Текст книги "Alone in the Dark"

Автор книги: Karen Rose

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 49 страниц)

Five

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 7.05 A.M.

‘What is this?’ Lieutenant Lynda Isenberg asked sharply as she leaned against the side of Scarlett’s desk. ‘I thought you were watching the O’Bannion footage of the victim.’

The note of disapproval in her boss’s voice startled Scarlett to attention. Lynda rarely used that tone on anyone, and almost never with Scarlett. Scarlett had never given her reason to.

Surreptitiously wiping her eyes, Scarlett muted her computer before pausing the video she’d been watching. And listening to. Which, admittedly, had perhaps involved getting a little too lost in the beauty of Marcus’s music. His singing voice was exactly as she’d expected – rich and smooth, soothing the hurts in her heart even as it drew a new kind of pain to the surface.

‘I am watching the victim,’ she said, relieved that her own voice was steady. ‘She’s right there.’ She pointed at the edge of her screen, where Tala stood, tentative and wary, barely visible through the trees bordering the clearing where Marcus had recorded the scene with his cap-cam.

‘She looks like she’s about to bolt,’ Lynda observed, her voice oddly cold. Something was wrong, but Scarlett respected Lynda enough not to pry. Her boss would share if she so chose. Thankfully Lynda extended the same respect to her people. If she’d noticed Scarlett’s eyes were still a little red from crying, she gave no indication of it.

‘But she doesn’t bolt,’ Scarlett said. ‘Not until he stops singing. I’ve watched five of the ten video clips from the park. When Marcus finishes his song, she leaves, but not before.’

Lynda’s gray brows snapped up to the edge of her hairline, her eyes going wide in a rare display of shock. ‘That was Marcus O’Bannion singing? Really?’

‘It was. That’s how he got Tala’s attention the first time. He said that he’d been singing because it was the middle of the night and he thought he was alone. He looked up and saw her in the trees with the dog.’ That had been the ballad, the one he’d sung for his dead brother. Scarlett hadn’t expected to hear it, since Marcus hadn’t recorded that first meeting, but she’d heard it on every one of the park video files she’d watched so far. Sometimes he sang three or four other songs first, but he’d always switch to the ballad as soon as Tala came into view.

The first time Scarlett had heard it, she’d been as stunned as Lynda was right now. Every time thereafter, Scarlett’s throat had closed and her eyes had filled, memories of Michelle blasting through her mind. Always ending with the worst one, of course. So much blood.

This was why she didn’t let herself truly remember Michelle very often. Doing so left her raw and far too vulnerable until she was able to shove the memories back down. Or until she could reaffix her usual calm, cool, collected expression to her face. An expression just like Lynda usually wore. But neither woman looked like that now. It was strangely comforting.

Lynda drew a breath, exhaling unsteadily. ‘They played that song at my husband’s funeral,’ she murmured, almost as if to herself.

Stunned, Scarlett could only stare. She’d reported to Lynda for five years, yet she’d never known her boss had been married. ‘I’m sorry,’ she finally said, so softly that only Lynda could hear. ‘I didn’t know.’

Lynda blinked, a quick, embarrassed flush spreading across her cheeks, then shook her head hard and fast as if to clear it. A heartbeat later, her expression had returned to normal – alert, brusque, and all business. ‘It was fifteen years ago,’ she said, flicking her hand through the air, dismissing the emotion. ‘Nothing to do with this case.’

‘They say that songs take you back faster and harder than any other reminder,’ Scarlett murmured. Now that she’d seen her boss’s vulnerability, she didn’t want to see the real Lynda to disappear behind her hard shell. Not until Scarlett herself was able to do the same. ‘We played that song at my best friend’s funeral too. So . . . yeah.’ She shrugged fitfully. ‘It’s hard.’

They were silent for a long minute, neither looking at the other. Then Lynda cleared her throat, pointed to the computer screen. ‘Does she ever come out of the woods?’

‘Not that I’ve seen so far. Marcus said that she let the dog come close enough to be petted, but she stayed back. I haven’t gotten to that file yet, but everything I’ve seen on these videos has corroborated his story.’

‘I didn’t expect that he’d voluntarily give you anything that wouldn’t,’ Lynda said carefully.

Her tone had Scarlett glancing up once again. This time Lynda’s eyes were shadowed with concern. ‘What?’ Scarlett demanded, hearing her own belligerence.

‘You’re personally connected with this man. He’s a witness now, but he could become a suspect. A murder suspect, Scarlett. I am, quite frankly, concerned.’

Scarlett didn’t think Marcus would ever become a suspect, but she wasn’t going to argue the point, not wanting to give Lynda any reason to kick her off this case. Not because of Marcus, but because of Tala.

