Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

the truth in the first place.
    But then Will had seen her standing at the nurses’ station and lost his nerve. Actually, he’d lost his breath. This was nothing new. Lately, every time he saw Sara Linton, Will literally felt like she had taken his breath away. That couldn’t be good for his brain. He’d been oxygen-deprived. Obviously, that was why instead ofconfessing, he’d ended up on his knees kissing her like they were never going to see each other again.
    Which might end up being the case. Will was painfully aware of the tenuous hold he had on the situation.
    On Sara.
    “You’re late,” Amanda Wagner said, scrolling through her BlackBerry as she entered her office.
    Will didn’t address the comment, which was automatic, something she generally said in lieu of hello. He told her, “I sent my report an hour ago.”
    “I’ve read it.” Amanda’s thumbs started working as she stood in the middle of the room responding to an email. She was dressed in a red suit, the skirt hitting just below her knee, white blouse neatly tucked into the waist. Her salt-and-pepper hair was in its usual helmet. Her nails were trimmed, the clear polish gleaming.
    She looked well rested, though Will knew Amanda hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. The Macon chief of police. The director of the GBI. The GBI crime scene unit. The GBI medical examiner. The GBI crime lab. They each had to be read in or sent out or relayed orders. And yet Amanda had managed to call Will back three more times before the sun came up. He could tell she was worried by the calmness of her tone, the way she spoke to him as if he’d gotten a flat tire on the side of the highway instead of walked into a bloodbath. Usually, Amanda took a certain joy in making Will miserable, but last night was different.
    It was also fleeting.
    “So.” She finished the email and moved on to another. “Quite a mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Wilbur.”
    He wasn’t sure which mess she was talking about.
    “I don’t have to tell you that we’re not out on the limb anymore; we’re on the thin part of the branch. The twig.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Whoever these men are, they don’t mind going after cops.”Amanda glanced up at him. “Try not to get yourself killed, won’t you? I don’t have the patience to break in someone new.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    She turned her attention back to her email. “Where’s Faith?”
    Faith Mitchell, Will’s partner. “You said meet at seven-thirty.” He checked his watch. “She’s got six minutes.”
    “How wonderful. You’ve learned to tell time.” Amanda continued reading as she went to her desk, sat in her chair. The old cushion made a sound like a pig snort. “I looped the director in on your midnight escapades. He’s keeping a close eye on this.”
    Will didn’t know how he was expected to respond to this information, so he took his seat, waiting for the next shoe to drop. Just recently, Will had come to accept that Amanda Wagner was the closest thing he would ever have to a mother—that is, if your mother was the type to lock you in a refrigerator or strap you into the back seat of her car and roll you into a lake.
    She put down her BlackBerry and took off her reading glasses. “Anything you need to tell me?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    Uncharacteristically, Amanda didn’t press. She turned on her computer, waited for it to boot. Will guessed Amanda was in her mid to late sixties, but there really was no way of knowing her exact age. She was still in good shape, still capable of running circles around men half her age—or Will’s age, to be exact. And yet watching her try to work a computer mouse was like watching a cat try to pick up a pebble.
    She slapped the mouse against the desk, mumbling, “What is wrong with this thing?”
    Will knew better than to offer his help. He brushed a speck of dirt off the knee of his trousers. It made him think about Sara. She was probably in her car by now, heading down to Macon. The drive was about an hour and a half. Will should’ve offered to take her. He could’ve confessed the whole sordid truth along the way.
    And then Sara would’ve given him a choice: walk back to Atlanta or walk the rest of the way to Macon.
    Amanda said, “You’re brooding.”
    Will considered the description. “Don’t you need the moors for that?”
    “Clever.” Amanda sat back in her chair, giving Will her full attention. “You investigated Lena Adams last year?”
    “A year