Текст книги "Alone in the Dark"

Автор книги: Karen Rose

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 49 страниц)

‘Chip. Shoved me . . . under the bed.’ Another cough racked her. ‘When they came.’

The paramedics lifted the stretcher. ‘Detective, we have to go. Now.’

‘Hey, Bishop,’ Deacon called from the other side of the basement. ‘Come and see this.’

Marcus didn’t ask permission. He simply followed Scarlett. Someone had turned on the lights, illuminating a spartan but clean living space. There was a tiny kitchen, a bath, three beds and three small chests of drawers. For Tala and her family? But then where was the crib?

It was a fair bit nicer than the quarters Marcus had lived in while he was in the army, but if this basement had housed Tala, it was still a prison, no matter how nice and clean it was.

‘Oh my,’ Scarlett said when she saw the trackers Deacon held. They were identical to the one Tala had worn, and both had also been sliced off their wearers. ‘This either just got very good or very bad. If they escaped along with the baby, that’s wonderful. But if they were taken by the same people who took Anders and his family by force, then they could be in even more danger than before.’

Marcus bent down to look at the cuts in the tracker straps, taking care not to touch anything. ‘I’m guessing they escaped,’ he said quietly. ‘Look at the jagged edges. They weren’t cut. They were sawed by someone without enough strength to cut with a single slice.’

‘I was thinking they’d been locked around women’s ankles,’ Deacon said. ‘They aren’t big enough to fit on a man’s ankle, unless the male was very young. So the baby escaped? That’s good news. You got a lead?’

Scarlett nodded. ‘Yeah, I do.’ She told him about Tabby and her friend from church, Annabelle.

‘She said that Chip gave her the bruises for taking the baby,’ Marcus added.

‘Why did she?’ Deacon asked, tilting his head watchfully.

‘She didn’t say, but she did say it was “not enough”.’ Marcus pointed at the trackers. ‘Maybe this Annabelle person knows where these other two are.’

‘Possibly.’ Deacon’s head tilted a fraction further. ‘Why are you here, Marcus?’

Marcus returned Deacon’s gaze, not blinking, the man’s tone rubbing him the wrong way. ‘What?’ he drawled. ‘You mean existentially?’

Deacon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t. Fuck. With. Me.’

Marcus lifted his chin, maintaining his stare. ‘Back atcha. Oh, and I’m all right, by the way. How is that cop in the unmarked car?’

Deacon’s mouth tightened to a firm line. ‘He’s dead,’ he said. ‘Bullet through the passenger window, through his head.’

Marcus flinched. ‘God.’ There couldn’t have been an exit wound. He’d have seen the cop’s blood on the driver’s window.

‘How did his shooter miss you?’ Deacon asked, his tone becoming so mild that it was insulting. ‘Far as we can tell from the direction of the bullet that hit Agent Spangler, the shooter would have had a clean, unobstructed shot at you standing at the back door, long before Detective Bishop found you.’

Furious, Marcus leaned forward. ‘What are you really asking me, Agent Novak?’

‘Deacon,’ Scarlett admonished sharply. ‘Come on now. And Marcus, back the hell off. God, it’s like living at home all over again. Six damn brothers fighting over every damn thing. But at least they were teenagers. They had an excuse.’ She blew out a breath, then pointed to Marcus’s cap. ‘That one of your cap-cams?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Marcus said brusquely, mostly embarrassed that she was so right. He was acting like a testosterone-crazed teenager. He took off the cap and put it in her outstretched hand. ‘It won’t hold much, a minute or so, but you’ll be able to see the damage to the door.’ He glanced at Deacon. ‘As for why I’m here, I came around the back because I figured if someone was home, they might actually talk to a newsman when they wouldn’t talk to a cop. I’m not under arrest, there was no crime scene, and I was well within my constitutional right to be exactly where I was.’

‘And the shooter didn’t miss Marcus,’ Scarlett said quietly. ‘We both escaped being shot because Marcus acted quickly. Someone had busted that door in before either of us got there. Probably the people who took Anders, his wife and their daughter.’

