“Amanda?” he called. His voice echoed back at him. “Amanda?”
“Will?” Sara was on the landing. She quickly took in what had happened. “Give me your phone.”
Will tossed her the phone. He took off his jacket and holster and got down on the floor.
Sara said, “You are not going down there.”
Will froze, startled by the order, the unfamiliar sharp tone of her voice.
“We’re in a crack house, Will. There could be needles down there. Broken glass. It’s too dangerous.” She held up her finger as the phone was obviously answered on the other end. “This is Dr. Linton from the ER. I need a bus and rescue sent to Carver Street for an officer down.”
Will provided, “Street number’s 316.” He sat on his knees and leaned his head into the basement as Sara rattled off the details. “Amanda?” He waited. No response. “Can you hear me?”
Sara ended the call. “They’re on their way. Just stay there until—”
“Amanda?” Will glanced around the hallway, trying to put together a plan. Finally, he turned around and got down on his belly.
Sara pleaded, “Will, don’t.”
He elbowed back until his feet hung down into the basement.
“You’re going to fall.”
He edged back farther, expecting any moment for his feet to hit solid ground.
“There are broken pieces of wood down there. You could shatter your ankle. You could land on Amanda.”
Will gripped the edge of the doorjambs with his fingers, praying that his arms wouldn’t give. Which they eventually did. He dropped straight down like the blade on a guillotine.
“Will?” Sara was in the open doorway. She got down on her knees. “Are you all right?”
Pieces of wood poked into his back like sharp fingers. Sawdust filled the air. Will’s nose had banged into his knee so hard that pinpoints of light exploded in front of his eyes. He touched the side of his ankle. A nail had scraped across the bone. His teeth ached at the memory.
“Will?” Sara’s tone rose in alarm. “Will?”
“I’m all right.” He felt his ankle squick as he moved. Blood pooled into the heel of his shoe. He tried to make light of the situation. “Looks like I was right about needing that tetanus shot.”
She mumbled a shocking expletive.
Will tried to stand, but his feet couldn’t find purchase. He blindly reached out, thinking Amanda was close by. He got on his knees, leaning out farther, and finally was rewarded with a foot. Her shoe was missing. Her pantyhose were torn.
“Amanda?” Carefully, Will picked his way across the shards of wood and broken nails. He put his hand on her shin, then her thigh. He gently felt along until he found her arm folded over her stomach.
Amanda moaned.
Will’s stomach roiled as his fingers followed the unnatural angle of her wrist. “Amanda?” he repeated.
She moaned again. Will knew she’d have a Maglite in the Suburban. He dug his fingers into the front pockets of her jeans, trying to find her keys. He could send Sara out to the car. She would have to search for the flashlight. He would tell her it was in the glove compartment or one of the locked drawers. She would spend several minutes looking for the light, which was exactly what Will needed.
“Amanda?” He checked her back pockets. The tips of his fingers brushed along the broken plastic case on her BlackBerry.
Suddenly, Amanda’s good hand clamped around his wrist. She asked, “Where’s My-kel?”
Will stopped searching for the keys. “Amanda? It’s Will. Will Trent.”
Her tone was terse. “I know who you are, Wilbur.”
Will felt his body go rigid. Only Angie called him Wilbur. It was the name on his birth certificate.
Sara asked, “Is she okay?”
Will had to swallow before he could speak. “I think her wrist is broken.”
“How’s her respiration?”
He listened for the cadence of her breath, but all he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears. Why was Amanda here? She should be out looking for the missing girl. She should be leading the team. She shouldn’t be here. In this basement. With a hammer.
“Will?” Sara’s tone was softer now. She was worried about him.
He asked, “How long before the ambulance gets here?”
“Not much longer. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.” Will put his hand on Amanda’s foot again. He could feel a steady pulse near her ankle. He’d worked for this woman most of his career but still knew very little about her. She lived in a condo in the heart of Buckhead. She had been on the job longer than he had been alive, which put her age in the mid-sixties. She kept her salt-and-pepper hair coiffed in the shape of a football helmet and wore pantyhose with starched blue jeans. She had a sharp tongue, more degrees than a college professor, and she knew that his name was Wilbur even though he’d had it legally changed when he entered college and every piece of paper the GBI had on file listed his legal name as William Trent.
He cleared his throat again so that he could ask Sara, “Is there anything I should be doing?”
“No, just stay where you are.” Sara used a raised, clear tone Will thought of as her doctor’s voice. “Amanda. This is Dr. Linton. Can you tell me today’s date?”
She groaned out a pained breath. “I told Edna to shore up those steps a million times.”
Will sat back on his heels. Something sharp pressed against his knee. He felt blood sliding across his ankle, dripping through his sock. His heart was pounding so hard that he was sure Sara could hear it.
“Will,” Amanda mumbled. “What time is it?”
Will couldn’t answer her. His mouth felt wired shut.
Sara took over, saying, “It’s five-thirty.”
“In the evening,” Amanda said, not a question. “We’re at the children’s home. I fell down the basement stairs.” She lay there taking deep breaths of the pungent air. “Dr. Linton, am I going to live?”
“I’d be very surprised if you didn’t.”
“Well, I suppose that’s as much as I can ask for right now. Did I lose consciousness?”
“Yes,” Sara answered. “For about two minutes.”
Amanda spoke more to herself. “I don’t know what that means. Are you touching my foot?”
Will pulled away his hand.
“I can move my toes.” Amanda sounded relieved. “My head feels like it’s been cracked open.” He heard movement, the rustling of clothes. “No, nothing sticking out. No blood. No soft spots. God, my shoulder hurts.”
Will tasted blood. His nose was bleeding. He used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.
Amanda let out another heavy sigh. “I’ll tell you what, Will. You get past a certain age and a broken bone or a cracked head is no laughing matter. It’s with you for the rest of your life. What’s left of the rest of your life.”
She was quiet for a few seconds. From the sound of it, she was trying to keep her breathing steady. Despite the fact that he was obviously not going to answer, she told Will, “When I joined the Atlanta Police Department, there was a whole division assigned to checking our appearance. The Inspection Division. Six full-duty officers. I’m not making that up.”
Will glanced up at Sara. She shrugged.
“They would show up during roll call, and if you didn’t fix what they told you to fix, you were suspended without pay.”
He put his hand to his watch, wishing he could feel the second hand ticking by. Grady Hospital was only a few blocks away. There was no reason for the ambulance to be taking so long. They knew Amanda was a cop. They knew she needed help.
Amanda said, “I remember the first time I rolled up on a signal forty-five. Some jackass had a CB radio stolen out of his car. We were always getting forty-fives on CB radios. They had those big antennas pointing like arrows off their back bumpers.”