Alone in the Dark (72 page)

‘That’s a lie,’ Drake spat. ‘I used a condom.’

‘Knew it,’ Scarlett said with satisfaction. ‘Little prick.’

The detective leaned closer, getting into Drake’s space. ‘You didn’t use a condom every time, Drake. The ME found your Cincinnati murder victim had both genital herpes and gonorrhea. On the bright side, you won’t have to worry about getting it in prison. You already have it. That’ll take some of the pressure off once you get there. Because while we don’t have the death penalty, we have far more than our share of gang members who’re gonna think you’re so pretty.’

Drake’s expression was priceless. ‘Fuck you,’ he gritted out. ‘I’m done here. Get out.’

‘Tell him about his sister now,’ Deacon said quietly.

The detective and the special agent stood up. ‘One more thing, Drake,’ the agent said, ‘and this is very serious. We know you stole your sister’s car and her credit card because we found them with your prints all over them.’

‘Borrowed,’ Drake said with a surly glare.

‘Well you should know that you brought trouble to her door. Your sister is gone. Taken. Maybe by the same people who took your girlfriend and her family.’

Drake’s lips trembled. ‘Nah, she’s probably at work. She’s always at work.’

The agent shook his head. ‘No. Her landscaping van was in the driveway and her purse was on the kitchen table. There was a struggle. She fought hard.’

‘You’re lying to me. She’s fine.’

‘I hope you’re right. The people who took the Anders family . . . they meant business. You might do better to stay locked up. They were looking for you because they know you messed with their property. The girl who used your phone to text for help was desperate.’

‘What are they gonna do when they learn you’re in custody?’ the detective asked. ‘I’m thinking we should take you to Cincinnati and see how well you fare down there.’

Drake blanched. ‘It’s your job to protect me.’

The detective snorted. ‘No, our job is to prove that you shot the cashier and murdered that woman last night. We have it on tape, so I’ll admit our job is pretty easy. The creeps that took your sister and your girlfriend are Cincinnati thugs. CPD’s job is to find out who killed that young woman in the alley so that they can track it back to the people who forced her to come to this country to begin with – most likely the thugs that went after your sister trying to find you. Nobody’s gonna protect you, Drake – not us and not Cinci PD. You help them find out who’s after you and you protect yourself.’

‘God, he’s good,’ Scarlett murmured.

‘Yeah,’ Deacon agreed. ‘Don’t think it’ll be enough, though. Drake’s a sociopath.’

The agent pulled out the bag containing the flash drive and let it dangle. ‘Last chance to tell us what’s on this.’

The lawyer whispered something in Drake’s ear. Drake shook his head. ‘Unless you offer me something, I’m going to pass. Why should I make your lives easier? Knock yourselves out, guys.’

‘Little prick,’ Marcus muttered.

The detective retrieved his laptop, and the picture got very bumpy as he and the special agent walked through the white hallways of whatever hospital Drake was in.

Deacon unmuted the microphone. ‘I didn’t think Drake would break. He didn’t care about his sister. He was more worried that they were coming after him.’

‘True,’ the Detroit detective said through the speaker. ‘He’s a piece of work.’

‘He’s right about one thing, though,’ Scarlett said. ‘We don’t have any proof directly tying him to Tala’s murder. He can argue that yeah, he screwed her, but he didn’t kill her or shoot at Marcus.’

‘We need an eyewitness,’ Isenberg said. ‘Your report mentioned two homeless people who directed you to the body?’

Scarlett nodded. ‘Tommy and Edna. I’ll find them.’

‘We’re getting ready to sign off,’ the agent said. ‘Let us know if you need anything.’

‘Popcorn,’ Scarlett said grimly, and the two Detroit men laughed, also grimly.

Deacon closed his laptop. ‘You okay?’ he asked Marcus.

Marcus nodded. ‘I feel like writing a story all about Drake,’ he said, his voice so harsh that it hurt his throat. ‘I’d tell what he did and where he can be found and hope that the traffickers have a subscription to the paper. Little prick.’

