by Karen Rose
‘Mila, Erica,’ Scarlett said, ‘this is Special Agent Novak, my partner.’
‘Mrs Bautista,’ Deacon said to Mila, nodding at her. To the scowling Erica he gave an encouraging smile.
Erica still hadn’t accepted that she was safe, and Marcus understood that. He knew it would be a long, long time before Erica truly felt safe again.
‘And, Miss Bautista,’ Deacon said. ‘We’re very glad we found you. Please come this way.’ He ushered them all into the elevator, slid a hotel keycard through the reader, then hit the button for the penthouse, standing in front of the doors until they closed. Only then did he and Scarlett relax. Deacon looked at Scarlett over the petite women’s heads. ‘Everything is ready. Just as you specified.’
‘My dad’s here?’ Erica asked in a quavering voice. ‘And John Paul?’
‘Yes,’ Deacon said. ‘And they’re excited to see you. Your dad’s a bit thin, just to prepare you.’
Mr Bautista wasn’t thin, Marcus thought, having seen the photos Deacon had sent for Scarlett to show the two women. He was emaciated. John Paul appeared well fed, so Marcus assumed the father had been giving his son part of his own food rations.
Tears were running down Mila’s face yet again. Marcus wondered that the lady hadn’t dehydrated herself with all the tears she’d shed that day. But these tears were happy ones, or at least bittersweet. To be reunited with her husband and son, but to lose her daughter . . .
Marcus cleared his throat. ‘Is the attorney here?’
Deacon nodded. ‘Both of them are – Gabriel Benitez, Mrs Church’s grandson, and Peter Zurich, the immigration attorney.’
‘And who’s here from the FBI and CPD?’ Marcus asked.
‘Special Agent Kate Coppola and her partner, Special Agent Luther Troy – they’re leading the human trafficking investigation for this region,’ Deacon said. ‘Isenberg’s here too.’
Scarlett winced. ‘How is she?’
Deacon’s white brows lifted. ‘Not as bad as she could be. Not happy that you made so many demands or that you missed your command performance in her office, but she’ll survive.’
Scarlett’s ‘demands’ had been designed to make the Bautista family’s life simpler. She wanted them to have their reunion in privacy, in a hotel and not the police station. Marcus had been able to help with that, having already reserved the penthouse suite. The hotel had excellent security, and CPD had assigned a uniformed officer to guard the Bautistas’ room.
She’d asked that all family interviews be conducted here at the hotel, including the one with the CPD sketch artist. She’d also made it clear that the Bautistas had legal representation, so that no one tried to intimidate them by threatening deportation.
‘What command performance?’ Erica asked, still suspicious of their motives.
‘It’s nothing for you to worry about,’ Scarlett said with a smile. ‘I was supposed to go to my boss’s office for a lecture, but I came down to meet you two instead.’
‘Will Father Trace be here?’ Mila asked.
‘He arrived about ten minutes ago,’ Deacon told her. Marcus and Scarlett had taken longer to arrive because Scarlett had insisted on driving a circuitous route through the city to make sure they hadn’t been followed.
‘We also have a counselor available,’ Scarlett told Mila as the elevator doors opened. ‘Kids and teens are her specialty, but she can help you and your husband as well. She’s a friend of mine. She’s expecting your call, whenever you’d like to contact her.’
Mila drew in a breath as she stepped out of the elevator. ‘Thank you, Detective. For all your help.’ She pressed a hand to her heart. ‘I’m so nervous.’
‘Don’t worry, Mama,’ Erica said, taking her mother’s hand. ‘It’ll be all right.’ Mother and daughter held hands tightly as they walked down the long hall and entered the room.
The emaciated Mr Bautista stood awkwardly, staring at the women as if looking at ghosts. Then John Paul threw himself into his mother’s arms, sobbing loudly. A second later, the family was huddled together, crying and rocking each other. Mr Bautista touched his wife’s face with a careful reverence, as if not convinced she was real.
Leaving the attorneys in the room with the Bautistas, Marcus followed Scarlett and Deacon into the suite’s adjoining room to give the family privacy. He had to wipe his eyes and knew he wasn’t the only one. Father Trace and Isenberg were already sitting in the room with two people in black suits – a redhead and a man who was slightly balding.
