Текст книги "Alone in the Dark"

Автор книги: Karen Rose

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 49 страниц)

‘Yeah, sweetie, I do,’ Diesel said grimly. No one ever talked about Diesel’s background, but everyone knew that child rapists were his temper’s trigger. It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots. ‘I’ll back-burner Rich and Arrogant for a day or two. If I haven’t found anything to nail Foster Dick, then I’ll come to you for help.’

‘All right,’ Marcus said. ‘What about legit business? What stories are we covering today?’

‘Well, the girl in the alley is our lead,’ Lisette said. ‘There were a few minor stories that showed up in the police reports this morning. Nothing as big as yours.’ She briefly went through each one, detailing which of her small group of reporters she planned to send, and it started to sound like a normal staff meeting.

Lisette glanced over at Diesel, who was already on his laptop, his expression too intense, then back at her brother. ‘I’d like you to do the groundwork for Diesel on Mr Rich and Arrogant. His plate is full.’

‘I’m fine,’ Diesel growled.

Phillip nodded at Lisette, ignoring Diesel. ‘Will do.’

They spent another twenty minutes discussing the more routine business – sports, the arts, all subjects that were unlikely to get any of them threatened or shot at.

‘If no one has anything else, then we’re done,’ Marcus said. ‘Keep me informed.’

The team filed out of the conference room, Cal bringing up the rear. The old man paused at the door, looking over his shoulder. ‘Have you told your mother what happened this morning?’

Marcus shook his head, feeling nauseated at the thought. ‘No, but I will. She needs to hear it from me and not from Stone’s story.’

Cal gave him a nod and closed the door behind him, leaving Marcus sitting alone, dreading the conversation with his mother. Either way he cut it, she’d be devastated. That he’d been protecting ‘a stranger’, as she’d put it, would make it worse. Protecting ‘a stranger’ was how she’d nearly lost him nine months ago. She couldn’t see past that point.

His mother had buried Mikhail. And Matty, so long ago. They never spoke of the third of her five children. No one wanted to hurt her. But Marcus had hurt her again by getting injured that day nine months ago. He’d hurt her when he joined the army, too. He would hurt her again when he told her about this morning. Hell, maybe Stone was right. Maybe I do have a death wish. But he wouldn’t change anything he’d done. Not even that one most despicable thing that haunted him more than all the others put together. But none of that was relevant. Those mental images flashing through his mind had nothing to do with the reality of what he had to do today, so he pushed the memories from his mind and focused.

He still had a list to compile for Scarlett Bishop – one that wouldn’t arouse any undue curiosity. And he still had to figure out what to do about Jill. And Gayle. And of course there was Tala. As soon as he was done with the damn list, he’d go to the park and start looking for anyone who could ID that poodle.

But first he’d call his mother. Straightening his spine, he prepared himself for her anger. Prepared to apologize without agreeing to change his behavior. Because he planned to continue protecting ‘strangers’ – as often and as long as he was able to, whether his mother liked it or not.

Eight

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 8.15 A.M.

When Scarlett arrived at the morgue, she found Deacon waiting for her outside the door to the autopsy suite.

‘Did Carrie tell you anything when she called to tell us to come over here?’ he asked.

‘Only that she had something to show us.’ Dr Carrie Washington, the ME, was not a chatty woman. ‘Your buddies at the Bureau any help?’

‘Maybe. The Bureau’s watching several suspected trafficking operations in the Midwest, most of them here in Ohio. The Cincinnati Field Office has the lead, so all of the data flows through here. That should work in our favor.’

Scarlett shook her head. ‘You know, I’ve read the Bureau’s reports on trafficking and I’ve been trained to spot the victims, but every time I hear that Ohio has one of the highest rates in the whole country, I think it’s got to be some kind of mistake.’ But she knew it wasn’t. The most recent stats had Ohio in the top ten, closely trailing the ‘usual suspects’ of California, New York, Florida and Texas. Hell, Toledo alone was the third worst city in the entire country for sex trafficking. Which was damn hard to believe. ‘I mean, Ohio? Seriously?’

