Authors: Karen Rose
Stone shook his head. ‘All right, if that’s how you want to play this thing, I’ve got your back.’
‘You always have,’ Marcus murmured. In his own way, Stone was the most loyal man on the planet. ‘Thank you.’
Cheeks darkening, Stone dismissed the thanks with an embarrassed flip of his hand. ‘So what are you going to do now?’
‘Edit the list, then send it to Bishop.’
Stone’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘Why in God’s green earth would you do that?’
‘Because I promised her I would.’
‘You told her? About the list? What the fuck, Marcus? You swore us all to secrecy and then you go handing it off to her without a blink?’
‘She and Novak asked if I’d been threatened. To categorically deny it seemed unwise, so I told them that my office manager kept a list. I never planned to send her the
real
list.’ Stone was still staring like Marcus had three heads. ‘They were suggesting that I might have been the target. It seemed like the right thing to do.’
Closing his eyes, Stone pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Shit, boy. You and your right thing are gonna get us a lot of unwanted attention from that detective. We need a plan to get her off your ass.’
Marcus thought of Scarlett Bishop looking up at him in that alley right before the medics arrived, her eyes filled with approval. Respect. Desire. He drew a deep breath, fighting to let it out on an even exhale rather than a shuddering one. Any attention she gave him was about as far from unwanted as anything could get. ‘Don’t worry about the detective.’ The words came out a husky rumble. ‘I’ll deal with her.’
Stone’s eyes popped open to lock on his in disbelief. ‘You
like
her. Oh my
God
. You have got to be freaking
kidding
me.’
For a split second Marcus considered denying it, but realized he didn’t want to. ‘Why? Because she’s a cop?’
‘Because she’s
Bishop
. She eats men for breakfast, spits out their bones, then grinds them up to make her bread. She’s a fucking praying mantis.’
Marcus’s lips twitched. He was feeling true amusement for the first time in a long while. ‘Where do you get this stuff? She grinds their bones to make her bread? Really?’
‘She’s a hardass,’ Stone insisted. ‘A real ball-buster.’
Stone and Scarlett Bishop had not met under ideal circumstances. Deacon and Scarlett had been investigating an abduction, and Stone had been withholding evidence. To be fair, Stone had just found Mikhail’s body buried in a shallow grave, so his emotions had been unstable at best.
‘You lied to her, Stone,’ Marcus said mildly. ‘Did you honestly expect her to be okay with that?’
Stone stared, dumbfounded. ‘Did the medics give you hallucinogenic drugs? Because that’s the only way this is making any sense to me. I mean, okay, she’s built. I’ll give you that. Really built.’ He held his hands out lewdly, as if squeezing a woman’s breasts. ‘Under the circumstances, I guess I can understand your momentary lapse of sanity, because the bitch has an impressive rack. Take her out for a spin if you have to, just to get her out of your system. But guard your nuts while you do, because if you don’t, she’ll add ’em to her personal collection. And once you’ve taken her around the block, park her somewhere and, for the love of God, walk away.’
Marcus’s amusement had evaporated as soon as Stone started with the crude commentary on Scarlett’s physical appearance. ‘That’s enough,’ he snapped. ‘You don’t like her. I get it. I can even accept it. But I won’t accept you talking about her that way. You don’t like the way she does her job, that’s your opinion, but the rest . . .’ He trailed off, stopped in his tracks by the bewildered look on his brother’s face.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let me get this straight.’ Stone’s forehead bunched as he considered it. ‘You really
like
her? As in someone you might even . . .’ He grimaced. ‘Date?’
‘I don’t really know her,’ Marcus said truthfully. ‘Not yet, anyway. I may never get to know her.’
‘But you’d like to?’
Marcus shrugged. ‘Maybe. I may never see her again, but if I do, I don’t intend for it to be a single spin around the block.’
Stone sighed. ‘No, I guess not. You’re just not built that way. Okay, Mr Right-thing-to-do, give her the damn list. Just give me copies of everything you give her. I need to know where you’re vulnerable.’
‘That’s fair. I can do that.’ Marcus glanced at the security monitor on his desk. From here he could see every entrance and exit to the building. ‘Jill’s in the lobby and she’s got her arms full of breakfast. She could use a hand with the boxes.’
Stone stood up. ‘I’ll let her in and then get started on the story about Tala.’
‘I don’t want Jill poking around here unattended.’
Stone’s eyes widened. ‘I’m her babysitter?’
