Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

sweat off his face.
    “Hey.”
    He looked up. Faith was leaning over the railing.
    She looked down the open stairwell, making sure they were alone before asking, “Did you come up from the basement?”
    He grabbed his toolbox and started climbing again. “The elevator opens up across from the waiting room, which is by the other set of stairs.”
    “Why didn’t you take the elevator to the fourth floor and go up from there?”
    Will watched a drop of sweat roll down his nose and splash onto the concrete steps.
    “Will?”
    He rounded the landing. Faith had that smile on her face that said she realized he was stupid but was being kind enough not to verbalize the observation. “I’ve been checking all the doors for the last fifteen minutes.”
    He asked, “Did you break a pipe or just pretend it’s broken?”
    “Water pistol. You’ll see.” She nodded toward the next flight of stairs. “Think you can make it?”
    Faith took the steps two at a time. She had changed into her regs—black sneakers, tan cargo pants, and a long-sleeved blue polo shirt with the letters
GBI
written in bright yellow across the back. Her blonde hair was tucked into a matching blue ballcap with the same logo. Her Glock was strapped to her thigh.
    Will dropped his toolbox by the door to the ICU. He looked through the skinny window into the ward. One nurse was behind the desk. The cop who was guarding Jared Long’s room was so young he looked as if he was wrapped in plastic. Will had investigated cop shootings before. If Macon was like any other force on the planet, all the seasoned cops were out banging down doors and threatening sources.
    Will headed up the stairs after Faith. The climb was remarkably easy without the added weight.
    He pushed open the metal door. His eyes watered from the sudden sunlight. The rain clouds had receded, opening up a bright blue sky. Will gathered from the discarded cigarette butts in the pea gravel that the staff was familiar with the roof exit. He scanned the medical complex. The five-story hospital building was at the center. Two lower buildings flanked each side. Doctors rented the spaces. From what Will gathered, there were lots of baby doctors on hand. He’d been to the birthing suites a few times. They were more like hotel rooms. Most of Macon’s industrial parks and factories had shut down during the recession, but Maconites were still making babies.
    “Over here,” Faith called.
    There was a shed covering the exit door. Faith had walked around the back so no one could surprise them.
    Will asked, “Sara?”
    “She went shopping with Nell. Jared’s mother. She wants to clean the house.”
    “The crime scene house?”
    “That’s the one.”
    Will felt his brow furrow. He couldn’t imagine Sara thought that was a good idea.
    Faith said, “I’ll head over to the house later to make sure she’s all right.” She squinted at the name on his shirt. “Buddy?”
    “It belonged to the last guy,” Will lied. “I talked to Tony Dell this morning.”
    “And?”
    “It’s like we thought. Zachary and Lawrence found him at Tip-sie’s, said they needed a couple of men for a job.”
    “Tony knew them?”
    “He says no, that he’s just seen them around the bar. I believe him maybe ninety percent. They hang out in the back with the other rednecks in charge. Way above Tony’s pay grade.”
    Faith pulled a pair of sunglasses out of her pocket and slid them on. “I verified what Branson told us this morning. She wasn’t lying about the shooters. They’re mid-level thugs. Nothing this violent in their histories. Certainly not murder for hire.”
    “What’s the prognosis on Fred Zachary, the second shooter?”
    “Don’t ask me. I can’t get near him. His lawyer’s set up shop in his hospital room. Won’t leave his side.”
    “That sounds expensive.”
    “The guy’s part of a fancy firm out of Savannah. Vanhorn and Gresham. They just opened up offices in Macon.” She glanced over to make sure he was following. “It’s the same M.O. as Sarasota and Hilton Head. Big Whitey moves in, he organizes the local scumbags, he gives them fancy lawyers, and he takes out any cops who get in his way.”
    Will asked, “Anything off the cell towers?”
    “Lena got a text from Paul Vickery around eleven-fifty. Nothing big, just checking if she’s okay. Fifteen minutes later, Long got a blocked call we’re trying to trace. Might take until tomorrow.”
    “Fifteen minutes later?”
    “Yeah,