Текст книги "Alone in the Dark"

Автор книги: Karen Rose

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Текущая страница: 43 (всего у книги 49 страниц)

Thirty-four

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 7.15 P.M.

Ken drove around the block three times before choosing a parking place behind the Ledger building. There was a back door and a loading dock, although the dock didn’t look like it had been used in decades. He didn’t have much time to draw O’Bannion out. He needed to be on the road to Toronto by daybreak, ten A.M. at the latest.

He was not going to miss his flight tomorrow night. Beaches, palm trees, half-naked women – and freedom – awaited.

He felt the buzz of adrenaline race across his skin as he got his gear ready to go. He had two assault rifles and three handguns and enough ammunition to take out at least a hundred people. Luckily there wouldn’t be nearly that many at the main Ledger building. More than half of the eighty-five Ledger employees worked at the printing facility on the west side of the city. Most of the staff in the main building would have gone home, but because Ken had done his homework, he knew that at least four of O’Bannion’s team were still here. He’d seen their cars parked on the street – Gayle Ennis, the office manager; Cal Booker, the general manager of operations; Stone O’Bannion, reporter and Marcus’s brother; and Elvis ‘Diesel’ Kennedy, chief IT wizard and all-around pain in the ass.

Of all the employees, Stone and Diesel were his prime kill targets. Stone had written the McCord story and someone had hacked into McCord’s computer to find evidence of his kiddie collection. That the hacker was the IT wizard was a logical conclusion. He’d shoot Cal Booker if he had to, but the guy was in his sixties and overdue for retirement, so killing him seemed overly cruel. He would take Gayle Ennis with him. He’d seen the way Marcus had behaved around her at Mikhail’s funeral.

Marcus would come for Gayle.

Everyone else in the building was fair game if they got in the way of his bullet stream.

Ken had donned body armor from his neck to his balls. He looped the two rifles over his chest, Rambo style, then shoved the handguns into holsters at his waist and ankle. Then he pulled his oversized coveralls up and pushed his arms through the sleeves. The coveralls would hide the guns until he got inside, then he would lower the zipper and go to town.

He hadn’t done anything like this in twenty-five years. Not since his and Demetrius’s prime income came from the drugs they transported up I-75 from Florida. Those were the days. Joel had still done their books, but Ken and Demetrius had made the rules. And had broken them whenever the hell they wanted.

Shit. When did we get old? Except there was no ‘we’ anymore. Demetrius was gone. Dumb bastard. You had to go and make me kill you.

He pulled on a ski mask, then bunched it up so that it was perched on the top of his head and topped it with a ball cap. He zipped up the coveralls, pulled the cap’s bill down to cover his face.

Showtime. He got out of his car feeling a giddy nervousness. Like he was going on his first date. He should have done this all along instead of depending on other people to do it for him. The day he stopped getting his hands dirty was the day he’d started becoming soft. Old.

He circled the building and came in through the front. He’d work his way to the back.

He drew a breath as he pushed open the front door, pulled the mask down over his face and the coverall zipper down his chest. He had the rifle cradled in one arm and a handgun in the other hand when the woman at the front desk looked up and Ken smiled.

Excellent. He’d already found Gayle Ennis. He’d grab her and run.

‘I’m sorry, we’re closed for deliv—’ She had a moment of stunned shock, then she started to scream. In seconds he was behind her, his arm slung around her front, the handgun shoved up under her chin.

A burly security guard who’d been standing in the corner rushed forward. He hit the ground running. Literally. His feet were still propelling him forward when Ken’s bullets ripped his head open. The guard dropped like a rock. As did the second guard, who rushed Ken from the offices at the rear of the lobby.

Gayle screamed long and loud, warning her fellow office mates.

‘Go ahead and scream, Miss Ennis,’ Ken murmured in her ear. ‘I want them to come. I’m ready for them.’

She clamped her lips shut, trembling so hard he thought she’d faint. He dragged her away from her desk and checked the main office that had ‘M. O’Bannion’ on the name plate. It was empty. ‘Where is he?’ Ken asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Doesn’t matter. He’ll come for you.’ He found the woman’s cell phone in her pocket and quickly dropped it into one of his own pockets, just as the first employee ran into the room and went down in a burst of bullets from Ken’s gun.

