by Karen Rose
She gave him a you-can’t-be-that-naive look. ‘They were listening when she was at the park, and since it appeared that she knew the shooter, they probably followed her to the alley.’
‘Because they suspected she was meeting someone,’ he muttered. ‘Well at least you agree that she knew her killer.’
‘That fact was pretty clear,’ she said quietly. ‘Thank you for sending me the files. I’ll make sure they’re viewed only by those who must see them.’
He dropped his gaze to the floor, knowing she was referring to the moment when he’d looked down to see Tala’s head, blown apart by the bullet. When he’d cried out, overcome by devastating grief. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. He hesitated, then sighed. ‘And thank you for your discretion. It was a . . . difficult moment for me.’
‘I know. It was like you’d discovered Mikhail’s body all over again.’
Something in her voice made him jerk his gaze up. The pain was back in her eyes, but this was different from the sorrow she’d shown at Tala’s beating. This was personal.
‘Who?’ he asked simply, and watched her cheeks darken. Once again he thought she’d tell him to mind his own business. Once again she surprised him.
Her swallow was audible. ‘My best friend. In college.’
Her hand flexed as she tightened the already punishing grip on her knee. He covered that hand with his own, her skin ice cold against his palm. ‘I’m sorry, Scarlett.’
She looked down at his hand but made no attempt to move it, so he left it where it was. ‘Thank you. It was a long time ago.’
‘Doesn’t matter if it was ten years ago or yesterday.’ Or nine months ago. Or twenty-seven years. The nightmare never truly went away, hovering in the back of one’s mind, waiting to spring when one least expected it.
‘True.’ She still stared at his hand, her lips opening then closing, as if she was struggling with her next words. When she finally spoke, her whisper was barely audible. ‘But when you see or hear something or someone that reminds you, it might as well have been yesterday.’
He frowned, suddenly hearing what she hadn’t said. ‘Does every homicide you investigate remind you?’ And put that sadness in your eyes?
‘Some,’ she murmured distantly. ‘Not all. Tala’s . . . was rough.’
That, he sensed, was a monumental admission on her part. ‘Why do you do it? Why put yourself through that hell every damn day?’
She raised her eyes to his, the intensity of her pain leaving him feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. ‘I guess for the same reason you came back to the crime scene this morning. You didn’t want to leave Tala alone in the dark. My friend died alone . . . in the dark . . . and her killer was never brought to justice. So for me, she’s still there. In the dark. I can’t help Michelle, but I can do my damnedest to make sure the victims in my care aren’t forgotten.’
Marcus’s heart squeezed so hard that he had to draw a breath. He’d known Scarlett Bishop was unique from the moment he’d laid eyes on her nine months ago. The very memory of her face and body made him want her with a ferocity that had left him empty for months. But the more he watched and listened, the more he knew that he had to have her. Not the face or the body, although both were unforgettable. He wanted her. He wanted to know what it would be like to have her to come home to every night. To wake to every morning.
‘I’m glad,’ he said when he thought he could speak without his voice breaking. ‘I’m glad that they have someone like you.’
Her mouth curved sadly. ‘I wish they didn’t need someone like me. But evil lives and people suffer, so I do what I can.’ She drew a breath, slid her hand out from under his and rose to her feet with the fluid grace of a dancer, somehow smoothing her expression on the way up. She was a cop again, but he was okay with that. ‘I need to go.’
He rose more slowly, the muscles in his bruised back shouting at him for sitting on the floor like that for so long. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness as his mind grappled for some way to convince her to stay a little longer. Which was selfish, so he stowed the impulse to beg, but bought a little more time by leaning one shoulder against the door.
‘Go where?’ he asked, more than gratified when her chin had to jerk up substantially so that she could answer to his face and not his groin. He swallowed what would have been a grin. She was interested. That was enough for now.
She arched a brow. Tried for cool. He’d let her have it this time. ‘To do my job,’ she said, sounding affronted that he’d even dare to ask.
‘Wonderfully specific,’ he said sarcastically.
