Branson said, “Marie Sorensen. Sixteen years old. She worked at a cheese shop in River Crossing, one of our upscale malls. Lots of bored suburban kids hang out there. Sorensen’s by far the prettiest. She managed to catch Big Whitey’s eye.”
Nick told Amanda, “I’ll scan it in for you.”
“Don’t bother.” Amanda guessed, “Big Whitey got Sorensen hooked on heroin?”
“He got her into his car.” Branson took out another photo, this one showing Sorensen looking ten years older and twenty pounds lighter. Both eyes were bruised. There were open sores on her face. Patches of hair were missing from her head.
Branson said, “Another one of Big Whitey’s patterns, but this one he does himself because he enjoys it.” She put the pictures side by side on the table. “He tells them that he works for a modeling agency. They buy it because they’ve been told they’re beautiful all their lives. He gets them to the car, forces them into the trunk, then drives them to a hotel on the coast—Tybee, Fort King George, Jekyll. He rapes them. His friends rape them. He shoots them up with heroin. He tricks them out.”
Branson paused. She looked away from the photos.
“Sorensen was defiant at first. He put her in a dog crate to teach her a lesson. Took about a week to break her, then he put her up for sale on the Internet. One-sixty for the lunchtime special, two-fifty for an hour. Four hundred for two hours. She does ten, fifteen clients a day. Her habit runs a couple hundred dollars. Not a bad business model. Do the math.”
Faith stared straight ahead. She couldn’t look at the photos, either. Will wondered if she was thinking about her daughter.
Will asked, “What happened to her?”
Branson said, “Sorensen got old real quick. That’s the problem with these young girls. They don’t stay young for long. After two months, she was moved to the next stop on the circuit. That’s what these guys do—they move them around, never let them get settled in one place.”
She paused again. The pain was obviously still fresh. “Eventually, the girls get sent out to California, where they’re tricked out on the streets. Sorensen ended up in LA. She managed to call her mom a few times, tell her what happened. Mom hired a private detective to try to find her.”
Faith asked, “She didn’t file a report in Macon? The girl was sixteen years old.”
Branson’s face told the story. This was the ball she had dropped. This was why she was so obsessed with the case. “We filed a missing persons report when she disappeared. When the mom told me about the phone calls, I reached out to LA. They told me it was a lost cause. They’ve got so many girls streaming into the city that they had to close the Hollywood bus station.”
Faith smoothed her lips together like she was putting on lipstick.
Branson slid out another photo. Will recognized the tiny ruler beside Marie Sorensen’s head as the kind that medical examiners used during autopsies.
She said, “The private dick in LA tracked down an address. The police searched the apartment three times before they found her. She was crammed into a suitcase underneath the bed. Still alive.” Branson let out a slow breath. “Still alive.”
She looked down at the autopsy photo. No one pushed her to go on.
Branson took another deep breath.
“Mom got the first plane out to California. Marie’s in the hospital for three weeks. They patch her back together, get some weight on her, take her down off the heroin, only they can’t heal her brain. Two weeks after mom gets her home, she sneaks out and kills herself. Heroin. Cops found her behind the church. She was six months to the day from walking out of that mall with Big Whitey.”
They were all silent after that. Will looked at the three photographs. Branson hadn’t exaggerated. Sorensen was beautiful. He could imagine the girl would believe a modeling agency was interested. The autopsy photo was a sharp contrast, a dark reminder that the only person who would want her now was her grieving mother.
Finally, Amanda asked, “You talked to Sorensen when she returned to Macon?”
“Yes.” Branson looked down at her hands. “He never gave her a name. She was told from the start to call him Big Whitey. She didn’t know his real identity, couldn’t give us any actionable intelligence. She was blindfolded most of the time, and when she wasn’t being sold, she was locked in a closet or a suitcase. The description she gave was spotty—dark hair, dark eyes. No distinguishing features.”