‘Location, location,’ Deacon said grimly.

‘I know, but still . . .’ Sitting just a hop-step from Canada, with the I-75 corridor running straight through the state, Ohio was an ideal distribution route for all kinds of illegal activity. That Cincinnati was the I-75 gatekeeper at the southern end of the state meant that local law enforcement had always needed to be vigilant when it came to catching drug runners. Every rookie knew what to look for. But this . . . The trafficking of humans through the state was still new to law enforcement. At least our awareness of it is. ‘I wonder how long it’s been going on right under our noses,’ she murmured.

‘Far longer than we think, I’m sure. Most of the information I saw at the field office this morning dealt with the sex trade, so we might find a connection to Tala.’

‘You’re assuming she was forced into prostitution?’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ she admitted. ‘Especially with the way she tried to pay Marcus back for his help. Besides, dog walking can’t be her only job.’

‘Exactly. The agent heading the investigation is checking to see which, if any, of the suspected operators deal in Filipino women. He’s supposed to get back to me by lunchtime. What about you? Did the two homeless people see anything valuable?’

‘Edna and Tommy were gone when I walked back to my car. They may have gotten nervous with all the sirens and taken off. I swung by Dani’s shelter to see if they’d gone there. They hadn’t yet, but they might still. If I can’t find them at the shelter, they’ll be back at their stoop later tonight.’

‘Have you heard from Marcus?’

She nodded. ‘He sent the video files of the park and the alley like he promised. I got a few decent quality stills of both Tala and Coco the poodle from them. I ran copies of the stills for the uniforms to show the homeowners around the park. But my biggest takeaway was that Tala appeared to know the person who shot her.’ And that Marcus had been literally shaking at the sight of the bullet hole in her skull. But sharing that felt too much like a betrayal. Which was ridiculous, as she owed the man nothing. Still, it wasn’t relevant, so she kept it to herself.

‘Interesting. Marcus didn’t mention that.’

‘He may not have realized it himself.’

‘I imagine he knows now. I don’t guess he’d have sent us video files he hadn’t personally reviewed.’

‘I’m sure you’re right about that,’ she murmured, still stunned that Marcus had allowed her to see his pain. ‘The dog may be our best lead out of the video. Very fancy schmancy. So I talked to Delores Kaminsky – you know, the woman who runs the shelter where Faith got Zeus.’

Deacon blew out a disgusted breath. ‘Please tell me that she misses the damn shoe-chewer and wants him back.’

Scarlett’s lips curved. Deacon was very particular about his shoes, keeping them so shiny that one could see one’s face in them. At least until Faith had brought Zeus home. Now Deacon’s shoes bore the marks left by tiny pointed puppy teeth. Even though he pretended to be grouchy about the dog, Scarlett knew he was the worst offender when it came to spoiling the ball of orange fur. ‘Nope, sorry. But she’s putting together a list of high-end groomers who might have given Coco her ’do.’

‘Groomers,’ Deacon said thoughtfully. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Smart.’

‘Thanks. But what I don’t have yet is the list of the people who made threats to Marcus and the Ledger’s reporters. I’ve emailed and texted and even called Marcus, but he hasn’t answered any of my messages.’ Which made her both suspicious and disappointed that he hadn’t kept his word.

‘Do we really need that list now? Especially if Tala knew her killer?’

‘Probably not, but Lynda wants to be sure he isn’t withholding the list because he’s hiding something that can come back to bite us in the ass later, particularly if he’s eventually called to be a witness. I was on my way to his office to pick up the list in person when I got the call from Carrie to come here. Ready to go in?’

Deacon grimaced. ‘Yeah. Let’s get this over with.’

A sentiment Scarlett understood. Bracing herself for the odor she wouldn’t get used to if she lived to be a hundred, she pushed open the door to the morgue and grabbed a mask and gloves from the bin just inside, prepared to do her job without complaining.