Deacon nodded stiffly. ‘That makes sense. I’m . . . sorry. Spangler – the agent who died – was a friend and I’m . . . not reacting well. I’m glad you’re not dead too. Again.’

Marcus exhaled heavily. ‘I’m sorry too, Deacon, for your loss. I figured something had to be wrong when nobody stopped me. I figured he’d come down from his car or radio someone else. Then I’d argue loudly enough that whoever was in the house would hear me and let me in, thinking I was on their side.’

‘It wasn’t the worst plan ever,’ Deacon conceded with a scowl. ‘So what do we know?’

‘Not a hell of a lot,’ Scarlett said wearily. ‘Somebody named Annabelle – who attended church with Tabby – took the baby. Who knows what happened to the other two women? And who knows who took Chip and his family?’

‘And why was Chip’s aunt was in the basement under a bed? If he beat her up, why would he hide her under the bed when they came in with guns?’ Marcus added. ‘Did she come down specifically to get the baby, or did he make her live down here too?’

Scarlett nodded. ‘That all this happened hours after Tala’s tracker was cut off her can’t be a coincidence, so we can assume these events are related. Maybe whoever took the Anderses is the trafficker who sold them Tala and her family.’

Deacon nodded. ‘Agreed. But was that person the same person who just shot at Marcus and killed Agent Spangler? And who shot Tala to begin with?’

Marcus looked around with a frown. ‘And where is the dog?’

‘Coco,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘The dog’s either not here, or it’s drugged or dead.’

The Asian man who’d processed the scene this morning joined their little group. Scarlett had called him Sergeant Tanaka, Marcus recalled.

‘We’ll search the house top to bottom, Deacon.’ Tanaka glanced at Marcus with interest. ‘You’ve had a busy day, Mr O’Bannion. I’m glad to hear you’re not hurt. Did I also hear you say that the door had been broken in?’

‘You did,’ Marcus said. ‘Someone had pressed the broken wood back together and set the door back into the frame, but it wasn’t secure. It fell off its hinges when I shouldered into it. I didn’t see any indentations in the door itself, no marks on the paint. I don’t think they used anything like a battering ram to force it open.’

‘Strong guys,’ Deacon said. ‘The Anderses didn’t leave without a fight. There are bullet holes in the living room walls. The bedroom door was also broken off its hinges.’

‘We’ll print every surface and search every corner,’ Tanaka said. ‘And we’ll check to see if any of the bullets match the one that Carrie took out of this morning’s victim.’ He sighed. ‘And Agent Spangler.’

Both Scarlett and Deacon went still for a moment. ‘He was a new father,’ Deacon said quietly. ‘His baby’s only a few months old.’

Scarlett’s eyelids lowered, and when they lifted, Marcus saw the expressionless gaze he’d seen in his office earlier. His heart clenched as he realized that once again she’d shoved her hurt deep down.

‘Why was the shooter there?’ she asked, her tone sharp and logical. ‘Was he waiting for someone to come out of the house? Was he waiting for someone to go into the house? Who? Was he on guard, trying to keep the cops out? If so, why didn’t he take any of us out in the front while we were waiting?’

‘Maybe it was because you were waiting,’ Marcus said. ‘He knew you didn’t have a warrant or you would have gone in. I wonder how long he’d been sitting there. Did the people who took the Anders family leave him on watch duty? Or did he come back for something?’

The three of them moved a few steps back as the paramedics wheeled the stretcher holding a deathly pale Tabby toward the basement stairs. ‘Where are you taking her?’ Scarlett asked them.

‘County,’ one of the medics said. ‘She’s unconscious now. I’ll tell them to call you when and if she wakes up.’

Marcus knew County General Hospital well. It was where he and Stone had been taken nine months before. He made a mental note to have Gayle keep in contact with their sources there, so they would also know when Tabby woke up. If she did. Marcus didn’t want to consider the fact that the old woman might die, but it seemed she’d done what she felt she needed to do. Even if it wasn’t enough, whatever that meant exactly. Although Marcus thought he might know.

