Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

Nobody knows about us.”
    “Good,” Faith said. “How far away is the farm?”
    “Not far, but it’s gonna take some time to put this together. We don’t make phone calls. As you clearly know, all calls can be traced, even blocked ones. I didn’t want any of their numbers showing up on my line. We check in on a message board for gay first responders.” Branson looked at her watch. “Dr. Thomas comes in at six before he goes to work. My ex is already there—one of the paramedics. Her girlfriend will come at six to relieve her. My deputy is spelling me. I was supposed to take the night shift, but then the shit hit the fan.”
    Faith checked her own watch. “So, everyone will be there in a little over two hours?”
    “Unless they read the message boards at four in the morning.” She asked Nick, “Can I use your laptop?”
    Nick offered, “The computer in my office is more private.” He scooped up the Big Whitey files, telling Faith, “I’ll get started on these.”
    Branson followed him to the door, but she didn’t leave. “I’m sorry for wasting y’alls time. I always try to be tough as I need to be, never tougher than I have to be.”
    Will nodded, but Faith wouldn’t give an inch. She waited for Branson to leave, then blew out a puff of air.
    Will said, “What do you think?”
    “I think Tony Dell’s closer to Big Whitey than we thought.”
    He nodded, though they both knew that’s not what he was asking about.
    “Whoever this Big Whitey is, he’s a freaking genius.” Faith couldn’t keep the admiration out of her voice. “He played them like a fiddle.”
    “The two men in the house.” Will coughed a few times before he could continue. “I could see Tony slitting their throats, thengoing after the third guy with an ax. He’s a killer. He likes using his hands. He takes out the three of them, puts the brace on the basement door so Sid Waller’s trapped, then he walks away.”
    “He was feeding Lena intel. He knew when the raid was going to happen.” Faith waited out another coughing fit. “You still think Tony’s not Big Whitey?”
    Will gagged down some water. “I don’t know what to think anymore. He’s more like the point at the edge of somebody else’s sword.” Will coughed again. “And I know he’s got that weird thing with his sister. Stepsister. But I can’t see him with little boys. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room with his own nephew.”
    “You never know what people get up to,” Faith said. “Do you think the stepsister knows anything?”
    Will shrugged to save his voice. He’d have to find a way to get Cayla Martin to talk. There was no other option.
    Faith stared at the grainy cell phone photo on the screen. “Poor little lamb. He can’t be more than seven.”
    Will didn’t want to look at the screen, but once he did, he couldn’t take his eyes off the boy. It didn’t seem possible he was still alive. How had he survived living in that dank, dark hole? And what had been done to him while he was there?
    “I’ll call Sara.” Faith took out her cell phone and dialed the number.
    Will opened his mouth to tell her there was no point. Nothing came out. He couldn’t speak, but not because of his sore throat. It occurred to him that the boy was not talking because he had nothing to say.
    His expression in the photo told the story. The boy would never be the same again. He would never sleep as deeply or play with the same abandon. Chasing a ball, flying a kite, helping his mother set the table—none of this would ever be done without constantly checking for danger. The boy did not want to go back to his parents. They wouldn’t recognize him. They would take one look and ask who was this damaged creature and what had he donewith their real son. It was all captured in the grainy photo on the screen—the fear, the loneliness, the overwhelming shame.
    Marie Sorensen had the same look. She had been stolen. She had been abused. She had been thrown away. Even when she got home, she never felt safe. She had made the only choice that was truly her own.
    Will couldn’t blame her.
    There wasn’t a box in the world that was big enough to contain those horrors. Everything she’d survived had made her want to die. Who could fault the boy for thinking the same thing?
    “Sara’s not answering.” Faith ended the call. “Do you think she’s at the hospital?”
    He didn’t answer.
    Sara was finished with Will. That much was obvious. But somehow, for