Will Trent07 - Unseen

by Karin Slaughter

  There was a leaking pipe in the ICU. Will had been assigned to fix it.

  Will took the north stairwell up to the fifth floor. The going wasn’t easy. His toolbox got heavier with each step. His body kept reminding him that he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before. Will normally tried to run a few miles every day, but Bill Black’s life didn’t allow for such luxuries. By the third-floor landing, Will’s arm was shaking. Level four brought shooting pains into his lower back. He set the toolbox down and used his bandanna to wipe the 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 Tipsie’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, about ten minutes before the attack.”

  Will stared out at the view, which was a depressing mix of interstate and strip malls. “Could be one of Jared’s buddies just calling to check in.”

  “Could be.”

  “Have you talked to Lena’s team?”

  “What’s left of it. DeShawn Franklin seems to think this is no big deal. Paul Vickery is a dick.”

  Will ran his hand along his jaw. “He’s upset about his partner almost being murdered. He was here looking for Tony Dell this morning.”

  “Did he find him?”

  “If Tony gets the crap beaten out of him, then we’ll know he did.”

  “Vickery struck me as that kind of guy,” Faith admitted. “Very self-righteous about me wasting his time when he could be out looking for whoever put out the hit on Lena and Jared.”

  Will said, “Vickery thinks Bill Black is involved.”

  “I’d probably make the same assumption. Black’s a con with a violent history. Dell’s car was at the crime scene. They both work at the same place.”

  “My boss told Vickery that Tony Dell and Bill Black are good friends.”

  “Nice. How’s that target feel on your back?”

  “Stabby,” Will admitted. He’d have to be very careful around Vickery if he ever had the bad fortune to cross paths with him again. “What’s the police station like?”

  “They’re all helpful on the surface, but the minute you start to pull at a string, they cut you off.”

  “What strings?”

  “Incident reports. Daily briefings. They’re not good at producing paperwork, which is odd for a police station.”

  Will noted, “It’s been my impression that police officers have to write everything down.”

  “Mine, too. Maybe we should go work for Macon.” She leaned back against the shed. “Chief Gray runs a tight ship, but he’s got the press on his back—both Macon and Atlanta—plus there’s talk someone saw a CNN truck heading down 75.”

  “Great,” Will mumbled. He’d seldom worked a case where the media made things better.

  Faith said, “Gray has every able-bodied cop pounding the streets, including himself. You gotta hand it to the old guy. He’s got his sleeves rolled up just like everybody else. The downside is that Branson’s got the whole station to herself. Her and Paul Vickery. I get the feeling DeShawn Franklin’s heart isn’t in it. He was handpicked by Chief Gray when he took over the force a few years ago. His loyalties have to be torn.”

  “You think he’ll flip?”

  “Not unless he’s caught in bed with a dead woman or a live boy.” Faith blew out a puff of air. He could tell she was frustrated. “I ran Jared and Lena’s credit, checked their accounts. They pass the smell test. Lena’s Celica is paid off, his truck’s a year out. Low balance on their credit cards. There’s a couple of thou left on Jared’s student loans. Another thou in savings
. No big trips or lake houses. They’re a little upside down on their mortgage, but who isn’t?”

  “What about their cases?”

  “We’re covered up with cases. Jared was trying to win some kind of contest to write the most tickets. Lena’s got a stack of arrests this big.” Faith held her hands a foot apart. “I’ve got four loaners from the field office looking to kill me for drowning them in paperwork. They’re gonna be working eighteen-hour shifts.”

  “It’s easier to treat them badly if you don’t know their names.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Faith said. “First thing I asked for was the case file on that shooting-gallery raid you read about in the newspaper.”

  Will assumed she was drawing this out for a reason. “And?”

  “IA has all the files. Every single scrap.”

  Internal Affairs. “That makes sense. Two cops were hurt during the raid.”

  “Keith McVale and Mitch Cabello. Don’t be impressed. I only found out their names because I checked the duty roster.”

  “Did you talk to them?”