The paramedics disappeared up the stairs with Tabby, and Marcus returned his gaze to Deacon, who’d picked up the thread of their conversation.

‘If the shooter came back, it might have been because there’s evidence here in the house linking Anders to his abductors,’ Deacon was saying. ‘Which could be good for us if they’re the traffickers. He saw us outside and went around the back.’

‘When did he shoot Agent Spangler?’ Marcus asked.

‘I don’t know exactly,’ Deacon said. ‘He hadn’t been dead long. The ME will have to give us the time frame.’ He closed his eyes tight. ‘God. I have to tell his wife.’

Scarlett squeezed Deacon’s arm sympathetically. ‘I can do it,’ she offered.

Deacon shook his head. ‘That’s okay. You did the last one. Plus I recruited him from the field office into the joint task force with CPD. Zimmerman will go with me.’

Zimmerman, Marcus knew, was the special agent in charge of the FBI’s Cincinnati Field Office and Deacon’s direct boss. Marcus knew this because Zimmerman had visited him in the hospital. He’d seemed like a decent man.

Scarlett dropped her hand back to her side. ‘If you change your mind, let me know.’

‘I will.’ Deacon turned to Marcus. ‘Why did you want to know when he was killed?’

‘Because I’m trying to put the pieces together in my mind,’ Marcus said, ‘to get the timeline straight. If he was killed as soon as he parked back there, then the shooter had to have been here before you arrived, which would mean he was likely left to guard the house. But since he wasn’t dead that long, the killer probably came back to find something – or someone.’

‘You think he came back for Tabby?’ Scarlett asked.

Marcus shrugged. ‘Maybe. Whoever broke down the door could have shot Anders and his family and left their bodies here, but they didn’t.’

Scarlett nodded. ‘They dragged them out kicking and screaming, according to Tabby.’

‘Lots of bullet holes in the walls upstairs,’ Deacon said. ‘There was a definite struggle.’

‘They might have killed them when they got them away from the house,’ Scarlett continued, ‘so that they didn’t leave any bodies for us to find. They didn’t take Tabby because Chip had shoved her under the bed.’

Deacon frowned. ‘It doesn’t make sense that he’d try to save her from the thugs that broke in after nearly killing her himself.’

‘She was trying to reach for a cell phone when I found her,’ Marcus said. ‘Chip might have shoved her under the bed not to save her, but so that she could save them later. Maybe he left the phone so that she could call the police, but she was beaten too badly to crawl out and get it once the intruders were gone.’

‘Vince, what can you tell us about the phone?’ Deacon asked, motioning the man over.

‘It’s a throwaway,’ Tanaka said. ‘The number doesn’t match the one that the victim used to text your cell phone, Mr O’Bannion,’ he added before Marcus could ask that very question. ‘It’s bagged and tagged. We’ll check it out at the lab, see if we can figure out who it belonged to.’

Scarlett was frowning. ‘If the intruders had known Tabby was here, they would have searched until they found her. I don’t think they would have left her here to be a witness.’

‘So Chip was keeping secrets from his dealer,’ Deacon said thoughtfully.

‘Secrets they might have since forced out of him,’ Marcus said. ‘That’s why they didn’t kill them here – they wanted answers.’

‘Like maybe who killed Tala?’ Scarlett asked.

Marcus nodded. ‘It keeps coming back to her.’

Scarlett retrieved her phone from where it had fallen when she and Marcus barreled through the door. ‘I’m calling in for a security detail to stand outside Tabby’s door at the hospital. If the shooter did come back to find her here, he might try to get her there. She may be our only witness to what happened here. If she lives.’ She made the call, then handed Marcus’s cap-cam to Tanaka, who put it in an evidence bag.

‘Wait,’ she said with a frown when Tanaka opened evidence bags for the trackers Deacon still held. ‘Why did they leave the trackers?’ she asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Tanaka asked.

