Free Beyond Reach by Karin Slaughter Page B

victim’s identity. Maybe he already had some idea, but he wasn’t yet willing to share the information.
    “I know you said there weren’t any accelerants on her clothes, but did forensics find anything on her shoes?”
    Valentine took his time answering. “She was wearing those what-do-you-call-its, with the short heel.”
    “Pumps?” Jeffrey asked, thinking it was odd that Lena was wearing anything dressier than tennis shoes on her day off.
    “Right, pumps. My wife wears those shoes hippies and lesbians wear. You know, with the cork? I don’t know what they’re called, but she swears by them.”
    Jeffrey tried to get him back on subject. “Did they find anything on the shoes?”
    “Just soot, dirt, the usual. Didn’t seem like there was any need to send them to the lab.” Valentine tilted up his chin, asked, “You think I should?”
    Jeffrey shrugged. Though, if it was up to Jeffrey, he’d spend money on identifying the victim before worrying about Lena’s shoes, but that hadn’t been the sheriff’s question. “Up to you.”
    Around the corner, he heard the elevator ding again. Jeffrey tried to think of something to keep them out in the hallway a little longer, wanting to give Sara as much time as he could. “Where’s one?”
    “What’s that?”
    “The elevator,” he said. “The buttons only go to two and three. Where’s the first floor?”
    “Basement,” Valentine told him. “Crazy, ain’t it?”
    “How do you get down there?”
    “You have to use the stairs or go around the back of the building.”
    Jeffrey wondered how many fatalities the county coroner dealt with. “You got many bodies down there?”
    “Bodies?” He looked shocked, then gave a chuckle as he explained, “Our morgue’s over near the impound lot. The basement’s for the laundry room, storage, that kind of stuff.”
    “That’s strange,” Jeffrey said, grasping at straws. “Why the impound lot?”
    Valentine shrugged, glanced at his watch, then the door.
    Jeffrey tried, “Is she going to need therapy or anything? Medication?”
    “What, for the fire?” Valentine shook his head. “Nah. Doc says she’ll be fine in a few days.”
    “What about your usual suspects?”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Your bad guys,” Jeffrey clarified. “Persons of interest.”
    Valentine shook his head. “You got me on that one, Chief.”
    “Well,” Jeffrey began, once again trying not to sound too condescending, “when something bad happens in my town, like a car gets stolen or somebody swipes a television, I’ve got a pretty good idea who might be behind it.”
    “Oh.” Valentine nodded. “Yeah, I got you. Only, we don’t get many cars being blown up on the football field here.”
    Jeffrey chose to ignore his sarcasm. “Any arsonists?”
    “That’s a big-city crime.”
    “Apparently not.”
    Valentine scratched his chin. “I figure whoever did this was trying to send a message.”
    “What kind of message?”
    “Your detective’s the only one who can answer that. Speaking of which,” he said, nodding toward the door, “I think your wife’s had enough time alone with her.”
    Jeffrey could only hope that was the case. He followed Valentine back into the room. Sara was leaning against the wall outside the bathroom. The bed was empty, the soft restraints hanging from the rails. The shower was running.
    Sara explained, “I talked her into cleaning up.”
    “She talk back?” Valentine wanted to know.
    Sara shook her head, and Jeffrey could see that she was telling the truth.
    “Not much help, then,” Valentine said, obviously annoyed. He glanced at his watch, then at the bathroom door. “How long she been in there?”
    “Not long.”
    He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. “Jesus, lady, you didn’t think it’d be smart to go in there with her?”
    Sara opened her mouth to answer, but Jeffrey cut her off, telling the man, “Watch your tone.”
    Valentine ignored him, knocking hard on the door.