Текст книги "Alone in the Dark"

Автор книги: Karen Rose

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Текущая страница: 38 (всего у книги 49 страниц)

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.

Now, the words ‘We have a problem’ were enough to make him twitch.

Ken seriously considered hanging up, driving to the airport and catching the first international flight to anywhere that didn’t have an extradition treaty. ‘Only one?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘Today must be Christmas.’

‘You know the tracker manufacturer you convinced Demetrius to tell you about?’ Sean said, ignoring his sarcasm.

Yeah, Ken knew. He’d had to cut off two of Demetrius’s fingers to extract that piece of information. ‘Constant Global Surveillance. What about it?’

‘The Feds did a raid yesterday, took all the factory’s production records. This morning they showed up and took Demetrius’s contact and one other individual into custody. Our contact is en route to Cincinnati as we speak.’

‘Motherfucking sonofabitch,’ Ken growled. ‘The cops have traced the trackers back to the source. They have to have more than the first one to be able to identify D’s contact.’

‘So it would seem,’ Sean said calmly. ‘What are we going to do?’

Ken rubbed his temples. Breaking Demetrius had tired him out, both physically and mentally. ‘I’m assuming the Constant Global Surveillance contact can identify Demetrius, or at least provide the cops with enough information so that they can get a little closer to us. That’s what we have to prevent. I’ll send Alice to wait outside CPD headquarters. She’s no sniper, but she’s a decent long-distance shot. Send a photo of the tracker supplier to her phone.’

‘She’s gonna be mad that you pulled her off O’Bannion. She’s been stalking his office all morning, waiting for him to show up.’

‘She’s going to have to be mad. Just send her the photo. I’ll deal with Alice.’

There was a tapping of a keyboard on Sean’s end as Ken texted Alice to meet him in his home office. ‘Done,’ Sean said.

‘Good.’ Ken quickly dressed and, cell phone in hand, started downstairs to his office, even though he really needed to sleep. ‘What I now want to know is how the cops got their hands on those two trackers that were supposedly in the van with the Anders family.’

Sean was quiet for a moment. ‘If both Decker and Burton saw them in the van but the cops somehow got them, then somebody either took them back into the Anders house or smuggled them to the cops at some point. I am positive that those ankle trackers never entered my office.’

Goddamn you, Demetrius. This whole thing had unraveled because Demetrius hadn’t killed that sonofabitch Marcus O’Bannion nine fucking months ago.

He went into his office, closed the door and sank into his chair. ‘Either Burton and/or Decker is lying,’ he said to Sean, ‘or one of the other two guys that Burton sent to retrieve the Anderses turned the trackers over to the cops. The four of them were the only people who had access to the house. One of the guards was bleeding too badly to do any kind of a double-cross. I don’t know much about the other except that Reuben hired him. Burton said he was green.’

‘His name is Trevino. He was a former cop, just like Burton and Reuben,’ Sean said. ‘I looked him up. Trevino was fired from the force and prosecuted for helping himself to the cocaine he took from dealers. Did three years in prison. He hasn’t been a problem so far.’

Ken digested that as best his tired mind would allow. ‘Well, considering that Burton lied about Reuben’s wife being dead, he’d be my first guess, but I’ll call Trevino in for a chat.’

‘Don’t forget that Decker went back to the Anders house to search for the aunt,’ Sean pointed out. ‘He could have taken them back then.’

Ken shook his head. ‘But the cops were already at the house by then. Decker left before they could see him.’

‘Yeah,’ Sean said glumly. ‘Has Burton admitted to saving Reuben’s wife after you dosed her up and told him to leave her to . . . you know?’

‘You know?’ Ken asked scornfully.

‘Watch what you say on the phone. Just in case we’re being recorded. Something is going on here. One of Reuben’s people is dicking around with you. Either he’s a mole or out for a coup. Maybe it’s even Reuben pulling the strings, sitting someplace tropical drinking piña coladas and waiting for you and your team to turn on each other. He strolls back unharmed when the dust settles and takes over.’