‘Until I can find someone else to do it, yes.’
Stone was not pleased. ‘If she’s smart enough to hack into Gayle’s email, I’m sure she’s able to access the computers remotely. I’m not going to watch her 24/7.’
‘I’ll change all the passwords on the servers,’ Marcus said. ‘And I’ll get Diesel to add a few firewalls or something.’ Diesel was their resident computer nerd. Marcus could manage around the computers, and had even hacked into a system or two, but Diesel was a fucking artist. ‘Just watch her for the next few hours. I want to know what she tries to do.’
‘You think she knows more than she’s letting on?’
‘I think she’s a lot more curious than is safe. For her or for us. Just watch her, at least until morning meeting. Then we’ll figure out what to do about her.’
‘Okay,’ Stone said with a shake of his head. ‘You’re the boss.’
Marcus waited until the door was closed before muttering, ‘Yay me.’
He leaned back in his chair to fish his phone from the pocket of his jeans. It had vibrated with an incoming text while he and Stone had been talking. He read the text, then, his heart hammering, read it again. Especially the greeting.
Scarlett Bishop here
. Not ‘Detective Bishop’, but ‘Scarlett’. It was warmer. Inviting, even.
And you’re a fool, O’Bannion.
It wasn’t an invitation. It was her name, clear and simple.
So don’t read in shit that isn’t there, and focus on the actual message.
The prompt for the list in and of itself came as no surprise, as he was overdue on delivering it, but he had hoped that after seeing this morning’s video, she’d realize the list wasn’t necessary. Clearly Tala had been the target.
However, he’d met enough cops to know that once they got an idea in their heads, they wouldn’t let up until they had evidence in hand. He just needed to find a few names that would satisfy her while not piquing her curiosity so much that she started to dig. Because what she’d find probably wouldn’t end well for either of them.
Five
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 7.05
A.M.
‘What is this?’ Lieutenant Lynda Isenberg asked sharply as she leaned against the side of Scarlett’s desk. ‘I thought you were watching the O’Bannion footage of the victim.’
The note of disapproval in her boss’s voice startled Scarlett to attention. Lynda rarely used that tone on anyone, and almost never with Scarlett. Scarlett had never given her reason to.
Surreptitiously wiping her eyes, Scarlett muted her computer before pausing the video she’d been watching. And listening to. Which, admittedly, had perhaps involved getting a little too lost in the beauty of Marcus’s music. His singing voice was exactly as she’d expected – rich and smooth, soothing the hurts in her heart even as it drew a new kind of pain to the surface.
‘I
am
watching the victim,’ she said, relieved that her own voice was steady. ‘She’s right there.’ She pointed at the edge of her screen, where Tala stood, tentative and wary, barely visible through the trees bordering the clearing where Marcus had recorded the scene with his cap-cam.
‘She looks like she’s about to bolt,’ Lynda observed, her voice oddly cold. Something was wrong, but Scarlett respected Lynda enough not to pry. Her boss would share if she so chose. Thankfully Lynda extended the same respect to her people. If she’d noticed Scarlett’s eyes were still a little red from crying, she gave no indication of it.
‘But she doesn’t bolt,’ Scarlett said. ‘Not until he stops singing. I’ve watched five of the ten video clips from the park. When Marcus finishes his song, she leaves, but not before.’
Lynda’s gray brows snapped up to the edge of her hairline, her eyes going wide in a rare display of shock. ‘That was Marcus O’Bannion singing? Really?’
‘It was. That’s how he got Tala’s attention the first time. He said that he’d been singing because it was the middle of the night and he thought he was alone. He looked up and saw her in the trees with the dog.’ That had been the ballad, the one he’d sung for his dead brother. Scarlett hadn’t expected to hear it, since Marcus hadn’t recorded that first meeting, but she’d heard it on every one of the park video files she’d watched so far. Sometimes he sang three or four other songs first, but he’d always switch to the ballad as soon as Tala came into view.
The first time Scarlett had heard it, she’d been as stunned as Lynda was right now. Every time thereafter, Scarlett’s throat had closed and her eyes had filled, memories of Michelle blasting through her mind. Always ending with the worst one, of course.
So much blood.
This was why she didn’t let herself truly remember Michelle very often. Doing so left her raw and far too vulnerable until she was able to shove the memories back down. Or until she could reaffix her usual calm, cool, collected expression to her face. An expression just like Lynda usually wore. But neither woman looked like that now. It was strangely comforting.
