Karin Slaughter - Fallen

ALSO BY KARIN SLAUGHTER

Blindsighted

Kisscut

A Faint Cold Fear

Indelible

Like a Charm (Editor)

Faithless

Triptych

Beyond Reach

Fractured

Undone

Broken

Fallen is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2011 by Karin Slaughter
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

D ELACORTE P RESS is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Slaughter, Karin
Fallen : a novel / Karin Slaughter.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-345-52822-3
1. PolicewomenFiction. 2. GeorgiaFiction. I. Title.
PS3569.L275F37 2011
813.54dc22 2011004941

www.bantamdell.com

Jacket design: Carlos Beltran
Jacket photograph: Michael Trevillion

v3.1

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F AITH MITCHELL DUMPED THE CONTENTS OF HER PURSE ONTO the passenger seat of her Mini, trying to find something to eat. Except for a furry piece of gum and a peanut of dubious origin, there was nothing remotely edible. She thought about the box of nutrition bars in her kitchen pantry, and her stomach made a noise that sounded like a rusty hinge groaning open.

The computer seminar shed attended this morning was supposed to last three hours, but that had stretched into four and a half thanks to the jackass in the front row who kept asking pointless questions. The Georgia Bureau of Investigation trained its agents more often than any other agency in the region. Statistics and data on criminal activities were constantly being drummed into their heads. They had to be up to date on all of the latest technology. They had to qualify at the range twice a year. They ran mock raids and active shooter simulations that were so intense that for weeks after, Faith couldnt go to the bathroom in the middle of the night without checking shadows in doorways. Usually, she appreciated the agencys thoroughness. Today, all she could think about was her four-month-old baby, and the promise Faith had made to her mother that she would be back no later than noon.

The clock on the dash read ten after one oclock when she started the car. Faith mumbled a curse as she pulled out of the parking lot in front of the Panthersville Road headquarters. She used Bluetooth to dial her mothers number. The car speakers gave back a static-y silence. Faith hung up and dialed again. This time, she got a busy signal.

Faith tapped her finger on the steering wheel as she listened to the bleating. Her mother had voicemail. Everybody had voicemail. Faith couldnt remember the last time shed heard a busy signal on the telephone. She had almost forgotten the sound. There was probably a crossed wire somewhere at the phone company. She hung up and tried the number a third time.

Still busy.

Faith steered with one hand as she checked her BlackBerry for an email from her mother. Before Evelyn Mitchell retired, she had been a cop for just shy of four decades. You could say a lot about the Atlanta force, but you couldnt claim they were behind the times. Evelyn had carried a cell phone back when they were more like purses you strapped around your shoulder. Shed learned how to use email before her daughter had. Shed carried a BlackBerry for almost twelve years.

But she hadnt sent a message today.

Faith checked her cell phone voicemail. She had a saved message from her dentists office about making an appointment to get her teeth cleaned, but there was nothing new. She tried her phone at home, thinking maybe her mother had gone there to pick up something for the baby. Faiths house was just down the road from Evelyns. Maybe Emma had run out of diapers. Maybe shed needed another bottle. Faith listened to the phone ring at her house, then heard her own voice answer, telling callers to leave a message.

She ended the call. Without thinking, she glanced into the back seat. Emmas empty car seat was there. She could see the pink liner sticking out over the top of the plastic.

Idiot, Faith whispered to herself. She dialed her mothers cell phone number. She held her breath as she counted through three rings. Evelyns voicemail picked up.

Faith had to clear her throat before she could speak. She was aware of a tremor in her tone. Mom, Im on my way home. I guess you took Em for a walk Faith looked up at the sky as she merged onto the interstate. She was about twenty minutes outside of Atlanta and could see fluffy white clouds draped like scarves around the skinny necks of skyscrapers. Just call me, Faith said, worry needling the edge of her brain.

Grocery store. Gas station. Pharmacy. Her mother had a car seat identical to the one in the back of Faiths Mini. She was probably out running errands. Faith was over an hour late. Evelyn wouldve taken the baby and Left Faith a message that she was going to be out. The woman had been on call for the majority of her adult life. She didnt go to the toilet without letting someone know. Faith and her older brother, Zeke, had joked about it when they were kids. They always knew where their mother was, even when they didnt want to. Especially when they didnt want to.

Faith stared at the phone in her hand as if it could tell her what was going on. She was aware that she might be letting herself get worked up over nothing. The landline could be out. Her mother wouldnt know this unless she tried to make a call. Her cell phone could be switched off, or charging, or both. Her BlackBerry could be in her car or her purse or somewhere she couldnt hear the telltale vibration. Faith glanced back and forth between the road and her BlackBerry as she typed an email to her mother. She spoke the words aloud as she typed

On-my-way. Sorry-Im-late. Call-me.

She sent the email, then tossed the phone onto the seat along with the spilled items from her purse. After a moments hesitation, Faith popped the gum into her mouth. She chewed as she drove, ignoring the purse lint clinging to her tongue. She turned on the radio, then snapped it back off. The traffic thinned as she got closer to the city. The clouds moved apart, sending down bright rays of sunshine. The inside of the car began to bake.

Ten minutes out, Faiths nerves were still on edge, and she was sweating from the heat in the car. She cracked the sunroof to let in some air. This was probably a simple case of separation anxiety. Shed been back at work for a little over two months, but still, every morning when Faith left Emma at her mothers, she felt something akin to a seizure take hold. Her vision blurred. Her heart shook in her chest. Her head buzzed as if a million bees had flown into her ears. She was more irritable than usual at work, especially with her partner, Will Trent, who either had the patience of Job or was setting up a believable alibi for when he finally snapped and strangled her.