Ken blinked, horrified that he hadn’t considered that himself already. He really was going soft. Shit. And he’d all but said out loud that he was sending Alice to commit a murder. He forced his panicking mind to still, to let him think. ‘Burton was steadfast in his denials.’ Translated: Ken had tortured the hell out of him and he hadn’t admitted a thing. ‘I’ll need to be more persuasive. Or maybe I’ll let Decker do it. Then I’ll know if he’s as calm and cool as he wants me to believe.’ His phone beeped with an incoming call. ‘It’s Alice,’ he said to Sean. ‘I’ll call you later.’ He disconnected and went immediately to the second call.

‘Don’t argue with me,’ he started without saying hello. ‘I need you to come here.’

‘You told me to focus on O’Bannion, Dad. I can’t focus on anything with you changing your mind all the damn time.’

‘I told you not to fucking argue with me!’ he snapped, and heard her indrawn breath. ‘I’m still your boss, and until you either buy me out or bump me off, you listen to me.’

A small silence. ‘Yes, sir. Where would you like me to focus now, sir?’

He almost laughed at the frosty snark in her voice. She was going to make an excellent leader someday. Hopefully soon. ‘I’ll tell you in a second. First, where are you with your assignment?’

‘I thought maybe he’d be at the hospital with his friend, so I waited outside for a while. But he didn’t show, so I went to his office. He’s not there either, according to his receptionist, but she’d probably lie for him if he told her to. I need to follow him to get his routine.’

‘Or lure him. That’s what Demetrius was trying to do. Just not too skillfully.’

‘I’ll consider it,’ she said grudgingly. ‘What’s the new focus?’

‘Sean sent you his photo. He’ll be delivered to the CPD headquarters for booking sometime in the next hour or two. He’s Demetrius’s contact for the ankle trackers.’

‘And now he’s in police custody. Wonderful. I take it you want me to . . .’

‘As cleanly as possible. Then back to the primary focus.’

‘Got it. I’ll call you when I have something.’

‘Hurry, honey. I want this over with.’ Ken hung up, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He needed to sleep. Just a little.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 12.30 P.M.

Agents Coppola and Troy had interviewed the family while Scarlett sat with Marcus and her uncle on the sidelines. Deacon had gone into the adjoining room to make all the phone calls required to keep the investigation moving. The two attorneys maintained a steady, fairly silent presence, stopping the Feds only a handful of times to explain a term to the family or to make sure they understood their rights as they answered the questions.

Isenberg stayed in the back of the room with Meredith Fallon, who’d been called by Mrs Bautista for her children, even though both Erica and John Paul insisted they didn’t need a therapist. Meredith took no offense, simply smiling as she and Isenberg quietly listened.

Scarlett found her heart breaking again and again, listening to their story, and then to Marcus telling them about Tala’s last days. He’d emphasized how brave she’d been and how much she’d loved her family. The Bautistas had cried, holding each other.

Scarlett found herself wiping her eyes, cognizant that she was not the only one of the observers to cry. Marcus’s tears ran down his face unchecked. He’d seen Tala die and he hadn’t started to deal with the shock. So Scarlett laid her hand on his forearm, lightly stroking his skin with her thumb, just so that he would know she was there.

Efren Bautista dropped his head in shame. ‘I feel so stupid,’ he said when he’d finished telling them how the family had come to be tricked into human slavery.

‘We’re educated people,’ Mila added, clutching her husband’s hand. She hadn’t let go since they’d been reunited. Her son sat at her feet, his arms wrapped around her legs. Erica had her arm in her father’s and her head on his shoulder. The family was intertwined like a vine.

‘We should have known better,’ Efren said wearily. ‘Now my daughter is dead because I brought us here.’

‘Thousands are tricked just like you were, every year,’ Kate said softly. ‘I know it won’t help now, but perhaps someday you can take some comfort in knowing that you’re not alone. And certainly not stupid. These traffickers have a very sophisticated operation.’

