Unseen (42 page)

And what bigger idiot was there than a woman who believed every harebrain theory that came out of her husband’s mouth? Less than five minutes ago, Jared was saying Big Whitey didn’t even exist. Last week he claimed he’d heard from a guy that Fort Knox had been robbed of all the country’s gold. Why on earth was she listening to him now?

Lena shook her head, hoping to God she was suffering from pregnancy hormones and not losing her mind.

He asked, “Why are you shaking your head?”

She didn’t answer, knowing there was no point. “I’m stressed about the raid crapping out. Denise and I are both putting our
asses on the line over this, and you know Lonnie doesn’t forgive or forget.”

Jared moderated his tone. “Lookit, something will come up.” He waited for her to blow her nose again. “Something always comes up. You’re a good cop, babe. You’re smart and driven and you never give up. You’ll make it happen.”

Lena couldn’t help it. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her want to cry again. She slipped her hand into his. Jared’s arm tensed, but he didn’t pull away. He wasn’t used to affection. His mother was a cold fish. Lena had never once seen Nell touch any of them. Of course, Lena wasn’t the clingy type, either. She couldn’t explain why touching Jared was the only thing that soothed her nerves lately. This wasn’t the kind of thing she could ask Dr. Benedict about. She’d tried to look it up on the Internet, but most of the pregnant women online seemed to hate their husbands. And there were only a limited number of phrases you could Google on pregnancy before you were inundated with some seriously disgusting porn.

Jared asked, “You okay?”

She chewed her lip, silently willing herself not to start crying again.

He turned sheepish. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” she managed. “Tell me that when I look like I should be swimming in a tank at SeaWorld.”

“Babe, as long as you keep getting big in other places, I’m fine.”

Lena rolled her eyes. Then she jerked her hand away when the door opened.

Dr. Benedict walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He told Lena, “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

Jared winked at Lena. This was the first thing the man said every time he entered the room. They joked that his wife probably heard the same thing when they were in bed.

“Lie back for me.” Benedict pulled out the extension on the table.

Lena laid her head on the pillow and straightened her legs. She looked up at Jared. He put his hand on her forehead. The move was clumsy—more like he was checking her for a fever—but she didn’t complain.

Benedict turned on the ultrasound machine. Unceremoniously, he lifted the paper gown. Lena saw what she’d been denying all week. Her underwear was tight. Pretty soon, it would be rolling under her stomach like a rubber band. She looked up at Jared, expecting a joke. He wasn’t laughing. He was watching the monitor, even though nothing was on the screen yet.

Benedict shook the bottle of gel over Lena’s stomach. “A little cold,” he said, sounding just as practiced as usual. He squeezed the bottle. Nothing came out. He told Lena, “Just a moment,” then rolled his chair over to the door. He called into the hallway, “Could you bring me some more gel?”

He rolled his chair back to the table. His cold hands touched Lena’s stomach as he felt around for things he didn’t bother to articulate. She wondered again if she should’ve gone to a female doctor. Then again, her regular doctor was a woman and she had the bedside manner of a dingo.

The door opened again. Lena was glad her feet weren’t up in the stirrups. The hall was filled with people.

“Here you go.” The nurse was the same one who’d brought the tissues. She handed the doctor a new bottle of gel. “I got this off the warmer?”

Lena didn’t know which was more annoying—the way the woman raised her voice at the end of the sentence or the fact that no one had warmed the first bottle.

Benedict didn’t seem to notice the difference. He shook the bottle and repeated, “A little cold.”

Lena looked up at Jared as the warm fluid hit her skin. He winked at her again. She felt the ultrasound probe press against her belly. The fat rolled around in a way she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
Instead, Lena watched the monitor, the shifting white and black folds.

This was really the stupidest thing she’d ever done. Lena understood why the doctor had to see the image, but there was no reason for Jared to watch her insides get pushed around. There was a pregnant secretary at the station who framed every ultrasound photo she got. Lena couldn’t walk through the office without tracking the progress of the weird little alien blob. It seemed like nothing was private anymore.

Benedict’s eyebrows were furrowed. He stared at the screen as he pressed the probe harder.

Lena asked the words she’d been dreading. “Is something wrong?”