Carrie looked up from the body on her autopsy table, her eyes magnified by the goggles she wore. ‘Detectives.’ She pulled a sheet up over the body with a respectful care that always tugged at Scarlett’s heart. ‘I’m glad you’re here. This way, please.’ She motioned them to follow her to the wall of refrigerated drawers and pulled one of them halfway out, revealing the top half of Tala’s body. ‘We ran her prints through AFIS but came up with nothing, so she’s got no record.’

Scarlett stared down at Tala’s face, remembering the desperation in her eyes seconds before a bullet ripped through her gut, and the agonizing grief in Marcus’s voice when he’d seen the bullet hole in her head. Gritting her teeth against the tears that stung her eyes, Scarlett pushed everything from her mind and focused on the body of a young girl who should still be alive. And free.

‘I hope the poodle is a decent lead,’ she muttered. ‘Otherwise we got nothin’ to ID her. Cause of death was the head wound, right? Nothing weird or funky we need to know?’

‘Lots of funky,’ Carrie said, ‘but more about her life than her death. She was in very good health. Good dental care, especially in the last few years. Someone had all the cavities in her mouth filled, fairly recently.’

‘What is “fairly recently”?’ Scarlett asked.

‘Longer ago than a year, but no longer than five years, if I had to guess. Her blood tests are within normal levels for all the major vitamins. Her body weight is normal for her height, so she was not nutritionally deprived – but again this is fairly recent. The X-rays show low bone density in her legs and arms.’

Deacon frowned. ‘She was malnourished as a child, but her captors have been feeding her well?’

‘I can only tell you she ate well,’ Carrie said. ‘It’s your job to figure out where she got the food.’

‘Did you find any evidence of drugs in her system?’ Scarlett asked.

‘Urinalysis came back clean for the usuals, but I’ve sent blood to the lab for a more detailed screening. I should have that tomorrow.’ Gently she drew Tala’s hand from beneath the sheet. ‘Her hands are rough but her nails and cuticles are well kept. She has calluses on all her fingertips and her knees. She’s done manual labor, but someone wanted her hands to look nice. The skin on her face is also smooth. Outwardly – and clothed – she appears the picture of health.’

‘But?’ Deacon asked.

‘But she was beaten. Not enough to break any bones, but enough to leave bruises.’ Carrie pulled the sheet to Tala’s waist, exposing her torso.

Scarlett sucked in a breath. ‘Fucking hell,’ she whispered. Nasty dark bruises covered the young woman’s entire torso. ‘What’d they hit her with?’

‘Fists would be my guess, at least for these bruises. Somebody knew what they were doing, hitting her hard enough to cause pain but not enough to require a doctor to set a broken bone or stitch cut flesh.’

‘And hitting her where no one would see,’ Deacon said quietly. ‘Her shirt hid the bruises so that when she walked the dog no one would suspect.

‘What did you mean by “cut flesh”?’ Scarlett asked, not wanting to hear the answer. Carrie gently turned the body, and Scarlett winced. Beside her, Deacon hissed a curse. Tala’s back was a mass of bruises, welts and open cuts.

‘It appears to have been done by the buckle end of a belt. Nothing fancy or unique.’ Carrie’s voice was toneless as she resettled the body and pulled the sheet back over it, her hands briskly capable. But her breath hitched a little as she pulled the drawer out the rest of the way, her swallow audible in the quiet of the morgue.

‘You okay, Carrie?’ Scarlett asked softly.

Carrie’s smile was thin. ‘Yeah, sure. It’s just that the ones with bruises . . .’ She blew out a breath, cleared her throat. ‘The welts continue down the backs of her legs, but again, they were hidden by her jeans. Which also hid this.’ She pulled the bottom of the sheet up to Tala’s knees, revealing a strip of skin worn red and raw, scattered with lesions. A few inches above her ankle, the strip was about an inch high and extended all the way around her leg. ‘She was wearing a tracking device, the kind that probationary prisoners wear.’

Scarlett blinked, her thoughts scrambling. ‘You cut it off her?’ she asked carefully, keeping the without telling us? accusation from her voice.