‘And you came to work,’ Agent Troy said. ‘You were trying to make a better life for your family. There’s no shame in that, sir.’

Efren shook his head, completely unconvinced. ‘I should have stayed in the Philippines. Tala would still be alive. She would not have been violated, forced to have Anders’s baby.’

‘She’s a beautiful baby,’ Marcus said. ‘Your granddaughter has Tala’s eyes.’

Efren only nodded, his gaze glued to the floor.

‘Let me summarize what you’ve told us so far,’ Kate said, ‘and then we have a few more questions. Okay?’ She waited until Efren nodded, and then went on in a gentle voice. ‘You were approached by a neighbor who’d applied with a recruiter and had gotten a job in the United States.’ She spelled the neighbor’s name and Mila nodded.

‘I hope he didn’t experience the same nightmare we did,’ Mila said. ‘We should try to locate him and be sure. He said he was going to work in New York.’

‘We will make every attempt to find him,’ Kate assured her, ‘but you should be aware that many times the neighbor who tells you about the jobs is paid by the recruiter. Many times the neighbor is still in the home village, living very well by betraying his friends. I’m sorry,’ she added when Efren and Mila looked stricken. ‘I hope I’m wrong.’

‘I hope you are too,’ Mila whispered. ‘The person who told us was Efren’s cousin. I don’t want to think of him suffering like we have, but . . .’ She put her arm around her husband when a strangled cry broke free from his chest.

‘He had a new car,’ Efren sobbed. ‘He said he’d gotten it for his mother to drive when he left. He lied, Mila. He lied and our daughter is gone.’

Scarlett exhaled. To be betrayed by family was another agony they’d have to endure. She met Kate’s eyes and could see that she was thinking the same thing.

Once he’d calmed, Kate began again, asking Efren for further details of his recruitment. Efren explained that the recruiter had charged an exorbitant placement fee for his services, so not only had the recruiter been paid by the traffickers, but he’d stolen the Bautistas’ savings as well. Efren had taken out a loan at such a high interest rate that it was pretty much assured he would never be able to pay it back. He’d come to the United States hoping for honest work and a living wage, only to find himself in a worse situation than any indentured servant.

The family had been separated almost immediately, Mila and Efren only allowed to see each other only four times during the first year, and not at all in the last two. That had been imposed by Chip Anders, who taunted Efren by telling him he was sleeping with his wife and daughters, then forced his compliance by threatening to do the same to John Paul.

‘Do you want to apply for a U visa?’ Peter Zurich, the immigration attorney, asked.

Efren shrugged. ‘I would be humiliated to go home and be laughed at for being such a fool, but I’ll continue to hate myself if we stay, so where we are matters not to me. If Mila and my children want to go back, I’ll go back.’

Mila looked panicked. ‘I don’t know. I . . . I just don’t know.’

‘When do they have to make a decision, Mr Zurich?’ Meredith asked using what Scarlett recognized as her counselor voice. Soothing without being condescending, it had an instant effect on Mila, the poor woman’s panic visibly receding.

‘Within the next few weeks,’ Zurich told them, kindly. We need to get a jump on the paperwork, as the others liberated from Anders’s factories will also be filing applications and there is a ceiling on how many U visas are issued every year.’

‘If they give you permission to start the paperwork and they change their minds,’ Meredith asked, ‘is that a problem?’

‘We can always withdraw an application,’ Zurich said.

‘Then start it,’ Efren said, his eyes remaining downcast. ‘Thank you for your kindness.’

Zurich gave all four Bautistas their own cell phones and his business card. ‘Call me if you need me.’

Efren didn’t take the phone he was offered. ‘I can’t pay for any of this.’

Zurich placed Efren’s phone on the lamp table. ‘Right now, don’t worry about paying. We’re working for you at no charge because we know how many people are in situations just like yours. Five years ago I worked with a family who’d come from India. He was an engineer with a graduate degree and found himself working in a restaurant for no wages. He was embarrassed, much as you are. Today he and his family are US citizens. Their sons are enrolled at the university. And he volunteers his time to help families like his – like yours – get a new start. We call that paying it forward, and someday I’d like to count on your support in the same way.’