Gayle screamed and Ken approved. ‘Very nice,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘That’s how this is going to go down. I shoot, you scream. Your friends come to save you and I shoot some more. Got it?’

He dragged her from the lobby through a door into the newsroom, where a group of cubicles sat in the middle of the room. A third guard fired, then retreated behind a bay of cubicles as the bullet whizzed past Ken’s ear. That was too close.

‘I’ll kill Gayle,’ Ken called to the guard, pulling her a little closer, completely unashamed to be using a woman as his shield. Whatever works. ‘Show your face.’

Ken saw a shadow on the newsroom wall, and he aimed for its source. Ken saw the guard’s uniform sleeve emerge seconds before the man’s full body came into view. Another burst of bullets sent the third guard sliding to the floor.

A door to the left had ‘S. O’Bannion’ on the name plate. Stone.

Ken pushed the door open, but once again found the office empty. Sonofabitch. ‘Where are they, Gayle?’ he asked quietly, but she clamped her lips together and refused to answer.

He dragged her through the cubicles, most of which were empty. The last one had a middle-aged woman huddled under the desk, trying to hide. Ken fired another burst of bullets and Gayle began to sob.

‘Stop,’ she moaned. ‘What do you want? We’ll give you what you want.’

‘Yes, you will.’ Because what he wanted most was Marcus O’Bannion. ‘I want Stone and Diesel. Where are they?’

‘I’m here.’ Stone O’Bannion came through a doorway, his hands out. ‘Let her go. You want me, take me.’

‘Drop your weapons on the floor and kick them over here and then we’ll talk.’ Ken waited as Stone took a handgun from his pants pocket and another from an ankle holster and kicked them away.

‘Let her go,’ Stone demanded. ‘Take me instead.’

‘I don’t want to take you. I want to kill you.’ Ken fired another burst, most of the bullets hitting Stone’s broad chest. Stone was thrown back, rolling to his side in agony so that the next burst hit his left leg.

Gayle whimpered. ‘Stone. Nooo. Please no.’

‘Where’s Diesel?’ Ken demanded.

‘I don’t know,’ Gayle gasped. ‘Not here. He left hours ago.’

‘I don’t believe you. His car is outside.’

‘He leaves his car here. No parking on the street where he lives.’ Gayle grabbed his wrist and pulled it down, trying to get away from the gun under her chin. Ken just shoved the barrel into her chin harder.

He’d started to drag her toward the back door when he heard the cocking of a rifle. To his right was Cal Booker, holding a shotgun in his hands.

Cal lifted the shotgun to his shoulder. ‘Let her g—’

Cursing, Ken shot another spray of bullets into Cal’s chest. The older man staggered and fell to the floor and Ken resumed dragging the now-hysterical Gayle out the back door. Opening the door set off an alarm, ironically enough. ‘Watch your step, ma’am,’ he said as he dragged her down the back stairs to his vehicle. He shoved her through the front passenger door and told her to kneel on the floorboard with her head on the seat. Then he set the child locks so she couldn’t escape and cuffed her hands behind her back. He tossed an old blanket over her trembling form and drove away.

Not the best op he’d ever done, but he had been out of practice.

As soon as he got his new guest settled in the basement cage, he’d call Marcus. That was a call he was totally looking forward to.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 7.20 P.M.

Marcus really wanted to get out of the interview room, but Agent Coppola had asked him to stay. He guessed it was because his presence seemed to be keeping Alice Newman on edge and that was what Coppola wanted. The redheaded agent was waiting for something. From the way she kept checking her phone, she wanted Alice to know that.

He hoped Coppola would get whatever she was waiting for soon, because he wanted to get back to Scarlett, who he knew was waiting for him behind the glass. He couldn’t see her there, but he knew.

He hadn’t even looked at the mirror, actually. There was no way he was taking his eyes off the viper in the chair next to him. Alice was facing dead forward, one hand cuffed to her chair, but her uncuffed hand was curled into a claw and he had not a single doubt that she’d take off a layer of skin or even go for his eyes if she had the chance.

He wasn’t going to let her touch him. His skin and eyes belonged to Scarlett.