Faith asked, “Do you think she was lying?”
“Yes,” Branson admitted. “She was terrified of him. Couldn’t sleep in her own bed. She stayed in the closet the whole time she was home, back to the wall, waiting for him to come get her.”
“She was abducted at the mall,” Faith said. “What about CCTV?”
“The cameras were out. We don’t know if he had someone from security on the payroll or if he was just lucky.” Branson added, “He’s always been lucky.”
Faith asked, “No one saw anything at the mall or in the parking lot? No customers or friends?”
“No. And there was nothing on her cell phone or email, so he obviously made her keep it on the down low.” Branson added, “That’s what he’s good at, not being seen.”
Amanda finally spoke, and Will realized she hadn’t been silent out of respect. She was livid. “I’m curious, Ms. Branson, as to why you’ve got a sex-trafficking case in your town and the Georgia Bureau of Investigation doesn’t know anything about it.”
Branson’s cheeks darkened with a blush. “You’re right. This is all on me. I was ashamed that I couldn’t do anything to save her, and I was angry that I was told not to pursue Big Whitey.” She turned to Chief Gray. “I should’ve told you, Lonnie. I was hellbent on proving you wrong. Instead of running around behind your back, I should’ve gone to you for help.”
Gray wasn’t kind. “You’re goddamn right about that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s enough,” Gray said. “Tell them what you found in the house.”
“You mean the shooting gallery?” Faith sounded surprised. She’d obviously thought that part was over.
Will had a sinking feeling that he knew the answer, but he asked, “What was behind the panel?”
Branson turned back to the laptop computer. She tapped the screen awake, then advanced the next image.
The photo of a young boy appeared on screen. The picture was grainy, obviously taken with a cell phone. The boy’s eyes were blackened slits. Like Marie Sorensen’s, his face was emaciated. His lips were dry. Sores caked his skin. It was his eyes that made Will finally turn away. He could not stand to see the hollow look in the boy’s eyes.
Amanda broke the silence, asking, “Cause of death was dehydration? Malnourishment?”
Branson seemed surprised. “No, he’s alive.”
Will felt truly shocked for the first time since the meeting had started.
Branson said, “We have no idea who he is. He can talk, but he won’t.”
Faith looked as if she wanted to grab Branson across the table. “He hasn’t said anything for a week?”
Branson didn’t answer. She’d been keeping this all to herself for so long that she’d lost perspective. Talking it out had obviously revealed her catastrophic errors.
Faith said, “I haven’t seen anything about him on the news.”
“I entered it into the FBI databases, but I kept Macon out of it.” Branson glanced at Chief Gray. The man’s hands were gripped so tightly together he looked as if he was trying to break the bones. “If the local stations picked up on the story, then Whitey would know the boy was still alive. The only thing we know for sure about this guy is he murders anybody who gets in his way. He’d kill that boy just as sure as I’m sitting here.”
Faith asked, “Which hospital is he in?”
“He’s been under close medical supervision.” Branson didn’t offer any further explanation. She told her chief, “Chances are he was abducted in another state. Wherever he’s from, the local police fo
rce got the notice. For what it’s worth.”
Will knew that everyone in the room had gotten the notice. There was no way to read them all. Nearly 800,000 children were reported missing each year, which translated into more than two thousand notices a day.
Branson said, “The boy doesn’t have any identifying marks. We don’t know what region he’s from. We don’t know when he was taken. We’ve been combing through all the stranger abduction reports, but—” Branson seemed to realize how thin her excuses sounded. Her voice was weak when she said, “He’s the only living witness who can identify Big Whitey.”
Faith demanded, “How do you know that if he’s not talking?”
“Because of his reaction when I said Big Whitey’s name. Because he has … distinguishing marks … on his body that are the same as Marie Sorensen’s.”
“Wait a minute,” Faith said. “Back up. Who else knows about this?”