Benedict didn’t answer, which made it ten times worse.

The nurse said, “Listen.” She turned one of the dials on the machine. A slow
wah-wah
sound came out of the speakers, like something you’d hear in a submarine movie.

Lena thought she’d missed whatever she was supposed to listen for, then the rapid thump-thump-thump of a heartbeat filled the room.

Jared gasped. “Is that the—” He looked down at Lena. “It’s the heartbeat.” He pressed his hand to her chest, felt for her heart.

“It’s different.”

He was right. Lena’s heart was beating its usual slow rhythm, while the baby’s heart sounded like the wings of a hummingbird fluttering against a windowpane.

The nurse said, “See your baby?”

Lena looked at the monitor. Nestled inside the folds was a little black dot. Dr. Benedict moved his hand around, and the dot turned into a bean. Lena could see the heart flashing.

“Holy shit,” Jared whispered. “Holy shit.”

Lena heard herself thinking the same words in her head. How had they done this? How had they created something so perfect?
She couldn’t take her eyes off the little bean. The round edges, the curve in the center that was going to be a stomach. Soon, the bean would sprout real arms and legs, and a head with sweet little eyes and a crescent-shaped mouth.

But for now, he was just a tiny, fluttering little bean.

Her bean.

Lena had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

Dr. Benedict said, “Everything looks good. You’re six weeks along. Come back next week around this same time.” He tapped some buttons on the ultrasound machine. A printer whirred to life. Benedict stood up. He went to the sink to wash his hands. “I’ll make sure you get a disc with the ultrasound. The picture should be ready in a few minutes.”

Jared leaned down, looking Lena in the eyes. “This is it, babe. You and me and the beginning of everything.”

Lena’s brain told her the words were melodramatic, but her heart—her heart took in the tears in his eyes, the silly grin on his face, the touch of his hand as his fingers laced through hers, and started to crumble.

He told her, “Nothing’s ever gonna be the same again. One day, we’re gonna both be sitting in our diapers at the old folks’ home and talking about how this is the moment that changed everything.”

Lena put her hand to his cheek. Her thumb traced his lips before she gently pushed him away. She wasn’t going to start crying again in front of strangers.

Jared understood. He winked at her, joking with Benedict, “Thanks, Doc. Good job.”

“You’re welcome.” Benedict obviously wasn’t fond of getting off routine. He studied the nurse as he dried his hands. “You’re filling in for Margery, right?”

“Yes, Doctor.” The woman smiled warmly as she started wiping the gel off Lena’s belly. “I’ve worked in your office before? I’m Cayla Martin?”

W
ill’s brain burned in his skull. His muscles were still vibrating from the Taser. At least his body wasn’t tensed up like a fist anymore. His hands and feet were no longer clenched into balls. His knees and elbows could straighten. Despite all that progress, sitting up felt like an impossible task. He lay with his back on the floor. Overhead, he heard Cayla Martin walking back and forth across one of the bedrooms. At least he assumed it was Cayla. Paul Vickery was bound and gagged beside him. Whoever was upstairs was walking in high heels.

Detective work.

The throbbing pain in his head had to be from something more than the Taser. Will had been Tasered before. Amanda had said it was an accident, but the way she cackled made him think otherwise. Will tentatively moved his head. There was a tender spot at the back. He blinked, wondering how many times his vision had gone wonky over the last twenty-four hours. He couldn’t dwell on that. Actually, he couldn’t dwell on anything because his mind yet again could not hold on to one thought.

Benjamin.

That was the one word that would not slip away. Benjamin was
in the attic. He still had the chain around his ankle. Will had told the boy to text Faith. Where the hell was she? She’d told Will the cruisers were on the way.

Will had to get out of here. He had to find the police before Cayla disappeared. Paul Vickery was out cold, and not just because Will had hit him. There was a deep gash on the side of the man’s scalp. He needed medical attention. Obviously, despite Will’s assumptions, Vickery wasn’t working with the bad guys after all. Whether this was a recent development or not was less clear.

Will tried to sit up. The muscles would not respond. He could only flop over onto his side. That was when he saw his wrists. They were tied together with twine. The knots were tight. The twine cut into his skin. Will tried to move his legs. His ankles were tied together, too. At least now he knew why he couldn’t feel his toes.