The thought made him smile despite the seriousness of the situation.

‘You think this is funny?’ Alice murmured, not looking at him directly. She was staring at his reflection in the mirror.

He sobered abruptly as his blood ran cold for the umpteenth time since he’d walked in the room. ‘No, Alice. I don’t think this is funny at all. I think it’s terrifying that someone as reprehensibly evil as you is walking around among decent people. I think it’s terrifying that evil can wear such a pretty face. I think you’ll go on deceiving people until you draw your last breath. But you’ll have your work cut out for you, because I’m going to make sure people know who you are. Who he is.’ Marcus pointed at the photo of Alice with the older man. ‘I’m going to make sure that anyone with a TV, a radio, a newspaper or a computer knows exactly how inhuman you are.’

Alice raised her brows. ‘Should I start humming “Glory Hallelujah”?’

‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ he said mildly. ‘Your voice is like a rusty gate.’

‘Oh pardon me, please.’ She shot him a smiling look that instantaneously changed her from evil and rotten to the happy, caring young woman who’d visited him in the hospital. She was taunting him, showing him that she could wear her sweet face anytime she wanted to. ‘I didn’t mean to offend. You singers have such sensitive ears.’

Marcus went still. He’d never told her about his music when she’d visited him in the hospital. He’d been too raw when Mikhail died to think about singing, and he couldn’t imagine where else she might have heard him sing. His first thought was that she had been stalking him even in the park, and that was entirely possible. Except that she probably would have gone after Tala earlier had she seen her. Especially if she was the woman who, along with Demetrius, had brought the Bautistas to Chip Anders.

Since Alice hadn’t eliminated Tala in the park, it was more likely that she had heard him singing through the girl’s ankle tracker. It was another link in the chain connecting her to Demetrius. He owed it to Tala to make that chain as thick and as strong as he could.

Behind him, Agent Coppola’s phone buzzed. ‘Yes,’ she hissed.

She’d finally received what she’d been waiting for. Thank God. Marcus rocked back in the chair he straddled, still not taking his eyes off Alice. ‘You want her to hum “Glory Hallelujah”, Agent Coppola?’

Coppola’s chuckle was delightfully happy and confident. ‘No, Mr O’Bannion. But she can start practicing the theme song from Dead Man Walking.’ She walked around to Alice’s cuffed side and put her phone on the table. ‘Your customer kept records.’ She flicked through a series of photos showing Chip Anders with the man in the graduation photo, then with Demetrius. ‘Do you remember this day, Alice?’ She flicked to the third photo, in which Alice sat at a desk. ‘Chip Anders came to visit you.’

Alice’s ‘pretty face’ had slid away, leaving her hard and grim.

Coppola flicked to the fourth photo. ‘And here you are with Demetrius Russell and Kenneth Sweeney.’ A flicker in Alice’s eyes was the only reaction she had to Coppola revealing the man’s name.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to start talking to me?’ Coppola asked soberly. ‘Attempted murder for hire would have gotten you a lengthy sentence on its own. Now I can connect you to a conspiracy to traffic human beings. And successful murder – that of Agent Spangler. You seem like a sharp woman, law degree and all. Think carefully about this.’

‘Immunity,’ Alice snapped. ‘You have nothing that isn’t circumstantial.’

‘Not yet,’ Coppola said quietly. ‘We’ve got records from Woody McCord’s computer that we haven’t even started going through. Mr O’Bannion, you’re free to leave anytime you’d like. I appreciate your help.’

Marcus pushed off the chair, watching Alice as he backed toward the door. ‘A lot of circumstantial can add up for a jury. She knew I sang, Agent Coppola. She had to have had access to the audio feed coming through Tala Bautista’s ankle tracker. You’ll want to make sure you find those recordings when you search her office and residence.’

Coppola’s mouth curved, even though she didn’t look at him, her gaze also fastened to Alice. ‘Again, my thanks, Mr O’Bannion. You’ve been a big help.’

Marcus paused in the hallway outside the interview room to draw a breath, steadying his nerves. He didn’t want to let Scarlett see him so rattled. It would worry her and distract her. Given that they didn’t know how many assassins this organization had at its disposal, he couldn’t afford for her to be distracted. It was only a matter of time before Alice’s colleagues realized that Scarlett was important to him, painting a target on her back.

