Closer Than You Think (67 page)

Deacon followed Zimmerman into the house he’d called home.
Surreal
, he thought.
Like walking in a dream
. The SAC went up the stairs, pausing outside the retired engineer’s study, which appeared to have hosted a barroom brawl – furniture overturned, an open laptop, screen cracked, discarded on the floor, drapes pulled down from their rods. Picture frames had fallen from their hooks and lay broken on the floor.

‘I think he surprised the homeowner here,’ Zimmerman said. ‘Lazar put up a helluva fight.’

‘He was in surprisingly good shape for his age,’ Deacon murmured. ‘He was seventy, but he jogged five miles a day. I’ve run with him a few times since I bought our place.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Zimmerman said quietly. ‘I didn’t realize you were also his friend.’

Deacon was beginning to understand how Faith felt. He’d brought this evil to his neighborhood and an innocent man had suffered. ‘What about the silver minivan?’

‘In the garage. I’ve got a team combing it for anything this guy left behind – a print, a hair, blood. Lazar’s Toyota Camry is gone. BOLO’s been updated. There are a few knives and a cleaver missing from the knife block. Not good.’

No, it wasn’t good at all. Plus the top floor of the house reeked of bleach.
This is bad
.

‘Sir?’ Agent Taylor stepped out of the bathroom. ‘Oh, Agent Novak. I didn’t know you’d arrived.’ He noticed Deacon’s coat and narrowed his eyes. ‘Did you get that out of evidence?’

‘No,’ Deacon said tersely. ‘What do you have, Agent Taylor?’

‘Sorry. Come in, please.’ Taylor flicked off the lights and the entire room glowed, annihilating any hope that Lazar had survived. ‘Luminol shows blood on the tile, in the tub and on the floor, and spatter on the ceiling and all the walls. Looks like the victim fought.’

‘Oh my God,’ Deacon whispered, hating this. Hating everything about it. Hating that Lazar was dead because Deacon had bought a house three streets over.

No.
He stopped himself mid rant. Lazar was dead because a monster was determined that no one would disturb his play. Zimmerman was right.
This is personal
.

Zimmerman sighed. ‘I’ll have the teams spread out, search other garages in the neighborhood for the Camry, just in case he’s taken over another home.’

‘Go ahead and search, but I think he’s gone. He’s got to know that Faith isn’t here anymore.’ The knowledge that she was at the precinct, surrounded by armed cops, was the only thing keeping Deacon from running to her right now. That, and the respect he owed the man who’d lived here. ‘We found the man he shot in the hotel lying in the tub. No blood like this. He’s hidden this body,
and
cleaned up. Why?’

‘He changed tactics,’ Zimmerman said. ‘He didn’t want Lazar found. I wonder if the old man scratched him.’

‘I sure as hell hope so,’ Deacon said darkly. ‘It could also be that he didn’t want them found
quickly
. Unless someone missed Lazar, nobody would look for the shooter here, but if he’d left the body here in the tub and it started to stink . . .’ He exhaled wearily. ‘Did anyone check the freezer?’

‘We looked in the kitchen freezer when we found the cleaver missing,’ Taylor said. ‘There wasn’t a freezer in the garage.’

Deacon backed away from the bathroom, stomach churning. ‘What about the basement?’

‘Shit,’ Zimmerman muttered. ‘Let’s go.’

Mt Carmel, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 5.30
P.M.

Faith looked up from her computer screen, her attention snagged by a snippet of music she instantly recognized. She stood up and stretched her shoulders, needing a break away.

The music grew louder when she reached the kitchen. Sophie was sitting on the floor, her back to a cabinet door, knees pulled to her chest, listening to her husband Vito sing.

‘What’s wrong, Sophie?’

‘We found Roza’s mother in the dug-out room.’

Faith considered the room’s size and understood Sophie’s distress. She sat down next to her with a sigh. ‘She slept next to her mother’s grave?’

Sophie swallowed audibly. ‘She arranged her mother so that she was lying on her side, like she was asleep, her hands tucked under her head. And she put a doll in her mother’s arms. I just . . . I just couldn’t stand looking at that doll for another second.’

