Adam’s body seemed to still, an oddly menacing sight. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’
‘Because we upset her. Greg and I. We were arguing and it got kind of . . . intense.’
Adam shook his head. His shoulders relaxed but his expression remained dark and closed. ‘She’s okay as far as I know. Why were you arguing?’
‘Greg’s getting suspended again for fighting. Same old,’ Deacon said with a shrug.
‘Goddamn idiot kid,’ Adam spat. ‘He’s gonna kill her, Deacon. One of these days—’
Deacon held up a hand to stop Adam’s tirade. ‘I have two more rooms to paint and then Dani can move in.’ The house he and his sister had bought together had been a fixer-upper, because it was all they could afford. Deacon had spent much of his free time doing repairs, but he was almost finished now, and pretty proud of his work, actually. ‘Dani and I are coordinating our shifts so that one of us is always home with him. We’ll have him out of Aunt Tammy’s by the end of the week.’ He hesitated. ‘If your mom’s okay, then why are you here?’
Adam’s lip curled. ‘Our boss sent me.’
Our boss? Deacon’s eyes widened. ‘You’re in MCES? Since when?’
‘Since an hour ago.’ The words were spat out in a show of temper that had Deacon backing away.
‘I take it that it wasn’t your idea,’ Deacon said cautiously.
Adam’s jaw clenched so tightly that Deacon was surprised his teeth didn’t crack. ‘Still the boy genius, I see. No. It wasn’t my idea, but I’m here and I’m all yours. Lucky you.’
O-kay. ‘What about Bishop?’
‘Don’t worry. She’s still your partner. Think of me as the waterboy.’
‘The waterboy,’ Deacon repeated, feeling as if he’d been sideswiped. Isenberg had some explaining to do. ‘Tanaka,’ he called to the leader of CSU, who was getting his gear from the van. ‘Come here and I’ll bring you both up to speed. We need to hurry. The light’s nearly gone.’
‘I have spotlights,’ Vince Tanaka said when he’d joined them. A veteran crime-scene analyst, he was very good at his job. ‘My tech’s setting them up by the marker in the road.’
‘Not yet.’ Deacon pointed to the shoulder where he’d seen the blood. ‘Over there first. I think she came from those trees.’
‘I thought she was dumped,’ Adam said with a frown.
‘She may have been, but I found blood on the grass.’ Deacon quickly filled them in. ‘I want her path traced. Mark every blade of grass that she dragged herself across. The sheriff took photos when he got here. He said he’d email them to us. He also bagged and tagged the Good Sam’s coat and gun.’
Tanaka blinked. ‘The Good Sam was armed?’
‘Apparently so. Make sure she gets a receipt for her things.’
‘Will do.’ Tanaka headed toward the shoulder, leaving Deacon and his cousin alone.
Deacon searched Adam’s angry face, wanting to dig deeper, to find out what the hell was wrong, but this wasn’t the time. ‘Look,’ he whispered, ‘I don’t know what your issue is or what happened to land you on my team, but you need to deal with it on your own time. The girl is the priority. Can you do that?’
Adam flinched, then nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly. ‘I can handle that.’
Handle wasn’t the word Deacon had used. That Adam had used it . . . Isenberg has a lot of explaining to do.
‘Thank you,’ Deacon said. ‘I’ll get a statement from the Good Sam. I want you to see what’s down there.’ He pointed in the direction from which the girl had come. The direction in which the Good Sam had been headed. ‘Do it on foot. Take one of Tanaka’s techs with you to sweep for evidence.’
Adam gave him a terse nod. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
Deacon turned his attention to the woman sitting in the back of the ambulance. Faith Corcoran. She’d been watching him the entire time he’d been talking with Adam and Tanaka. Now she swallowed hard, fear flickering across her face, troubling him. He wanted her off guard, not afraid.
He’d taken two steps toward the ambulance when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. A glance at the caller ID had him backing up, out of Corcoran’s earshot. It was Lieutenant Lynda Isenberg, his boss. Oh, wait. Excuse me. Our boss.
‘When did you plan to tell me about Adam?’ he demanded, forgoing the pleasantries.