Once he felt steadier, he entered the observation room, but stopped short. Scarlett stood watching him, her arm around the waist of an older man in a starched uniform. Her father, he thought. Even in the semi-darkness he could see that they had the same eyes – and that her father’s eyes were giving him a very thorough study. Marcus wondered how long the man had been watching him, then realized he must have been there since he and Scarlett had arrived.

She slipped away from her father, stopping in front of Marcus, not quite close enough to touch him. But she wanted to. And that was enough for now. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

Marcus forced himself to nod, feeling her father’s scrutiny. ‘Yes.’ There was so much more he wanted to say, but it would have to keep. But he couldn’t ignore her puffy eyes. Not caring who was watching, he cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. ‘You’ve been crying. Are you all right?’

She leaned her face into his palm. ‘Yes.’ Then she smiled at him and he knew she spoke the truth. ‘I’m even better now that you’re not sitting next to . . . that. Come.’ She half turned, placing her hand at the small of his back. Just a small touch, but here, in the bowels of CPD headquarters, a big deal. ‘Marcus, this is my dad, Lieutenant Jonas Bishop. Dad, Marcus.’

Marcus stretched out his hand. ‘Lieutenant. It’s good to meet you. Scarlett has told me good things.’

The man didn’t hesitate, shaking Marcus’s hand with a firm grip that didn’t try to intimidate. Marcus appreciated that.

‘Likewise,’ Bishop said gruffly.

Marcus knew this was an important moment, the first impression that would shape her father’s opinion for the years to come. He did not want that impression to be one of a man too weak to hold his own. ‘Likewise it’s good to meet me or likewise that Scarlett said good things?’

Bishop’s lips twitched. ‘Yes.’

‘All right then.’ Marcus released the man’s hand. ‘What do I call you? Lieutenant? Mr Bishop? Jonas? And please don’t say “Yes”.’

Bishop shot his daughter an amused look. ‘Jonas will do. I think he’ll be okay, Scarlett. I have to get home. Your mother has a pot roast in the oven. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. Both of you. I’m sure your mom would like to see you. Both of you.’

Scarlett shook her head. ‘I’ve got some files to review. But maybe after I’m done we’ll stop by for coffee, if it’s not too late. I’ll probably need to . . . vent.’

She meant the McCord files, Marcus knew. That wasn’t going to be easy. That she’d go to her father for support afterward . . . This was good.

‘It’s never too late, Scarlett,’ Jonas said, his voice gone gruff once again. ‘Day or night. You call me.’

‘I will.’ Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around her father’s neck and hugged him. ‘Thank you.’

Jonas’s arms locked tightly around her, as if he was afraid she’d run away. ‘Don’t you dare thank me, Scarlett Anne,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t you dare.’

Marcus didn’t know what had passed between the two, but his throat thickened. He stepped back, grateful for the sudden buzzing of his cell phone that gave him an excuse to give them some privacy.

He breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw Diesel’s caller ID. No one had heard from him since he’d taken off running from the Meadow a few hours before. ‘Hey, man. You okay?’ he asked.

‘Marcus.’ Diesel’s voice was shaking. Thick.

He was crying. Oh God. Marcus’s knees wobbled as all the blood rushed from his face. He sank into a chair. ‘What’s wrong?’

Scarlett abruptly turned at the panic in his voice. Pulling from her father’s embrace, she sank to her knees next to Marcus’s chair, her hand gripping his thigh. ‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know.’ All he could hear was the rasping sound of Diesel’s sobs. ‘Diesel, what happened. You gotta talk to me, man. Where are you?’

‘At the Ledger. They’re gone, Marcus. All gone.’

Marcus’s heart dropped to his gut like lead. ‘I’m going to put you on speaker. Scarlett’s here with me. Take a breath. What do you mean, they’re gone?’

‘They’re dead. Cal, Bridget. Oh God. Stone, too.’

Marcus froze. He couldn’t breathe. From far away he heard Scarlett telling her father to send help to the Ledger building. Then he didn’t hear anything at all.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 7.30 P.M.

