Closer Than You Think

  ‘Oh no,’ Stone drawled. ‘The dreaded “persons of interest”. My heart is pounding in fear.’

  But his eyes had flickered, Deacon thought. He was rattled, even if he didn’t let it show.

  ‘It would save us a lot of time if you just told us where you’ve been,’ Deacon said. ‘So that we can eliminate you as a suspect.’

  Stone leaned back, purposefully propping one leg on the other knee so that his boots were clearly visible. Taunting us. ‘I don’t have to give an account of my whereabouts to you or to anyone else. I regret that you’re wasting your time, but frankly, that’s not my problem.’

  Deacon’s phone buzzed, an incoming call. He glanced at the number, not recognizing it.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Stone rolled his eyes. ‘Go ahead. Take the call.’ He gestured widely, like a sultan on his throne. ‘My time is obviously your time.’

  Bishop had stiffened at his broad gesture, expecting a physical attack, but when Stone did no more, she gave Deacon a nod. ‘Go ahead. I’ve got this.’

  Deacon stepped back, watching Stone flash a perfect smile that had to have cost Jeremy and his ex-wife thousands in orthodontia bills. ‘Of course you do, honey,’ he said with just enough sarcasm. ‘It’s what sidekicks do. They watch the store while the boss is away.’

  Deacon shook his head. Stone was a real prick, but to her credit, Bishop didn’t even blink.

  ‘Novak,’ he murmured into the phone.

  ‘Agent Novak, this is Meredith Fallon. I’m here with Arianna Escobar.’

  Deacon went still inside, but kept his own expression slightly mocking for Stone’s benefit, very aware that he could be staring at her abductor. ‘I’m in an interview, Doctor,’ he said, hoping Fallon would take the hint and not mention Arianna again.

  A slight pause. ‘Of course. My charge is awake and would like to speak to your charge. I’ve tried to get my charge to speak to me, but she’s very insistent.’

  Translation: Arianna would speak to no one but Faith. Deacon’s mind scrambled as he considered the logistics of Dr Fallon’s request. They needed to get Faith to the hospital before Arianna went back to sleep. With Agent Pope injured and Agent Colby dealing with the scene, he needed someone else he could trust with Faith’s safety.

  ‘I can’t make that happen right now, but I can text you the name of someone who can.’

  ‘You should hurry, Agent Novak. She won’t be awake for long.’

  ‘Understood.’ Hanging up, Deacon sent her Adam’s number and then texted Adam to expect a call from Fallon. Please do what she asks. Keep Faith safe. He hesitated. For me, he added, then hit send.

  He stepped back into Bishop and Stone’s cozy little circle. Stone sat with both arms outstretched, resting on the back of the sofa. Bishop stood at attention, her hand resting on the weapon holstered on her belt.

  ‘I trust your business is taken care of?’ Stone said. ‘Your assistant here kept a good watch, but I’m a little short on time. I’d appreciate it if you could cut right to the rubber hose, so we can get this little Q and A over with.’

  ‘All right,’ Deacon said affably. As long as Stone was here with them, he couldn’t be anywhere else, like terrorizing Faith or Arianna. And if he and Bishop played this right, he might lead them to Corinne and Roza. ‘You have a cousin. Faith.’

  Stone shook his head, his expression mockingly helpful. ‘Sorry. Name doesn’t ring a bell.’

  ‘That’s a shame, because she remembers you. She’s the daughter of Jeremy’s older sister.’

  ‘Ah. Aunt Maggie.’ Stone smiled, but thinly, his eyes growing hard. ‘Her name I know. I like family trees, you see. They hold so many secrets. I take it my cousin was murdered? You two being homicide detectives after all.’

  He asked it carelessly, as if speaking about a walk in the park. Or a game.

  Deacon’s anger bubbled, but he kept his own mask intact. ‘Your cousin is still alive, but not for lack of trying. Last night was the sixth attempt on her life since your grandmother died.’

  ‘She wasn’t my grandmother,’ Stone replied, showing no reaction to the news of the attempts on Faith’s life.

  Deacon met the man’s hard eyes. ‘Jeremy adopted you legally, isn’t that correct?’ He watched Stone’s wary nod. ‘Then Faith’s grandmother is your grandmother too.’