Isenberg’s voice was level, as usual. ‘Twenty minutes ago, but I had to take two other calls. Kimble’s officially part of your team.’ A slight hesitation. ‘Keep an eye on him.’
‘You’ll tell me why later?’
‘No,’ she said in a way that brooked no argument. ‘I’m calling now because I have new information regarding your case. Bishop’s ID’d your vic. Her name is Arianna Escobar and she’s a seventeen-year-old freshman at King’s College. Her roommate reported her missing yesterday, but the cop who took the report figured Arianna was off partying. Lauren Goodwin, the roommate, kept pushing and finally got Campus Security to view the tapes this afternoon. They show that Arianna left the library at eleven on Friday night with another student, Corinne Longstreet, who also appears to be missing. I’ve added her to the missing person database.’
Deacon muttered a curse. ‘Can you send me the profiles on both girls?’
‘They’ve already been sent to your phone. Corinne’s a sophomore, but she’s older than her classmates. She’s twenty-six years old, five-six, about a hundred and thirty pounds, blonde hair.’
‘Thanks. Does Bishop have a feel for if Corinne’s a victim or involved in the abduction?’
‘She’s not sure. Arianna tried to say Corinne’s name when Bishop asked her who’d taken her. But she was crying too, so she might have been trying to tell Bishop that Corinne was in trouble.’
‘Did she say anything else?’
‘Bishop thinks she was saying “fish-fry”,’ Isenberg said flatly. ‘She has no idea what that means. The victim’s roommate was equally puzzled.’
‘Okay. We’ll assume that Corinne Longstreet is a victim until we learn differently. Adam’s tracing Arianna’s path. I’ll have him search for signs of Corinne also. The local sheriff seems sharp and he knows the area. I’ll ask him to organize a search party.’
‘I’ll send you as much manpower as I can spare,’ Isenberg said. ‘If the sheriff doesn’t have access to search dogs, let me know. I’ll get some out there.’
‘Good, thanks.’ Deacon eyed the woman in the ambulance, whose gaze had followed every move he’d made. She was biting her lip, her face shadowed with concern. ‘Do me a favor, boss. Run a check on a woman named Faith Corcoran. She has Florida plates.’ He recited the plate number, which he’d committed to memory earlier. Good thing, too. It was now too dark to see the Jeep, much less its plate.
‘Okay. Why am I running a check on her?’
‘She’s the Good Sam who discovered Arianna, but this road is way off the beaten path and she’s acting twitchy. I want to know why she’s here at the same time Arianna turned up.’
‘Did she hit the girl?’
‘No. The skid marks show she swerved off the road about twenty feet from where the girl was found, so that’s not it.’
‘Maybe she’s in shock.’
‘She might have been, but she’s not anymore. My gut says she’s nervous about something.’
‘I have to admit that your gut’s proven pretty reliable so far,’ Isenberg said grudgingly. ‘I’ll put Crandall on it. He’ll text you with whatever he can dig up.’
If it was accessible online, Crandall would find it. ‘Thank you. I’ll keep you—’
‘I’m not finished yet. The ER did a rape kit on the Escobar girl and it came up positive.’
‘Shit,’ Deacon whispered. He wasn’t surprised, but he always hoped it wouldn’t be the case.
‘I know. Doctor found evidence of previous abuse, too. Arianna’s been in the foster system for years. Because of this, and because she’s under eighteen, we’ve called in social services and they’ve recommended a
kid shrink. Dr Meredith Fallon. Bishop’s still at the college, but she’ll head back to the hospital when the girl gets out of surgery. That’s all I have for you right now. Keep me up to speed with what you find.’
‘I will.’ Deacon hung up, his gaze zeroing in on Faith Corcoran, who’d bent her head wearily when he’d whispered his oath over Arianna’s rape, as if she’d understood, even though she couldn’t have heard a word that Isenberg had said.
What did she know? Where had she come from? Why was she here and why was she carrying a gun? Faith Corcoran, I think it’s time we were formally introduced.
Chapter Five
Mt Carmel, Ohio, Monday 3 November, 6.20 P.M.
The white-haired cop had been all over the crime scene, talking to everyone on the ground. Except for me, Faith thought, although she’d had his attention off and on the entire time. He’d studied her as if she were a bug in a jar.
