Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

everything was going to be all right. Sara knew these promises would be meaningless at best and a burden at most. The last thing a cop needed to think about when he was in the line of fire was whether or not his girlfriend would approve.
    In the end, she told him, “Okay.”
    He smiled at her, but again, Sara could tell that something was off. She could see it in his eyes—a hesitation, a concern. As usual, Will didn’t give her time to question him.
    She caught a glimpse of the crowded hallway as he opened the door and left. The morning rush had arrived. The cacophony of beeping monitors and machinery had started to rev. Patients were already parked on gurneys in the hallway. The drunk screamed for Jell-O again, then another screamed for the first one to shut up and also that he wanted some Jell-O.
    Sara clasped her hands together in her lap, silently reviewing her conversation with Will. What was he really trying to tell her? Why had he come to the hospital when everything he’d said could’ve been relayed over the phone? At least he’d admitted something else was going on. He could be so damn inscrutable, and Sara was not too proud to admit that she often found herself outmaneuvered.
    She touched her fingers to her lips, felt where Will’s mouth had been. Was that the point of his visit? Was kissing her Will’s way of making sure she didn’t forget him while he was gone? Or was he marking his territory before he left town?
    Only one of those options was flattering.
    Sara’s phone rang. She dug around in her pocket, feeling for the telltale vibration. She expected—hoped—that it was Will, but the caller ID read TALLADEGA CO, AL. Over the last week, he’d called from a lot of strange places, but never from Alabama.
    Sara answered, “Hello?”
    There was no response, just a low humming sound.
    Sara tried again. “Hello?” There was still no response, but the humming got louder, more animal than electronic.
    “Hello?” Sara was about to end the call, but, unreasonably, her mind flashed up the image of Will lying on the pavement, his body rent in two. She stood from the chair. “Will?”
    There was a huff of air down the line.
    “Hello?” Sara pulled open the door. She ran into the hall, nearly colliding with a patient. This was ridiculous. Will was fine. He’d just left less than two minutes ago. She could still feel his mouth on hers.
    “Hello?” Sara pressed the phone to her ear. “Who is this?”
    “S-s-s-ara?” The woman on the other end could barely speak.
    Sara put her hand to her eyes, relief washing over her body. “Yes?”
    “It’s … it’s … I’m sorry, I …”
    “Nell?” Sara quickly put together the pieces, recognizing thevoice of her husband’s high school sweetheart. He’d had a child with Darnell Long, but not much else.
    “Nell?” Sara repeated. “Are you okay?”
    “It’s Jared!” the woman wailed. “Oh, God!”
    Sara leaned back against the wall. Jared, her stepson. Sara had only met him a few times. He was a police officer, just as his father had been.
    “I didn’t—” Nell’s voice caught. “I should’ve—”
    “Nell, please. Tell me what—”
    “I should’ve listened to you!” she cried. “She’s got him … oh, God …”
    “Listened about—” Sara stopped. She knew exactly who Nell was talking about.
    Lena Adams.
    Sara’s husband had trained Lena fresh out of the academy, had taken her under his wing and promoted her to detective.
    And in return for Jeffrey Tolliver’s trust, Lena Adams had gotten him killed.
    Nell sobbed, “Oh, God, Sara! Please!”
    “Nell,” Sara managed, her breath catching around the word. “Tell me. Tell me what happened.”
    The woman was too hysterical to comply. “Why didn’t I listen to you? Why didn’t I forbid it? Why didn’t I …” Her words dissolved into a heart-wrenching moan.
    Sara forced air into her lungs. She could feel her chest shaking, her hands shaking. Her whole body vibrated with dread. “Nell, please. Just tell me what happened.”

3.
    WILL TRENT STOOD in his boss’s office on the top floor of City Hall East, looking out at the city. Atlanta was just waking up, the sun sparkling between the skyscrapers, commuters in BMWs and Audis honking their horns. Across the street, dozens of men were lined up outside the Home Depot shopping center. Will watched as, one after another, trucks pulled up and taillights glowed red. Hands shot out, fingers pointed, and two, three, sometimes