‘Sad is such a paltry word,’ Faith murmured, ‘for such a devastating feeling.’ She put her arm around Sophie’s shoulders and sat in silence, listening to Sophie’s husband sing. Midway through the song, Sophie laid her head on Faith’s shoulder, her tears quiet ones.

When the music was over, Sophie wiped her wet cheeks. ‘It was the doll that did it to me. It was Roza’s doll. Her name was written on one of the feet, like Andy’s toys in
Toy Story
. I had a doll like it when I was a little girl. When you tipped her over, she said “Mama”.’

‘My mother had one of those dolls. I got to play with her when I was really little, but I was too rough and tore her arm. I tried to fix it, but I did a horrible job. My mother took the doll, told me I could have it back when I was older. I never saw it again, but I bet it’s upstairs in a closet some—’

Sophie was giving her an odd look. ‘Was the doll’s name Maggie?’ she asked.

‘No, that was my mother’s name. Why?’

‘Because that was the name written on the label of the doll’s dress.’

Faith’s heart eased a tiny fraction. ‘Whoever held Roza and her mother must have found it. At least he was kind enough to give her a doll. That makes me feel a little better about her being retaken. If he gave her a doll, maybe he won’t kill her.’

Sophie squeezed Faith’s hand. ‘It’s a good hope. We also found a box buried where her sleeping pallet was. Tanaka is bringing it up now. You want to see what’s inside?’

‘Of course.’

Tanaka came up the stairs carrying the box, followed by Kimble and Isenberg. He put the box on the living room floor and everyone stopped what they were doing to see what was inside. ‘It’s heavy,’ Tanaka said. ‘Feels like books.’

And it was. There were at least twenty books inside the box and many of them had names written inside. ‘They belonged to the victims,’ Isenberg said. ‘Now we have another mode of identification.’

Tanaka picked one up gingerly and flipped through the pages. ‘Lots of notes in the margins.’ He smiled. ‘Roza’s mother was teaching her to read.’

Faith found a loose sheet of paper in one of the books, a writing lesson this time. An adult hand had written I LOVE YOU lightly on the page and a childish hand had traced over it.

‘At least her mother loved her,’ Faith said wistfully. ‘That’s a gift some kids don’t get.’

‘I know,’ Sophie murmured, loud enough for only Faith to hear. ‘I’m going downstairs. We have to uncover the bodies so that identification can begin.’ She gave Faith a quick hug. ‘Thank you for giving me hope for Roza.’

‘How’s the list coming?’ Isenberg asked. ‘Any more connections to family events?’

‘Not yet,’ Faith said. ‘Has your team of clerks back at the station found anything?’

‘Yeah,’ Isenberg said. ‘A number of the names have no birth certificates and a few of them have social security numbers that have been linked to past identity theft.’

‘Oh,’ said Faith when the significance dawned. ‘So someone is making up fake applicants and taking the money they’re given.’

‘Looks like it,’ Isenberg said. ‘“Follow the money” is a well-worn adage for a reason.’

Chapter Thirty-Two

Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 5.45
P.M.

Deacon was not only beginning to understand Faith’s feelings of guilt, he was also developing quite an aversion to basements. He had, in fact, found himself counting the steps as he descended into the engineer’s basement.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen
.

He exhaled when he reached the bottom. Two large chest freezers sat up against the wall.

‘What would anyone need with two huge freezers?’ Zimmerman muttered behind him.

‘He was a hunter,’ Deacon said. ‘He mentioned that deer season was coming up. He promised me some of his venison stew.’ He forced himself to lift the first lid.

Several large black trash bags had been dumped inside. Most appeared filled, but the bag on top was smaller. Bowling ball sized.
Aw, hell.

Deacon’s hands were steady as he reached for the bag on top, but his heart ached, knowing what he was going to find. How many more would have to die before they caught this SOB?

The bag wasn’t tied. He pulled the edges apart and glanced inside, then quickly looked away, not bothering to control his flinch. ‘Yes,’ he said hoarsely. ‘That’s him. Just his head.’

