Closer Than You Think (79 page)

‘Did you kill Gran?’

‘No. Killing my
mother
would have been stupid. She was my gravy train.’

Something in his voice gave her pause. ‘Your father? You killed him?’

‘He had it coming.’

‘How?’

‘Drive, Faith.’

She held on to the wheel and prayed that Deacon was still behind her somewhere. A movement in her rear view had her flicking her eyes up to the mirror and her heart sank. Dani and Roza were back there.
God, this is a mess. Please help me. Please help Deacon if I fail. He’ll have no one left
.

I’m so glad I told my dad that I loved him today
.

Cincinnati, Ohio, Thursday 6 November, 5.20
P.M.

‘Left at the corner,’ Adam said, his grip on Deacon’s phone iron-tight.

Deacon was grateful Adam had come. His cousin had taken over tracking Faith’s phone, leaving Deacon free to drive. And to worry, because he could hear every word between Jordan and Faith. He had muted his end so Jordan wouldn’t know that Faith still had an open phone connection.

They could track her even if the connection was broken, but this way they could hear everything Jordan said.

Jordan knew that Faith knew the truth. Somewhere he was still holding Dani and Roza. Jeremy was missing too, having not arrived at his ex-wife’s house where he’d been expected.

They’d driven out of the city and were heading east on Kellogg Avenue, along the river. They were going toward the O’Bannion mansion in Mount Carmel. Or Jordan might plan to shoot all of his captives and throw them in the river.

Deacon’s gut turned to water and his blood to ice.
Don’t think like that. Stay focused
.

Faith’s voice came through the phone’s speaker again. ‘How did you kill your father?’ she asked Jordan.

‘He was on heart medication,’ Jordan replied. ‘I just forced him to take a few extra doses.’

‘Because he’d fired you from the Foundation for stealing.’

‘You seem to know a lot, kiddo,’ Jordan said mockingly.

‘How did you learn to stitch like a surgeon?’

‘Practice, practice, practice,’ Jordan drawled. ‘My guests accommodated me by allowing me to use their skin. It’s not so hard.’

‘And the embalming?’

‘Bought a machine, bought a book. Turn left up ahead, Faith.’

‘What are you going do with me?’ she asked.

‘You know the answer to that.’

Oh God
, Deacon thought. ‘Where’s our backup?’ he asked Adam.

‘We have two unmarked cars behind us. The left turn Faith took puts them on Wilmer. He’s headed to Lunken Airport. I have three units a half-mile away from the airport.’

The turnoff Faith had taken was now in sight and Deacon increased his speed. ‘How did you know he’d go there?’

‘I didn’t. Isenberg and I put together a plan while you’ve been driving. We have backup stationed all over town, just in case.’

Faith’s voice rose from the speakers once again. ‘It was you in my apartment in Miami, wasn’t it?’

Jordan made an impatient noise. ‘You know it was.’

‘How did you make yourself look like Combs?’

‘Not too difficult. I wore a padded coat. Old theater prop.’

‘Which was why they never found the bullet or your blood. The padding of your sleeves caught it all, so you left no DNA behind. Clever.’

‘So happy you approve,’ he said sarcastically.

‘What will you do to the others?’ she asked.

‘They’ve served their purpose,’ Jordan said.

‘Even Roza?’

‘I’ll keep her,’ Jordan answered. ‘Her aunt’s gotten a bit long in the tooth. Roza will be a good housekeeper.’

‘At least he doesn’t know we’ve got Jade,’ Deacon said. ‘He must not have been back to his townhouse or the studio all day.’

‘He’s been busy kidnapping people,’ Adam grunted.

‘Novak won’t let you go,’ Faith said. ‘You kill his brother and sister and he will hunt you down to the ends of the earth.’

‘He has Dani with him too,’ Deacon said. ‘Tell Bishop.’

‘Not worried, kiddo,’ Jordan was saying. ‘He’ll be chasing the wrong brother. Even if he suspects, he’ll have nothing on me and everything on Jeremy. Including your body in the trunk of Jeremy’s Bentley.’

‘Okay,’ Adam said. ‘They’re slowing down. Turning right . . . into the playfields. Smart. Sun’s going down. No night games scheduled. It’ll be deserted. Okay, it’s that white van. The one that’s stopping next to the parked Bentley. Must be Jeremy’s.’