Carrie nodded. ‘It was still transmitting when my assistant started processing her. He called CSU, who got here about the same time I did. CSU cut it off and took it with them to the lab. They said they’d contact you about it.’

Scarlett pursed her lips, annoyed. ‘They didn’t. I would have liked to have known about that.’ She glanced up at Deacon. ‘Did they contact you?’

He shook his head, clearly equally annoyed. ‘Nope. We’ll deal with it when we’re done here.’ Then he turned back to Carrie. ‘If they cut it off her and it was still transmitting, it would have sent a tampering alarm to whoever was monitoring it. I might have wanted to time that alarm to our advantage.’

‘Depends on the style of tracker they used,’ Scarlett said, shoving her annoyance aside for the moment. ‘If it detected a pulse or body temp, it would have alarmed the moment she died, or at least as her body cooled. When and where they cut it off her might not have mattered.’

‘The lab will tell us what kind of tracker it is, so we’ll at least have an indication of when her captors knew she was gone, assuming they weren’t the ones who killed her.’ Deacon frowned down at the body. ‘Either way, the tracker makes no sense. If she knew she was being tracked, why would she arrange to meet Marcus in an alley? She had to have known they’d follow her.’

‘She did,’ Scarlett murmured, the look in Tala’s eyes the split second before she was shot making more sense now. ‘She knew who shot her. She knew they’d come after her. Maybe she thought that by leaving in the middle of the night they wouldn’t notice for a while.’

‘But they watched her at night,’ Deacon said. ‘She walked the dog at night.’

Scarlett bit at her lip, thinking. Something was off, a detail either missing or perhaps not noticed or understood, but she wasn’t sure what it was. ‘Not every night. There were a few nights Marcus sat for hours and she didn’t show up. Now I’m wondering why that was. It wasn’t like they knew she was stopping to listen to him in the park, or they wouldn’t have let her return night after night. Why the sporadic schedule?’

‘Maybe they had someone else walk the dog those nights, somebody who picked a different path through the park. And maybe they did finally figure out she was stopping to listen to him. Maybe that’s what triggered this beating. Didn’t Marcus say she was limping the last time he saw her in the park, and that it was at a different time of the day?’

‘Yeah, he did. It was what pushed him to leave his card on the bench.’ Scarlett turned to the ME. ‘Carrie, did you see any evidence of other beatings in the past?’

‘No. Her back and legs are too torn up for any scars to be visible to the naked eye, but I might be able to see older subdermal scarring with an ultrasound. How important is it?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe not at all. I’d just like to know what we’re dealing with here.’

‘I’ll do the test this afternoon.’ Carrie pulled the sheet down to cover Tala’s legs, gently smoothing it with a light swipe of her gloved hand before pushing the drawer closed. Her gentleness had Scarlett’s throat tightening, just as it did every time she’d witnessed it. Apparently reserved for victims of violence, it was motherly in its own way. Almost as if Carrie were tucking a child into bed at night.

I couldn’t leave her alone in the dark. The words Marcus had spoken in the alley hit Scarlett’s mind with a hard slam. He’d sounded bleak and . . . lost. And Scarlett wondered why. Was it simply the shock of seeing a girl gunned down in front of him? Somehow she didn’t think so. He’d served in the military, and as bad as Tala’s shooting had been, he’d likely seen things far worse.

‘Scarlett? Hello? Yo, Earth to Detective Bishop.’ She blinked as Deacon’s hand waved in front of her face. He was hunched forward, staring at her with eyes narrowed in concern. ‘You okay?’

Cheeks heating in embarrassment, she squared her shoulders. ‘Yeah. Sorry. My mind wandered for a second.’

Deacon straightened to his full height. ‘Or ten,’ he said warily. ‘Did you even hear what I just said?’

Scarlett barely resisted the urge to drop her gaze to her shoes. ‘No, I didn’t. Could you repeat it?’