Will struggled to sit up. His feet slipped. His hands couldn’t find purchase. Finally, he angled himself up to sitting. He only had to close his eyes a few seconds before the nausea passed. Then he opened his eyes and felt sick all over again.

There was a man sitting on the couch. He had a Glock pointed at Will’s head.

Will had never met Detective DeShawn Franklin in person, but he recognized the man from the photograph on Faith’s cell phone. He was built like a linebacker, with broad shoulders and legs the size of fallen trees. He took up two cushion spaces on Cayla’s sofa. The gun in his hand looked like a toy, though Will knew the police-issued Glock was a man-stopper.

Will checked on Paul Vickery again. He was still tied up. Hogtied, really. Which didn’t explain why DeShawn Franklin was pointing his gun at Will.

Franklin lowered the Glock, resting the weapon on his knee. “Paul was coming here to save you.”

Will didn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing the string of
curses that came into his mouth. He asked, “My partner sent him?”

“Your partner sent anybody who was listening on the scanner.” DeShawn smiled. “Thanks for taking Paul out before I got here. Beat-downs aside, he’s not a dirty cop. Woulda been hard explaining to him why I had to tie y’all up.”

Will didn’t acknowledge the comment. He had to assume the GPS tracker on his phone wasn’t working. Faith knew he was at Cayla’s house. She would send the cruisers. It was only a matter of time before twenty cops busted down the door.

Franklin seemed to read Will’s mind. He took away his options one by one. “I told the cops me and Paul would secure the house. Last we saw, you were headed toward the woods on foot. They’re setting up a perimeter on the other side of the highway.” He told Will, “The whole damn force is out there looking for you, son.”

Will rubbed his face with his hands. His fingers felt cold, probably because the twine around his wrists was cutting off the circulation. “You’re working with Cayla?”

“I’m doing a favor for an old friend.”

Will got the feeling he wasn’t happy about it. “Where’s the boy?”

“You tell me. He’s not in the house. He’s not in your BMW.” He smiled again, showing his teeth. “That’s a nice ride. State must pay a hell of a lot more than Macon PD.”

Will asked, “You’re Big Whitey?”

He laughed, genuinely amused. “I’m Big Blackie, motherfucker. You colorblind?”

Will didn’t know what he was supposed to say. “Who’s Big Whitey?”

Franklin didn’t answer immediately. He looked down at the Glock, twisting it back and forth against his knee. “I was friends with his son. Chuck and me grew up together. We both graduated from the academy at the same time. Both moved around together.
He got his lieutenant bars before me, but that’s how it goes sometimes.”

Will shook his head, trying to break a memory loose. “Eight, maybe nine months ago, we were out running. Chuck’s leg snaps like a twig. No reason, just snaps.”

Will had heard about this kind of thing before. He guessed, “Leukemia?”

“Now you’re putting it together.”

“Not really,” Will admitted.

“Chuck was supposed to take over the family business. With him gone, who knows?”

“Chuck,” Will echoed. The name was so familiar.

“I thought you state boys were smarter than this.”

Will said, “I’ve had a bad couple of days.”

“I hear you, brother. Doesn’t look like it’s gonna get much better.”

Will heard something heavy drop on the floor upstairs. It was similar to the sound of a clue dropping into his lap. He told Franklin, “Cayla Martin told me she drove up the Tamiami Trail with a guy named Chuck.”

Franklin smiled. “Maybe you’re not so stupid after all.”

Will realized there was a wall behind him. He slid over so he could lean back against it. The rest did him good. He said, “Chief Gray’s son died recently.” Will remembered something Faith had told him yesterday morning. “You were handpicked by Gray to follow him to Macon when he took over the force.”

Franklin waited.

Will made a calculated guess. “Chief Gray is Big Whitey.”

Franklin didn’t acknowledge the revelation, but he told Will, “Lonnie was working in Jacksonville, but he lived in Folkston. Me, my baby sister, and my mama were up by the Funnel. Not many black kids around there, but Lonnie didn’t bat an eye when he found me sitting at his dinner table.”