Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

I didn’t see that they were armed, but I was about fifty yards away.”
    “That’s half a football field,” Branson noted. “Did you get the plates on the van?”
    “It was midnight.”
    “Full moon.”
    “No streetlights. All I could see from where I was standing were shadows.”
    Branson kept studying him, like she was trying to suss out a lie. Finally, she said, “The Kia that Dell was driving was still on scene when our units rolled up.”
    Will felt his stomach drop. He had forgotten all about Tony’s car.
    Branson continued, “We woke Dell up at his house this morning. He seemed real shocked that his car was missing from his driveway. Wanted to file a stolen vehicle report ASAP. We checked him for gunshot residue, ran his sheet, which was packed with low-level bullshit—but I’m sure you know that.”
    “You let him go?” Amanda asked.
    “What am I gonna hold him on? You gotta witness puts him at the scene?”
    Will saw Amanda’s nostrils flare.
    Branson continued, “I noticed Dell’s car’s got a sticker on the windshield—Macon General employee parking. Now, that rang a bell for me, because we did an investigation last month on some pills missing from the hospital pharmacy. Never did get any solid leads, but I know the GBI gets a copy of all reports pertaining to the theft of controlled substances. I made a trip to the hospital this morning to check out Dell’s co-workers.” She asked Will, “How do you like your job at the hospital?”
    Amanda managed to sound both irritated and bored. “Yes, Major, excellent work. Bully for you. Where is Dell’s Kia now?”
    “It’s in our garage. You told us to seal the house, not the street.” She seemed to take great pleasure in telling Amanda, “I’ll make certain to share any relevant information with your department.”
    “How kind. Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” Branson turned her attention back to Will. “Two males went inside the house, you and Dell stayed in the street. What next?”
    Will had to think a second before he could pick back up where he left off. “I heard the shotgun go off. I ran toward the house.”
    “Half a football field away,” she noted. “And then?”
    “Dell tried to stop me from going in. We struggled for a while. I don’t know how long, but he’s stronger than he looks, and he was obviously freaked out. Several more shots went off while we were fighting.”
    Branson gave him the once-over. “You don’t look like you’ve been in a fight.”
    “He was trying to stop me from going inside, not knock me out.”
    “Nice guy.”
    Will shrugged, but in the criminal world, Dell had been doing him a solid. He’d been trying to get Will to leave instead of running into a firestorm.
    Will continued, “By the time I made it into the house, both men were neutralized. Lena Adams recognized me, or at least it seemed like she did. I got her to drop the hammer, then I went back outside. Dell was gone. The police were close by. I could hear the sirens. I went behind the house, jumped the fence into the woods, and walked away.”
    Will tucked his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the window. Technically, he hadn’t walked, but they didn’t need to know that Will had bolted through those woods like the hounds of hell were at his back.
    Branson asked, “Have you had any contact with Lena Adams since you and your partner investigated her a year and a half ago?”
    Will told the truth. “Neither one of us has laid eyes on Lena since the investigation ended.”
    “Have you talked to her since last night?”
    Will shook his head, his mind flashing on the image of Lena’s face when he’d put his finger to his lips, told her to be quiet. She’d apparently taken it to heart.
    Branson said, “I find it interesting that without any coordination, Detective Adams chose to maintain your cover.”
    Faith pointed out, “It makes her look good, doesn’t it? Instead of Will stopping her from braining guy number two, she stops herself.”
    Branson wasn’t about to publicly pile onto one of her officers. “I’ll put a BOLO on the gray van and get it out to the news stations.”
    “Late model,” Will supplied. “Probably a Ford. No windows on the back or sides. Light gray, not dark.”
    Branson took her BlackBerry out of her briefcase. “And nothing on the license plate, even though you were right up on it before you went into the house.” She started thumbing the information into an