  ‘She disowned him. Therefore . . .’ Stone scissored his fingers. ‘Snip, snip. No relationship. No Aunt Maggie. No Cousin Faith. Please hurry, Agent Novak. I’ve tried to be hospitable considering you forced your way into my home, but I do have a schedule to keep.’

  Deacon looked around. ‘You live here? Full time?’

  ‘Only when the cravings call. My father’s partner is an amazing chef. His spinach frittata is to die for. I’d offer you some, but I polished off last night’s leftovers for breakfast this morning.’

  Bishop’s smile became genuinely amused. ‘Your dad says he hasn’t seen you in months. That you’re currently on assignment in Turkey covering . . . what was it, Novak?’

  ‘A riot,’ Deacon supplied. ‘We didn’t believe him, of course. Because we knew you were here last night. We’ve had this house under surveillance.’

  Stone’s face hardened, a dark flush spreading on his cheeks. ‘By whose order?’

  ‘Mine,’ Deacon said flatly. ‘You left at eleven last night, returning at four fifteen A.M. That allows sufficient time to get to Cincinnati and back after making an attempt on your cousin’s life.’

  Stone sat up slowly, fury in his eyes. ‘You are accusing me of this?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘We know you’re a crack shot,’ Deacon continued. ‘And that was some mighty fine shooting last night.’

  ‘The man you killed in that hotel room was a month away from retirement,’ Bishop said quietly. ‘He was just trying to support his family. Now his family has to go on without him.’ She clapped her hands twice, the sound echoing hollowly. ‘Bravo, Mr O’Bannion.’

  Stone’s chest rose and fell with the deep breaths he took. ‘You are seriously accusing me?’

  Deacon pointed to Stone’s boots. ‘You have dirty boots, and dirt under your otherwise well-manicured nails.’

  ‘Digging,’ Bishop said grimly. ‘What were you burying, Stone? Or who?’

  Stone’s face froze for a split second before he relaxed into a smile that grated on Deacon’s nerves. ‘You said my cousin had an attempt made on her life,’ Stone said. ‘That means she’s still alive, yes? So who might I have been burying?’

  Bishop’s eyes flashed in raw rage. ‘The locksmith, maybe? Or the Earl Power tech? Or maybe Corinne Longstreet? Did you have to kill her, Stone? Where did you put their bodies? Their families need to know.’

  Stone had paled, but barely enough to notice. A beat later his eyes narrowed, calculating. Then his mouth curved and he was back to appearing bored. ‘I’m afraid you two are barking up the wrong tree. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Deacon used Stone’s moment of distraction to sit on the sofa and grab his hand before the man could react. ‘Then may I have the dirt from under your nails, Mr O’Bannion? The dirt will know exactly what we’re talking about.’

  Stone ripped his hand away, all pretense gone. ‘Fuck you. No. Arrest me or leave.’

  They couldn’t arrest him. Deacon knew it. They had nothing that wasn’t circumstantial. Once they took him into custody, they’d have only seventy-two hours to hold him, at which point they’d either have to arraign him or let him go. Stone seemed to know that too, which was infuriating.

  Still, Deacon had gotten what he wanted – he’d brushed enough of the dirt from Stone’s hands to provide a sample to the forensic lab. If they backed off now, Stone might lead them back to where he’d been digging. Rising, Deacon inclined his head. ‘Next time we’ll have a warrant.’

  Stone came to his feet, fists clenched at his sides, his eyes dark, his stance pure menace. ‘Get out of this house,’ he gritted from behind clenched teeth. ‘No
w.’

  In a repeat of Keith’s farewell from the main house, he slammed the door as soon as Deacon and Bishop were on the front stoop.

  ‘Evidence bag, please,’ Deacon said. He brushed the precious grains of dirt on the palm of his hand into the plastic bag she supplied. ‘His hands were still dirty,’ he explained. ‘The dirt under his fingernails would have been more ideal, but he wasn’t going to give us that. I only asked for it to distract him. Hopefully the lab can get something from this. It may not be admissible in court, but at least we can narrow down where he’s been.’

  Bishop looked over her shoulder. ‘He’s watching us.’

  Stone had been glaring through his front window while Deacon brushed the dirt into the bag. Deacon had hoped he would. ‘I know. He’ll either be more careful from now on, or so rattled that he makes a mistake. Let’s hope for the second, but turn up the heat just to be certain.’

