’ A bullet-headed thug wearing a tight-fitting black shirt and even tighter black pants stood in the open doorway. His Boston accent was as thick as his neck. ‘Let’s bring you back, sweetheart.’
Mrs Lindsay gripped her cane and stood, so Will stood too. ‘It was nice meeting you.’
‘You too.’ She offered her hand. He shook it. Her skin was clammy. She bit her lip to stop the tremble. She leaned on her cane to get herself started, then walked through the open door without turning back around.
The thug eyeballed Will a fuck-you before shutting the door behind him. Will took a wild shot in the dark and guessed this was Laslo, and that Laslo worked for Kip Kilpatrick. Behind every fixer was a sleazeball eager to get his hands dirty. Laslo struck Will as the type who came pre-dirtied.
The receptionist said, ‘Mr Kilpatrick should be about five or ten minutes.’
‘More.’ She looked confused, so Will explained, ‘Because you said five to ten minutes before, so now it’s—’
She started pecking on her computer again.
Will stuck his hands into his pockets. He looked at the couch, feeling like Mrs Lindsay might have left something for him. A breadcrumb, maybe.
Nothing.
He walked toward the bathroom door, turned around, and walked back toward the drink sign. He’d been right about the pacing. The receptionist kept giving him annoyed looks as she picked away at her computer keyboard. He wondered if she was updating her Facebook page. What exactly was required of a receptionist if she wasn’t in charge of answering phones? Will considered this as he paced, because the other things he had to consider were too much to bear. He was on his sixth revolution when a loud ding pierced the air.
The elevator doors slid open. Amanda stepped out.
Her expression quickly changed from surprise to fury to her usual mask of indifference. ‘You’re early,’ she said, as if the fact that he was standing in the lobby hadn’t shocked the hell out of her. She turned to the receptionist, ‘Can you find out how much longer Mr Kilpatrick will be?’
The girl picked up the phone. Her fingernails spiked the keypad.
‘Thank you.’ Amanda’s tone was polite, but her shoes gave her away. The heels stabbed into the marble floor like knives. She sat in the chair Will had abandoned. Her feet didn’t reach the ground. She teetered a bit as she tried to keep her balance. Will had never seen Amanda sit all the way back in a chair, but the problem was that this particular chair had been built for someone with a basketball player’s long legs. No wonder Will had been so comfortable.
He told her, ‘Sorry I was early.’
She picked up the Robb Report. ‘I think I prefer you without testicles.’
The receptionist hung up the phone with a clatter. ‘Mr Kilpatrick said he’ll be five or ten minutes.’ For Will’s sake, she added, ‘More.’
‘Thank you.’ Amanda stared at the magazine with a sudden interest in luxury watches.
Will figured he couldn’t piss off Amanda any more than he already had. He resumed his pacing back and forth between the bathroom and the sign. He thought about the second envelope he had found in Angie’s post office box. White, nondescript, more shocking than the first. There was no stamp. Angie had left it for him, and Will had left it locked inside his car. The Kilpatrick envelope was evidence. The second was nobody’s business.
He asked Amanda, ‘Did you find anything?’ She stared at him blankly. ‘At the crime scene?’
Amanda turned to the receptionist. ‘Excuse me?’ She waited for the girl to look up. ‘The last time I was here, I was served a lovely mint tea. Do you mind making some for me again? With honey?’
The receptionist forced a smile. She slammed her hands on the desk and rolled back her chair so she could stand. She opened the door to the offices and closed it hard behind her.
Amanda told Will, ‘Sit down.’
He sat on the couch.
She said, ‘You’ve got until the girl comes back to explain to me why I shouldn’t fire you on the spot.’
Will couldn’t think of a good reason, so he settled on coming clean. He pulled the 110 envelope out of his back pocket. He tossed it onto the glass coffee table.
Amanda didn’t touch it. She read the return address, which was for the office they were sitting in. Like the wallpaper in the lobby, the 110% was repeated in clear ink across the front and back. Instead of asking what was inside the envelope, she said, ‘How did you get Angie’s PO box number?’
‘I went to the bank. I’m on her checking account. The PO box is inside a UPS store off—’
‘Spring Street.’ She gave him a withering look. ‘Your phone belongs to the GBI, Will. I could track you to the bathroom if I wanted to.’ She motioned for him to continue. ‘So, you went to the store and?’
Will let the information about the tracking sink in. ‘I showed the manager the bank statement with our names on it and my driver’s license and he gave me access to the post office box.’ He left out the hundred dollars cash that had exchanged hands, and the veiled threats he had made to the store owner about the GBI’s fraud investigation division, but something about the look Amanda gave him said that she knew.
She studied the envelope again, still not touching it. ‘Who did you hit?’
He looked at the broken skin on the back of his hand. ‘Somebody who probably didn’t deserve it.’
‘Are they going to be a problem?’
Will didn’t think Collier was the type. ‘No.’
‘You need to take off that wedding ring before you see Sara. And I wouldn’t tell her you’re still listed on Angie’s bank account, because she might wonder how you can find that post office box in two hours when you haven’t been able to find one single viable lead off Angie in the last year and a half.’
Will didn’t hear a question, so he didn’t give an answer.
‘Why are you still on her account?’
‘Because she needs money sometimes.’ He looked out the window. The truth was, he didn’t know why he hadn’t tried to track down Angie through the bank statement before. ‘She’ll text me sometimes that she needs help.’
‘Which means you have her phone number?’
‘The last time she texted me was thirteen months ago for a couple hundred dollars.’ It was actually five hundred, but Will didn’t want to overshare. ‘The phone number that Charlie found is the same number she texted from. It’s been disconnected.’ He added, ‘And it’s the same number on her bank account.’