‘I asked Carrie if the victim had been sexually assaulted,’ he said, still frowning.

That was a good question, Scarlett thought. I should have asked it myself. Instead, she’d been daydreaming about Marcus O’Bannion’s emotional state. Get your brain back in the damn game, Bishop. ‘And was she?’ she asked evenly.

‘There’s no evidence of recent physical trauma per se. No vaginal bruising or fluids present. But she has been sexually active. She has gonorrhea and genital warts, vaginal and anal. They’re not visible, so she might not have known she had them. I’ve sent a culture to the lab to determine what strain is present.’

‘Not surprising,’ Scarlett said quietly. ‘I’m more surprised you didn’t find evidence of repeated assault.’

‘So was I,’ Carrie admitted, ‘especially after seeing the bruises and welts. I’ll report this to the health department – they’ll want to be informed after you’ve identified her and found her captors. Anyone who’s had sexual contact with her is potentially infected.’

‘I’d be only too happy if the bastards who raped her got infected too,’ Deacon said tightly, ‘except that they’ll take it home to their wives and girlfriends, who haven’t done anything wrong other than believing the lying sonofabitch they had the misfortune to trust in the first place.’

Surprised by the leashed viciousness in his voice, Scarlett turned to study his face. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard, twin streaks of dark red staining his cheekbones. He was holding on to his temper by a thread. Deacon was a natural protector and she’d seen him get righteously angry on a victim’s behalf many times over their ten-month partnership. But this was more than indignant anger. This was fury, and it was personal.

And then Scarlett suddenly understood. She’d known Deacon’s sister Dani was HIV positive, but she had never asked when or how she’d contracted the virus. It was simply not her business. But now, looking at Deacon’s furious face, she realized that Dani had been one of those innocent girlfriends victimized by a lying sonofabitch.

She placed a careful hand on Deacon’s shoulder. ‘Easy,’ she murmured.

Deacon’s chest expanded as he drew a deep breath and slowly, visibly, calmed himself. Closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ Carrie said. ‘I couldn’t have said it better myself. So when you report it, it’ll be for the innocent wives and girlfriends.’

Carrie’s ‘when’ rather than ‘if’ seemed to calm Deacon a little further. His eyes opened, and he was back in control. ‘You got it, Doc.’

Scarlett gave his arm a squeeze before dropping her hand to her side. ‘You’ll contact us with anything new?’ she asked Carrie.

‘Absolutely, but I wasn’t finished,’ Carrie said.

Scarlett’s heart sank. ‘There’s more?’

Carrie nodded. ‘Your victim has given birth at least once. From the pelvic spread, I’d say the birth occurred within the past one to three years and that the child was carried to term.’

Scarlett felt the added weight of new dread settle over her. ‘Assuming that the child lived, he’s out there somewhere.’

‘I’d say her child lived,’ Carrie said grimly. ‘Your victim was still lactating.’

Deacon’s jaw tightened. ‘Then we’ve got a baby out there somewhere who’s becoming very hungry.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 8.45 A.M.

Marcus stared at the phone on his desk for a long, long moment before forcing himself to pick it up and call his mother. Her maid picked it up on the first ring and Marcus nearly collapsed in relief, like the coward he was. Guilt chased the relief, quickly overwhelming it.

‘Yarborough residence. May I help you?’

Della Yarborough had retaken her maiden name when she and Jeremy O’Bannion had divorced almost twenty years ago now. Here in Cincinnati, the Yarborough name had status and his mother had known the power it could wield. But Marcus and Stone had kept Jeremy’s name, a gesture of love and support for the stepfather who’d legally adopted them, caring for them like they’d been his own sons.

‘Hi, Fiona. It’s Marcus. Is she awake?’ he asked, even though he knew the answer. The quick pickup of the phone meant that his mother was still asleep. That she was still asleep meant that she’d taken sleeping pills the night before. She’d been going to bed earlier and earlier and sleeping later and later as the weeks went by.

‘No, sir,’ Fiona said quietly.

‘Have you been in to check on her this morning?’