Lynda drew a breath, exhaling unsteadily. ‘They played that song at my husband’s funeral,’ she murmured, almost as if to herself.
Stunned, Scarlett could only stare. She’d reported to Lynda for five years, yet she’d never known her boss had been married. ‘I’m sorry,’ she finally said, so softly that only Lynda could hear. ‘I didn’t know.’
Lynda blinked, a quick, embarrassed flush spreading across her cheeks, then shook her head hard and fast as if to clear it. A heartbeat later, her expression had returned to normal – alert, brusque, and all business. ‘It was fifteen years ago,’ she said, flicking her hand through the air, dismissing the emotion. ‘Nothing to do with this case.’
‘They say that songs take you back faster and harder than any other reminder,’ Scarlett murmured. Now that she’d seen her boss’s vulnerability, she didn’t want to see the real Lynda to disappear behind her hard shell. Not until Scarlett herself was able to do the same. ‘We played that song at my best friend’s funeral too. So . . . yeah.’ She shrugged fitfully. ‘It’s hard.’
They were silent for a long minute, neither looking at the other. Then Lynda cleared her throat, pointed to the computer screen. ‘Does she ever come out of the woods?’
‘Not that I’ve seen so far. Marcus said that she let the dog come close enough to be petted, but she stayed back. I haven’t gotten to that file yet, but everything I’ve seen on these videos has corroborated his story.’
‘I didn’t expect that he’d voluntarily give you anything that wouldn’t,’ Lynda said carefully.
Her tone had Scarlett glancing up once again. This time Lynda’s eyes were shadowed with concern. ‘What?’ Scarlett demanded, hearing her own belligerence.
‘You’re personally connected with this man. He’s a witness now, but he could become a suspect. A murder suspect, Scarlett. I am, quite frankly, concerned.’
Scarlett didn’t think Marcus would ever become a suspect, but she wasn’t going to argue the point, not wanting to give Lynda any reason to kick her off this case. Not because of Marcus, but because of Tala.
‘I’m not connected,’ she replied, not looking away. ‘Not like you’re thinking, anyway. I’ve interacted with Marcus O’Bannion five times.’ She held up her hand, counting on her fingers. ‘When he was wounded saving a woman’s life, twice in the hospital afterward, then at his brother’s funeral, and now tonight. We have no relationship beyond that.’
She didn’t have to count all the nights she’d lain awake wishing that they did, right?
Best to keep that little jewel to myself.
Lynda did not look convinced. ‘Then how
are
you connected, if it’s not the way I’m thinking?’
‘I think we’re testing each other’s preconceptions. He doesn’t trust many cops, but he believed he could trust me to help Tala. I don’t trust newsmen, but I’m hoping he’s different. I do hope you’re planning to have this same conversation with Deacon,’ she added coolly. ‘He’s more connected than I am, what with Marcus being his future cousin-in-law.’
Lynda gave her a long, probing look before pointing back at the screen, where Tala was still frozen in place at the forest’s edge. ‘What more can you tell me about her?’
‘Seventeen, possibly an immigrant. I’ve already watched today’s file. I couldn’t see her face that clearly because there was very little light in the alley, but the audio was clear as a bell. Her English is flawless, but she has a definite accent. I’m thinking Filipino.’ Marcus had suggested that first.
Again, keeping that to myself.
Scarlett brought up the video Marcus had taken that morning in the alley, cranked up the sound and hit
PLAY
.
Scarlett turned her screen so that Lynda had a better viewing angle, then sat back in her chair, watching the events unfold for the fifth time – Tala’s hesitant greeting, Marcus’s careful, gentle questions.
Why do you cry, Tala?
Why do you?
the girl pushed back.
That Marcus hadn’t denied it made Scarlett’s throat hurt, just as it had all the other times she’d watched. It wasn’t just that he still grieved for the brother he’d lost. It was that he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Still, he’d cried when he’d thought himself alone. It made Scarlett wonder about the face he showed his family and the rest of the world.
It made her wonder if he’d ever show his grief to her.
Then she realized that he just had. By turning over the videos without any coercion, he’d effectively bared his soul not only to Scarlett, but to anyone she allowed to watch. He’d trusted her. Thrown suddenly off balance, she decided that these videos would be locked up and she’d do whatever she had to do to ensure that as few people as possible viewed them.
Will you let me help you, Tala?