‘It is,’ Deacon said, slowing down so he didn’t give away their position. ‘I saw it when we interviewed him at his estate.’

‘New text from Bishop,’ Adam said. ‘They have Jeremy and Keith. Jordan shot out Keith’s knees so he couldn’t fight him.’

‘Where’s the SWAT team?’

‘On their way to us. Isenberg too. We’ve got squad car backup minutes away.’

Deacon killed his headlights and prayed that Jordan wouldn’t notice them until it was too late.

‘I know these playfields,’ Adam said. ‘Keep going another hundred feet. There’s a shaded lot, plenty of trees. We leave the car and double back through the woods. It’ll take us another thirty seconds, but it could save their lives.’

Every instinct Deacon possessed screamed at him to turn
now
, to get to Faith
now
. But he kept going, following Adam’s instructions. As soon as he stopped the sedan, he was out and running, Adam at his side. They were fifty feet from the van when the driver’s door opened.

Faith got out, walking stiffly, her face pale. She stopped next to the sliding door on the van’s passenger side.

‘Greg’s in the front passenger seat,’ Adam said. ‘Dani and Roza must be in the back.’

Deacon and Adam crept forward as the van’s side door slid open and Jordan got out, a nine mil in his hand. He took off his suit coat and laid it in the van, then with a key fob he popped the trunk of Jeremy’s Bentley. Wrapping Faith’s hair around his fist, he dragged her to the trunk, and shoved her halfway in, his gun pressed to the back of her head. He seemed to be making her pick something up.

Faith straightened, her face stricken with horror. She held a gas can in her arms.

Deacon’s blood froze in his veins. ‘He’s going to set her on fire, like he did to her mother.
Let’s go. Go. Go.
’

Gun in hand, Deacon charged, unaware that he was screaming until his throat started to burn.

Jordan spun around, his jaw going slack with shock, but he recovered quickly, shoving the barrel of his pistol against Faith’s temple. ‘I will kill her,’ he shouted. ‘I will drop her like a rock. So freeze, Novak.’

‘You won’t leave here alive,’ Deacon said, slowing to a walk. Adam had made it around the other side of the van and was inching closer.

Dragging Faith with him, Jordan backed up toward the van, its side door still open. ‘I said freeze, Novak.’

‘She’s not the only one who knows, Jordan. We all heard you confess. Her phone was in her pocket, connected to mine the whole time. You’re not walking away.’

‘I think I will. I’m going to get back into my van and we’re all going to drive away, pretty Faith at the wheel.’ Jordan pulled his arm across Faith’s throat, taking the final step backward so that his back was up against the van’s open side. All he had to do was take one step up and he’d be able to pull Faith back into the van, just as he’d said he’d do. ‘So, Agent Novak, if you want your family to survive this day, you will get back in your car and drive—’

Jordan’s mouth gaped open like a fish as he gasped. One knee bent, then he went crashing to the ground, dragging Faith with him. The slim hilt of a kitchen knife stuck out of his back.

And an eleven-year-old girl with big dark eyes and ratty tangled hair stood in the van’s open doorway, looking down at him with contempt.
Roza.

‘Holy shit,’ Deacon whispered, then started running again, Adam at his side.

Jordan staggered to his knees, waving his gun around like a drunkard. He pointed it at Roza and pulled the trigger, his shot going wide. The van’s passenger door flew open and Greg jumped out. Grabbing Roza in his arms, he dove for cover.

Another shot split the air, followed by a yelp of pain.
Greg.

And Faith . . . She wasn’t moving. She lay on the ground, her hair still wound around Jordan’s wrist. He jerked her up by her hair, arching her back, his gun to her temple again. She blinked, her eyes moving dizzily.

‘Put the guns down, gentlemen,’ Jordan wheezed. ‘Now.’

He was losing blood. Deacon could see it. They just needed to wait him out. Faith was regaining her composure, her eyes growing clearer as Deacon watched.

‘I
said
put the
damn
guns
down
.’ With every emphasized word, Jordan ground the gun into Faith’s head, making her wince. Making her pissed off.

Deacon slowly crouched, placing his gun on the ground, hearing Adam behind him doing the same.
Watch her face
, he thought. She was getting ready to do something.

In one motion, Faith twisted, bringing her left fist up to Jordan’s right shoulder – where Corinne’s bullet had pierced him the day before – then closed her hand over his arm in a claw grip and hung on. With a howl, Jordan dropped the gun and tried to pull her off him, but she clung, digging her fingers in deep.

