Faithless by Karin Slaughter Page B

competition. There was no mention of the missing girl found in the woods. Probably the paper had been put to bed before Jeffrey and Sara had stumbled across the burial site. Lena was sure there would be a huge story on the front page tomorrow. Maybe the newspaper could help them find the girl’s family.
    She opened the door, reading about the toaster fire, wondering why it had taken sixteen volunteer firemen to put it out. Sensing a change in the room, she looked up, shocked to see Nan sitting in a chair across from Greg Mitchell, Lena ’s old boyfriend. They had lived together for three years before Greg decided he’d had enough of her temper. He had packed all his stuff and left while she was at work- a cowardly yet in retrospect understandable move- leaving a brief note stuck to the fridge. So brief that she could remember every word. “I love you but I can’t take it anymore. Greg.”
    They had talked to each other a total of two times in the almost seven years since then, both conversations taking place on the telephone and both ending with Lena slamming down the receiver before Greg could say anything more than, “It’s me.”
    “Lee,” Nan practically screamed, standing up quickly, as if she had been caught.
    “Hey,” Lena managed, her throat clenching around the word. She had put the newspaper to her chest as if she needed some kind of protection. Maybe she did.
    On the couch beside Greg was a woman around Lena ’s age. She had olive skin and her brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. On a good day, she might pass for one of Lena ’s distant cousins- the ugly ones on Hank’s side. Today, sitting next to Greg, the girl looked more like a whore. It gave Lena some satisfaction that Greg had settled for a lesser copy, but she still had to swallow a tinge of jealousy when she asked, “What are you doing here?” He appeared taken aback, and she tried to moderate her tone, saying, “Back in town, I mean. What are you doing back in town?”
    “I, uh…” His face broke into an awkward grin. Maybe he had been expecting her to hit him with the newspaper. She had done it before.
    “Shattered my tib-fib,” he said, indicating his ankle. She saw a cane tucked into the couch between him and the girl. “I’m back home for a while so my mom can look after me.”
    Lena knew his mother’s house was two streets over. Her heart did an odd kind of tumble in her chest as she wondered how long he had been living there. She racked her brain for something to say, settling on, “How’s she doing? Your mom.”
    “Still cantankerous as ever.” His eyes were a crystal clear blue, incongruous with his jet-black hair. He was wearing it longer now, or maybe he had forgotten to get it cut. Greg was always forgetting that sort of thing, spending hours in front of the computer figuring out a program while the house was falling apart around him. They had argued about it constantly. They had argued about everything constantly. She had never let up, not giving him an inch on anything. He had annoyed the shit out of her and she had hated his guts and he was probably the only man she had ever really loved.
    He asked, “And you?”
    “What?” she said, still stuck in her thoughts. His fingers tapped on the cane, and she saw his nails had been bitten to the quick.
    Greg glanced at the other women, his smile a little more hesitant. “I asked how you were doing.”
    She shrugged, and there was a long moment of silence where she could only stare at him. Finally, she made herself look down at her hands. She had shredded the corner of the newspaper like a nervous housewife. Jesus, she had never been this uncomfortable in her life. There were lunatics in the asylum with better social skills.
    “Lena,” Nan said, her voice taking on a nervous pitch. “This is Mindy Bryant.”
    Mindy reached out her hand, and Lena shook it. She saw Greg looking at the scars on the back of her hand and pulled back self-consciously.
    His