Most of it. The retired engineer had been shot point blank with a rifle or a handgun with a caliber large enough to take out the back of his skull.

‘Oh hell,’ Zimmerman said as he lifted the lid of the second freezer. ‘We’ve got a second victim.’ He looked inside the bag on top and flinched much as Deacon had, then spread the sides of the bag wider to reveal the contents.

It took Deacon a few seconds to realize what he was looking at. ‘Fucking hell.’

‘That pretty well sums it up,’ Zimmerman said as he dialed his cell phone. ‘Gonzalez? You can call off the search for the Renzo kid. We just found him. Looks like he was tortured, maybe with his own knife. His nose is gone. Ears too. Looks pre-mortem.’

‘How the hell did he end up in the freezer?’ Deacon demanded.

‘Just my theory,’ Zimmerman said, ‘but Renzo’s friends said he was coming to your house to teach your brother a lesson. The serial must have seen him creeping around your place. Pope brought Faith back from the precinct at seven thirty-five last night.’

‘After she talked to her uncle Jordan,’ Deacon murmured.

‘Right. But Pope wasn’t killed until nine twenty-five. The shooter waited for her to pass a window or come outside or even be visible in the car, but he was laying low and he couldn’t get to her. And then the kid skulks up to the house, maybe with his knife already out. One of your neighbors saw the boy. He walked the length of the street several times, probably summoning his gumption. Your brother’s a big enough guy and Renzo was all by himself. But I’d think this killer would want the kid to try to break in and distract Pope. It might make the woman come to the door to see what was happening.’

Deacon frowned. ‘Maybe he was afraid the kid would trigger a red alert and make it even harder for him to get to Faith. Plus it would have to be a big deal for her to disregard security and come outside. He’s tried to lure her many times already and he knows she’s become very careful. He might have figured killing Pope would be enough.’

‘So he leaves the safety of his hideout to grab the kid to keep him from spoiling everything? Maybe. I would have thought the kid would have spilled his guts without all
that
, though.’ He pointed to the mutilated head.

‘Maybe that wasn’t torture. Maybe he did it for fun. And souvenirs.’

‘Wonderful. We’ll wrap things up here.’ Zimmerman sighed. ‘At least your sister’s safe.’

‘I didn’t want it to be like this,’ Deacon protested. ‘Not like this.’

‘I know, but the result’s the same. Renzo’s no longer a threat.’

‘True, but like you said, this killer has made it personal. I need to alert my family and make sure they’re kept safe. When can we have our house back?’

‘Should be tomorrow. I’ll call you when you can go home.’

‘Thanks.’ Although Deacon wondered if they’d ever be able to live there in peace, or if there would be a constant reminder of the death that had occurred there.

He took my house
, Deacon thought. Both his current house and the house of his youth. Neither would feel like home again. Both were now tainted.

I took away his house too
, he realized. Yeah. This had become very personal.

Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 5.45
P.M.

‘Just a few minutes, Detective Bishop,’ the charge nurse said. Which was what they always said, Scarlett thought. She nodded as she always did. And then proceeded to ignore them, just as she always did.

Marcus O’Bannion looked better than he had when she first saw him, but that wasn’t saying much. ‘How is he?’ she murmured to Jeremy, who sat at his side holding Marcus’s hand with his left. Which was bare, Scarlett noticed. Jeremy had removed the glove he’d been wearing the day before, revealing heavily scarred skin. His right hand, she noted, remained gloved and stayed in his pocket.

Keith stood with his back to the wall, ever on guard.

‘He’ll live,’ Jeremy said, and Scarlett felt a weight roll off her chest.

It had become increasingly hard to breathe as she’d come closer to Marcus’s room, the sense of dread a palpable force. She had been worrying over his condition since they’d put him in the Medevac chopper, but she’d had to put him from her mind and do her job.

Now she could draw an easier breath, so she did. ‘I’m glad,’ she said simply.

‘Why are you here?’ Keith asked.