‘I’m not connected,’ she replied, not looking away. ‘Not like you’re thinking, anyway. I’ve interacted with Marcus O’Bannion five times.’ She held up her hand, counting on her fingers. ‘When he was wounded saving a woman’s life, twice in the hospital afterward, then at his brother’s funeral, and now tonight. We have no relationship beyond that.’

She didn’t have to count all the nights she’d lain awake wishing that they did, right? Best to keep that little jewel to myself.

Lynda did not look convinced. ‘Then how are you connected, if it’s not the way I’m thinking?’

‘I think we’re testing each other’s preconceptions. He doesn’t trust many cops, but he believed he could trust me to help Tala. I don’t trust newsmen, but I’m hoping he’s different. I do hope you’re planning to have this same conversation with Deacon,’ she added coolly. ‘He’s more connected than I am, what with Marcus being his future cousin-in-law.’

Lynda gave her a long, probing look before pointing back at the screen, where Tala was still frozen in place at the forest’s edge. ‘What more can you tell me about her?’

‘Seventeen, possibly an immigrant. I’ve already watched today’s file. I couldn’t see her face that clearly because there was very little light in the alley, but the audio was clear as a bell. Her English is flawless, but she has a definite accent. I’m thinking Filipino.’ Marcus had suggested that first. Again, keeping that to myself. Scarlett brought up the video Marcus had taken that morning in the alley, cranked up the sound and hit PLAY.

Scarlett turned her screen so that Lynda had a better viewing angle, then sat back in her chair, watching the events unfold for the fifth time – Tala’s hesitant greeting, Marcus’s careful, gentle questions.

Why do you cry, Tala?

Why do you? the girl pushed back.

That Marcus hadn’t denied it made Scarlett’s throat hurt, just as it had all the other times she’d watched. It wasn’t just that he still grieved for the brother he’d lost. It was that he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Still, he’d cried when he’d thought himself alone. It made Scarlett wonder about the face he showed his family and the rest of the world.

It made her wonder if he’d ever show his grief to her.

Then she realized that he just had. By turning over the videos without any coercion, he’d effectively bared his soul not only to Scarlett, but to anyone she allowed to watch. He’d trusted her. Thrown suddenly off balance, she decided that these videos would be locked up and she’d do whatever she had to do to ensure that as few people as possible viewed them.

Will you let me help you, Tala?

I . . . I can’t pay you.

The picture shifted side to side as Marcus shook his head hard.

I don’t need your money. I don’t want it.

A second of heavy silence followed, Tala’s shoulders sagging, her head hanging in defeat. Then she lifted her chin, her young face having transformed from frightened to sensuously inviting. She reached for the waistband of Marcus’s jeans, her husky whisper intended to entice.

I understand. I can make you feel good.

The picture jolted abruptly as Marcus took a giant step back, his hands shoving into the frame, palms out. His response was panicked. Horrified.

No. Stop. You don’t understand. That’s not what I want. I don’t want anything from you. I just want to help you.

Why? Why would you help me? I’m no one.

Scarlett’s throat hurt again. For Tala and for all the victims she’d ever met who believed they were no one.

Everyone is someone, Marcus said sadly. Why do you cry, Tala?

Tala’s expression was a jumble of fear and hope that made Scarlett’s heart twist. Help had been so damn close, but in the next minute it would be brutally ripped away.

It’s dangerous. They’re dangerous. My family will die if I’m found here.

Marcus’s voice became icy. Brittle. Furious. Who are you afraid of?

The man. His wife. They . . . Tala looked away. They own us.

How? Marcus demanded. Who?

Scarlett braced herself, knowing what was coming, but still she flinched at the gunshot.

Tala crumpled to the pavement, her face filling the screen as Marcus dropped to one knee beside her. Tala? Shit. You’re hit. His hands were trembling as he cut a piece of her shirt and packed the wound, then sprang to his feet.

Lynda made a sound of disapproval. ‘He’s leaving her alone.’

‘For just a minute,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘He’s calling 911 and securing the scene.’

‘Not a soul in sight,’ Lynda said, her jaw taut as they watched him run. ‘It would have been too much to expect that he’d catch a glimpse of the shooter.’

‘He didn’t know it then,’ Scarlett said, ‘but the shooter was circling the block, coming back to take two more shots. He made the 911 call at 2.47.’

Tala’s face was filling the screen once again as Marcus resumed his first aid.

Tala! he was shouting at her now. Don’t die, dammit. Don’t you dare die.

Tala’s lips moved on the word Help, but no sound came out. She forced the next word out in an agonized huff. Malaya.

Lynda grabbed the mouse and paused the video. ‘Help and malaya.’ She glanced at Scarlett. ‘What does malaya mean?’