Efren looked up then, his eyes red from crying. ‘Thank you for trying to restore my dignity. But I fear it is too late.’

‘Not too late, sir,’ Zurich said. ‘Remember, you’re not alone in this. We’ll talk again soon. For now, rest.’ He looked at the two agents. ‘You’re going to the temporary shelter for the other people pulled from Anders’s factories?’

‘Yes,’ Kate said. ‘You’ll represent them too?’

‘For now. My office is working to get more attorneys on board. Today it’s just me.’

‘I’ll stay for a little while,’ Annabelle Church’s grandson said. He smiled at Mila. ‘My grandmother made me promise to take care of you.’

As the agents and Zurich left, the CPD sketch artist came in. Scarlett rose to give her a hug. ‘Lana. Thanks for coming in. I heard it’s your day off.’

‘I was cleaning house,’ Lana D’Amico said with an easy laugh. ‘I’m glad to escape it.’

Scarlett led her to where the Bautistas sat, still twined around each other. ‘This is Sergeant D’Amico,’ she said. ‘She’s going to create sketches based on your descriptions of the man and woman who brought you to the city. Sergeant D’Amico is one of my friends. She and I were partners many years ago, before I was a detective. Now she’s a police artist.’

‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Lana said. Her smile was always so sweet that it put witnesses at ease, and the Bautistas were no exception. All four visibly relaxed when she took the seat that Kate Coppola had occupied.

‘Lieutenant Isenberg? Detective Bishop?’ Cell phone to his ear, Deacon stood in the doorway to the adjoining room, motioning them to come, his expression unreadable.

Lana settled her sketchbook on her lap. ‘Go ahead,’ she said to Scarlett, then turned her smile back to the Bautistas. ‘We’ll be just fine, won’t we?’

‘You’ll want to come too, Marcus,’ Deacon said.

The Bautistas might have relaxed, but Marcus had instantly tensed when Deacon appeared, expecting the news to be bad. Scarlett clasped his hand as they walked into the next room.

‘It’ll be okay,’ she murmured so that only he could hear. ‘It can’t always be bad.’

Deacon ended his call and gave Marcus an encouraging nod. ‘This might be hard to watch, but hopefully you’ll be glad you did.’ He turned his laptop to face them, revealing a lanky young man lying in a hospital bed, his leg wrapped in bandages and mesh. He was handcuffed to the bed rail, trying to look bored but failing utterly. Under the pain was a great deal of fear.

Deacon did a ta-da gesture at the screen. ‘Meet Drake Connor.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 1.15 P.M.

‘Sonofafuckingbitch,’ Marcus snarled, and took a step toward the laptop. ‘Can that little piece of shit hear me?’

‘No,’ Deacon said. ‘It’s a live feed, but he can’t see or hear us. The agent and detective have earphones, so we can communicate with them.’

Scarlett tugged on his hand. ‘Marcus.’

Marcus drew a steadying breath. ‘I’m sorry. Just seeing him . . .’ He glanced at Isenberg, surprised that she hadn’t thrown him out already. ‘I’ll control my temper better.’

‘I was wondering when I’d really see it,’ the lieutenant said. ‘I was starting to wonder if you were flesh and blood.’

‘Oh, I’d say so,’ Scarlett whispered, and Marcus barely swallowed his laugh, grateful for the distraction. He’d needed a moment to shove his temper down and she’d given him that.

‘I heard that,’ Isenberg said blandly. ‘You shouldn’t poke the bear through the zoo bars, Detective. Especially since we haven’t yet had our chat.’

Marcus’s good humor became a scowl, but Scarlett just shook her head and sat down across from her boss, studying the young man on the screen. ‘Who are the men in suits?’

‘The guy in the black suit is Special Agent McChesney of the Detroit Field Office,’ Deacon said. ‘The guy in the gray suit is Detective Danhauer, Detroit PD Homicide. They have earpieces, so we can ask them questions. The guy sitting on the other side of the bed is Graham White, public defender.’