‘I have a few questions for all of you.’

‘Marcus can’t answer your questions,’ Keith said. ‘And Jeremy won’t. So go away.’

‘No.’ Marcus opened his eyes, waving two fingers, gesturing for Scarlett to come closer.

She leaned over his bed, giving him a visual once-over. He was pale, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but he was still a very handsome man. ‘You look better.’

‘Feel like shit.’

One corner of her mouth lifted. ‘No shock considering the punctured lung.’ She looked over at Jeremy. ‘I need to know when you left your property via the back road and when you arrived at your ex-wife’s house.’

‘Why is it important?’ Keith demanded.

She met Keith’s eyes over Marcus’s bed. ‘Because I’m trying to catch a killer,’ she said sharply. ‘Who is currently holding an eleven-year-old girl hostage.’

‘He took her away,’ Marcus whispered. ‘We tried to stop him.’

‘I know,’ Scarlett said, softening her tone. ‘Thank you. You saved Corinne’s life.’

‘Right thing to do. Does she know the man . . .’ a deep rasping breath, ‘who killed Mickey?’

‘She never saw his face. But we have an excellent therapist on our team who can dig details out that a witness doesn’t even realize they know. She’ll work with Corinne. We want to find the man who killed Mikhail. We want to put him away.’

Marcus’s dark brows crunched together. ‘You put Jeremy in an interview room. Left him there for hours.’ Another deep breath. ‘And now we have a guard. Why?’

Scarlett glanced over at Jeremy. ‘Because we’ve found more bodies than we’ve shared with the media. So far all of them have been autopsied, with neat, surgical-style stitches. The bodies today were found in your cabin, Dr O’Bannion. And you evaded federal surveillance, making it look like you had something to hide and invalidating any alibi you might offer.’

‘Circumstantial bullshit,’ Keith growled. ‘Your LT let him go because she knew that.’

‘My LT let him go because Faith begged her to. Faith didn’t feel it was right to keep Jeremy apart from Marcus, especially after losing Mikhail. She’s got a soft heart. I hope it doesn’t get her killed, because somebody is still trying very hard to do just that. Somebody who knew the contents of Barbara O’Bannion’s will.’

‘That person is not me,’ Jeremy said firmly. ‘But tell Faith thank you. And to be careful.’

‘I will. And don’t think I didn’t notice that nobody answered my question. When did you leave your home in Indian Hill and when did you arrive at the Yarborough house?’

Marcus’s lips twitched in an almost-smile. ‘You’re quick.’

‘Thank you. A real answer would be nice. Before the nurse kicks me out.’

‘I met Stone at a bar at eleven last night,’ Marcus rasped. ‘Came prepared to do a switch.’

‘Prepared?’ Scarlett asked. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Padded coat and baseball cap. In the dark, I look like him. He said he had a big lead on a story, but that the Feds were on his tail. Done this before. Lots of times. Water, please.’

Jeremy sprang to it, placing an ice chip on Marcus’s tongue. ‘Marcus got to my house at about one
A.M.
, driving Stone’s car and wearing the padded coat. I knew right away it wasn’t Stone. I always knew, even when you were boys.’

‘You didn’t,’ Marcus protested weakly, his lips curving in a smile that Scarlett somehow knew was meant to ease Jeremy’s worry.

Jeremy blotted the sweat from Marcus’s brow with a tenderness she found hard to disbelieve. ‘I was an identical twin, boy. I know about switching places. You two were sad amateurs.’ He lifted his eyes to Scarlett, intensely green. ‘Marcus has done nothing wrong.’

‘I believe that. He saved Corinne’s life when he didn’t have to.
His
actions speak for him. Perhaps you’d like to follow suit by answering my damn question. It’s not a hard one, Doctor.’

‘Della called me at about two in the morning. She’d returned from a trip and found Mickey wasn’t at home. She didn’t know he’d run away.’ His jaw tightened. ‘Audrey knew two days ago, but she didn’t want to frighten her mother – or hurt me – so she told Stone instead. Stone had been searching for Mickey. That’s why he came in and out of my house Monday night. He was hoping Mickey was with me, that Audrey was wrong. I didn’t know that until after we learned he was . . . gone.’