“No more than I can count on my hand.” Branson listed them. “Detective Adams stayed downstairs while I cleared everyone from the scene. Only two paramedics were allowed in the basement—girls I’ve known since high school. Both of them have been taking turns watching the boy around the clock. We couldn’t take him to the hospital. He’s being kept at an undisclosed location. Dr. Thomas is treating him. I’ve known Dean since I was a child. There’s one other officer who guards him when I can’t. Only the people I trust with my life know where that kid is.”
Will looked at Lonnie Gray, easily judging from the man’s expression that he’d learned about this cabal just a few moments before the rest of them. His face was bright red. His mustache looked like a piece of chalk over his mouth.
Gray demanded, “And who exactly is this other officer who’s watching the boy now?”
“She’s with the sheriff’s department. She’s a good friend.” Branson wouldn’t look at Gray. Her cheeks darkened again. Will guessed the deputy was more than a friend. “I trust her.”
“More than you trust me, apparently.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I knew if you found out, you’d have an obligation to report this to the state. Other people in the department would find out. We wouldn’t be able to keep him safe. Big Whitey has too much reach. The boy would be dead in a matter of hours.”
“That again.” Gray addressed the speaker on the table, telling Amanda, “Denise theorizes that Big Whitey has a mole on my force.”
Will thought about the file on the redneck’s desk. They had Bill Black’s police record. They had his military details. It wasn’t so much of a stretch to think Whitey had a cop or two working for his side. If the pattern held, he had more than a few.
Faith analyzed the situation differently. She told Branson, “You think someone tipped off Big Whitey about the raid.”
She shrugged, but said, “The raid team breaches the house and finds three dead guys. Sid Waller’s locked in the basement with an abducted boy. It practically had a bow tied on it.”
Gray turned on Branson, demanding, “Who do you think is the mole? Vickery and Franklin were nearly killed tonight. Adams was attacked. Eric Haigh was tortured before he was murdered.” He added, “Why do you think that is, Denise? Why do you think they tortured him?” He answered his own question. “They’re looking for the boy. If they had someone on the inside, they wouldn’t have to torture cops for information.”
Branson looked down at the table. The room went silent.
Will thought about Lena Adams in the ICU. She had told Will that he would eventually find out she was doing the right thing. She had said the words as if they would redeem all the ills that came before. Had she thought that saving the boy would make up for losing her baby? Or was it simply a matter of Lena’s eternal conviction that everything she did was for the greater good?
Will asked, “Does Lena know where the boy is?”
“I sure as hell don’t,” Gray interrupted. Will tried again, asking, “Does she?”
Branson shook her head. “Lena has no idea. I let her believe the state was already involved, that we had to be quiet about what happened to keep him safe. I doubt she even told Jared.”
Gray realized, “She lied to Internal Affairs. None of this was mentioned during any of her interviews.” He sounded disgusted. “Jesus Christ, Denise. You forced her to lie on record.”
Branson defended, “Lena was protecting the boy. She knew what Big Whitey would do if he found out there was a witness.”
“And I assume you let her believe I was okay with this?” Gray waved away any response Branson might come up with. “For the love of God. I can’t believe I trusted you.”
Faith said, “Obviously someone figured out the boy was alive. Why else attack Lena in the middle of the night? Why else go after the rest of the team that was there during the raid?” She told Branson, “Thanks for wasting my fucking time and nearly getting my partner killed.”
Amanda took over. “Where is this boy now?”
Gray turned to his former confidant, making a show of waiting for an answer.
Branson equivocated. She told Amanda, “I’d rather not say on an open line, but I’ll take your people to him as soon as this is over.”
Surprisingly, Amanda didn’t argue. “Denise, tell your paramedics to get ready for transport. We’ll keep it quiet, but we have to move that boy to Atlanta.”
Branson’s inner cop took over. “Logistics might take a while. We’ll need to get an ambulance. My paramedics are working alternating shifts. Dr. Thomas will need to get him ready.”
