Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

Whitey. She didn’t know his real identity, couldn’t give us any actionable intelligence. She was blindfolded most of the time, and when she wasn’t being sold, she was locked in a closet or a suitcase. The description she gave was spotty—dark hair, dark eyes. No distinguishing features.”
    Faith asked, “Do you think she was lying?”
    “Yes,” Branson admitted. “She was terrified of him. Couldn’t sleep in her own bed. She stayed in the closet the whole time she was home, back to the wall, waiting for him to come get her.”
    “She was abducted at the mall,” Faith said. “What about CCTV?”
    “The cameras were out. We don’t know if he had someone from security on the payroll or if he was just lucky.” Branson added, “He’s always been lucky.”
    Faith asked, “No one saw anything at the mall or in the parking lot? No customers or friends?”
    “No. And there was nothing on her cell phone or email, so he obviously made her keep it on the down low.” Branson added, “That’s what he’s good at, not being seen.”
    Amanda finally spoke, and Will realized she hadn’t been silent out of respect. She was livid. “I’m curious, Ms. Branson, as to why you’ve got a sex-trafficking case in your town and the Georgia Bureau of Investigation doesn’t know anything about it.”
    Branson’s cheeks darkened with a blush. “You’re right. This is all on me. I was ashamed that I couldn’t do anything to save her, and I was angry that I was told not to pursue Big Whitey.” She turned to Chief Gray. “I should’ve told you, Lonnie. I was hell-bent on proving you wrong. Instead of running around behind your back, I should’ve gone to you for help.”
    Gray wasn’t kind. “You’re goddamn right about that.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “That’s enough,” Gray said. “Tell them what you found in the house.”
    “You mean the shooting gallery?” Faith sounded surprised. She’d obviously thought that part was over.
    Will had a sinking feeling that he knew the answer, but he asked, “What was behind the panel?”
    Branson turned back to the laptop computer. She tapped the screen awake, then advanced the next image.
    The photo of a young boy appeared on screen. The picture was grainy, obviously taken with a cell phone. The boy’s eyes were blackened slits. Like Marie Sorensen’s, his face was emaciated. His lips were dry. Sores caked his skin. It was his eyes that made Will finally turn away. He could not stand to see the hollow look in the boy’s eyes.
    Amanda broke the silence, asking, “Cause of death was dehydration? Malnourishment?”
    Branson seemed surprised. “No, he’s alive.”
    Will felt truly shocked for the first time since the meeting had started.
    Branson said, “We have no idea who he is. He can talk, but he won’t.”
    Faith looked as if she wanted to grab Branson across the table. “He hasn’t said anything for a week?”
    Branson didn’t answer. She’d been keeping this all to herself for so long that she’d lost perspective. Talking it out had obviously revealed her catastrophic errors.
    Faith said, “I haven’t seen anything about him on the news.”
    “I entered it into the FBI databases, but I kept Macon out of it.” Branson glanced at Chief Gray. The man’s hands were gripped so tightly together he looked as if he was trying to break the bones. “If the local stations picked up on the story, then Whitey would know the boy was still alive. The only thing we know for sure about this guy is he murders anybody who gets in his way. He’d kill that boy just as sure as I’m sitting here.”
    Faith asked, “Which hospital is he in?”
    “He’s been under close medical supervision.” Branson didn’toffer any further explanation. She told her chief, “Chances are he was abducted in another state. Wherever he’s from, the local police force got the notice. For what it’s worth.”
    Will knew that everyone in the room had gotten the notice. There was no way to read them all. Nearly 800,000 children were reported missing each year, which translated into more than two thousand notices a day.
    Branson said, “The boy doesn’t have any identifying marks. We don’t know what region he’s from. We don’t know when he was taken. We’ve been combing through all the stranger abduction reports, but—” Branson seemed to realize how thin her excuses sounded. Her voice was weak when she said, “He’s the only living witness who can identify Big