‘Write it and send it to me,’ Isenberg said crisply. ‘I may have a thing or two to add.’

He met the woman’s normally cold eyes and saw raw fury. ‘You’ll have it in an hour.’

‘What about the suspected employees of the ankle tracker company?’ Scarlett asked. ‘When will they be in Cincinnati?’

‘They should be delivered to CPD any minute.’ Deacon looked at Isenberg. ‘I assume Marcus can come with us and watch the interview from the observation area?’

‘Yeah. I guess he’s earned that much,’ Isenberg said, stunning them all. She stood up. ‘I will still see you back in my office, Detective Bishop. Plan time after the interview with the tracker maker.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Marcus turned in his seat, watching as the lieutenant walked out the door that led directly into the hallway, bypassing the Bautista family. ‘I do not understand that woman.’

‘She likes you,’ Scarlett said. ‘She doesn’t like me liking you when I’m working your case. She wants her chance to tell me so, but she’s unlikely to suspend me. It’s okay, Marcus. She’s actually protecting my career for me because she does care.’

Marcus looked at Deacon, who nodded. ‘What Scarlett said,’ Deacon said. ‘Isenberg is complicated, but down deep she’s a good boss. Let’s pack up, get some lunch. Then we can head over to CPD to talk to the tracker makers.’

There was a knock on the door from the Bautistas’ suite, and Lana D’Amico stuck her head in. ‘Okay to come in? I have a sketch for you to see. We got a face for the man, but not the woman yet. They . . . Well, they needed a break after describing the man.’

They waved her in, Marcus feeling a tingle of dread on the back of his neck. If he didn’t recognize the people who’d hurt Tala and her family, he’d still be in the dark, looking for a connection to explain why someone kept shooting at him.

He held his breath as the sketch artist put her pad on the table in front of him.

‘These are based on memories that are three years old,’ she said. ‘But they all agreed that this was the best likeness of the two people who brought them to Cincinnati.’

‘There are some faces you don’t forget,’ Marcus said quietly. ‘That man raped Erica and her sister. The parents had to watch. I think having to see it burns it into your memory.’ He didn’t realize that he’d clenched his fists until Scarlett’s hand covered one of them.

Lana lifted the cover of her sketchbook and Marcus felt all the air seep from his lungs. He stared at the man with the hard, dead eyes.

‘I’ve seen them both. But . . . I don’t remember where.’ He looked at Scarlett, stunned to feel panic creeping up his chest. That he didn’t understand why he was reacting the way he was made the panic worse.

‘Yet,’ she murmured, cupping the back of his neck, massaging muscles that had grown so stiff that a sharp pain shot up into his skull. ‘Relax. It’ll come to you.’

Marcus drew a breath, closed his eyes. Tried to relax, but it wasn’t coming, and time was not something they had to waste. He met Deacon’s steady gaze. ‘I hear you can help people remember things.’

Deacon shrugged. ‘I help people relax so that they can access the things they’ve tucked out of reach. You want me do that for you? It’s just breathing exercises.’

‘I can leave if you want me to,’ Scarlett murmured, but Marcus maneuvered his hand so that he held hers instead of the other way around.

‘No.’ He let go of her hand and slid his arms around her shoulders. Buried his face in her hair. Dragged in a breath so deep it hurt, but he’d filled his head with the scent of honeysuckle and it calmed him. ‘Stay,’ he whispered, his breath hot on her ear. ‘Please. I need you.’

‘Well, when you put it like that,’ she said with a smile. She turned her head so that his forehead rested on hers. ‘It’ll be all right. Whatever it is.’

She’d understood. There was something terrifying about that man’s face, on a primal level that he couldn’t articulate. He had to know what it was, for Edgar and Phillip, for Agent Spangler, for the Bautistas, and for himself.

Thirty-one

Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 2.05
P.M.

Deacon Novak was nervous. He’d done this procedure dozens of times and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d been nervous. Because sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. It meant more for it to work when he had a connection with the person he was trying to calm. Like he’d had with Faith, of course. And his old boss’s wife back in Baltimore.