‘Marcus.’ Scarlett took the phone from Marcus’s limp grasp, then gripped his hand in hers. ‘Breathe.’ He was glassy-eyed. In shock. She thumped his chest with her fist, hard. ‘Breathe, goddammit.’

He sucked in a breath, then another. Still unable to speak, he squeezed her hand until she winced, but she didn’t let go.

Her father knelt on the other side of Marcus’s chair. ‘Dispatch has squad cars and ambulances on the way. I’ve notified Isenberg.’

She acknowledged him with a nod of thanks. ‘Diesel,’ she said calmly. ‘It’s Scarlett. Did you hear that? Help is on the way. I need you to stay with me. First of all, are you hurt?’

‘No. I came in to help Cal with the evening . . .’ He choked on another sob, then cleared his throat viciously. ‘I found Jerry first. Dead on the floor in the front. Shot. In the back, Bridget. She was under her desk. Hiding. Cal . . . I slipped in his blood.’

She remembered Diesel’s reaction to Dani Novak’s white coat. He’d obviously had some medical trauma at some point. She kept her voice calm, tried to get him focused. He’d find control if he focused. She hoped. ‘Have you checked for pulses?’

‘No.’ He sucked in another breath, sounding calmer already. ‘I’m doing that now. Cal’s . . . no. Nothing. Stone . . . Oh God. Yes. I got one.’

Scarlett slipped her hand from Marcus’s to grip his chin. ‘Did you hear that?’ she said, making him meet her eyes. ‘Stone’s alive. He is alive.’

Marcus’s lungs emptied in a rush of air, his body trembling. ‘What happened, D?’

‘I don’t know.’ Diesel sounded lost. ‘Someone came in and shot the place up.’

Marcus surged to his feet, holding on to Scarlett’s hands when she tried to push him back into the chair. ‘Where were the guards?’

‘Here. Dead now.’

‘All three of them?’ Marcus demanded.

‘Yeah.’ Sounds of ripping fabric came through the speaker. ‘I’ve got to stop his bleeding. Stone? Hey, Stone. Wake up, buddy. His eyeballs are moving under his lids. Wait. He’s trying to talk.’

Marcus stood stiff as a board, waiting. Scarlett rubbed his back, feeling only Kevlar under his shirt, so she cupped his head in her hands and pulled him down so that his forehead rested against hers.

‘Breathe, baby,’ she whispered. ‘Stone’s tough. You know this.’

‘Fuck.’ Diesel’s voice had edged back into panic. ‘Stone says that he’s got Gayle. He shot everyone else, but he took Gayle.’

Marcus sank back into the chair, his face terrifyingly white. ‘Who? Where?’ He forced the word out. ‘Where did he go?’

‘I don’t know, man. Nobody—’ Diesel cut himself off. ‘Hold on. I hear something.’ They listened to the sound of footsteps, a door opening. ‘Holy shit,’ Diesel breathed in relief. ‘Come on, I need help.’

For several seconds there was nothing but gasps, then screams that faded to whimpers.

‘People!’ Diesel growled. ‘I said I need help. Jill, find some towels. Liam, stop crying and get a blanket and a pillow for Stone. Don’t look over there. You look at me. Got that? Go get the cushion off Stone’s office chair. Go.’

‘Diesel’s back,’ Marcus murmured, then surged to his feet again.

Scarlett grabbed a fistful of his shirt. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Where do you think?’ he snapped.

‘You’re not thinking, Marcus,’ she snapped back. ‘Somebody took Gayle. It may have been this Kenneth Sweeney person. Who do they want? You. Now settle down so we can figure out what to do. Isenberg’s sending people.’

‘Novak and Tanaka,’ her father murmured.

‘You hear that? Deacon is on his way. If there is a whiff of a lead, he’ll find it. If there’s a hair on the floor, Tanaka will find it. So you stay with me for now.’

‘She’s right,’ Diesel said. ‘The ambulance is here,’ he added grimly. ‘I’m . . . Oh, fucking shit.’ He’d started to hyperventilate.

‘It’s okay,’ Marcus said, gritting his teeth. ‘Go to my office, and wait for the cops. Who’s still standing?’

‘No, I’m not leaving. I’m okay. Jill’s standing. And Liam. He works for Lisette.’

