Genesis by Karin Slaughter Page A

felt wet under his fingers, which meant that it would be even
heavier.
    Will glanced back at Fierro to make sure he was ready, then, in
one swift motion, pried back the sheet of plywood. Dirt and debris
scattered as Will quickly backed away.
    "What is it?" Fierro's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Do you see
anything?"
    Will craned his neck to see what he had uncovered. The hole was
deep and crudely dug, a thirty-by-thirty-inch square opening going
straight down into the earth. Will kept at a low crouch as he made his
way toward the hole. Aware that he was again offering his head as a
target, he quickly glanced inside, trying to see what they were dealing
with. He couldn't see to the bottom. What he did discover was a
ladder resting a few feet down from the top, a homemade deal with
the rungs nailed crookedly to a pair of rotting two-by-fours.
    Lightning cracked in the sky, showing the tableau in full glory. It
was like a cartoon: the ladder to hell.
    "Give me the light," he whispered to Fierro. The detective was
more than accommodating now, slapping the Maglite into Will's
reaching hand. Will looked back at the man. Fierro had taken a wide
stance, his gun still pointed at the opening in the ground, fear widening
his eyes.
    Will shone down the light. The cavern seemed to be L-shaped,
going straight down about five feet, then turning into what must
have been the main area of the cave. Pieces of wood jutted out where
the roof was shored up. There were supplies at the base of the ladder.
Cans of food. Rope. Chains. Hooks. Will's heart jumped as he heard
movement down there, rustling, and he had to force himself not to
jerk back.
    Fierro asked, "Is it—"
    Will put his finger to his lips, though he was pretty sure that the
element of surprise was not on their side. Whoever was down there
had seen the beam of the flashlight moving around. As if to reinforce
this, Will heard a guttural sound from below, almost a moan. Was
there another victim down there? He thought of the woman in the
hospital. Anna. Will knew what electrical burns looked like. They
stained the skin in a dark powder that never washed away. They
stayed with you for a lifetime—that is, if you had a lifetime left in
you.
    Will took off his suit jacket and tossed it behind him. He reached
toward Fierro's ankle and grabbed the revolver out of the holster.
Before he could stop himself, Will swung his legs down into the hole.
    "Jesus Christ," Fierro hissed. He looked over his shoulder at the
dozens of cops who were a hundred feet away, no doubt realizing
there was a better way to do this.
    Will heard the sound from below again. Maybe an animal, maybe
a human being. He turned off the flashlight and jammed it into the
back of his pants. There was something he should have said, like
"Tell my wife I love her," but he didn't want to give Angie the
burden—or the satisfaction.
    "Hold on," Fierro whispered. He wanted to get backup.
    Will ignored him, shoving the revolver into his front pocket.
Carefully, he tested his weight on the wobbly ladder, the heels of his
shoes on the rungs so he could face the inside of the cavern as he descended.
The space was narrow, his shoulders too broad. He had to
keep one arm straight above his head so that he could fit down the
hole. Dirt kept falling in clumps around him and roots scratched his
face and neck. The wall of the shaft was just a few inches from his
nose, bringing out a claustrophobia Will never knew he had. Every
time he inhaled, he tasted mud in the back of his throat. He couldn't
look down, because there was nothing to see, and he was afraid that if
he looked up, he might reverse direction.
    With each step, the smell got worse—feces, urine, sweat, fear.
Maybe the fear was coming from Will. Anna had escaped from here.
Maybe she had wounded her attacker in the process. Maybe the man
was down there waiting with a gun or a razor or a knife.
    Will's heart was beating so hard that he