And now, with Scarlett watching him with such trust, he knew he’d add this to the number of times it meant a lot more. He’d liked Scarlett from the first time he’d met her, had known some of the prickliness was self-protection on her part. He’d seen the real Scarlett Bishop a few times over the almost-year that they’d worked together, but he’d never seen her expression so open.

She was so open because of Marcus O’Bannion. Because this mattered. Marcus wasn’t just scared of hypnosis, he was scared about what he was going to remember. That he was one of the bravest men Deacon knew made his fear far more concerning.

Lana D’Amico had taken her sketchbook, leaving the sketch and giving Scarlett a brief hug as she left. Now it was just the three of them in the quiet room.

‘It’s simple breathing,’ Deacon said quietly. ‘Nothing more.’ He took Marcus through the breathing exercises once, then twice, but the man was too tense.

Scarlett hesitated. ‘I’m going to try something, and it’s just a little odd.’ She took down her braid, working her hair loose so that it lay around her shoulders and halfway down her back. Scarlett was rarely seen with her hair down, and it . . . softened her. She gathered it into a sheaf and lifted it cupped in both hands to Marcus, like an offering.

With a slightly embarrassed glance at Deacon from the corner of his eye, Marcus cradled Scarlett’s hands in his and once again buried his face in her hair and drew a deep breath.

Immediately some of the tension left his shoulders.

Deacon met Scarlett’s eyes with an indulgent smile. ‘It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,’ he murmured, making her laugh. She covered her mouth, but it was too late. The happy sound wouldn’t be contained.

Deacon realized he’d never heard his partner laugh. Not like this, so free and . . . young.

A few seconds later, Marcus’s shoulders began to shake and he looked up at her with a grin. ‘This is supposed to be serious.’

She cupped his cheek, stroking his skin with her thumb, the caress very . . . intimate. ‘Who says?’ she murmured. ‘It’s supposed to be whatever it needs to be for you to be relaxed.’

‘I don’t think Deacon is
that
understanding,’ he murmured back, and Scarlett choked on another laugh, her cheeks growing pink.

All Deacon could think was that Faith better not have any evening appointments. He was getting awfully warm watching Scarlett gentle Marcus O’Bannion.

Deacon cleared his throat and began the exercises again. Marcus followed along, drawing calming breaths from the scent of Scarlett’s hair. By the end of the first round, he was very chill.

Not having a date or time to work from, Deacon had to start with Marcus’s state of mind at the time of the defining event. ‘So how are you, Marcus?’

‘A little scared, actually.’ It was a hesitant admission.

‘Let’s back up and do one more round,’ Deacon said softly. Once they’d completed another set of breathing exercises, he asked the question again. Marcus’s shoulders seemed broader somehow, and Deacon wondered if Marcus’s upper body might appear as wide as Stone’s if he wasn’t so uptight all the time. ‘You’re seeing this face.’ Deacon touched the sketch, watched Marcus recoil, but slowly, like he was moving through honey. Perfect. ‘How are you, Marcus?’

‘I couldn’t breathe.’ He made a face. ‘Antiseptic.’

‘So you were in the hospital?’

‘Yeah.’

‘As a patient?’

A slight tightening of his jaw. ‘Yeah.’

All right. That could mean that this incident had occurred nine months before. He wished he had access to Marcus’s medical history, but that would have to be their plan B if this didn’t work. Scarlett opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself before Deacon said anything. He gave her a nod of approval.

‘Were you cold, Marcus?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘Too warm?’

‘No.’

‘Sad?’

Marcus swallowed hard. ‘Yes.’

‘Floaty?’ Deacon asked, taking a chance that this had occurred while Marcus had been on very strong painkillers. He’d had a collapsed lung, after all.

‘Very. You came to me.’

Deacon started to say that he’d been in the hospital at the same time and hadn’t visited Marcus, but he realized that he meant Scarlett.

