Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

walking. Just keep walking.”
    Will tried to do as he was told. His feet were floppy, like the tendons had come undone. The ground looked strange. Everything was too large or too small. He was walking through a funhouse mirror. If not for Faith propping him up, he would’ve fallen flat on his face.
    Paul Vickery wouldn’t give up. “I got a witness puts him in the back room at Tipsie’s tonight.” He limped after them, keeping his distance. “Same place as the shooters who went after Lena.”
    Faith didn’t answer. She pulled Will, urging him to go faster.
    “Ask him where he went afterward,” Vickery said. “Ask him where he was when my fucking team was being attacked.”
    Faith raised the baton in warning.
    Vickery hung back. “I’ll get him at the station.”
    “He’s not going to the station.” Faith leaned Will against a black Suburban. “I’m taking him to the field office. He’s in state custody.”
    “You won’t be able to hold him there.”
    Faith opened the back door. She kept her body turned toward Vickery as she tried to help Will into the seat. He was too heavy for her to manage. In the end, all Will could do was fall in.
    “You’ll have to process him,” Vickery warned. “You send him to county, you send him to Fulton, I’ll get at him somehow.”
    Will’s wrists were still cuffed. He clenched his stomach muscles so he could straighten up in the seat. The pain was excruciating. He opened his mouth. He was going to be sick again.
    “Stay back, Vickery. I mean it.” Faith closed the door. She used the remote to lock it. The baton stayed out as she walked around the front of the Suburban.
    “You’re dead, Black!” Vickery punched the door. He banged his fists against the glass. “You hear me? I will fuck you up!”
    Will closed his eyes. Everything was spinning. The car kept shaking. Vickery was putting his shoulder into it, like he thought he could roll a five-thousand-pound vehicle.
    “Back the fuck up!” Faith yelled. She was at the front of the car. She said something else, but Will’s hearing was going in and out. He heard Vickery call her every name a man could use against a woman. Faith cussed him right back, giving as good as she got.
    The driver’s-side door opened.
    Faith yelled, “Bet on it, cocksucker.” She slammed the door shut. The sound was like a cannon. The engine turned over. The car jerked as she put it in gear. The wheels squealed against pavement.
    Will leaned forward. He rested his head on his knees. His hands were clasped together, trapped between his chest and legs. Spit and blood dripped from his open mouth. He waited for Faith to say something. To yell at him. To ask him what the hell he’d been doing.
    She rolled down the windows a few inches. Will felt the cold night air swirl around him. He closed his eyes. Breathed through his mouth. The light grew softer. The tires hummed against the road.
    Faith kept driving. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t even turn around.
    Will’s breathing started to even out. Eventually, the nausea passed. Unfortunately, so did the numbness. His body came alive with pain. His nose felt broken. His eyelids throbbed. His lip was split. His neck felt as if it had been scraped with a razor, and his head pounded along with the beating of his heart.
    Faith accelerated. They were on the highway. Will could tell from the steady, low grind of the engine. He didn’t know how much time passed before she finally slowed for a turn. The sound inside the Suburban changed from a gentle hum to a fragmented crunch. The brakes squeaked as Faith slowed to a stop. She put the gear in park. The emergency brake clicked when she pushed down the pedal.
    Faith opened the door. Will heard her walk around the car.
    He pushed himself up. He had to move slowly. He winced atthe pain in his head. His throat felt raw. He couldn’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth.
    The back door opened. Faith still didn’t speak. She turned on the dome light. Will blinked, squinting. The handcuffs came off. Will rubbed his wrists, trying to get the circulation to come back. Faith opened the first aid kit from under the seat. She pulled out a roll of cotton squares, various packets, antibiotic ointment, Band-Aids. Will heard cars on either side of them. Faith had parked in a restricted area that cut across the highway median. Trees surrounded them. Broken beer bottles and used condoms littered the ground.
    She said, “Look at me.”
    Will turned his