The lieutenant gave Marcus a brief look before turning her attention to Scarlett. ‘We still have to talk about your personal priorities,’ she said. ‘But this was good work, Scarlett.’
Scarlett shrugged. ‘Uncle Trace found them.’
‘And you convinced the mother and daughter to trust us.’ Isenberg motioned for them to sit at the table. ‘We have some debriefing to do.’
‘Me too?’ Marcus asked Isenburg, letting a little sarcasm into his voice. She scowled.
She scowled. ‘Yeah. You didn’t print anything I asked you not to, so I’ll trust you one more day.’
‘Thank you,’ he said with exaggerated politeness and took the seat next to Scarlett, who shot him a rueful look before introducing the redhead as Kate Coppola and the balding man as Luther Troy. Scarlett had already told him that Kate had worked with Deacon back in Baltimore and that Deacon trusted her with his life. That was enough for Marcus, because Scarlett trusted Deacon with her life.
Scarlett’s uncle excused himself. ‘I think I’ll see if the Bautistas need me. Once the shock of the reunion passes, they’ll be grieving the loss of Tala.’ He squeezed Scarlett’s shoulder as he passed her chair. ‘I heard some of what you said to Mila and Erica back at Saint Barbara’s,’ he murmured. ‘I’m proud of the way you dealt with them.’
He left the room, leaving Scarlett blushing. ‘What’s new?’ she asked Isenberg, her voice a little gruff.
Marcus thought her gruffness was very sweet, and wisely didn’t tell her so.
‘Number one,’ Isenberg said, ‘ballistics on the bullet taken out of Phillip Cauldwell shows it was not fired from the same gun that killed Tala Bautista.’
‘But . . .’ Marcus frowned. ‘Shit. We thought the shooter at my apartment building yesterday might have been the one who shot Agent Spangler and Tala too. Are we back to square one?’
‘Not square one,’ Deacon said, ‘because the gun used to kill Tala was found – in the possession of Drake Connor.’
Marcus had been listening at the door at Saint Barbara’s, so he knew everything the women had shared. He narrowed his eyes at this piece of news. ‘So it was Stephanie Anders’s boyfriend who killed Tala.’
Deacon nodded. ‘So it appears. As soon as you texted me his name, Scarlett, I put out a BOLO and then went to check out his sister at her house. She’s not there, but there are signs of a major struggle. There was blood on the kitchen floor and smeared on one of the door frames like she grabbed it when she was being removed. She reported her car stolen yesterday morning. She suspected her brother had taken it. He’s been in trouble a few times.’
‘He’ll be in more trouble when we get our hands on him,’ Scarlett said flatly. ‘He raped both Tala and her sister and murdered Tala. Now it sounds like he’s attacked his own sister. Where is he now?’
Deacon was shaking his head. ‘He didn’t attack his sister. She was on the phone with her credit card company at three o’clock yesterday afternoon. Drake was nearing Detroit by then.’
‘The little prick was headed for Canada,’ Marcus said grimly.
‘Where is he now?’ Scarlett repeated impatiently.
‘In a hospital in Detroit,’ Deacon said, ‘handcuffed to the bed. His name popped up as soon as I ran the BOLO. He held up a gas station, shot the clerk and another customer, then stole the customer’s SUV. The customer is dead and the clerk’s in critical condition. The clerk’s wife, who was doing inventory in the back room, chased after him with a
shotgun. Unfortunately for Drake, the wife was a very good shot and she took out his back windshield and a tire as he was driving out of the parking lot. He got out of the SUV and tried to run, so she shot him in the leg and ran back to see to her husband. Fortunately for us, she didn’t hit anything vital and left Drake alive for us.’
‘Will Detroit PD give him up to us?’ Scarlett asked.
‘Yes,’ Agent Troy said. ‘They won’t like it, but they won’t have a choice. We’re charging Drake with conspiracy to human trafficking. Even though he didn’t personally buy Tala, he knew her status in the Anders home and took part in it for his own gain. Agents in Detroit are taking custody as we speak. We’ll transport him down here as soon as he’s able to be moved. In the meantime, we’ll get his statement on yesterday’s shooting in the alley.’