‘According to Google, it means “free” in both Tagalog and Malay,’ Scarlett supplied, once more keeping the original source of the information to herself. She’d double-checked the definition, and determined that Marcus had been correct.

‘She was asking him to free her family,’ Lynda murmured, then lined up the frozen frame of Tala at the edge of the trees with that of the young woman as she lay dying on the asphalt. ‘Same clothes.’

Scarlett nodded. ‘I noticed that. She wears the same exact thing in every video I’ve seen so far. A white polo shirt and faded blue jeans.’

‘A uniform of some kind?’

‘I thought that,’ Scarlett said. ‘I didn’t see any logo on the shirt she was wearing when she was shot, but there was a lot of blood on it. The CSU tech working the crime scene said that Vince would call me if the lab found any identifying marks on her clothes, but I haven’t heard from him yet.’

If there was anything to find, Sergeant Vince Tanaka would find it. The head of CSU ran a tight ship, and his people were well trained and meticulous.

‘There don’t appear to be any visible logos on the shirts she wore to the park, either,’ Scarlett went on, ‘although the video quality is grainy. The lab is checking that too.’ Reaching for the mouse, she rewound the alley video to a point about two thirds through. ‘There are two other things I can tell you. One, Tala knew who shot her.’

She advanced the video frame by frame, stopping at the moment the young woman’s eyes flared wide in terror. And recognition.

Lynda’s sigh was quiet. ‘You’re right. So much for a random shooting.’

‘Or for wondering which of them was the target,’ Scarlett said grimly.

‘You thought O’Bannion was the target?’

A half-shrug. ‘He does make his living digging up news. It stood to reason that he might have pissed off somebody enough to want to shut him down. He was supposed to have already sent me a list of the threats he’s received over the last few years, but I haven’t seen that yet.’

‘I’m sure he viewed this video before he sent it to you. Maybe he assumed the same thing we have and decided you didn’t need the list after all.’

‘Maybe.’ Highly likely, actually. ‘I still want the list, though, just in case.’

‘I agree. If you have to, get a warrant.’

‘I’ll give him another hour before I ask him for it again. If he balks, I’ll get the warrant, but if he doesn’t want me to see the list, he’s probably already deleted it. For now, I’m moving forward with Tala being the target. We’ll canvass the neighbors with photos of her and the dog, and interview all the visitors to the park. Folks in the park may be more likely to remember seeing the fancy dog than the girl, though, so I’ll also work on the dog’s ID.’

‘You’ll canvass the veterinarians, too?’

‘Definitely, but I started thinking that I might have better luck with high-end pet groomers. This dog had a fancy haircut, so I’m assuming it has a regular appointment at the salon.’

‘Do you know any groomers?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do. Do you remember Delores Kaminsky?’

At first Lynda frowned, but then her expression perked up. ‘Of course! The woman who lived? She’s a groomer? I thought she ran an animal shelter.’

‘She did both before the shooting, and her goal is to reopen both.’

Lynda tilted her head, her eyes assessing. ‘I didn’t know you kept up with the victims.’

Scarlett shrugged her embarrassment away. ‘I don’t,’ she lied. The truth was that she kept an eye on all of them from afar. Especially the young ones. They’d already survived one trauma. She hated to see that experience screw up the rest of their lives. She’d made more than one call to area outreaches, giving them a heads-up when one of the victims started down a wrong road. Sometimes they were able to drag the kids back to the straight and narrow. More often they failed, and the kids fell into the black hole of the criminal justice system.

But she’d tried, and she’d keep trying. Not that she wanted anyone to know it.

Lynda said nothing, waiting with a knowing look that made Scarlett’s cheeks burn hotter.

‘I got dragged to the shelter by Dani and Faith,’ Scarlett said with an exasperated huff. Deacon’s sister and his fiancée had pretended to need Scarlett’s Land Cruiser to transport their newly adopted animals, but she knew they were trying to include her in their girl group. Damned if she hadn’t been sucked right in. ‘They visited Delores after she woke up in the hospital. Her friends had been taking care of the animals, placing the ones they could. But there were a lot of dogs.’

‘Faith got two dogs, as I recall,’ Lynda said, her lips starting to twitch. ‘A three-year-old shepherd mix and a golden-mix puppy.’

‘I know. Deacon’s always muttering about his shoes being chewed up.’ Lynda’s gray brows lifted in startled delight. ‘Don’t tell me you got one too.’

Scarlett rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah. They guilted me into it.’

Lynda’s expression softened. ‘You have a good heart. Don’t be ashamed of that.’

‘I’m not.’ Which was a total lie. ‘I just have a reputation to protect.’