‘Does Drake know that his sister is missing?’ Scarlett asked.

‘No, not yet,’ Deacon said. ‘Detroit hasn’t told him. But the really good news is this.’ He turned his phone to show them the screen, a photo of a flash drive. ‘Found under the SUV he was trying to steal. He’d tossed it there when the cops pulled into the gas station parking lot. It has his thumbprint on it. Detroit PD says it has several encrypted files. They’re sharing the files with Tanaka. He and Detroit CSU are working to open them. We’ve been comparing notes, prepping the agent and the detective. They’re waiting for us before they start the interrogation.’

‘Tell them to proceed,’ Isenberg said.

They started out with the shooting in the gas station, which Drake promptly denied, claiming he’d only tried to steal an SUV. But the detective calmly showed Drake and his lawyer a clip of the security video on his iPad, and Drake became sullen.

‘What are you offering?’ Drake’s lawyer asked.

‘Nothing,’ the detective said with a tight smile. ‘We’re not finished.’

‘We’re barely started,’ the agent agreed.

‘Where’d you get the gun, Drake?’ the detective asked.

‘You don’t have to answer that,’ his lawyer counseled.

The detective kept talking. ‘It’s registered to your girlfriend’s daddy. Who is missing, by the way. The whole family is missing. Cinci PD tells us that there were shots fired and the Anders family was removed from their home by force. Did you take them somewhere, Drake? Bury them in a shallow grave, maybe?’

‘No. I don’t know anything about that.’ But his eyes said otherwise. ‘I didn’t go over there very often. Her father hated me.’

‘Drake,’ his lawyer cautioned.

‘Well he did. I’m just sayin’ that I had no cause to go over there.’

‘Then how did you get his gun?’ the agent asked innocently.

‘Stephie gave it to me.’ Drake shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I live in a rough neighborhood. She was scared for me.’

Deacon leaned into the microphone on his laptop. ‘He lives in a low-crime neighborhood,’ he murmured to the Detroit agent. ‘Not rich, but not rough.’

‘When did she give it to you?’ the agent was asking.

Drake was quiet for a moment, his eyes calculating before he spoke. ‘Last week.’

‘So you never visited at night?’ the special agent asked.

‘I said I didn’t,’ Drake said.

‘The punk’s fucking pathological,’ Marcus muttered. ‘He raped Tala and Erica every chance he got.’ Scarlett squeezed his hand under the table. He drew another calming breath.

‘So you never met up with your girlfriend at night?’ the agent pressed.

‘He said he didn’t,’ the lawyer snapped. ‘Next question, please.’

The agent ignored him. ‘So you and your girlfriend and your Ruger with cop-killing bullets weren’t in an alley in Cincinnati two nights ago looking for drugs?’

‘No!’ He’d been pale from the surgery, but visibly paled further.

‘Then how did bullets from your gun – which Stephie gave you last week – get into two victims in that alley early yesterday morning?’ The agent tilted his head mockingly. ‘We don’t understand.’

‘It wasn’t my gun.’

‘Oh it was,’ the agent said. ‘Ballistics prove it. And your fingerprint was found on one of the casings you left behind.’

The public defender sighed. ‘I want copies of the ballistics report and the print match.’

Drake turned on the defender. ‘You believe them? You’re supposed to be on my side.’

‘Are you really that stupid, Drake?’ the detective asked, laughter in his voice. ‘Your lawyer knows your goose is cooked. They’re gonna put a needle in your arm.’

The lawyer shook his head when Drake looked like he wanted to bolt. ‘They’re lying, Drake, trying to scare you. Michigan hasn’t had the death penalty in a hundred and fifty years.’

‘Ohio does, though,’ the detective said with a cold smile. ‘We’ll try you here in Michigan for the murder of that woman you shot in the parking lot last night. You’ll get life, for sure. But then Ohio will get their turn. You killed that young woman in the alley yesterday. You even went back and shot her in the head to be sure she was dead. You shot the man trying to save her life – in the back. Ohio’s gonna be sliding a needle in your arm, boy. I know I’ll be there on the other side of the glass, watching.’