‘I know who the fuck Liam is,’ Marcus growled.

‘Yeah, but your cop there doesn’t. Donna from Accounting and Frank from the warehouse. They all got down to the archive room. They’re unhurt. Stone’s breathing. The medics are working on him. That’s all I know.’

‘I’m on my way,’ Marcus said, his jaw hard and unyielding.

‘No,’ Diesel said. ‘Go straight to the hospital. Stone’s going to need you. So will Audrey and your mother.’

‘Is that Marcus on the phone?’ It was a young female. ‘Marcus, it’s Jill.’

Scarlett was surprised. The subdued voice sounded nothing like the young woman who’d been so angry in the OR waiting room the night before.

‘Stone’s conscious,’ Jill said. ‘He was wearing Kevlar under his clothes, down past his knees. Liam and I cut his clothes off him so we could try to stop his bleeding. He took a lot of bullets. The Kevlar didn’t stop all of them, but the bleeding is slow. Not gushing. Just so you don’t worry.’

Scarlett muted Marcus’s phone. ‘She’s too calm. She doesn’t know about Gayle.’

Marcus squared his shoulders when she unmuted the phone. ‘Jill, where were you?’

‘Down in the archive room with Cal.’ Her breath hitched, broke. ‘Marcus, Cal’s—’

‘I know,’ Marcus interrupted, his face twisting in pain. But he kept his voice level. ‘What happened?’

‘We heard the shots in the lobby and the next thing we knew Liam, Frank, Donna and me were all being shoved down the stairs by Stone. Cal was already down there. Stone told us all to stay put and he went back up and shut the door. But Cal didn’t listen.’ Her voice broke again. ‘I’m just glad Aunt Gayle had left already.’

They all went silent and Diesel’s face must have shown the truth, because Jill began to whimper. ‘No. She wasn’t here.’

‘Jill!’ Diesel yelled. ‘Wait! Fuck,’ he muttered.

Jill’s ear-piercing shriek cut through all the background noise.

‘Gayle’s purse is still on the desk,’ Diesel said heavily. ‘I gotta go. One of the officers had to pull Jill away from the desk. Do not come here. Go to the hospital. Scarlett? Make him go to the hospital.’

‘I’ll make sure of it,’ Scarlett said grimly. She disconnected and, keeping one hand fisted in Marcus’s shirt, found Jeremy’s number, dialing it with the other. ‘Jeremy, this is Scarlett Bishop. Marcus is all right,’ she added quickly when the man gasped. ‘But Stone’s not.’ She quickly filled him in, her gaze locked with Marcus’s the entire time. ‘Where are you?’

‘At home. With Keith.’

Which meant he was at least forty-five minutes away.

‘I’m here, Detective,’ Keith said. ‘I put it on speaker, so I heard it all. Which hospital?’

‘I don’t know yet. Probably County. They’ve got the best trauma unit.’

‘We’re leaving now. Call when you know where they’re taking him.’

‘Wait,’ Jeremy said. ‘Does Della know?’

‘Not yet. I’ll call Audrey. If she’s not home, I’ll get Mrs Yarborough myself.’

‘Thank you, Detective. Marcus?’

Marcus swallowed audibly. ‘I’m here, Dad.’

‘Okay. I just needed to hear your voice. We’re on our way.’

Scarlett disconnected. ‘Do you want to call Audrey?’

He nodded, made the call, his voice breaking all the way through. ‘They’re coming.’

Scarlett slipped his phone into his shirt pocket. ‘Your family needs you.’

He shook his head, agony in his eyes. ‘Gayle is my family too. God, when I think about what’s he doing to her. Sonofabitch. If he hurts her, I’ll kill him. I swear it.’

Scarlett drew his head down to hers, touching foreheads again. ‘Don’t think about that. You can’t. We need to focus on finding out where he took her. The “why” is clear. He wants you. And he can’t have you. Because you’re mine, Marcus. You got that?’

He drew a breath. ‘I got it. Let’s go. Just stay with me, all right?’

She put her arm around his waist. ‘Try to push me away.’ She looked up to her father. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ he said. ‘You had it.’