She didn’t rise to the bait. ‘The bottom line here is that you are a likely target for Tala’s killer as he or she takes care of loose ends. They thought they killed you last night, but you outed yourself as being alive through the story in your paper. Being very honest, I probably can’t get you police protection, but I can ask for drive-bys of your house and business during the day.’
‘Not necessary,’ he said, dropping the sarcasm, because on top of being very honest, she was also very serious. Which was actually pretty cute. But because he valued his life, he kept that thought to himself.
‘As you wish,’ she said, with a nod toward the door he leaned against. ‘If you don’t mind, I need to go.’
He did mind, very much, but he pushed away from the door and reached for the knob. Then stopped cold when words came out of his mouth that he had not planned to say. ‘What about the list? Isn’t that the other reason you dropped by?’
Really, O’Bannion? You shit-for-brains. She’d forgotten all about the damn list and he just had to bring it up again. But he was glad he had, because after a wide-eyed blink, she seemed to relax, her expression looking damn close to relief.
She smiled at him and his heart began to race. ‘You can email it to me. At this point it’s probably just a formality. It’ll allow me to cross the Ts and dot the Is in my report when we arrest Tala’s killer.’
She hadn’t wanted the damn list, he realized. She just wanted him to follow through on his promises. Now he felt like he had to give her something. Shit.
‘No, no,’ he said lightly. ‘I’ll plan to email it to you, but then I’ll just get pulled into whatever new crisis has been brewing out there while we’ve been talking. I should do it now, while you’re here. It’ll just take me a few minutes. Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.’
She shrugged. ‘All right. As long as it’s just a few minutes. I’ve already stayed longer than I planned.’ She returned to the chair in front of his desk. ‘Thank you, Marcus.’
He eased into his own chair and turned his monitor so that she couldn’t see it. ‘It’s not a problem,’ he said, and hoped he wasn’t a liar.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 10.30 A.M.
Ken Sweeney pulled on a pair of gloves as he descended the stairs to his basement at a leisurely stroll, stopping in front of his guests. The three Anderses were tied to chairs, blindfolded and gagged. Their clothes were ripped, their hair disheveled.
Burton and Decker stood behind the trio, looking annoyed.
‘Delivered,’ Burton said. ‘Just as you ordered, sir.’ The former cop touched his torn face gingerly. ‘Mostly unmarked.’
‘Good. Where is the wounded guard?’
‘Still in the van,’ Decker said. ‘Anders shot him with a low-caliber bullet, so it could have been worse. I stopped the blood flow, but I need to get a few supplies to stitch him up. We weren’t sure where you’d want him to convalesce. He’ll need at least a few days off the leg.’
‘Take him to one of the spare rooms on the second floor,’ Ken said. ‘There are clean towels in the linen closet. You should find all the first aid supplies you need on the top shelf.’
‘And then?’ Burton asked stiffly.
Ken glanced at his phone. Alice had texted him ten minutes before that she’d found Reuben’s car in the airport hotel’s parking lot, but so far nothing more. ‘
The tow service I sent to pick up Reuben’s car hasn’t yet arrived. When it does, the car will be brought here. You can conduct your forensic examination in the garage. It’s quite large, I assure you. You’ll have plenty of room. For now, I have another assignment for you.’ He handed Burton a sheet of paper. ‘Go to this address. Bring the woman of the house to me. Unharmed.’ Ken suspected that Miriam would know Burton from his years on the police force and would trust him. ‘Ensure that she comes willingly. I’d recommend not telling her where she’s going,’ he added dryly.
Ken watched recognition flicker in Burton’s eyes, followed closely by something that looked like rage. Burton was quiet a long moment, his lips pursed tightly, before giving a single curt nod and turning on his heel.
Yeah, there was some kind of a relationship there, at a minimum. He’d have to watch Burton closely to determine where the man’s loyalties lay. With Reuben or with me?
Ken pointed to Decker, who stood looking perplexed. ‘Treat Burton’s face first, then tend to the guard with the gunshot wound. And then come back down here.’ Taking the noose he’d fashioned out of coarse twine from the table behind him, he stepped up to Anders’s wife, Marlene, and tipped her chin up so that he could slide the noose over her head, making sure he pulled the knot over the hard line of her jaw as he did so. Leaving the noose hanging around her neck, he glanced back at Decker. ‘I may need you for some heavy lifting.’