Amanda moved a split second ahead of Will. “Sara Linton’s still down there, right?”
Faith looked at Will. She answered, “Right.”
Amanda said, “Will, do whatever it takes to get Sara in that ambulance to Atlanta. If there really is a leak down there, we need to use our own people as much as we can.”
His mouth went dry. He couldn’t swallow again.
Amanda took his silence for agreement. “We still have an active manhunt for Tony Dell. Even if the boy won’t talk, we might be able to flip Dell. Again. Will, what time does your shift start?”
Will had forgotten about Bill Black’s hospital job. “Eight.”
“Don’t go in early. Maintain your cover. You’re a con. Dell is on the move. There’s a heavy police presence. It would make sense for you to start asking questions.”
He said, “There’s a nurse I’ve been working. Dell’s stepsister. She knows I was sent up for assault. I think if I work it right, I can scare her into talking.”
“Terrorize her if that’s what it takes.” Amanda seemed ready to get started. “Lonnie, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you,” Gray said. “I appreciate your—”
“Sir.” Nick was apologetic. “She already terminated the connection.”
Chief Gray didn’t bother with formalities. He turned on Branson like a raging lion. “You have some nerve, lady. Make me come here in the middle of the night like I’m some goddamn schoolboy being called to the principal’s office. Make me look like a fool in front of one of the most respected peace officers in the state. And I gather you’ll still refuse to tell me the boy’s location?” He waited for her to answer. When it was clear she wouldn’t, he mumbled, “You worthless piece of shit. It sickens me to think you ever wore the uniform.”
Tears came into Branson’s eyes as she tried, “Sir, with all due respect—”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word.” Gray snatched his hat off the table. “Human Resources will be in touch. Don’t try to reach out to me or any of my officers. Don’t try to plead your case. Don’t even say my name. As far as I’m concerned, your involvement with me and my department is over.” He stormed out of the room.
Branson’s throat worked. She looked down, pressing her palms flat to the table like she needed a moment to collect herself.
Faith didn’t give her the time. “You’re gay?”
Will was surprised by the bluntness of the question. Branson seemed ashamed. She looked
away, her head turned to the wall.
Faith said, “Jared Long got a call from you on his cell phone a few minutes before he was attacked.”
Branson seemed to understand. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “You thought I was two-timing with him.”
“Why else would you be calling Lena’s husband in the middle of the night?”
“I was worried about her. Something wasn’t right.”
“Because of the raid?”
“No, before that. She was just—” Branson tried to find the right words. “We’re friends. That’s all we are. But something’s been wrong with Lena for a while. She was happy, pumped about taking down Waller, and then when it all came together, she just got sad. She wouldn’t talk to me about it. I thought maybe Jared could tell me what was going on.”
Will guessed that Lena hadn’t told Denise Branson about the baby.
Faith quickly moved on. “Where are you keeping the boy?”
Branson took a deep breath. She held it for a while. Will could see the turmoil in her face. Every second of her life for the last eight days had been devoted to keeping the boy safe. She’d risked alienating her friends, losing her job, pissing off her chief. No cop ever wanted to hand over a case, especially one that ripped at their heart.
“Okay,” Branson finally said. “We’re keeping him at my girlfriend’s farm.”
“The sheriff’s deputy?”
“Yes. She works two counties over. We’ve been together about a year. Nobody knows about us.”
“Good,” Faith said. “How far away is the farm?”
“Not far, but it’s gonna take some time to put this together. We don’t make phone calls. As you clearly know, all calls can be traced, even blocked ones. I didn’t want any of their numbers showing up on my line. We check in on a message board for gay first responders.” Branson looked at her watch. “Dr. Thomas comes in at six before he goes to work. My ex is already there—one of the paramedics. Her girlfriend will come at six to relieve her. My deputy is spelling me. I was supposed to take the night shift, but then the shit hit the fan.”
Unseen Page 29
