Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

beady. “It’s over, not up.”
    Cayla cut in, “It’s over
and
up, you idiot.”
    “I know what a map looks like.”
    Will let them argue. Geography had never been his strong suit, but he knew that South Carolina’s Lowcountry dangled into Georgia’s coast. He waited for a lull in the sibling spat, then said, “Better beaches on the coast than Florida’s got, anyway.”
    “Whatta you know about Florida?” Tony demanded. He seemed angrier than the conversation warranted, which led Will to believe he was on the right track.
    Will said, “It’s a state.”
    “Don’t fuck me around, son.”
    “Jesus, Tony.” Cayla huffed a stream of smoke. “What crawled up your ass?”
    Tony leaned forward, his fists pressing into the table. He asked Will, “When you ever been to Florida?”
    “He’s from Georgia,” Cayla said. “Where else is he gonna go on vacation?”
    Tony wasn’t mollified. His anger filled the room. Benji went into lockdown mode. He slid down in his chair. His neck all but disappeared into his shoulders. He stared at his book like he’d never read it before.
    Will took a bite of chicken. He chewed slowly, drawing out the time. Tony fidgeted. He was not a patient man. Will finally swallowed. “I was at MacDill.”
    Cayla asked, “You were in the Army?”
    “Air Force.” Will stared at Tony as he took another bite of chicken. The man had damn good reason to be suspicious. The coincidences were stacking up. MacDill Air Force Base was in South Tampa, not far from Sarasota, where Big Whitey had reportedly killed his first cop off the Tamiami Trail.
    Cayla asked, “Were you an officer or anything?”
    “I was target practice.” Will used a biscuit to soak up some grease on the plate. He popped it into his mouth, still keeping his eyes on Tony.
    Cayla asked, “They kick you out?”
    “We agreed to go our separate ways.”
    She laughed, like he’d made a joke. “I woulda liked to’ve seen you in your uniform. You got any pictures?”
    Will pretended he didn’t hear the question. Tony seemed incapable of doing the same.
    “Why do you want a picture of him?” Tony yelled. “You ain’t never asked for no damn picture of me.”
    Cayla rolled her eyes. She asked Will, “You ever been to Miami?”
    Will shook his head. “Didn’t seem worth the trip.” Because Tony had a racist streak, he added, “A little too dark down there for my taste.”
    Tony nodded, but he was still on edge. He obviously thought he had a shot at Cayla, which was equal parts alarming and disgusting. Will guessed it was better for Tony to be jealous than suspicious. Either way, he kept his eye on the man. It was always the little ones who fought dirty.
    “Hey, Tony.” Cayla tried to break the tension. “You remember I went up the Tamiami a few years ago. Hit Naples, Venice, Sarasota. Me and Chuck took his Harley up the trail.”
    “That fuckin’ tool,” Tony grumbled, the name obviously grating.
    Will feigned disinterest. He peeled off the last piece of chicken and tossed it into his mouth. There was a toughness to Tony’s posture that he hadn’t seen before. Faith had a working theory that Tony Dell was more dangerous than they suspected. Will had shot her down because the guy came across as an irritant, more like a gnat. Looking at Tony now, Will wondered if Faith was right.
    “You gonna drink that?” Tony asked.
    He meant the beer. Will shrugged. “Help yourself.”
    Tony pounded back the beer. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank too fast. Beer slid from the corners of his mouth. The requisite burp was followed by a bang as he slammed the can on the table.
    Cayla ignored the display. She twisted the tip of her cigarette in the ashtray, shaping the end. She asked Will, “What were you in for?”
    She meant jail. Will shrugged.
    Cayla eyed him. “I bet you gotta strong temper on you.” She said it as a compliment. “That what got you into trouble?”
    Will shrugged in a way that let her know she was right.
    “Think I’ll have another.” Tony walked around the table, pressinghis hand on the top of Benji’s head as he went to the fridge. Bottles rattled as he opened the door. Cayla had enough beer for the zombie apocalypse. There was hardly any food.
    Tony asked Will, “Why’d you bail on the Air Force?”
    Will gnawed at the chicken bones, sucking the marrow.
    Again, Cayla tried to intervene. “I love those Gulf beaches with their white sand. Don’t you think, Tony? The Atlantic’s