Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

detective.” She held up the phone so Will could see his photo. “I don’t know how he’s connected, but Eric Haigh applied for administrative leave the day of the raid.”
    Will scanned the image, which was more of the same. He guessed, “Unavailable?”
    “He won’t even answer his phone.” Faith said, “It’s déjà vu all over again.”
    Will knew what she meant. The police forces in Hilton Head and Savannah had both seen an uptick of early retirements and transfer requests the minute Big Whitey started throwing his weight around.
    He said, “It’s the same strategy Whitey uses with the dealers. You kill or hurt one cop, it’s easier to get the rest of them to either fall in line or fall away.”
    “And then Big Whitey corners the drug market.” Faith changedthe subject. “I was so desperate this morning I even tracked down your newspaper stories.” She scrolled to the Web browser on her phone. The
Macon Chronicle-Herald
blotter was already pulled up. “We know about the shooting-gallery raid—at least that it happened. The two runaways were party girls; they straggled home the next afternoon. The school pot bust was a known offender who will be heading to rehab for his billionth time. The guy on the toilet had a heart attack. He was described as a forty-three-year-old entrepreneur.” Faith looked back up at Will. “I wish I was better at making puns.”
    “It’ll come to you.”
    She chuckled good-naturedly. “The raid has to be the flash-point. I hate to admit this, but Denise Branson is good. She’s got me completely rope-a-doped.”
    Will had worked these kinds of cases before. He saved Faith the explanation. “Internal Affairs won’t release any paperwork on the shooting-gallery raid until they reach a decision. They can’t legally discuss the details because the reputation of an officer or officers is at stake, or because there’s possibly going to be a lawsuit. There’s a gag order on everyone involved, and even without that, no one will talk to you because you’re the bad lady from the state who’s sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
    “In a nutshell,” Faith confirmed. “I have a teenage son, so I know I should be used to being hated, but this is a whole new level.”
    Will wanted to tell her it got better, but he couldn’t lie.
    Faith tucked her phone back into her pocket. “I went in there expecting them to turn on Lena, but she’s worshipped around that place. They talk about her like she’s the best detective on the squad. I don’t get it. And when I ask them why she’s so great, they just look at me like it’s so obvious, I must be some kind of idiot for not seeing it.”
    Will couldn’t explain why Lena engendered such loyalty. He’d witnessed it in Grant County, too. For someone who continuallyscrewed up, she seemed to have more than her fair share of supporters.
    He asked, “What about Denise Branson? Did you get a temperature on her?”
    “They’re a bit cold on her, but that’s to be expected. She’s higher up the food chain. She’s self-confident. She’s a woman. Three strikes.” Faith asked, “What else did you get out of Tony Dell?”
    “Big Whitey this, Big Whitey that.”
    “That makes me nervous.”
    Will didn’t address her concern. They’d had many conversations about how dangerous it felt for Tony Dell to keep throwing the name around. “I convinced him Big Whitey’s probably going to kill us. Loose ends.”
    “Makes sense.” Faith stared at the interstate. Will could guess her thoughts, which more than likely mirrored his own: It was time to make a move on Big Whitey. Will would have to get in deeper with Tony Dell, possibly through Cayla the pharmacy nurse.
    He said, “Tony thinks we should try to arrange a sit-down. Let Big Whitey know we’re not a threat. See if we can do business with him.”
    Faith nodded, but she still didn’t look at Will. “Give me the details as soon as you have them.”
    “Maybe you could tape a gun to the back of the toilet tank for me.” She didn’t respond. “Like in the—”
    “I’ve seen
The Godfather
.”
    Will followed her gaze to the line of cars. I-475 was backing up with lunchtime traffic. Every big-box store and fast-food restaurant imaginable was crammed along the exit.
    He asked, “You think of a pun yet? For the entrepreneur on the toilet?”
    “It doesn’t seem so funny anymore.”
    Will stared back at the cars. A truck swerved into the wronglane to pass a