  They walked back to the sedan, Deacon pausing to inspect Stone’s red Corvette, parked behind the Bentley. It’s hood was still warm. ‘Muddy.’

  Bishop unlocked the sedan and waited until they were both inside. ‘He’s hiding something big. But I don’t know that he’s our killer. We’re looking for a man so careful that he left nothing behind to identify him in that hotel room. He’s been killing for years and hasn’t been caught. Nobody even suspected he was using that old house until now.’

  ‘And only because Faith tried to move in,’ Deacon said. ‘He’s too smart to leave a scene with dirty hands. Stone wanted us to stay. Wanted us to tell him what we knew.’

  She shrugged. ‘He is a reporter.’

  ‘“The kind that asks the questions. Not the kind that answers them”,’ Deacon mimicked. ‘Asshole.’

  Bishop laughed. ‘Agreed. But I did startle him when I asked who’d he’d been burying.’ She sobered. ‘And when I mentioned the locksmith and the Earl Power tech.’

  ‘You really got his attention when you mentioned Corinne Longstreet.’

  ‘I was hoping to,’ Bishop said, her eyes narrowing in satisfaction.

  Deacon was impressed. She’d performed her role to perfection. I was too angry and distracted with Faith.

  ‘We’ll bump up surveillance here,’ he said. ‘Keep one agent on the house itself and another to tail Stone.’ He looked back at the house, saw the curtains move, a large shadow behind them. A glance up showed a similar movement on the second floor, the hand on the curtain much smaller. Hailey. ‘I’ll make that at least two agents on the house. I’d like to know why a med school professor needs a bodyguard. And what Hailey’s job really is.’

  ‘You don’t believe Keith and Jeremy are a couple?’

  ‘I don’t disbelieve it,’ Deacon said. ‘But there’s more there than simple domestic bliss. Why does Keith keep tabs on Jordan?’

  ‘Especially if Jeremy walked away from the family and never looked back. I wonder if Jordan is still dipping into the Foundation for spending money.’

  Deacon wondered the same thing. ‘He told Faith he didn’t need the money and was glad she’d inherited the house.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Bishop said. ‘He figured Jeremy would have fought him for it. One of those boys is lying. Or both. Jeremy never took his right hand out of his pocket. Carrie Washington said that those sutures were done by a real expert.’

  ‘He may have lost enough dexterity that he can’t perform surgery anymore, but that doesn’t mean his hand is useless. If he killed ten women, he’d want to make it look that way. I think he, Keith and Stone let us see what they wanted us to see and told us what they wanted us to know.’

  Bishop started the car’s engine with a scowl. ‘Wily rich bastards. So, where to? The university, to ask his students if Dr Jeremy’s a perv, or back to the city?’

  ‘Back to the city. That call was from Meredith Fallon. Arianna asked for Faith again. I asked Adam to get her to the hospital. We might get there before she drifts back to sleep.’

  ‘And the text? The one that had you going as white as your damn hair?’

  Deacon told her about the attack on Agent Pope. And, more reluctantly, about Greg’s possible connection.

  ‘Shit, Novak. You need to tell Colby,’ she said when he’d finished.

  ‘I know. I was hoping to keep this quiet until I got a lawyer for Greg, but that’s not going to happen now, dammit.’ His curse had little heat, though. I’m so damn tired.

  So tired and mentally scattered that he’d forgotten to text Daphne’s information to Greg’s phone. That poor FedEx man was probably still sitting cuffed on his living room floor. He sent the text and closed his eyes for just a second. ‘Head back to Cinci,’ he told Bishop. ‘I’ll call for more surveillance here and update the agent on duty. Then I’ll call Colby.’

  What he wanted was to sleep in his nice soft bed. He wanted to go home. To Faith. Preferably also in my nice soft bed. She was like an addiction, stuck in his system. All he wanted to do was take her somewhere quiet and make love to her again, slowly this time. But he didn’t have that luxury. Not if he wanted to keep her alive.

  Cincinnati, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 10.40 P.M.

  What is taking them so long? But Faith kept the question to herself. No one had given them an all-clear, so she and Greg could do no more than sit on the floor and wait in tense silence.

  Greg’s phone buzzed, making them both jump. ‘It’s for you, from Deacon,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘Why don’t you have your own phone? Everybody has a phone.’