‘Why would Audrey and Stone think that Mickey’s running away would hurt you?’ Scarlett asked, wanting to compare Jeremy’s answer with the reason Stone had given earlier that day.

Pain flashed across Jeremy’s face. ‘Because Mickey was angry with me. He thought I knew that I was his father all along, that I’d been lying to cover up my . . . indiscretion with his mother. That wasn’t true. I loved that boy like my own, even when I thought he belonged to a Russian businessman. I would have proudly given him my name, for what little it’s worth.’

‘It’s a good name,’ Marcus whispered. ‘Dad.’

Jeremy clasped Marcus’s hand tightly. ‘I
loved
him. I always wished he was mine. I wish Della had
told
me, but she didn’t want to risk—’ He cut himself off.

‘Don’t stop now,’ Scarlett said dryly. ‘Della didn’t want to risk what?’ She glanced at Keith, who wore an expression of rigid control. ‘What – or who – was she afraid of?’

‘Me,’ Keith said flatly. ‘She was afraid of me. Della never trusted me.’

‘And why might that be, sir?’ Scarlett asked softly.

Keith averted his eyes. ‘Because she thought I was the one who caused Jeremy’s car accident. Because I was jealous of his old partner and wanted Jeremy for myself.’

Jeremy’s head whipped around to stare at Keith. ‘She didn’t! She never thought that.’

‘Yeah, Dad,’ Marcus said weakly. ‘She did.’

Scarlett lifted her brows.
This is getting better and better
. ‘And
were
you jealous, Keith?’

‘Yes, but I never would have risked Jeremy. He almost died in that wreck.’

That I can believe
, she thought. ‘Why would Della think the accident wasn’t an accident?’

More jaw-tightening and teeth-grinding from Keith. ‘Because she suspected that the car had been tampered with. I checked the wreckage. She was right.’

‘Keith!’ Jeremy exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this? Why didn’t you tell the police?’

‘Because I thought you’d believe I’d done it too.’

Jeremy’s shoulders sagged. ‘I wouldn’t have. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.’

‘That’s why you’re his bodyguard?’ Scarlett said, and Keith nodded. ‘Because someone did try to kill him. Do you have proof that the car was tampered with?’

‘No, but I’m a decent enough mechanic to know. Why?’

‘Just being thorough,’ Scarlett said. ‘So Della was afraid of your wrath and didn’t tell anyone that Mickey was Jeremy’s son. Do I have that right?’

‘Yes,’ Keith said flatly. ‘I didn’t like the boy. That was no secret. He didn’t give Jeremy the proper respect because he was gay. And when Mickey found out that Jeremy was his father, he threw a fit.’ He looked Jeremy in the eye. ‘He was ashamed of you.’

‘No, he thought I was ashamed of him,’ Jeremy insisted.

‘He thought both,’ Marcus said, starting to wheeze. ‘He was confused. He was seventeen.’

Jeremy’s body seemed to deflate before her eyes. ‘And now he’s dead.’

Scarlett’s heart squeezed, but she kept her expression neutral. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Dr O’Bannion, but I have to know when you arrived at Della’s house.’

He gritted his teeth, ruthlessly controlling his emotion. ‘A little before three.’

‘And why did you find it necessary to slip past the agents?’

‘Because Della was frightened. She thought Mickey had been kidnapped at first. So did I. It happens when you’re wealthy. I wanted to call the police and she insisted that we didn’t. So I slipped out of my own house like a thief in the night,’ he finished bitterly. ‘We didn’t know Mickey was dead until your lieutenant came to tell us. And then she took me away. I couldn’t even stay to comfort my wife. Ex-wife,’ he corrected. ‘I’m sorry, Keith. I can’t pretend I don’t love her, because I do. Just not the way I love you. You have to understand that. That Mickey was killed running away because of me . . .’ His shoulders sagged and he covered his face with his left hand. ‘How can she forgive me for this?’