Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

least now he knew why he couldn’t feel his toes.
    Will struggled to sit up. His feet slipped. His hands couldn’t find purchase. Finally, he angled himself up to sitting. He only had to close his eyes a few seconds before the nausea passed. Then he opened his eyes and felt sick all over again.
    There was a man sitting on the couch. He had a Glock pointed at Will’s head.
    Will had never met Detective DeShawn Franklin in person, but he recognized the man from the photograph on Faith’s cell phone. He was built like a linebacker, with broad shoulders and legs the size of fallen trees. He took up two cushion spaces on Cayla’s sofa. The gun in his hand looked like a toy, though Will knew the police-issued Glock was a man-stopper.
    Will checked on Paul Vickery again. He was still tied up. Hogtied, really. Which didn’t explain why DeShawn Franklin was pointing his gun at Will.
    Franklin lowered the Glock, resting the weapon on his knee. “Paul was coming here to save you.”
    Will didn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing the string ofcurses that came into his mouth. He asked, “My partner sent him?”
    “Your partner sent anybody who was listening on the scanner.” DeShawn smiled. “Thanks for taking Paul out before I got here. Beat-downs aside, he’s not a dirty cop. Woulda been hard explaining to him why I had to tie y’all up.”
    Will didn’t acknowledge the comment. He had to assume the GPS tracker on his phone wasn’t working. Faith knew he was at Cayla’s house. She would send the cruisers. It was only a matter of time before twenty cops busted down the door.
    Franklin seemed to read Will’s mind. He took away his options one by one. “I told the cops me and Paul would secure the house. Last we saw, you were headed toward the woods on foot. They’re setting up a perimeter on the other side of the highway.” He told Will, “The whole damn force is out there looking for you, son.”
    Will rubbed his face with his hands. His fingers felt cold, probably because the twine around his wrists was cutting off the circulation. “You’re working with Cayla?”
    “I’m doing a favor for an old friend.”
    Will got the feeling he wasn’t happy about it. “Where’s the boy?”
    “You tell me. He’s not in the house. He’s not in your BMW.” He smiled again, showing his teeth. “That’s a nice ride. State must pay a hell of a lot more than Macon PD.”
    Will asked, “You’re Big Whitey?”
    He laughed, genuinely amused. “I’m Big Blackie, motherfucker. You colorblind?”
    Will didn’t know what he was supposed to say. “Who’s Big Whitey?”
    Franklin didn’t answer immediately. He looked down at the Glock, twisting it back and forth against his knee. “I was friends with his son. Chuck and me grew up together. We both graduated from the academy at the same time. Both moved around together.He got his lieutenant bars before me, but that’s how it goes sometimes.”
    Will shook his head, trying to break a memory loose.
    “Eight, maybe nine months ago, we were out running. Chuck’s leg snaps like a twig. No reason, just snaps.”
    Will had heard about this kind of thing before. He guessed, “Leukemia?”
    “Now you’re putting it together.”
    “Not really,” Will admitted.
    “Chuck was supposed to take over the family business. With him gone, who knows?”
    “Chuck,” Will echoed. The name was so familiar.
    “I thought you state boys were smarter than this.”
    Will said, “I’ve had a bad couple of days.”
    “I hear you, brother. Doesn’t look like it’s gonna get much better.”
    Will heard something heavy drop on the floor upstairs. It was similar to the sound of a clue dropping into his lap. He told Franklin, “Cayla Martin told me she drove up the Tamiami Trail with a guy named Chuck.”
    Franklin smiled. “Maybe you’re not so stupid after all.”
    Will realized there was a wall behind him. He slid over so he could lean back against it. The rest did him good. He said, “Chief Gray’s son died recently.” Will remembered something Faith had told him yesterday morning. “You were handpicked by Gray to follow him to Macon when he took over the force.”
    Franklin waited.
    Will made a calculated guess. “Chief Gray is Big Whitey.”
    Franklin didn’t acknowledge the revelation, but he told Will, “Lonnie was working in Jacksonville, but he lived in Folkston. Me, my baby sister, and my mama were up by the Funnel. Not many black kids around there, but