  ‘Mine got busted,’ she said, reading the message. Deacon had finally texted her the contact information for the sender of the FedEx package. Hopefully this meant that he was finished interviewing Uncle Jeremy. She was afraid to even wonder at the outcome.

  Greg eyed her suspiciously. ‘Taken-by-the-cops busted or broken busted?’

  ‘Both,’ Faith said dryly as she dialed the number Novak had sent.

  ‘Hello?’ a woman answered cautiously, her twang very pronounced.

  ‘I’d like to speak with Daphne Montgomery, please.’

  ‘This is Daphne.’ Her voice hardened. ‘Who is this? How did you get this number?’

  ‘My name is Faith Corcoran. I’m a friend of Deacon Novak. I’m sorry to call so late, but it’s important.’

  ‘Where is Deacon?’ Daphne demanded. ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s fine.’ Faith used her most reassuring tone. ‘He asked me to call.’

  ‘Why did he— Wait. Faith Corcoran? You were with him last night when he got shot.’

  Faith hesitated, uncomfortable discussing the situation with a stranger. Except that this woman was clearly important to Novak. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I was there.’

  ‘I’d say you were a sight more than there, sugar. From what I hear, you were the target.’

  Faith frowned. None of the news feeds had named her as the intended target. At least they hadn’t when she’d last looked, but that had been before she and Greg had started painting. ‘What did you hear and where did you hear it?’

  A slight pause. ‘Do you know who I am, Faith?’

  ‘I know that you’re Deacon’s friend. Why?’ A sliver of doubt injected itself into her mind. ‘Are you more than that?’ Faith winced, hearing the jealousy in her own voice.

  A husky laugh. ‘I’m only his friend, sugar. But my husband is his old boss.’

  ‘Ah. He’d be the JC in the picture you signed for him.’

  ‘Special Agent Joseph Carter,’ Daphne confirmed. ‘I nearly had heart failure when I heard Deacon had been shot, but Joseph said he wasn’t hurt. That better be true or he’s in trouble.’

  Faith wondered who would be in trouble – Joseph or Deacon. ‘He was wearing Kevlar, so thankfully all he has is a bad bruise. He pushed me out of the way.’

  ‘I’d have expected nothing else from our Deacon. Why are you calling me, Faith?’

  Oh, right. ‘To verify that you sent him a package.’

  ‘I did. Why?’

  ‘That
’s good. Now we can let the FedEx man go.’

  Greg was watching, eyes narrowed. ‘Told you he really was the FedEx man.’

  ‘Who was that?’ Daphne asked. ‘What FedEx man? You’re not making sense.’

  ‘That was Deacon’s brother, Greg. He opened the door to the FedEx man who had the misfortune of arriving with your package at a very bad time. The delivery looked suspicious.’

  ‘You’re in Deacon’s house? And he’s not there? What kind of friend are you exactly?’

  Faith blushed, suddenly glad Daphne couldn’t see her face as everything she and Novak had done in his bedroom came rushing back. ‘The kind of friend he gives your number to, I suppose,’ she hedged.

  A short pause, then a delighted chuckle. ‘How long have you known our Deacon?’

  Faith checked the time on Greg’s phone. ‘About twenty-nine hours.’

  ‘That long, huh?’ Daphne sounded amused.

  ‘It’s been a very full twenty-nine hours,’ she said quietly.

  ‘So I’ve heard,’ Daphne said, her amusement gone. ‘Are you all right, Faith?’

  Sudden tears pricked at Faith’s eyelids. ‘Sure,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I will be.’ As soon as Deacon comes home. She cleared her throat. ‘Is the box you sent him perishable? Because it’s likely to be taken as evidence.’

  ‘No, don’t let them take it as evidence,’ Daphne protested. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because one of the two agents guarding me was stabbed less than fifteen minutes before the FedEx guy rang the doorbell.’

  ‘Hell,’ Daphne muttered. ‘Things really are messed up out there. Is the agent all right?’

  The voices outside were becoming increasingly loud, but Faith didn’t want to scare Greg, so she kept a smile on her face. ‘I don’t know. I hope so. What’s in the box? I’ll try to save it.’

  ‘It’s a coat. I’d bought a leather coat and sunglasses like Deacon’s for Joseph – as kind of a birthday gag. But then I heard Deacon had been shot in the shoulder, and I figured his coat was ruined. So I sent him the one that I had. I know how much he loves that old thing.’