I . . . I can’t pay you.
The picture shifted side to side as Marcus shook his head hard.
I don’t need your money. I don’t want it.
A second of heavy silence followed, Tala’s shoulders sagging, her head hanging in defeat. Then she lifted her chin, her young face having transformed from frightened to sensuously inviting. She reached for the waistband of Marcus’s jeans, her husky whisper intended to entice.
I understand. I can make you feel good.
The picture jolted abruptly as Marcus took a giant step back, his hands shoving into the frame, palms out. His response was panicked. Horrified.
No. Stop. You don’t understand. That’s not what I want. I don’t want anything from you. I just want to help you.
Why? Why would you help me? I’m no one.
Scarlett’s throat hurt again. For Tala and for all the victims she’d ever met who believed they were no one.
Everyone is someone,
Marcus said sadly
. Why do you cry, Tala?
Tala’s expression was a jumble of fear and hope that made Scarlett’s heart twist. Help had been so damn close, but in the next minute it would be brutally ripped away.
It’s dangerous. They’re dangerous. My family will die if I’m found here.
Marcus’s voice became icy. Brittle. Furious.
Who are you afraid of?
The man. His wife. They .
. . Tala looked away.
They own us.
How?
Marcus demanded.
Who?
Scarlett braced herself, knowing what was coming, but still she flinched at the gunshot.
Tala crumpled to the pavement, her face filling the screen as Marcus dropped to one knee beside her.
Tala? Shit. You’re hit.
His hands were trembling as he cut a piece of her shirt and packed the wound, then sprang to his feet.
Lynda made a sound of disapproval. ‘He’s leaving her alone.’
‘For just a minute,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘He’s calling 911 and securing the scene.’
‘Not a soul in sight,’ Lynda said, her jaw taut as they watched him run. ‘It would have been too much to expect that he’d catch a glimpse of the shooter.’
‘He didn’t know it then,’ Scarlett said, ‘but the shooter was circling the block, coming back to take two more shots. He made the 911 call at 2.47.’
Tala’s face was filling the screen once again as Marcus resumed his first aid.
Tala!
he was shouting at her now.
Don’t die, dammit. Don’t you dare die.
Tala’s lips moved on the word
Help
, but no sound came out. She forced the next word out in an agonized huff.
Malaya.
Lynda grabbed the mouse and paused the video. ‘Help and
malaya
.’ She glanced at Scarlett. ‘What does
malaya
mean?’
‘According to Google, it means “free” in both Tagalog and Malay,’ Scarlett supplied, once more keeping the original source of the information to herself. She’d double-checked the definition, and determined that Marcus had been correct.
‘She was asking him to free her family,’ Lynda murmured, then lined up the frozen frame of Tala at the edge of the trees with that of the young woman as she lay dying on the asphalt. ‘Same clothes.’
Scarlett nodded. ‘I noticed that. She wears the same exact thing in every video I’ve seen so far. A white polo shirt and faded blue jeans.’
‘A uniform of some kind?’
‘I thought that,’ Scarlett said. ‘I didn’t see any logo on the shirt she was wearing when she was shot, but there was a lot of blood on it. The CSU tech working the crime scene said that Vince would call me if the lab found any identifying marks on her clothes, but I haven’t heard from him yet.’
If there was anything to find, Sergeant Vince Tanaka would find it. The head of CSU ran a tight ship, and his people were well trained and meticulous.
‘There don’t appear to be any visible logos on the shirts she wore to the park, either,’ Scarlett went on, ‘although the video quality is grainy. The lab is checking that too.’ Reaching for the mouse, she rewound the alley video to a point about two thirds through. ‘There are two other things I can tell you. One, Tala knew who shot her.’
She advanced the video frame by frame, stopping at the moment the young woman’s eyes flared wide in terror. And recognition.
Lynda’s sigh was quiet. ‘You’re right. So much for a random shooting.’
‘Or for wondering which of them was the target,’ Scarlett said grimly.
‘You thought O’Bannion was the target?’
A half-shrug. ‘He does make his living digging up news. It stood to reason that he might have pissed off somebody enough to want to shut him down. He was supposed to have already sent me a list of the threats he’s received over the last few years, but I haven’t seen that yet.’
‘I’m sure he viewed this video before he sent it to you. Maybe he assumed the same thing we have and decided you didn’t need the list after all.’
‘Maybe.’ Highly likely, actually. ‘I still want the list, though, just in case.’