‘I’m trying to get the timeline straight in my mind too,’ she said. ‘If the intruders came in through that door, they would have walked right by these trackers on the floor on their way to the stairs. They kidnapped the Anders family, firing shots in the process. They had to think that the cops might be called at some point. Why leave the trackers here for us to find later? Why not take them?’

‘Especially since they’re a match for the one you took off Tala,’ Deacon added.

Tanaka shrugged. ‘I can’t venture a guess right now. Did you get the serial numbers from these two?’ he asked, holding up the bags with the trackers.

Deacon nodded. ‘I did, thanks. I’ll check it out ASAP and get back to you. I’m off to pick up Zimmerman.’ He glanced at Marcus. ‘Lie low for a while, okay? Twice in one day . . . I’d hate to see them get a chance to get lucky on a third try.’

‘I’ll keep my head down,’ Marcus said. It was the most he would promise, because he didn’t want to lie to Deacon.

Scarlett’s pointed gaze said that she hadn’t missed his evasion and that he hadn’t heard the end of the matter. ‘I’ll start tracking down Annabelle,’ she said to Deacon.

Deacon sighed wearily. ‘Zimmerman and I need to notify Agent Spangler’s wife. Don’t forget about our meeting at the field office. I’ll meet you there.’

When he was gone, Scarlett moved to the open doorway, stepping around the door that lay on the floor. Silently she studied the wreckage, then turned to face Marcus, her expression subdued. ‘I’ll take you back to your office now.’

Sixteen

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 2.30 P.M.

Scarlett buckled her seat belt, then leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She’d been calm through the whole ordeal, but now that they were truly alone, she let herself feel the terror of those moments when bullets were flying far too close to their heads. Or, more accurately, to Marcus’s head. Those bullets had not been meant for her. A shooter good enough to follow them as they fell to the ground had aimed several inches above where her own head had been. ‘You could have been killed,’ she murmured to the man sitting beside her. ‘Again.’

‘But I wasn’t,’ Marcus responded calmly, his voice giving her chills despite the fact that the black department car, having been sitting in the August sun, was about five million degrees inside. ‘Again,’ he added, his voice dipping lower.

A new shiver raced over her skin, tickling between her legs. Swallowing a sigh, she pressed her thighs tighter together, her hands clenching the steering wheel. Words formed in her mind but disappeared before they reached her lips, so she sat there, clenched and . . . wanting.

‘Although,’ he said after a minute of absolute silence, ‘I might die of heat stroke soon if you don’t turn on the air.’

The rueful amusement in his voice shook her into action. Starting the car, she kicked on the AC. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking straight ahead.

‘I’m not.’

She twisted her head to stare at him, exhaling when she saw the raw desire in his eyes. ‘You can’t look at me like that.’

‘Why not?’ His lips curved, sinfully sexy. ‘I’m not a cop. No breaking of police rules there. I’m not a suspect, am I?’

‘No.’ The word she’d intended to sound businesslike and practical came out husky and breathless.

His jaw clenched and he swallowed hard. ‘You can’t talk to me that way, then.’

She drew a breath, executed a quick three-point turn, and pulled away from the line of police cars. ‘Okay.’

From the corner of her eye, she saw his lips twitch. ‘Okay to what?’

‘I won’t talk to you that way and you won’t look at me that way.’

His almost-smile disappeared. ‘Where will I, then? And when?’

She didn’t pretend not to know what he was asking. She knew what she should say, that they couldn’t have a relationship until this case was finished. Or maybe ever, at least until she knew what kind of reporter he was and what kind of threat he represented. But none of that came from her mouth.

‘Not at a crime scene. And not in public while this case is still ongoing.’ She could feel his gaze, studying her profile.

‘Why were you looking at that door in the basement?’ he asked.

She blinked, not expecting that response. ‘I wanted to see where the bullets hit. He was aiming at you. If you hadn’t moved, you’d be dead.’

‘But I did move, and the bullets missed us. You’re not dead and neither am I. Not by a long shot,’ he added in a mutter.