She caressed his cheek again. ‘I did,’ she murmured in a smooth voice Deacon hadn’t known she was capable of.

‘You stood guard, but then you left.’

‘I put a policeman at your door,’ she said quietly, sweetly.

‘He left.’

Deacon knew that the guard had been dismissed because they’d caught the man who’d put Marcus in the hospital and killed so many others. They’d thought the danger was past. Apparently they’d been wrong.

‘And you were alone,’ she whispered. ‘In the dark?’

He nodded. ‘He came.’

‘The man in the sketch?’ Deacon asked.

‘Yes. Sat in my room.’

Scarlett’s mouth opened, her eyes growing frightened. But she kept her voice smooth. ‘What happened, baby?’

Marcus’s body stiffened, his head snapping up to stare at Scarlett as he caught hold of the memory. ‘It was a pillow. He covered my face with it. I couldn’t breathe.’

Her eyes had grown wide, her lips firm with anger. Her breathing had become choppy. Frightened. ‘He tried to kill you, Marcus.’

Marcus straightened in his chair. ‘Why?’ he asked, frustrated and bewildered.

Scarlett’s gaze drifted to the side, her brows furrowing. ‘Nine months ago. What was happening nine months ago? Who was angry with you then?’

‘Nobody was mad enough to suffocate me with a pillow,’ Marcus said. ‘There was the one cop that Diesel and I had to escort away from his family, but he died on his own. He never even put a threat in writing.’

Scarlett went still. ‘Wait. That one threat. The one that was so bad that it made Gayle have her heart attack. Mc . . . McSomebody.’

‘McCord,’ Marcus said grimly. ‘Woody McCord, high school teacher and collector of kiddie porn. He was the target of our investigation, but Leslie, his wife, wrote the letter. She was dead by then, though, remember? Gayle said she OD’d on sleeping pills.’

‘What are you two talking about?’ Deacon asked.

Scarlett broke away from Marcus’s gaze to look at Deacon. ‘Last night I mentioned a list of threats. People who got mad at
Ledger
articles exposing things they’d done. Remember?’

‘Usually domestic abuse or child molestation,’ Deacon said. ‘Are you saying that Woody McCord was one of these threats?’

‘Yes,’ Scarlett said. ‘Well, his wife was. Leslie McCord wrote the letter after her husband committed suicide in jail – he hanged himself. Said she hoped that Marcus lost someone he loved. When Gayle read the letter, they were looking for Mikhail. At that point only Stone knew he was dead. Gayle thought Leslie McCord had something to do with Mikhail’s disappearance.’

‘It was such a shock, her heart failed,’ Marcus said. ‘She went into the hospital, and when she got out, she looked up Leslie and found the woman was no longer a threat because she’d OD’d on pills. Her death was ruled a suicide.’

‘But that’s where it doesn’t make sense,’ Scarlett said. ‘If Woody was dead and Leslie was dead, who is that guy’ – she pointed to the sketch – ‘and why did he try to kill you in the hospital?’

‘It doesn’t fit, Scarlett,’ Marcus said with a frown. ‘It doesn’t have to be anybody I pissed off nine months ago. It could have been somebody I pissed off five years ago who was just waiting for me to be a sitting duck in an ICU ward.’

Scarlett sighed. ‘You’re right.’

‘Who actually wrote the article about this McCord guy?’ Deacon asked.

‘Stone did,’ Marcus said.

‘That doesn’t explain Phillip’s attack then, other than trying to lure you,’ Scarlett said, disappointed. ‘Damn.’

‘Phillip wasn’t even working that case,’ Marcus said. ‘That one was Stone and Diesel.’

‘Diesel is his IT wizard,’ Scarlett explained.

Deacon leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed. ‘How did you find McCord’s kiddie porn stash?’ he asked, and watched the other two exchange a glance. Then Marcus nodded.

‘Diesel has a knack for finding things on people’s computers,’ Scarlett said.

‘He’s a hacker,’ Deacon said flatly.

‘That’s such a pejorative term,’ Scarlett said. ‘He’s an . . . explorer.’