‘Yes, sir, three times since dawn. She’s sleeping soundly. Can I help you with something?’

‘Um, well, yes. When she wakes up, have her call me or Stone, right away.’

‘Is something wrong?’

‘No, no, we’re both fine. But there’s a story online that I’d like to talk to her about before she reads it. It will be in the morning papers too, so I need to talk to her before she reads those.’

‘All right,’ Fiona said hesitantly. ‘Should I have her doctor here?’

‘No, I just want her to hear my voice and know I’m all right. Thanks, Fi.’

Marcus hung up, torn between anger and pity and fear for his mother. He’d nearly lost her once. He didn’t want her to get to that place ever, ever again. Especially by her own hand. But there didn’t seem to be much he could do. She’d do what she wanted to do, no matter what he said, no matter how worried he became.

With a slight wince he remembered Cal’s almost identical words from morning meeting. At least I come by my stubbornness honestly.

He checked his cell phone, knowing he had several calls or texts. He’d felt his phone vibrate at least five times during morning meeting. He sighed when he checked his log. Two of the four calls and two of the texts were from Scarlett Bishop. The others were from his stepfather. Marcus knew what the detective wanted – most likely the same thing she’d wanted before he went into the meeting. The list of threats. But he listened to the new messages anyway, just to hear her voice. And how goddamn pathetic was that?

The first message was another request for a status update, asking if he’d sent the list yet. The second message sounded worried. ‘Marcus, it’s Scarlett Bishop. I haven’t heard from you and I’m . . . well, I just wanted to be sure you were all right. If your back begins to bother you, I hope you’ll call for medical attention. I hope you’re simply getting some rest. Could you call me when you wake up? I have a few follow-up questions.’

Marcus played the second message twice more and would have played it a third time had his cell not started to ring in that moment. It was his stepfather, Jeremy, which made sense since the last two messages were from him.

He answered, feeling a bit foolish for listening to Scarlett’s message several times before playing Jeremy’s even once. That Jeremy O’Bannion was his stepfather was a blessing for which he’d be grateful for the rest of his life. The man had come into their lives when he and Stone had been so young, so broken. And so desperate for a good father. Despite being only twenty-one at the time – only eleven years older than Marcus – Jeremy had adopted them, given them his last name and helped drive many of their nightmares away.

Jeremy loved them and Marcus loved him too, even though he and his mother were no longer married. ‘Hi, Jeremy. What’s up?’

A long sigh. ‘God, Marcus, I needed to hear your voice. I’ve been worried ever since Detective Bishop called me.’

Marcus blinked. Hard. ‘Scarlett Bishop called you? Why?’

‘She was looking for you. She thought maybe you’d come to my house for some reason, since you weren’t answering your home or cell. I made her tell me why she was looking for you because she sounded worried.’

A delicious heat curled around Marcus’s heart. ‘I’m fine, just busy. I was in morning meeting. I’ll call her back.’ When I’ve finished that damn list. ‘Where are you?’ he asked when he heard a familiar bark in the background.

‘Home. I went to your apartment to see if you were there, but I only found BB. I . . . brought her home with me for a while. I hope you don’t mind. She’s . . . I know it sounds silly, but sometimes . . .’

‘She’s all we have left of Mikhail,’ Marcus murmured, his heart breaking for Jeremy’s double loss. Jeremy had found out that Mikhail was his son only a short time before Mickey’s murder. Jeremy had always loved Mikhail, who’d been conceived after the divorce in what had appeared to be a one-time fling. Marcus understood why his mother had kept the identity of Mikhail’s father a secret – she’d been worried that Jeremy’s new partner, Keith, would be angry at Jeremy’s indiscretion. But the secret had cost both Jeremy and Mikhail dearly. Mikhail had missed out on having the best father on the planet, and poor Jeremy . . . To have found out Mikhail was his son only to lose him so soon thereafter had broken his heart.

‘Exactly,’ Jeremy said quietly. ‘You always seem to understand. Your heart is too big, Marcus. It’s going to get you hurt someday.’