She glanced over at his face, then down at his lap. And had to bite back a whimper. No, he was not dead. Nowhere even close. She clenched her hands around the wheel to keep herself from touching him, from stroking that hard ridge that beckoned her.

‘God,’ she whispered. ‘That’s not fair, Marcus.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ he said under his breath, then adjusted himself with a grimace. ‘So where, Scarlett, and when?’

‘I . . . I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far.’

‘I have,’ he said quietly. ‘Take me home with you.’

She turned her head with a jerk to stare at him. He was not joking. She’d never seen a man look more serious. Another car tooted its horn, and she abruptly returned her attention to the road just in time to avert an accident. ‘You mean now?’

‘Yes.’

‘I . . . Marcus, we can’t do that now. I have to walk my dog and get back to work.’

‘Why, Scarlett,’ he said, the dry amusement back in his voice. ‘I’m only planning to look at you. You know, like that. Which I can do while you’re walking your dog. Whatever did you mean?’ He clucked his tongue. ‘You naughty woman, you.’

She had to laugh. ‘You’re . . .’ She sobered, then sighed. ‘Alive. You’re alive.’

‘I am,’ he said just as soberly, all the humor gone. ‘I’m afraid you’ve seen me at my worst. I’m not normally dodging bullets. This is an unusual day.’

‘You wear a bulletproof vest. You get death threats on a regular basis.’

‘You’re a cop,’ he countered evenly. ‘People shoot at you all the time.’

‘Actually, they don’t. I think you’re ahead of me in that department.’ She tapped the tactical vest she still wore. With a shooter after Marcus, she wasn’t taking any chances at being collateral damage. ‘This is not my everyday attire.’

‘Why don’t you want to take me home?’

Unfamiliar panic rose to clog her throat. ‘I didn’t say that.’

He raked his fingers through the thick dark hair at his temple, then held his bloody hand out far enough for her to see without taking her eyes off the road. ‘I need first aid.’

‘The concrete chips,’ she said. The ones he’d sheltered her from. He’d been hit while she didn’t have a scratch on her body.

‘You have to take me home with you so that you can clean the wound and bandage me all up.’

She bit her lower lip. ‘I meant to have the paramedics look at it.’

‘They needed to tend to Tabby.’

‘They could have sent another pair of medics and you know it. Dammit, Marcus. I’m taking you to the hospital.’

‘No.’

The word sounded almost as panicked as she felt. ‘Why not?’

He drew a breath. ‘I don’t like hospitals.’

‘I guess I can understand that, given what happened last year. I don’t care much for them myself.’ An exit was fast approaching and Scarlett took it.

‘Where are we going?’ Marcus asked suspiciously.

‘I’m going to check you out. If it’s worse than I can deal with, I’m taking you to a doctor. Not a hospital,’ she added before he could protest.

The first parking lot she saw belonged to a church. At this time of the day, it was largely deserted. Scarlett stopped the car and went around to open Marcus’s door. She gave him her hand. ‘Stand up. It’s too dim in the car and I need more light to see. We’re sheltered here. No one can shoot at us unless he comes back here in person.’

And if that happened, she was taking the shooter down.

He cooperated, following her as she led him around the open door, backing him up so that he half sat, half leaned against the hood, his feet planted wide. From this position she’d be able to see a shooter approaching before he saw them. ‘Head down,’ she said.

‘Up, down,’ he grumbled, but dropped his chin obediently. ‘You’re bossy.’

‘And you’re just figuring that out?’ She leaned forward to get a better look at the cut on his head. Then sucked in a breath when he gripped her hips and pulled her closer, tucking her between his spread thighs.

‘You said you wanted to look,’ he murmured, his voice a low caress that made her shiver from the inside out. ‘So look.’

Her hands unsteady, Scarlett ignored the silky invitation, carefully parting the hair around the cut on his head. ‘It’s not too deep. I think I can fix it.’

‘Good.’ He pulled her closer, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder and drawing a deep breath. ‘You smell so good,’ he said, his exhale warm against her skin. ‘I could stay here all day. All night.’