She pushed him to his stomach, straddling him, grabbing the gun he’d dropped. Gun in one hand, she yanked the wig off his head with her other, then smacked the back of his head with the gun and Jordan went limp. ‘You’re not getting away with it,’ she snarled, raising the weapon and hitting him again. ‘I won’t let you. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.’

Her breath came hard and fast as she lifted the butt of the gun to hit Jordan a third time.

‘Faith, no,’ Deacon cried, rushing up to scoop his own gun from the ground, then pulling Faith off Jordan’s back. ‘He’s down. You can stop now. He’s down.’

Jordan lay on the ground, unconscious, the hilt of the knife still sticking up out of his back.

‘He didn’t get away with it,’ Faith said quietly, staring down at her uncle.

‘No, honey, you didn’t let him.’ Deacon pulled her into his arms as Adam ran to Greg, turning him over.

‘Greg’s been hit,’ Adam said. ‘He needs an ambulance.’

New panic engulfed Deacon. ‘Where’s Dani?’ he demanded.

‘In the back of the van,’ Faith said. ‘She’s tied up.’

Adam jumped into the van to release Dani so that she could help Greg.

The scene became surreally quiet, the sound of Adam’s voice calling 911 fading away so that the beat of his own heart was all Deacon could hear. He let Faith go and took a step toward Greg’s still body, but then training kicked in, reminding him of what still needed to be done.

Restrain the bastard and see to the injured
.

Deacon dropped to one knee so that he could handcuff the still unconscious Jordan. He pulled the cuffs from his belt, his hands feeling slow and clumsy. He looked over at Greg, who hadn’t moved.

He glanced toward the main road, where three squad cars approached, lights blaring.

It’s about time
, he thought irritably, until he realized that they had been only a few minutes behind them. Everything had happened so damn fast.

And then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of silver as Jordan rolled to his side and aimed a long thin blade at his throat.

The bastard was playing possum
, Deacon thought as fire seared his throat. He could feel the knife pulling free as he slumped backward, his eyes locked on Jordan O’Bannion’s crazed face.

Jordan came to his knees and, hand shaking, raised the blade again.
Lift your arms and block it,
Deacon told himself, but his arms seemed so heavy. His gaze shifted from Jordan’s face to the blade as, in his mind, he braced for the blow.

It never came. A shot cracked the air and Jordan’s green eyes widened briefly in shock before he crumpled to the ground.

Faith ran over, Jeremy’s gun in her hand. Deacon could see her face. Could hear her screaming his name. But he couldn’t breathe. Weakly he touched his throat and felt the warmth of his own blood.
Shit
.

Cincinnati, Ohio, Thursday 6 November, 5.26
P.M.

‘Deacon!’ Faith shouted his name. She fell to her knees beside him as blood spurted up from the wound in his throat. Dropping the gun she’d used to shoot Jordan, she pressed her hands to Deacon’s throat, trying to stop the flow. ‘Dani! Help me!’

Uniformed officers from the three squad cars rushed the scene as Dani stumbled out of the van. She looked from Greg to Deacon and a split second later was at Faith’s side.

‘What do I do?’ Faith asked, fighting the panic.

‘Go to Greg. Use whatever you can to stop his bleeding. Leave Deacon to me.
Go!
’

Faith scrambled across the asphalt to where Greg lay, pale and blinking slowly. ‘D?’ he asked. ‘What happened?’

‘Dani’s got him,’ Faith said, trying to keep her voice positive. ‘Where are you hit?’

‘Leg,’ Greg said. ‘Hurts like bitch.’

It didn’t look too bad, though, Faith thought. It wasn’t gushing like Deacon’s throat was. She pulled off her sweatshirt and pressed the fabric to the wound. Then she looked at the little girl sitting on the pavement, watching it all with large dark eyes.

‘You’re Roza,’ she said. ‘I’m Faith.’

‘Faith Frye,’ Roza said. ‘He was afraid of you.’

‘Good,’ Faith said with a fierce nod. ‘He should have been.’

Roza’s gaze locked with hers. ‘He killed my mother,’ she said.

Faith nodded soberly. ‘He killed mine, too.’

‘Then it’s good we both got to kill him,’ she said tonelessly. ‘Where is Corinne?’