‘I’m fine,’ Marcus assured him. ‘Barely a bruise.’ That was a goddamn lie, but Marcus told it convincingly. ‘Are you all right, Dad?’

He didn’t always call Jeremy ‘Dad’, but sometimes he needed to say it and he thought Jeremy needed to hear it.

‘I’m fine,’ Jeremy said hoarsely, tears in his voice. ‘I tried to call your mother. I didn’t want her to read about it online.’

‘I know. So did I. But she was still asleep.’

‘I’m worried about her, Marcus. She’s taking so many pills. Along with her drinking . . .’

One of the things that Marcus loved about Jeremy was that the man loved others so genuinely. He understood why Jeremy hadn’t been able to stay married to his mother, but he also knew that the divorce hadn’t meant that he had stopped caring about her or her children.

Marcus’s mother had explained everything to her sons when she and Jeremy had filed for divorce, because they’d been so angry and hurt with Jeremy for leaving. But Della hadn’t been angry or hurt. Jeremy had been honest with her, telling her that he was gay when they’d first met. She’d only asked that he be discreet and not cheat with other women. She’d had enough of that with Marcus and Stone’s biological father. Della and Jeremy had nearly a decade of happiness and had produced Audrey together. But then Jeremy had met Sammy.

He’d asked for a divorce, and Della had given her blessing. She’d been so truly happy for them that Marcus and Stone couldn’t help but be happy too. They’d all loved Sammy, and when he had been killed in a car accident, they’d all grieved along with Jeremy.

Jeremy’s new partner, Keith . . . Well, he was intense. Not a bad guy, but not a super-friendly type. Marcus suspected that he was threatened by the family bonds that Jeremy had been unwilling to sever. Especially Jeremy’s bond with Della. Whenever she’d needed him, Jeremy had dropped everything to go to her side.

‘I’m worried too,’ Marcus said. ‘I tried to get her to therapy. I thought Faith might actually have managed it, but Mom backed out at the last minute.’

Jeremy’s chuckle was watery. ‘That Faith. She’s got a big heart too. Promise me you’ll be careful, son. Please.’

‘I promise. How’s Keith?’

‘Grumpy, but he’s walking again.’ Jeremy’s husband had had to undergo knee replacements on both legs because his kneecaps had been shot by the same psychopath who’d shot Marcus and stalked and tried to kill his cousin Faith on multiple occasions.

The man had murdered Mikhail in cold blood when he’d found him in the family’s cabin in the Kentucky forest. The murderer had been using the cabin to hide the two young women he’d taken hostage, and Mikhail had simply been there at the wrong time. Stone had been the one to find Mikhail’s body, sending him spiraling into the dark place where he retreated when his memories became too intense to bear.

Mikhail had been shot in the head. Marcus swallowed hard. Just like Tala.

He cleared his throat roughly. Pushed the memory of the hole in Tala’s head to the side so that he could focus. ‘I’m glad he’s doing better. Tell him that we’ve been missing him at third base.’ Keith had been one of the best players on the Ledger’s softball team. ‘We’re six games behind the guys at the country radio station.’

‘I’ll tell him. I have class this afternoon, so I’ll drop BB back at your place around noon. Will you be home by then?’

‘God, I hope so,’ Marcus muttered. ‘If not, it won’t be much after that. I’ll make sure I walk her this afternoon. Thanks, Jeremy. And if Detective Bishop calls back, tell her I’m fine.’

‘That’s all you want me to tell her?’ Jeremy asked. ‘I’m not stupid, son. I heard what she didn’t say. She was pretty scared for you this morning too.’

The warmth returned to curl around Marcus’s heart. ‘That’s all I want you to tell her, Dad. And don’t tell Audrey. She’s a pest about stuff like this.’

‘I won’t,’ Jeremy said, a smile finally in his voice. ‘But thank you for confirming it for me. I think Detective Bishop was a little afraid of me. Tell her we’re solid. That’s a thing, right?’