The mental image of them writhing between her sheets had her trembling. ‘Marcus,’ she protested, but it was a weak protest indeed. Every cell in her body was urging her to press closer.

He lifted his head from her shoulder to look into her eyes. He was as serious as she’d ever seen him. ‘We’re not at a crime scene and nobody is shooting at us. I think we’ve waited long enough, Scarlett.’

Without further warning, he curled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss that instantly took her breath away. No gentle introduction, this. His mouth was hard, intense and so . . . proprietary that she could only moan, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him back. His hands roved up and down her back impatiently and she cursed the tactical vest she wore for robbing her of his touch. With a frustrated noise deep in his throat, his hands slid down her back, past the vest, to close over her butt, kneading her cheeks.

It felt so good that she almost whimpered. Hell, maybe she did whimper, because he growled and yanked her closer, using his hold on her butt to press her hips into his. She’d felt his erection when he’d lain on top of her in the basement, and it had taken every ounce of her willpower – and the knowledge that a gunman could be coming through the basement door – not to give in to temptation. But now there was no shooter, no situation. Just Marcus, his hands on her ass and the very impressive ridge in his jeans.

All for me. The realization left her heady. And greedy. She rubbed against him, lifting her leg to bracket his hip. Closer, was all she could think. She needed to be closer.

His groan vibrated through his chest as he pulled back only far enough to let her breathe, grazing her lips with his. ‘I want you,’ he said, his voice gone gravelly and rough. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, then smiled against his mouth, a sudden surge of happiness rising up within her. ‘I figured that out for myself.’

He squeezed her butt even as he smiled back. ‘And?’

Leaning away to see his face, she abruptly sobered as reality came crashing through. Shit. They were parked behind a church, going at it like teenagers with no regard for . . . anything.

His smile faded. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I want you too,’ she confessed quietly. ‘So much that it scares me.’

His brows crunched together, his body going very still. His hands still covered her ass as if he didn’t intend to let her go, and the notion felt way too good. ‘Why does it scare you?’

‘Because I got so caught up that I forgot to be careful. You’re standing out in the open and I wasn’t watching. Anything could have happened to you.’

He drew a deep breath, his stiff shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. ‘Then you have to take me home with you.’ One dark brow lifted. ‘We’ll be safe there, right?’

Feeling the tension leave his body helped the tension leave hers. ‘Yes. But we can’t stay there long, and we can’t do any more of this, no matter how pleasant it’s been. I have to find Annabelle and Tala’s baby. And the bastards who shot you. Both of them.’

‘I’d feel sorry for them if they didn’t have it coming. I wouldn’t want to be on your shit list.’ He pulled away reluctantly. ‘So this has been pleasant?’ he asked, his tone saying he knew full well that it had been so much more.

Scarlett was nearly undone. Willing herself to move away from him, she returned to the driver’s seat and buckled up, staring straight ahead. Because if she looked at him, she might not be able to look away. ‘Yes,’ she said firmly when she heard his seat belt click into place. ‘Pleasant. A woman has to make sure you don’t get a big head.’

‘I think that train’s left the station, Detective. It’s already pretty big,’ he said blandly.

Scarlett whipped her head to stare at him, then snorted a shocked laugh when she saw his innocent expression. ‘I’m not sure what to do with you.’

He smiled at her. ‘Oh, no worries. I have lots of ideas.’

She put the car in gear and headed toward the highway, feeling breathless in the best of ways. ‘I’m sure you do, Mr O’Bannion. I’m sure you do.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 2.35 P.M.

Ken strolled down the stairs to his basement, a plate of steaming lasagna in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other. He’d needed a little extra time to breathe through his temper after his call with Demetrius. To put his thoughts in order. And to make himself lunch.

That cocky, careless sonofabitch. Ken had pulled up the phone-tracking software on his own phone so that he could see Demetrius’s actual location while he’d reheated the lasagna from dinner the night before.