  “One’s in Florida spending his disability and the other checked himself out of the hospital this morning. He’s not answering my calls and he’s not at home.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and swiped the screen a few times before showing some photos to Will. “DeShawn Franklin. Mitch Cabello. Keith McVale.”

  Except for skin color, there was a sameness to all the men—square-jawed, clean-cut. The same as Paul Vickery. They were more like a military unit than a detective squad.

  Faith said, “There’s a third guy who took off around the same time. Another 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 changed the 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 flashpoint. 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 continually screwed 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 wrong lane to pass a van. Horns blared. Faith lifted her hat and brushed her hair back up underneath it.

  He asked, “Is she okay?”

  Faith shook her head. “I haven’t heard a word come out of her mouth. It’s like talking to a brick wall. She won’t respond to anything. Won’t look at me. I was thinking about holding a mirror under her nose to make sure she’s still alive.”

  Will waited for Faith to realize that wasn’t the question.

  She said, “Sara’s all right. Tired. She didn’t say, but I can tell it’s hard for her to be here.”

  Will nodded.

  She finally looked up at him. “You need to tell her, Will. This is getting too close to the bone.”

  He rubbed his jaw. He felt a knot coming up where Vickery had punched him. “Lena didn’t say anything?”

  Faith stared at him for a second longer, then shook her head again. “I tried to go in there like she was just another witness. Then I tried to talk to her like a cop. But the whole time, I’ve got sweat dripping down my back because all I can think is am I going to be the next cop she gets killed.” Faith shrugged her shoulders when she added, “Or you.”

  Will wasn’t sure what to say. He shrugged his shoulders, too.

  They both turned when they heard a cackling laugh. A group of doctors had made their way up to the roof. Will walked gingerly around the shed. He kept his back to the metal wall. The pea gravel crunched as the group walked toward the edge of the building.

  He checked that the coast was clear, then slipped through the door.

  Will looked over the railing before heading down the stairs. His toolbox was still outside the ICU. He grabbed the handle and pushed open the door. And then his heart stopped because he hadn’t checked the window first. Luckily, no one was there but the cop and the nurse.

  The man’s hand went to his gun.

  Will held up his ID. “Maintenance. I got a report that a pipe’s leaking?”

&n
bsp; The cop gave Will a hard look. His hand stayed on his gun.

  “Officer Raleigh, it’s okay.” The nurse stood up from her desk. “Lordy, Bud, it took you long enough.” She apologized quickly. “I’m sorry, that’s probably not your fault.”

  “I’m sorry anyway,” Will told her. “Got hung up on the last job.”

  “It’s Ruth.” She smiled, motioning for him to follow her.

  Will hefted the toolbox into his other hand as he walked down the hall. He had been in the ICU once before to check a hissing air conditioner. The basic layout was a horseshoe that squared off around the nurses’ station. The rooms were small. The only windows looked into the hallway. Will guessed patients in the ICU didn’t really care about sunlight, but the whole floor made him feel claustrophobic.

  Officer Raleigh blocked the doorway to Jared’s room. He grabbed the ID hanging around Will’s neck. He scrutinized Bill Black’s photo. Will was close enough to see the fine down on the young officer’s cheek.

  “What’s the deal here?” Ruth seemed perplexed. “This is Buddy. He’s been up here before.”

  Will studied the woman. She was older with dark hair that showed a little gray at the part. He wasn’t sure why she kept covering for him. Will was pretty good at remembering faces and he was certain he’d never met this particular nurse before.

  “All right.” Raleigh finally moved out of Will’s way.

  Will tried to keep his expression neutral as he walked into the room, but Lena, who was folded into a chair in the corner, wasn’t as careful. Her mouth opened in surprise.

  Ruth misunderstood her reaction. She told Lena, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We need to get this leak checked out. Only take a minute.”

  Will couldn’t help it. He looked everywhere in the room but at Jared.

  “It’s there.” Ruth pointed at a brown spot in the ceiling.

  Will was tall enough to reach up and touch it. The tile was wet and smelled like apples. He looked at the food tray beside Jared’s bed. The apple juice container was empty.

  Will lowered his hand. Ruth was watching him in a way that made him uncomfortable.