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?”

16.

FRIDAY

Will’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.”