‘I called Detroit PD as soon as Drake’s name popped up on the BOLO,’ Deacon said. ‘They confirmed he’d been found in possession of a Ruger loaded with Black Talons, the same bullet we pulled out of Tala and Phillip. The detective on the case up there expedited the ballistics testing on the Ruger. I got the report as I was leaving the crime scene at Drake’s sister’s house. Drake’s Ruger – which was registered to Chip Anders, by the way – was the same gun that shot Tala and you, Marcus, but not the gun that shot Phillip.’
Scarlett’s brow was furrowed in a deep frown. ‘So Marcus wasn’t the target in the alley. Drake must have been gunning after Tala for meeting with Marcus. But that means we still don’t know who has been targeting Marcus. If Drake hadn’t run, we could say that he realized that Marcus wasn’t dead and wanted to finish the job to keep him quiet. But Drake was halfway to Detroit by the time the sniper shot at Marcus and killed Agent Spangler behind the Anders house. And we already know that Drake didn’t shoot Phillip and the security guard in Marcus’s building because we have the lobby video and Phillip’s description.’
‘But Drake is connected to the guy who invaded my apartment building last night,’ Marcus said quietly. ‘By Tala.’
Isenberg shook her head. ‘You’re assuming the man who shot Phillip Cauldwell and the security guard was the same man who transported the Bautistas to Ohio. You can’t assume that yet. Not until we have a more positive ID.’
Marcus felt his jaw go taut. ‘Mila and Erica identified last night’s shooter from the security video.’
Isenberg’s expression softened a hair. ‘He wore a ski mask, Marcus, and they haven’t seen him in three years. Yes, he has the same body type and the same gait. Yes, he does a similar hand-switch maneuver. It very well could be the same man that brought them here, but right now it’s supposition. We have to keep our minds open for now.’
Marcus knew she had a valid point, but couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Mila and Erica had sounded so certain and he so wanted to believe it was true. That he would track down the bastard who’d put Phillip in ICU was a given in his mind. He desperately wanted to give the Bautistas their justice as well.
‘She’s right, dammit,’ Scarlett muttered under her breath, making Isenberg’s lips twitch.
‘That happens occasionally,’ the lieutenant said dryly.
Scarlett’s lips curved. ‘Yes, ma’am. It does.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘The apartment shooter went to a lot of trouble to make it look like Tala’s killer was simply finishing the job. He used the same model gun and made sure the building’s security camera saw it. He used the same kind of bullets, which he tried not to leave behind, so we wouldn’t be able to do ballistics.’
‘But how does he connect to me?’ Marcus murmured.
‘That’s the million-dollar question.’ Scarlett glanced up at him, understanding in her eyes. ‘Hopefully the Bautistas will give us a sketch of his face. Maybe you’ll recognize him.’
Agent Coppola cleared her throat. ‘There is the possibility that the two aren’t connected at all, that someone else wants you dead and is using Tala’s murder as a cover.’
‘So we’re back to the list,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘Threats made against Marcus’s life because of the exposés he’s run in the Ledger,’ she explained to Agents Troy and Coppola, who looked confused. She turned to Isenberg. ‘Where are we on the names I sent you last night?’
‘My clerk’s got last-known addresses for all of them. A few are in jail for other offenses.’ Isenberg looked at Marcus shrewdly. ‘But you knew that already, didn’t you?’
‘I knew it was a possibility,’ he said honestly. ‘I know a few others were in jail and got out and probably should be back in jail.’ That he knew from Stone after his brother had checked all the names on the list for status and recent activity. ‘Many of those people are child molesters and domestic abusers. A newspaper article and a short stint behind bars aren’t going to stop them.’
‘No, it won’t,’ Isenberg said, then turned to Deacon. ‘Any update on that ankle tracker?’
‘Yes,’ Deacon said. ‘It got easier after we picked up the other two trackers that Mila and Erica left behind. The serial number on Tala’s tracker was recorded as having been destroyed by the quality assurance testers at the plant that makes them,’ he explained to Marcus and Agent Troy. ‘The federal corrections system buys from that factory and, as the customer, it’s authorized to do unannounced quality evaluation. The team from corrections seized copies of the factory’s production records for the days on which the three trackers were produced and tested.’
