Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

was trying to make a decision. Will could tell by the way his eyes scanned back and forth as if he could read Will’s mind.
    Finally, Tony sheathed his knife back in his boot. “Be careful on them mountain roads.”
    Will felt his lips part. Just like that, the good ol’ boy Tony was back.
    “I hear Tennessee’s real pretty.” Tony walked toward the door, then he remembered Cayla’s suitcase. He had to grab the handle with both hands. “Shit, she’s got just about every damn thing in the house packed in here.”
    Will didn’t speak.
    Tony said, “I like you, Bud. It’s a shame I ain’t never gonna see you again.” He gave Will a hard look. “Right?”
    Will nodded furiously. “Right.”
    Tony dragged Cayla’s suitcase out the front door. He didn’t bother closing it behind him.
    Will felt his body sway as he listened to the suitcase scrape against the porch. It banged against the concrete steps, then scratched down the driveway.
    They couldn’t work Sara’s keyfob. The panic alarm went off, but they managed to stop the piercing siren before it got too loud. A door opened and closed, then another one. A few seconds later, a door opened and closed again.
    The engine turned over. The tires screeched as Tony stepped on the gas.
    Slowly, Will’s body adjusted to the fact that he wasn’t going to be stabbed to death. He had to lean on his hands and drag his knees behind him in order to get to the front door. He saw the brake lights on Sara’s BMW glow as Tony roared out of the subdivision.
    Will sat back on his heels. He closed his eyes and just breathed. His heart was pounding so hard that he could almost feel it tapping against his ribs.
    Benjamin.
    The boy was still in the attic.
    Will didn’t want to call for him in case Tony changed his mind. Besides, Will’s hands and feet were bound. He couldn’t exactly run up the stairs and catch the kid when he jumped down through the hatch.
    And there were two dead bodies down here. Benjamin had seen enough bad things to last him a lifetime.
    Paul Vickery was lying on his side. The gouge in his head had stopped bleeding. His wrists were bright red where the twine cut into his flesh.
    Will pressed his hands to the floor and dragged his knees, thinking he was moving like a caterpillar. It was hard to believe that he’d told the boy that football joke just a few hours ago. He was probably at Grady Hospital by now. So was Sara. She was safe. That was all that ever really mattered.
    Will stopped beside Vickery’s body. He checked the man’s pockets for his cell phone. He found a wallet, a set of car keys, and a handful of change, but no phone. Will patted Vickery’s chest. There was something hard underneath his shirt.
    Vickery groaned, and Will jerked back like a snake had tried to strike.
    “’Uck.” Vickery pulled down the gag. He cursed a few more times as he loosened his collar. Will could see the black Kevlar vest underneath his shirt. “What the hell happened?”
    “You got shot.” Will checked Vickery’s back. Four flattened bullets were lodged in the vest.
    “By you?” Vickery asked.
    “No.” Will sat back on his knees again. “I saw you on the road talking to Tony Dell last night.”
    Vickery blinked, like he couldn’t understand. “No, you didn’t.”
    “White Honda. You were pulled up by Tony’s truck.”
    “Do you know how many white Hondas there are on the road?” Vickery tried to roll over onto his back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a cop?”
    “I was too busy getting the shit kicked out of me.”
    Vickery chuckled, like it was a fond memory. And then he looked at DeShawn Franklin and his face fell. “I trusted that bastard with my life.”
    Will didn’t say he was probably right to. “Where’s your phone?”
    “Front pocket.” Vickery tried to reach down, but the twine stopped him.
    Will knew the pocket was empty, anyway.
    Reluctantly, he crawled over to Franklin’s body. The blood had stopped pumping along with his heart. The wound in his neck had slowed to a dribble. Will tried not to shudder as he searched the body. His wrists being practically glued together didn’t make the task easy. An eternity passed before he found the phone in Franklin’s shirt pocket.
    Will backed away from the dead man before he even looked at the phone. By necessity, he held it in both hands. His thumb swiped the screen. Instead of a keypad, a microphone icon flashed up. The red button below it was flashing. There was a