Deacon stared her for a long moment, then chuckled. ‘Damn, girl. When you fall, you fall hard.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t care how he got the information. I just wondered why Marcus gets the threat if Stone wrote the article and Diesel the Explorer got the goods.’

Scarlett turned in her chair to look up at Marcus’s face. ‘Yeah, I wonder that too.’

Marcus drew a deep breath. ‘I may have gone to see McCord. In prison.’

‘Oh for God’s sake.’ Scarlett rolled her eyes. ‘You gloated, didn’t you? Went right in there and said, “Hi, I’m Marcus.”’ She pitched her voice ridiculously low. ‘“And I’m the one who just fucked up your life.”’ She shook her head and her voice was back to normal. ‘You didn’t want anyone threatening your people. You told everyone on that list that you’d done the investigating, not just the McCords. You gave them all a face to hate. Yours.’

Marcus’s eyes had grown wide. ‘Damn. You are scary good.’

‘I’m just plain scary,’ she snapped. ‘Especially when people I care about do stupid shit like that. Don’t do that anymore. Promise me.’

Marcus grinned. ‘I promise. I won’t do that anymore.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, disgruntled. ‘So Woody and Leslie hated you, but they were both already dead when you were in the hospital. So who is Mr Pillow and how does he fit into the picture? You had to have crossed paths with him, either physically or during an investigation. And if this Demetrius guy is your Mr Pillow, then you’ve somehow managed to snag the attention of a ring of human traffickers – nine months
before
you met Tala.’

‘Nine months ago, you were dangerous to this guy somehow,’ Deacon said, tapping the sketch. ‘You still are. You saw something, heard something . . . maybe something you don’t even know you saw.’

Marcus rubbed his forehead. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered. ‘Somehow I can’t see human traffickers biding their time for five years. Whatever it was, it most likely occurred nine months ago. And the only big story in play then was Woody McCord.’

‘So we’re back to the kiddie porn collector,’ Deacon said thoughtfully. ‘Somehow McCord and Demetrius connect and you’re the common denominator, Marcus.’

‘People started shooting you again when you met Tala,’ Scarlett murmured, ‘after nine months of nothing. You expose McCord in an article and Demetrius shows up a few days later in the hospital to kill you. You publish a story about saving Tala, and Demetrius shows up to kill you. The connection isn’t just between Demetrius and McCord. Tala’s in there too somewhere.’

Marcus frowned. ‘But the stories are different. Tala was a victim of human trafficking. McCord was a collector of kiddie porn.’

Scarlett stood up and began to pace. ‘But they were both the subject of stories published by
you
. Let’s assume that this Demetrius character was the one who killed Agent Spangler and took a shot at you at Chip Anders’s house, then later came after you at your apartment.’

Marcus still looked unconvinced. ‘But Demetrius didn’t kill Tala, Drake did.’

Scarlett stopped pacing. ‘But her murder put her in the spotlight, bringing Chip Anders into the picture by association. Tala was simply the trigger. Anders is the connection, not Tala.’

‘If you’re right,’ Deacon said, thinking through the various possibilities, ‘then Demetrius links to both Anders and McCord. How?’

‘I need to check Stone’s notes on the McCord story,’ Marcus said. ‘He’s over at the
Ledger
building now. He’ll have his notes in his desk. Come on.’

Scarlett held up her hand. ‘Wait. First I have to change my clothes.’

‘Why are you wearing a dress?’ Deacon asked her.

‘Because I like her in it,’ Marcus said, smiling at her.

She blushed. Deacon didn’t think he’d ever seen Scarlett Bishop blush.

‘It’s because my uncle wanted me to look as non-coppish as possible so we didn’t scare Mila and Erica away. Now, we have several places we need to be all at once. Let’s figure this out.’ Scarlett ticked off a finger. ‘First, we have the guys coming from the ankle tracker company. They’ll hopefully be able to tell us who was buying the trackers. That should be either Anders or the head traffickers. Hopefully the traffickers.’