‘Sneaky,’ Coppola praised.
‘Creative,’ Deacon corrected.
Coppola grinned. ‘Potato, po-tah-to. Glad to see that you haven’t lost your touch, Novak.’
Deacon waggled his white brows. ‘Thank you. Anyway, they were able to narrow down the list of employees to just two men who worked all three shifts in which the three trackers were tested. They were picked up this morning when they showed up at work and are being transported to Cincinnati for questioning as we speak. One of the men is responsible for the “destructive testing”,’ he quirked the air with finger quotes, ‘of four times as many devices as the other man. I’ll pull backgrounds on both of them, but I think we should be looking hardest at the guy with the most devices. He may have been selling to Anders, or, if we’re very lucky, he might have been selling to the actual traffickers who brought the victims into the country.’
‘Were all the people rescued from Anders’s factories wearing trackers?’ Marcus asked.
‘Not all,’ Coppola said. ‘Mostly the people who had technical skills, like Efren Bautista. Of those we’ve gotten to talk to us, about a quarter earned university degrees in the countries where they came from, which is consistent with the data we’ve gathered on labor trafficking in the past. They wore trackers.’
‘How many have you gotten to talk to you?’ Marcus asked.
‘Not even a third,’ Coppola admitted. ‘They’re afraid of us. I can’t blame them.’
‘I’d like to talk to them,’ Marcus said. ‘I may have better luck, especially if the Bautistas vouch for me. These people have a right to have their story told, and I want to do it right. I also plan to ensure they get legal representation as the Bautistas have.’
Troy looked skeptical. ‘The attorney Mrs Church’s grandson brought here agreed to take the Bautistas’ case pro bono. I don’t think you can expect him to take on the entire population we extracted yesterday.’
‘I’ll make sure they get representation if I have to pay for it myself,’ Marcus said. ‘But I don’t think I’ll have to. When this story gets out, we’ll have a lot of people volunteering to help them. They’ve been victimized once. I damn well won’t see them victimized again.’
He drew a breath when he felt Scarlett’s hand on his knee, lightly squeezing. He’d grown angry, he realized, and these two agents didn’t deserve that. ‘I apologize,’ he said. ‘I’ll get off my soap box now.’
Agent Coppola’s smile was sympathetic. ‘I don’t want to send them all packing, Marcus. My job is to put away the bastards who tricked them into coming into
this country under false pretenses. I have to use whatever means necessary in order to do that, but I can be more effective if they’re not afraid of me. I don’t think I can get clearance to take a reporter in just yet, but when I can, I’ll let you talk to them to coax out whatever information you can. If you can get them representation, all the better. As far as I know, these people haven’t committed any crimes, or if they have, it was under duress and coercion. I’ll propose it to the SAC, see what he says.’
He wanted to scream at the government bureaucracy, but kept his temper checked. ‘Thank you.’
A light knock had them all turning toward the door. Scarlett’s uncle poked his head in, his expression drawn. ‘I think the Bautistas are ready to answer your questions now. But first . . .’ He hesitated. ‘First they want Marcus to tell them about Tala’s last moments. Think of it as closure, son,’ he added kindly.
Marcus had told his story to the cops, to his own brother, but telling it to the victim’s parents . . . He suddenly felt uncomfortable. But then Scarlett squeezed his knee again, her nod encouraging. He pushed away from the table, gathering his nerve. ‘All right,’ he said.
Thirty
Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 12.25 P.M.
‘We have a problem,’ Sean said when Ken answered his cell phone while toweling his hair, still wet from the shower he’d taken to wash off Demetrius’s blood. As much as he’d talked up being the monster in the closet to Burton, and as good as he was at it, Ken didn’t like doing it. It was draining.
The screams grated on his ears. Harder still was maintaining the balance. Not enough and they hold back, too much and they die. He’d left Demetrius alive, but barely. His old friend had more stamina than he’d thought possible. Or maybe his ability to withstand pain was fueled by hatred and a desire for revenge. Or cocaine. Or steroids. Whatever fueled it, Demetrius had held out for so long that Ken had nearly given up.