Demetrius’s phone was where Demetrius had said he’d be – on his way to O’Bannion’s newspaper office. Ken had set an alarm so that he’d know if Demetrius veered off course for any reason, then let himself enjoy the aroma of his lunch. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been until his stomach growled. Holding back from breaking Stephanie Anders’s pretty neck had burned a lot of fuel.

The aroma of food served another purpose as well, giving his captives another reminder that they were . . . captives. At my mercy for food, water. Life itself. Chip and Stephanie should be hungry and thirsty by now. If the smell of Marlene Anders’s blood and the sight of her gaping throat hadn’t permanently stolen their appetites.

When he returned to the basement, father and daughter looked up, both their gazes still intense. The break had allowed them to recharge. It would take a little while to wear them back down. Time Ken didn’t have. Stupid fucking Demetrius. If he’d called thirty seconds later, Ken would have already had the information.

Casually he placed his plate on the cart next to his chair and began to eat and drink, noting the way both Chip and Stephanie followed his every movement. He finished his meal and released a sigh.

‘That was really good. Hit the spot. Torture is so very draining, you know.’ He stood up, rolling his shoulders. ‘Are we ready to begin again, Stephanie?’ He removed the gag from her mouth. ‘Who took the baby?’

‘Tabby,’ she said flatly. ‘His dear Aunt Tabby. Short for Tabitha. She’s seventy-nine years old, five feet six inches tall, about ninety pounds. White hair, wrinkled skin. Mostly blind. She walks with a walker, so she can’t have gone far.’

Well, well, well. Looked like little Stephanie was ready to play ball. He’d figured she’d wise up eventually. But the answers she’d given really pissed him off.

Ken thought about the truck tire tracks his men had found out back. Dear Aunt Tabby could very well have gone far if she’d had someone to pick her up.

‘Dad also beat her half to death,’ Stephanie added. ‘So your boys shouldn’t have any problem catching her.’

That’s what you think, Ken thought dourly, a few more pieces of the puzzle falling into place. He’d bet good money that dear Aunt Tabby was the reason for the cops summoning the second rescue squad, not because O’Bannion had been injured. Demetrius hadn’t touched O’Bannion. And now the cops have Chip’s aunt, a relative Chip never disclosed as living in the household. Who knew what the old lady knew? Wonderful.

He sent a text to Sean, Decker, and Burton with the name and age of Chip’s aunt, and the instruction to take care of her. They’d taken care of people inside prison walls. A hospital wouldn’t be a cakewalk, but it was definitely doable.

‘Thank you, Stephanie. I’ve just sent my men after her.’ He crossed his legs, kept his tone mildly curious. ‘So if your father beat this aunt half to death, how could she have taken a baby?’

‘She took the baby earlier. That’s why he beat her. She gave it to someone. I don’t know who, and I really mean that I don’t know. I didn’t know she had friends. He was only keeping her so he could get her social security checks.’

Ken turned to the still-gagged Chip, whose eyes were shooting daggers at his daughter. ‘You’re kidding me,’ Ken said incredulously. ‘You’re stealing social security from your aunt? That’s like, what, five hundred a month? You are one fucked-up piece of work.’

‘He did the same to his mother,’ Stephanie stated, ‘until she threatened to tell. He took care of her so well,’ she added sardonically.

‘How so?’

‘Pillow over her face, probably. I was away at college at the time. That’s why he got Mila, you know. Tala’s mother. She was a nurse. He got her to take care of his mother.’

Ken studied Stephanie. Hatred glittered in her eyes. ‘Wasn’t his mother your grandmother?’

‘No. I’m not his.’

Chip exhaled, his nostrils flaring in anger, but his eyes revealed his shock. Either he hadn’t known, or he hadn’t known that she knew.

‘Whose are you?’ Ken asked.

Stephanie shrugged as best she could, given her bonds. ‘His best friend’s. Mother got a hoot out of all those dinner parties when Daddy dearest was shooting the breeze with the man screwing his wife. Their affair lasted a long time. Mother almost left Chip when he went broke, but he was able to pull his ass out of the poorhouse.’ Her head tilted. ‘Probably due to you.’