Which was ironic, actually. Of the two of us, he is totally the not-normal one. What with his white hair, that leather coat, and those ultra-dark wraparound sunglasses.
He was definitely in charge here. Everyone he talked to followed his orders. Although that one other agent had looked really angry. And that first deputy’s initial reaction to him still had her puzzled. And a little nervous.
More than nervous, actually. She was trembling. She hadn’t been able to hear much of what he’d said, but she’d watched his mouth as he’d said it. He had a nice mouth, and the thin white goatee that surrounded it set it off, making it even easier to see. She’d been staring at him when she’d realized his lips were carefully enunciating a familiar set of letters and numbers.
He’d called in the Jeep’s license plates. He suspects.
Suspects what? You haven’t done anything wrong. Besides, he wasn’t going to find anything. She’d changed her name on all of her documents.
And if he digs deeper? Finds Dr Faith Frye? Places a few calls to Miami? Her relocation effort would end up being a big waste of time. Once one Miami PD cop knew, they’d all know, because cops were the biggest gossips she knew. Once Miami PD knew, it wouldn’t be long before her new address leaked out. And then the nightmare would start up all over again.
She’d know soon enough, she thought, her pulse racing even faster as he closed the distance between them. When he stopped, he was close to where she sat. Too close. Far too close.
‘Miss Corcoran? I’m Special Agent Novak, with the FBI.’
In a moment of panic, she fell back into old habits, dropping her gaze to the inch of asphalt that was all that separated her thick wool socks from his shiny black wingtips. He was so close that she could feel the heat of him. Hear the flapping of his leather trench coat in the wind as he towered over her, looking down.
He’s trying to intimidate me. It was working. Stop this. You are better than this. You have done nothing wrong. Look him in the eye and tell him to move the hell back.
She lifted her chin to speak, but the movement reminded her all too quickly why she was still sitting in the back of an ambulance. She slammed her eyes shut as a wave of nausea smacked her hard. She heard a soft moan and realized that it had come from her mouth.
You will not throw up on his shiny shoes. You will not.
‘You’re the EMT?’ he asked, startling her. She had nearly forgotten about the medic.
‘Yes. I’m Jefferies, Mount Carmel Fire and Rescue.’
‘How is she?’
‘She is fine,’ Faith said, keeping her head down and her eyes closed. ‘And perfectly able to speak for herself.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Novak said levelly. ‘Jefferies, I’d like to speak to Miss Corcoran before she’s transported. Can you give us a few minutes?’
‘Sure,’ Jefferies said. ‘I got reports to do. But Miss Corcoran should be seen in the ER. The contusion on her forehead needs to be sutured. Her hands may also need attention.’
‘May? You mean you don’t know?’
‘She wouldn’t let me touch them,’ Jefferies said, sounding slightly defensive.
A slight pause. ‘And . . . why not?’
‘I was afraid I might have picked up evidence from the girl’s skin when I touched her,’ Faith answered. ‘The sheriff already bagged my coat because I covered her up with it, but I thought your forensic guys might want to swab my hands.’
‘I see,’ Novak said. ‘Anything else, Jefferies?’
‘Not that I know of. Just tell me when you’re done.’
Faith winced as the ambulance shuddered at the impact of the driver’s-side door closing, even though the EMT had shut it softly. ‘Any word on the girl’s condition?’ she asked.
‘She’s still in surgery. Do you have any other injuries that you wouldn’t let the EMT see?’
Novak’s voice had subtly shifted. Now low and deep, it had a hypnotic quality that made her feel calm at first – and then annoyed at the realization that she’d been affected so easily by a vocal technique that she herself had used on countless clients over the years. Someone had obviously trained him well. It made her wonder how he sounded when he was being himself.
‘My head’s a little sore,’ she said. ‘My hands and knees are scraped. I’m really quite fine.’
‘You don’t look really quite fine,’ Novak said in that same soothing voice. ‘You look a little green around the gills.’
‘I’ve had better days,’ she allowed. I’ve also had much worse. ‘But I haven’t thrown up on your shoes. Not yet, anyway. But I’d hurry if I were you. Those shoes look new.’
