Last Breath: A Novella. Karin Slaughter

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      “Okay, that makes a lot of sense.”

      Charlie could see that he was trying. “I’m not one hundred percent certain that she’s not being abused.”

      “Shit.”

      “Well, she didn’t tell me that she was being abused. She actually denied it, but…” Charlie shrugged again. She wasn’t clairvoyant, but she’d had a bad feeling when she’d heard Flora’s denial. There was a fleeting look in the girl’s eyes, like she had been trapped in a corner and didn’t know how to get out. “Even if it’s not true, she’s in trouble, and I feel like I have to at least try to help her.”

      Ben didn’t hesitate. “Then, either way, I have to support your decision.”

      She had no idea how she’d managed to marry such a wonderful man. “We’ll pay off our student loans one day.”

      “With our social security.” Ben held up the candy. Charlie opened her mouth so he could drop it in.

      He asked, “What’s the girl’s name?”

      “Florabama Faulkner.”

      His eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

      “Kid never had a chance.” Charlie chewed the Starburst a few times before sticking it up inside her cheek. “Grandparents are raising her. She gave me their names, but I got their address from the Girl Scout rolls.”

      “That sounds vaguely illegal.”

      “I took a pledge to be a sister to every Scout, so it’s basically like spying on my sister.”

      “I’m going to distract you with my hands while I try not to think about you wearing a Girl Scout uniform.” Ben took out the tiny spiral notebook he always kept in his suit pocket. He showed the cover to Charlie: Captain Kirk looking serious about some Starship business. He edged the compact pen out of the spiral. He thumbed to a blank page.

      She said, “Leroy and Maude Faulkner. They’re living down from Shady Ray’s.”

      His pen didn’t move. “In the cinder-block apartments?”

      “Yep.”

      “That’s a bad place to raise a kid.”

      “They used to live on the lake. I’m assuming that trust fund mixed in with their addictions made it easy to make some bad decisions. Belinda says the grandmother showed up in a Porsche once, stone drunk.”

      “What kind of Porsche?” Ben shook his head. “Never mind. I get what you’re saying.”

      “Flora wants to go to college. She wants to make her mom proud, to honor her memory. That probably won’t happen if she stays with her grandparents.”

      “Probably not.” Ben scribbled the names and closed his notebook. “Word around the office is the entire apartment building is under surveillance. The cops are being really secretive about it, but I saw some photos on the wall in Ken’s office. Addicts live there along with a handful of terrified, law-abiding citizens who can’t afford better. There’s a meth lab in the vicinity.”

      “They can’t find it?” Meth labs were usually found in trailers or recently blown-up basements.

      Ben said, “I gleaned from the photos that they think whoever is cooking the meth is doing it out of the back of a panel van.”

      “That sounds stupid and dangerous.”

      “The cops will catch them the minute the van explodes.” He tucked the notebook back in his pocket. “You sure you’re okay?”

      “Just thinking about my mom a lot. Flora’s mother died when she was young. It stirred up some things.”

      “What can I do to make you feel better?”

      “You’re doing it.” Charlie stroked her fingers through Ben’s hair. “I always feel better when I’m with you.”

      They both smiled at the corny line, but they both knew that it was true.

      He said, “Listen, I know I can’t keep you away from those apartments, but don’t go there alone, okay? Ask to meet them somewhere neutral, like for coffee at the diner. Whatever is going on at that place has to be dangerous. The county wouldn’t be spending the money for surveillance otherwise.”

      “Understood.” Charlie smoothed down his tie. She could feel his heart beating beneath her palm. She pressed her lips to his neck. The skin prickled to attention. She traced her mouth up, whispering in his ear, “I promise you’ll get a rain check on the supply closet.”

      “Chuck,” he whispered back, “this would be so hot if you didn’t have puke in your hair.”

      Charlie swung by the house to take a shower and change before going to the cinder-block apartments. She had indicated to Ben an understanding that she should stay away from the place, but Ben probably knew that Charlie wouldn’t stay away, so going there was actually living up to a long-held promise in their marriage: the promise that she would do whatever the hell she wanted.

      She was happy to exchange her grown-up, career-day clothes for jeans and one of her Duke Blue Devils basketball T-shirts. Considering how much she and Ben owed the law school, she was surprised they hadn’t been forced to wear sandwich boards until the loans were paid off.

      The time was close enough to lunch for her to be hungry, so she ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and half a bag of Doritos while she dialed into the messages on her office phone. Charlie had a court appearance Friday and there was a last-minute motion to be filed. A judge was asking for a brief on a point of law that would not help her client. And because her life wasn’t difficult enough, she had a call from her credit-card company that was likely not a warm thank you for being a valued customer.

      Charlie searched the filing cabinet and found the previous month’s bill, which, according to her handwritten note on the statement, had been paid a day late, but that didn’t usually warrant a call. They were fifteen hundred dollars away from their limit.

      Charlie called Visa on the number from the message. She was searching her wallet for her card when her cell phone rang. She kept her home phone to her ear while she answered the other one.

      “Miss Charlie,” Dexter said. “Please don’t hang up.”

      “I think you meant to call Carter Grail.”

      “Come on, now, don’t be like that. You told me to call the dude.”

      “Because you owe me two grand.” Charlie listened to the Visa hold Muzak, a sax rendition of REM’s “Losing My Religion”.

      Dexter said, “Lookit, Miss Charlie, I’m’a pay you Tuesday.”

      Charlie thought of Wimpy, who was always offering to pay people on Tuesday for a hamburger today, and then she realized that she was still hungry. “Dexter, I’ll be really happy if you pay me, but I can’t give you any legal advice until you do.”

      “But, lookit, it’ll help you, too, ’cause like СКАЧАТЬ