A muted whimper came from Marlene’s throat, making him smile. Torture was more effective when the subject was blindfolded, but he wanted to be able to see their eyes while he questioned them. Part of him hoped they’d fold quickly, because he was pressed for time, but another part hoped they’d hold out at least a little while. It had been too long since he’d had a good torture session. He hoped he hadn’t become too rusty.
‘Go,’ he said to Decker. ‘Leave us alone. We’ll be fine.’
Ken waited until the door at the top of the stairs closed, then clapped his hands briskly.
‘All right, Anders,’ he said. ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s your call.’
He removed their blindfolds, first Chip’s, then Marlene’s, then finally the one on the little wildcat who’d raked Burton’s face. ‘Oh my dear, you are very pretty,’ he said quietly, stroking a finger lightly down her cheek, gratified when the girl’s eyes widened in terror. A glance to her right – to the noose around Mommy’s neck – had her mewling, her terror jacked higher.
He walked over to Chip. ‘I want to know what the hell happened in your household. First things first. Tell me why you allowed one of your servants out of the house last night.’
Chip shook his head hard, his grunts sounding like denial.
Ken ripped the duct tape from the man’s mouth, causing Chip to cry out in pain. Ken laughed. ‘You think that hurt? We haven’t even begun.’ He pushed the cart covered with tools close enough so that the three Anderses could see its contents – knives of various lengths and sharpness, a selection of scalpels, tweezers, a length of wire with electrodes on one end.
Three pairs of eyes grew large as saucers.
Ken took tweezers from the cart and pulled out the cotton balled up in Chip’s mouth. Shaking it out, he saw it was a handkerchief, monogrammed with Chip’s initials.
Chip coughed hoarsely. ‘Water.’
Ken fed him a small cup from the pitcher that was also on the table. ‘Answer my questions. And don’t say you don’t know. I don’t want to hear that.’
Temper flashed in Chip’s eyes. ‘Too damn bad, because that’s the truth. I didn’t know she was gone until the alarm went off this morning. We don’t know how she got out or what she was doing wherever she was when she got herself shot. Probably turning tricks.’ His weak chin lifted defiantly. ‘You have no right to drag us here. Let us go now and we won’t report you.’
Ken laughed when Marlene’s eyes narrowed. ‘Somehow I don’t think your lovely wife agrees.’ He leaned one hip against the cart, sobering. ‘You’re trying to tell me that you haven’t listened to the tapes yet? Because I have.’ Well not all, not yet anyway. But enough to know that his property was in the damn morgue in the hands of CPD.
Chip’s eyes blazed. ‘How did you . . . how did you . . .’ he sputtered furiously. ‘You can listen, too? You can listen, too? That means you’ve been listening to my family for three years? To my private—’
Ken slapped Chip’s face. Hard. So hard the chair teetered for a moment. He waited until the chair had decided to stay upright before answering. ‘Yes, Chip.’ He popped the ‘p’, rolling his eyes. What a ridiculous name for a grown man. ‘I can listen to any private moment that you have in the range of one of the tracking devices I’ve supplied. However, I don’t. I don’t care what you do with the property I sell you as long as you follow the rules. You did not follow the rules. When you break my rules, I reserve the right to listen to anything still in my recorded library.’ He raised a brow at the look of sheer terror that passed over the face of Anders’s pretty daughter.
Bingo, Ken thought. Someone has been very naughty. This might have been fun except for the fact that three of his assets had escaped. One was dead, her tracker now in the custody of the cops. The other two . . . Who knew? Ken had a feeling Chip did. A car had been waiting outside when the remaining two females escaped, after all. Either Chip was grossly incompetent or he was a double-crosser. Ken suspected a little of both.
Chip touched his tongue to his now-bleeding lower lip. ‘What rule have I broken?’ he asked with a sneer, somehow maintaining his fine veneer of contempt.