‘I’ll bring popcorn,’ the agent deadpanned.

Scarlett snickered, making Marcus’s lips twitch, venting off just a smidgeon of his rage, but enough so that he could think.

‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ Drake insisted. ‘You have no proof.’

‘We have your gun, Drake,’ the agent said. ‘That’s all the proof we need.’

‘What do you want?’ the defender asked again.

The special agent held up the flash drive, and Drake’s eyes narrowed in anger. ‘That’s not mine,’ he exploded.

‘Riiiight,’ the agent said. ‘It’s got your thumbprint on it.’

‘Because I found it on the ground when that bitch shot me. I must have touched it then.’

The agent shook his head. ‘We have your print on the part that plugs into the computer and that was covered up. See, it’s right here in the video. There you are getting shot,’ he said, speaking slowly as if narrating. ‘Oh, and there you are digging it out of your own pocket and throwing it under the dead lady’s SUV. But at no time did you touch the plug part.’

Drake’s jaw clenched and he closed his eyes. ‘Fuck you.’

‘In your dreams, kid,’ the agent said, and the detective laughed.

‘We’re done here,’ the defender said, thin-lipped.

Drake turned to the lawyer, his eyes sly again. ‘Tell them I’ll decrypt the files on the drive if they let me go.’

The lawyer gave him a stunned look. ‘Uh, listen, kid, they are not letting you go.’

Drake shrugged. ‘Then they’ll never know all of Chip Anders’s secrets. And he’s got good secrets,’ he added conspiratorially.

‘Ooh, tell Vince to hurry decoding that thing,’ Isenberg said quietly. ‘The kid was gonna blackmail Stephie’s daddy. We might get information about the traffickers.’

‘Don’t worry, Drake,’ the agent said, pocketing the evidence bag holding the flash drive. ‘We’ve got experts who can decode anything. They should have cracked those files before we leave here.’

‘Moving right along,’ the detective said, pulling a cell phone out of another bag. ‘Your fingerprints are all over it, so don’t even try to deny it’s yours. This phone was used to text the phone belonging to the man you shot in the back yesterday morning. The text asked him to come to the alley. You in the habit of luring grown men to alleys, Drake?’

‘No!’ Drake hissed. ‘That text didn’t come from me.’

‘No, it didn’t,’ the detective said, suddenly sober. ‘It was a plea for help from a young woman your girlfriend’s daddy bought from human traffickers.’

‘Shit,’ the defender muttered.

Drake shrugged. ‘She probably stole my phone.’

‘She had an ankle tracker,’ the detective said. ‘She was confined to the Anderses’ house.’

‘Then how’d she get to the alley?’ Drake taunted.

‘How’d she get to your phone?’ the detective threw back. ‘It indicates proximity. How close did you get to her, Drake?’

‘I never touched her.’

Marcus heard a growl and realized it had come from him.

Squeezing his hand again, Scarlett used her free hand to unmute the microphone. ‘Tell him that the rape kit found sperm in the victim,’ she said quietly to the cops on the screen, ‘and that we’ll match it to him.’

‘The rape kit found no semen,’ Deacon said with a frown.

‘I know. I’m interested to see how he denies it. I want him to admit to assaulting Tala so that if Erica decides to press charges, she’ll have a foundation.’ Scarlett turned back to the microphone. ‘Also tell him that he should get checked for genital herpes and gonorrhea while he’s in the hospital. That he’s a carrier. That is true.’

The Detroit detective gave a tiny nod to show he’d heard. ‘You didn’t touch her?’ he asked Drake. ‘Then how did she steal your phone and plead for help? How did the ME find your sperm inside her?’

‘That’s a lie,’ Drake spat. ‘I used a condom.’

‘Knew it,’ Scarlett said with satisfaction. ‘Little prick.’