‘Well, your secret’s safe with me. What kind of dog did you get?’

Another roll of her eyes. ‘A bulldog. He’s . . . missing a leg. Nobody else wanted him.’

Lynda stared at her for a long moment. ‘And? How has he adapted?’

Scarlett thought of the way Zat had comforted her this morning when her emotions had dragged her under. Despite living through conditions of abuse for most of his life, he was sweet-natured and loving. And if Scarlett had anything to say about it, he’d live like a king for all the years he had left.

‘Okay, I guess,’ she said briskly. ‘He doesn’t eat as much as I thought. Anyway, I’m meeting Delores later to show her a photo of the poodle. See if she can narrow my groomer search at all.’

Lynda turned her attention back to the screen, still frozen on Tala’s frightened eyes. ‘You said there were two things you knew about Tala. What was the second?’

Grateful to be out of the emotional quicksand, Scarlett reached for her mouse. ‘That you can take Marcus O’Bannion off your potential suspect list. He didn’t shoot her.’ She forwarded the video to the point where Marcus was on his knees doing first aid. ‘Here’s the second shot – it came from behind Marcus. It hits him in the back and he’s knocked flat.’ On the screen, the picture pitched as Marcus was thrown forward from the force of the bullet, then the screen went dark.

‘The camera broke?’ Lynda asked.

‘No, it’s pointing at the concrete. He landed across her body. Her blood was soaking his shirt when I got there. The third shot is also fired from behind him.’

Thirty seconds elapsed, then, on a groan of pain, Marcus slowly lifted his head.

Tala, he muttered. Oh God. The lurch of the camera was punctuated by another, quieter groan as he shoved himself back up to kneel beside Tala’s lifeless body, freezing on the bullet hole in her head. And then the picture began to tremble, because Marcus had begun to tremble.

No, he whispered hoarsely. Goddammit, no. Slowly he leaned forward, reaching one hand to grip the girl’s chin with a gentleness that made Scarlett’s eyes sting. He turned Tala’s head with the same slow deliberation, bringing the exit wound into view.

‘Oh no,’ Lynda whispered. ‘That poor girl.’

Scarlett said nothing, her throat too thick for any words to get through, because she knew what was coming.

He rolled Tala’s head back to its original position with the same gentleness. Then his hands clenched into fists and slowly lowered to rest on his thighs. All while his body shook like a leaf.

Scarlett clenched her jaw, steeling herself for the low cry of pain that sounded like it came from a wounded animal rather than a man. He’d been so in control by the time she’d arrived. So . . . unmovable. Invincible. Seeing him – hearing him – had left Scarlett shaken as well, every time she’d watched the video.

Lynda sighed quietly. ‘His brother Mikhail was also shot in the head, wasn’t he?’ she murmured.

Scarlett nodded. ‘Marcus and his brother Stone found him.’ Buried in a shallow grave. ‘Mikhail was only seventeen.’

‘Just like Tala.’

On the screen, he knelt beside Tala’s body for another fifteen seconds, panting like he’d sprinted a mile, then pushed to his feet with a groan of pain. He looked behind him, but the lens picked up nothing, the shooter long gone.

Scarlett stopped the video. ‘He went to look for the shooter, but there was no one there. I’ll have the lab check to be sure there isn’t something in the background that I’m missing. Marcus voluntarily surrendered a small pistol he’d holstered at his ankle,’ she added.

‘Deacon said that you both think O’Bannion had a gun that he didn’t surrender.’

That Deacon had called Lynda with his initial report was no surprise. Scarlett had done the same after she’d showered and cleared her throat about a million times, not wanting her boss to notice that she’d been crying.

‘Yes,’ Scarlett said. ‘And before you ask me – yes, that bothers me a helluva lot. Marcus O’Bannion is definitely hiding something, but that something isn’t involved in Tala’s murder.’

‘Find out what it is,’ Lynda said. ‘I don’t want any surprises coming out in court if he does prove to be our star witness.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Scarlett wasn’t keen on surprises either. She’d dig until she discovered exactly what he hadn’t told them, then she’d decide if he was the kind of man she could even consider trusting.

She checked her email, saw that she had no new messages from Marcus O’Bannion, so still no list of threats. She didn’t think he was holding on to the list just to be difficult, or because he was embarrassed or ashamed. He’d given up the video files so easily, so quickly, with no demand for discretion, even though they revealed severe cracks in his emotional armor.

The list was probably irrelevant with regard to finding Tala’s killer, but it just might give Scarlett insight into the man himself. Either way, it gave her an excuse to talk to him again.

So that I can start looking for whatever it is that he’s hiding, she told herself sternly.

That she’d hear his voice again was simply a bonus.