Ken might have been impressed if Chip hadn’t been trembling. ‘You didn’t inform me the moment she disappeared.’
‘Because I didn’t know until later,’ Chip snapped.
‘Later,’ Ken said with a nod. ‘The alarm went off when?’
Chip exhaled. ‘At 5.45 this morning. But you knew that already because you get the tracker alarms too. You can locate any of my property any time you want to.’
‘Yes, I can. But, I repeat, I don’t. Not unless you break the rules. Which you did. Now, tell me how the girl got out early this morning and how the hell she got into the city. And why you killed her.’
Chip’s head reared back. ‘I did not kill her. I didn’t even know she was gone. She slipped out. Probably to meet a man.’
‘You got that last part right at least. She met a man.’ Abruptly Ken got into Chip’s face and let his full fury show. ‘She met a goddamn reporter, you careless sonofabitch!’
That shocked all of them, he saw. The daughter in particular.
Ken strolled over to her. Stroked his fingers down her cheek again. Chuckled when she jerked her head away. He grabbed a handful of her hair, wrapped it around his wrist and yanked, bringing stunned tears to the daughter’s eyes. Smiling, he leaned into her upturned face.
‘You did it, didn’t you?’ he asked silkily. He ripped the duct tape from her mouth and shoved the tweezers in her mouth to retrieve the handkerchief used to gag her. Ignoring her choking cough, he yanked her head back again. ‘You let her out. Why?’
‘I didn’t,’ the girl stammered. ‘I swear.’
‘Then who did?’
‘I . . . I don’t know.’
Ken released her and stepped back. ‘The hard way then,’ he said, then chuckled when she clenched her eyes shut, obviously bracing for a blow. ‘I’m not going to hit you, my dear,’ he promised. ‘I don’t want to mark your face. That would seriously reduce your asking price.’
‘Price?’ Chip shouted. ‘What do you mean, price? My daughter is not for sale!’
‘Your daughter is my . . . guest,’ Ken said. ‘For now. And you, Chip, have nothing to say on the matter, one way or the other.’
The daughter’s eyes had grown wide, her skin pale. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about a beautiful blonde with long legs, a tight ass and creamy skin, when it isn’t fright-white, that is. You go to Brown. Good
school. Your major?’
‘English,’ she whispered.
He shrugged. ‘You weren’t going to do a lot with that anyway. Your name is Stephanie, isn’t it? Do you speak any languages?’
Another whisper. ‘French.’
Ken nodded. ‘Nice. We will add that to your catalog description. Sex talk always sounds better in French. How do you feel about deserts?’
‘Deserts?’
‘You know – sand. Camels. Guys with towels on their heads. Because we have buyers who love pretty white girls like you.’
She whipped her head around to stare at her father. ‘Buyers?’
Her mother had done the same, and now both of them stared at Chip.
‘You didn’t tell them, did you?’ Ken asked, then threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh my. You didn’t tell them what kind of man I am? And what kind of man I made you, simply by association?’ He turned to the women. ‘Ladies, I sell people. Your husband has bought quite a few from me. But you knew that, didn’t you, Marlene? Even if your husband never told you, you still knew. If you tell me that you didn’t, I’ll know you’re a liar. The fact that you’ve never paid your staff and they were forced to wear ankle bracelets to keep them from running away had to have been big clues.’
Marlene stared up at him balefully, but her gag kept her silent.
‘So I’ll assume you did realize that your husband had procured your staff through illicit channels. Did he tell you that he procured over two dozen more for work in your factories? Ah, I can see that he did. Did he tell you that I also sell to more . . . sensually oriented buyers?’
Marlene’s eyes glittered. Yeah, he thought. She’d known.
‘Sex slaves,’ Stephanie said, her whisper toneless.
He glanced at the young woman. Stephanie hadn’t known. ‘If that’s what you’d like to call it, sure. But I rarely get specimens as nice as you.’
Her swallow was audible. ‘If I tell you, will you let me go?’
‘Don’t say a word,’ Chip said from behind clenched teeth. ‘He won’t let you go. He’s lying to you. You’ve seen his face. He’s not letting any of us go.’