The three of them had turned for the door when Marcus froze. Scarlett followed his gaze to the other side of the glass, where Kate Coppola was on the phone, her expression gone grim.

Deacon, Scarlett thought. Deacon had probably called Kate. But Marcus wasn’t staring at Kate. He was staring at Alice Newman, who sat smiling. Smirking.

With a roar, Marcus snapped, pulling away before Scarlett could stop him.

‘Fuck,’ Scarlett muttered, chasing after him into the interview room, grabbing him around the waist and pulling back as hard as she could. But he was six-two and a solid two hundred twenty pounds of muscle. And out of his mind with fury.

He grabbed Alice, chair and all, and shoved her against the wall, reaching his hands for her throat.

‘Marcus!’ Scarlett yelled. ‘Don’t! If you kill her, she can’t tell us anything.’

It was her father that stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him to the side. Marcus hit the wall hard. The officer standing guard in the room had him in a hold a second later, but Marcus didn’t seem to even notice.

‘Stop!’ Jonas thundered, getting in front of Marcus, right in his face. ‘You will not do this.’ He jerked his head toward the door. ‘Officer, get him out of here and cuff him if you have to. Just until he calms down.’

Scarlett took a minute to cup Marcus’s face in her hands. ‘She’s shit, Marcus. Not worth your freedom. I need you.’ She held him until he shuddered out a breath.

‘I’m not sorry.’ His body still trembled. ‘I want her dead.’

‘I know,’ Scarlett said calmly. ‘But if you kill her, they will take you from me. Please,’ she added in a whisper. ‘Trust me to do my job.’

He stared at her a long time, his breathing slowly calming. Finally he said, ‘All right. I’ll wait outside.’

Scarlett turned to Alice, who was grinning from ear to ear. Scarlett breathed calmly, letting her lips curve in a smile that no intelligent person would confuse for friendly. She held Alice’s gaze until the bitch’s grin faded.

‘We haven’t met, Alice. I’m Detective Bishop.’ Dragging Alice’s chair back to the table, she briskly cuffed the woman’s other hand to the chair, yanking just hard enough to hurt her without the cameras picking up any suspicious movement. Then Scarlett sat down beside her, aware of her father standing at the door. Protecting me, she thought. She might not have needed protecting, but it was sure nice to have him watching her back. Just in case.

‘Are you supposed to impress me?’ Alice taunted. ‘Scare me?’

‘Do you know where you’re going, Alice? Of course you do. You’re a lawyer. But just in case you graduated at the bottom half of your class, let me explain that you’re going to lockup pending your arraignment. Then you’ll go to jail, and, sugar, orange is so not your color.’

‘I’m so amused,’ Alice said, rolling her eyes. ‘Bored now.’

‘Then jail’s just the thing for you,’ Scarlett said, continuing to smile. ‘It’ll be a party. Especially when everyone finds out that you’re a pedophile. That you have bought and sold people. Children. For the sex trade.’

Alice shook her head, smiling as if Scarlett were pitiful. ‘Pedophile? Really? You can’t charge me with that. You’re just trying to scare me and it won’t work. You’re fishing. You have no evidence at all and you know it.’

Scarlett hadn’t known for sure, but the calculation in Alice’s eyes told her that she’d hit pay dirt. ‘I don’t have to have evidence and you don’t have to be charged. I just have to whisper to whoever’s in lockup with you. Pedo was on the table, but you pled down. You’re a lawyer. Anyone in jail will believe you’re capable of shimmying out of a charge.’

Alice’s jaw tightened. ‘You’ve got nothing.’

‘We’ve got pictures of you with Demetrius and Anders and Sweeney.’

‘I just got them coffee.’

‘It doesn’t matter what you actually did, just what the rumor mill says you did.’ Scarlett leaned forward. ‘See, you’re gonna be fresh meat to start with. With your pretty hair and soft skin. The others will hate you without knowing anything about you. But then they’ll find out. I’ll make sure they find out. It’ll be fun, Alice. You’ll be the belle of the ball. A real live debutante. And you’ll stay alive. Your new friends won’t want to lose their toy. Just think, Alice. Every day you’ll be the center of attention. Everyone will want a piece of you. Every. Day. Every. Night.’