The detective leaned closer, getting into Drake’s space. ‘You didn’t use a condom every time, Drake. The ME found your Cincinnati murder victim had both genital herpes and gonorrhea. On the bright side, you won’t have to worry about getting it in prison. You already have it. That’ll take some of the pressure off once you get there. Because while we don’t have the death penalty, we have far more than our share of gang members who’re gonna think you’re so pretty.’

Drake’s expression was priceless. ‘Fuck you,’ he gritted out. ‘I’m done here. Get out.’

‘Tell him about his sister now,’ Deacon said quietly.

The detective and the special agent stood up. ‘One more thing, Drake,’ the agent said, ‘and this is very serious. We know you stole your sister’s car and her credit card because we found them with your prints all over them.’

‘Borrowed,’ Drake said with a surly glare.

‘Well you should know that you brought trouble to her door. Your sister is gone. Taken. Maybe by the same people who took your girlfriend and her family.’

Drake’s lips trembled. ‘Nah, she’s probably at work. She’s always at work.’

The agent shook his head. ‘No. Her landscaping van was in the driveway and her purse was on the kitchen table. There was a struggle. She fought hard.’

‘You’re lying to me. She’s fine.’

‘I hope you’re right. The people who took the Anders family . . . they meant business. You might do better to stay locked up. They were looking for you because they know you messed with their property. The girl who used your phone to text for help was desperate.’

‘What are they gonna do when they learn you’re in custody?’ the detective asked. ‘I’m thinking we should take you to Cincinnati and see how well you fare down there.’

Drake blanched. ‘It’s your job to protect me.’

The detective snorted. ‘No, our job is to prove that you shot the cashier and murdered that woman last night. We have it on tape, so I’ll admit our job is pretty easy. The creeps that took your sister and your girlfriend are Cincinnati thugs. CPD’s job is to find out who killed that young woman in the alley so that they can track it back to the people who forced her to come to this country to begin with – most likely the thugs that went after your sister trying to find you. Nobody’s gonna protect you, Drake – not us and not Cinci PD. You help them find out who’s after you and you protect yourself.’

‘God, he’s good,’ Scarlett murmured.

‘Yeah,’ Deacon agreed. ‘Don’t think it’ll be enough, though. Drake’s a sociopath.’

The agent pulled out the bag containing the flash drive and let it dangle. ‘Last chance to tell us what’s on this.’

The lawyer whispered something in Drake’s ear. Drake shook his head. ‘Unless you offer me something, I’m going to pass. Why should I make your lives easier? Knock yourselves out, guys.’

‘Little prick,’ Marcus muttered.

The detective retrieved his laptop, and the picture got very bumpy as he and the special agent walked through the white hallways of whatever hospital Drake was in.

Deacon unmuted the microphone. ‘I didn’t think Drake would break. He didn’t care about his sister. He was more worried that they were coming after him.’

‘True,’ the Detroit detective said through the speaker. ‘He’s a piece of work.’

‘He’s right about one thing, though,’ Scarlett said. ‘We don’t have any proof directly tying him to Tala’s murder. He can argue that yeah, he screwed her, but he didn’t kill her or shoot at Marcus.’

‘We need an eyewitness,’ Isenberg said. ‘Your report mentioned two homeless people who directed you to the body?’

Scarlett nodded. ‘Tommy and Edna. I’ll find them.’

‘We’re getting ready to sign off,’ the agent said. ‘Let us know if you need anything.’

‘Popcorn,’ Scarlett said grimly, and the two Detroit men laughed, also grimly.

Deacon closed his laptop. ‘You okay?’ he asked Marcus.

Marcus nodded. ‘I feel like writing a story all about Drake,’ he said, his voice so harsh that it hurt his throat. ‘I’d tell what he did and where he can be found and hope that the traffickers have a subscription to the paper. Little prick.’

‘Write it and send it to me,’ Isenberg said crisply. ‘I may have a thing or two to add.’

He met the woman’s normally cold eyes and saw raw fury. ‘You’ll have it in an hour.’