He chuckled, surprising her. ‘Not new. Just well cared for. Can you look at me?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I like to see the eyes of the witnesses I interview. Please.’
She remembered the deputy’s flinch and wondered if Novak had a scar she hadn’t been close enough to see. She knew how it felt when people stared then looked away. That had happened often when the scar on her throat had been raw.
‘It would help if you weren’t quite so tall,’ she said. ‘Looking that far up makes me sick.’
She heard the muted squeak of soft leather. ‘Better?’ he asked.
Opening her eyes, she found that not only had he leaned down, knees slightly bent, but he’d also leaned in, taking up even more of her personal space. Or maybe it was simply that he was a big man. His thighs were the size of tree trunks and looked just as solid. His shoulders completely blocked her view.
‘Miss Corcoran?’ he prompted.
Dr Corcoran, she wanted to correct, but did not, focusing instead on her rapidly escalating pulse. Don’t flinch if he has a scar. She lifted her chin. ‘Please back up. You’re—’
Her mouth stopped working as her gaze focused on his eyes.
Oh my God. His eyes. They were . . . mesmerizing.
She’d met individuals with different-color eyes. She’d met individuals with one bi-colored iris. But she’d never seen eyes like Special Agent Novak’s. Deep brown and bright blue they were, but both of them. Each iris half brown, half blue, the vivid colors pixelating, then blending where they met in the middle.
‘Oh,’ she breathed, unable to break her stare. ‘How . . . beautiful.’
He went perfectly still, and for a long moment they stared at each other.
He broke away first, straightening to his full height. From where she sat, she found herself staring at his midsection, his eyes no longer in her view. For a moment she felt strangely bereft.
Until she realized what she’d said. Out loud, even. Her face flaming, she cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry. I was just . . . I mean, I wasn’t . . .’ She sighed. ‘What would you like to know?’
‘Tell me what happened.’ His voice had gone flat. Expressionless.
Great. She’d managed to offend him, even when she’d tried not to. ‘Well, I was driving home, or to what will be my home anyway. All of a sudden she was just there. I don’t know where she came from.’
‘I thought she was lying in the road.’
/> Faith forced herself to concentrate on the girl instead of Novak, who stood as rigid as a statue. ‘I don’t think so. I know it sounds crazy, but it was almost like she jumped in front of my car.’
‘What happened after you saw her?’
That he hadn’t said that she wasn’t crazy didn’t escape Faith’s notice. ‘I slammed on my brakes and swerved. Went down the embankment and hit a tree. I got out of my Jeep, called 911, then went to the girl. I took her pulse, did some basic first aid.’
Returning to his crouch, he carefully took her left hand. ‘Where did you touch her?’
His hand was large and warm. His whole body radiated heat. She had to fight the urge to lean into him, just enough to take the edge off her chill. She wondered what he’d do if she tried.
Not that it mattered. She hadn’t leaned on a man in four years and she wasn’t going to start now. Especially with a cop. No matter how mesmerizing his eyes.
‘On her throat to take her pulse and around the wound on her leg. She was bleeding from what looked like a bullet wound and I used my scarf to staunch the flow, but I was careful not to directly touch the open wound.’ She shrugged. ‘You can never tell who’s clean these days. Better safe than sorry.’
Still holding her left hand, he reached for her right, turning both palms up. ‘But your hands are covered in her blood.’
‘Not hers,’ Faith said. ‘It’s mine. I cut my hands when I crawled up the embankment.’
‘Why?’
‘There were sharp rocks in the dirt. Or broken glass, maybe from the Jeep’s windows.’
‘No, I mean why did you crawl up the embankment?’
She frowned at him. ‘Because she was hurt. I couldn’t leave her there, lying in the road.’
He was studying her with an intensity that made her feel . . . exposed. A part of her wanted to close her eyes again, to hide from his scrutiny, but another, bolder, nearly forgotten part of her didn’t back down. She locked on to those amazing eyes and didn’t look away.
Novak rose abruptly. ‘Sergeant Tanaka! Come here, please. Bring your collection kit.’
A forty-something man of Asian descent hurried over, carrying a tackle box. ‘What is it?’