Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

it up? Kids that age lie about everything. Maybe the other kid was a cousin or friend, or—”
    “He wasn’t lying,” Will said. “And you don’t believe in coincidences. Benjamin’s not a common name around here.”
    “You’re right,” Faith admitted. “Amanda’s talking to the Mounties.” The Canadian federal police. “Their news doesn’t trickle down much unless you’re in a border state. She thought maybe the boys came from up there.”
    “What about the French-speaking parts?” Will asked. “The Mounties don’t serve those areas.”
    “Did either of the boys sound French?”
    “Maybe they’re bilingual. I don’t know, Faith. Just tell her to call everybody.”
    Faith said, “I’m sending her a text right now.”
    Will was silent, waiting for her to type it out. His head wasspinning. He didn’t know how this had happened. Benjamin had been right there in front of him. He’d practically begged Will to help him. He’d said he’d been taken a month ago. Will had thought the kid meant taken away from his mother by the police, not abducted by a sadist.
    Big Whitey.
    Will knew what had happened to Marie Sorensen. He’d seen the cigarette burns on the boy’s back this morning. Denise Branson had rescued him from the basement. What happened to the boys who weren’t rescued? What despicable things were being done to Benjamin right now?
    “Okay,” Faith said. “I sent Amanda the text. We got a no on Cayla in front of the employee entrance to the hospital. She’s not on the roof or in the stairwells, either. How far are you from the house?”
    Will slammed on the brakes. The car shook. He jerked the gear back into reverse. He’d almost missed the turnoff. “The road’s at a steep angle from the main highway, roughly ten miles from the interstate.” He silently berated himself for not resetting the odometer when he got off the interstate. “There are a lot of overhanging trees. There’s a yard sign where the turn is.” He recognized the logo. “It’s for the trailer park. It’s got palm trees on it.”
    “I’ll let the cruiser know.”
    Will laid on the gas as he sped down the dirt road. Red dust curled up behind him. The screen on Sara’s dashboard flashed black. There was no map in the GPS system for the dirt road. Will muttered another curse at his own stupidity. The screen had been in front of him the whole time.
    He told Faith, “Track my phone. Maybe the roads will show up on the military GPS.”
    “I’m on it,” Faith said. “Call me when you get there.”
    Will ended the call and tossed his phone onto the seat. Then he thought better of it and jammed the phone into his back pocket. As long as the trip to Cayla’s had felt the night before, the trip thismorning seemed unending. The road spread out ahead of him. It felt like half an hour passed before he saw the trailer park. Kids were out playing in the yard. Will slowed, looking at their faces, checking for Benjamin. They all stared back. Some of them headed home. They’d probably been taught to run if a strange man ever looked at them twice.
    The steering wheel jerked as the BMW hit a large pothole. Will fought the turn, overcorrecting. He straightened the tires just in time for another loud bump as the wheels finally hit solid pavement. He was in the subdivision now. The empty lots and unfinished building sites were even more desolate in the light of day. Fortunately, Will could easily see the cluster of completed houses. He skidded to a stop in front of Cayla’s driveway. There was no car there. He jumped out of the BMW. He checked the windows to the garage. Empty.
    Will dialed Faith’s number as he ran up the front walk. He said, “I’m here. There’s no car. The house looks empty.”
    “The cops from last night are on their way. They’ve got two more cruisers with them. I know you don’t have your gun. Wait for backup.”
    “I’m not waiting.” Will ended the call. He stepped back from the front door, then kicked it open. “Benjamin?” he called. His voice echoed through the house. “Benjamin?”
    Will opened the coat closet. He checked the back wall to make sure there wasn’t a hidden panel. Next, he went into the garage. The space was unfinished, just the structural studs. There were no hiding places.
    The kitchen looked the same as the night before. Will’s cleaned plate was still on the table. The pots and pans were still on the stove. Tony Dell’s beer cans were stacked on the