‘What does Mr Boy-Toy Roy look like?’
‘Tall, blond, good-looking. He may be twenty-two. Not much older. He hangs around the college kids, but he mostly just hangs out at the gym. I see him sometimes when I’m on campus for my night classes. He’s got a good thing with Eileen. He lives with her for free and does what he wants while she takes extra shifts to make ends meet. But I guess that’s the going rate for arm candy these days.’
‘I guess so. Anything else about Eileen or Mr Boy Toy?’
Robbey gave it some thought. ‘She’s seemed tense the last couple of days. Maybe a week.’
‘When did you see her shooting up in the restroom?’
‘About . . . it was four days ago.’ Another shrug. ‘I dunno. I mean, I don’t like her, and she does hurt the patients by stealing their painkillers, but I can’t see her purposely killing anyone. That’s kind of a big jump – don’t you think?’
Maybe. Maybe not. If Eileen needed money . . . or if she was being blackmailed. Kate had seen it before.
‘I guess we’ll find out once we track her down. Thank you, Miss Robbey. You’ve been very helpful. What would you like to do – have me try to get you back on your shift or just go home?’
‘Shift. I’ve got groceries to buy.’
‘Got it. Who does the schedule?’
‘Downstairs. Name is Lacey.’ Robbey looked suspicious. ‘You’re really going to try?’
‘Yes. It’s the least I can do. I’ll have her contact you directly either way, okay?’
‘Okay.’
Kate stood up. ‘I’m sorry I frightened you. Agent Davenport’s been through a lot. When I thought he might be in danger . . . I panicked, and you were in the path of the shockwave.’
Robbey stood as well. ‘I guess you had good reason, seeing as how his IV had been tampered with. And his lips were blue. I’d only just noticed it myself when you came in like a house on fire. I was about to ring for Choi.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate that. Good luck with the nursing diploma.’ Kate gave her a smile, then turned for the elevator. She’d talk to Lacey about Teresa Robbey’s shift, then she’d get Decker’s food. Hell, I might even have to borrow a cart to bring it all back.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Thursday 13 August, 2.05 P.M.
Three years. Decker stared at the photo on Kate’s tablet screen. John Fitzgerald Morrow had died three years ago. Survived by his wife of one year, Katherine A. Coppola, and his brother, Jack R. Morrow. John had been only thirty-three years old. Brain cancer.
That had to have sucked royally. For John and for Kate.
The information had been easy to find. John’s obituary had popped up on Decker’s first search. The online guestbook set up by the funeral home was still active. John Morrow had been well loved by many people. Lots of good memories and good wishes on that guestbook.
Decker wondered if Kate had read them. If they’d given her any comfort at all.
And then he wondered if there would have been a funeral or an online guestbook for him had he died the week before or the year before or the decade before. No, he had to concede. There wouldn’t have been, because he’d been a shadow for too many years. No one really knew him. Not anymore. No one he’d ever cared for was still alive. No one had survived him to log a memory online or anywhere else.
Kate would have. Of that he had no doubt. But she’d known him for, what? A week? And all but a few hours of that he’d spent in a fucking coma.
Irrationally angry, he started to close the browser page, but . . . didn’t. He kept staring at John Morrow’s photograph. He’d been a handsome man. A happy man. A productive man. A man who’d inspired loyalty and respect and affection from everyone who’d known him. Everyone who’d signed the guestbook, anyway.
He’d been a high school history teacher, and apparently his students had felt comfortable enough to confide the deepest secrets of their teenage angst. They all remembered him fondly. Some had assured him that they’d grown up to be okay. And every single one of them had included the words Seize the day and make your lives extraordinary.
It was a line from a movie. Decker knew that much. He had a vague recollection of watching it with Mama D and Griff on DVD. He remembered Mama D crying her eyes out into her drying towel. And he remembered Robin Williams standing on a desk, but not much else.
Decker had only been fifteen then. If a movie didn’t have any explosions, it was just an excuse to sit next to Mama D and be fussed over, or to play-battle with Griff for the bucket of kettlecorn. Although he did remember wishing he’d had a teacher like Robin Williams. One who didn’t see the big, brutish-looking boy who didn’t know all the cultural stuff he should have known by high school. One who saw him inside and would tell him that he was worth saving.
He’d gotten that teacher the following year, and between his foster folks and Dr Hearle, they’d all but dragged him to a good path. The right path. The path that had made Mama D proud.
It appeared that John Morrow had been that teacher for his students. Hell, it appeared that John Morrow had been one hell of a guy all the way around and a damn hard act to follow. No pressure, Decker. No pressure at all.
Jack Morrow, on the other hand, had been troubled. So troubled that six months ago he’d put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. There had been no online guestbook. No fond memories that would live on in the Internet forever. Just a small entry in the Des Moines Register saying that he’d committed suicide after losing his job as the assistant coach of the football team of his own high school alma mater.
And that his body had been found in the Washington, DC apartment of his sister-in-law, Special Agent Katherine Coppola, a graduate of the same high school.
God, Kate. That she’d come home to find him there . . . Decker had seen the results of suicides who’d chosen that way to go. He’d cleaned up the mess they’d left behind. He still had nightmares, and those victims had been strangers. Not family.
I’m sorry, Jack. Why? Why was Kate sorry?
I’ll ask her. But not today.
Decker didn’t think he could stand seeing that shattered look in her eyes again anytime soon. He closed the browser window, then deleted the search history. If she asked him directly if he’d looked, he’d be honest. Otherwise, this was knowledge he’d keep to himself until the time was right. Or until she offered it up on her own.
He stared down at the tablet screen, deflated. He’d been so intent on getting online, but now he couldn’t think why. He’d wanted to know how his case had turned out, but Kate had given him all the salient details. Richard Symmes, dead. Bad guys – including Alice – all dead. Anyone left living knows nothing that’ll help land McCord’s partner.
He narrowed his eyes. McCord. Decker remembered how angry Alice and her father had been when Marcus O’Bannion had exposed McCord’s perversions in the Ledger – they’d said so in the same conversation in which they’d discussed McCord’s mystery partner.
But how had O’Bannion known about McCord in the first place? And why had a bunch of bloodthirsty, soulless traffickers been so utterly terrified of him?
There was a knock at his door a second before a red head peeked in. ‘It’s me,’ Kate said. ‘I have food.’
‘Come on in,’ he said, scowling at the questions buzzing in his head.
Kate stopped short. ‘What’s wrong? Did something happen?’
I know you endured a nightmare six months ago was the first thought that popped into his head, but he shoved it away. ‘O’Bannion.’
‘He was here?’ She approached carrying a tray filled with everything he’d asked for. Except that instead of two cheeseburgers, there was only one, plus an empty plate with crumbs and some drips of ketchup and mustard.
‘No. But I have a question about him and McCord. Did you eat my other bu
rger?’
She slid the tray onto the swing table. ‘You should be nicer to me. Bringing you food nearly got me reamed inside out by Nurse Choi. She was in the elevator when I was coming back up.’
‘So you lied and said this was all for you and ate my burger as a cover?’
She laughed. ‘No. I told the truth. And Choi said you could have it, but only one cheeseburger. So I ate the other one. I was starving.’
‘Thank you.’ He grinned at the tray. ‘You got the M&Ms.’
‘Those I lied about. I told her they were for me, and I didn’t even eat one.’ She dropped into the chair next to his bed. ‘Although I wouldn’t turn a few down if they were offered.’
He tossed her the small bag. ‘Half.’
‘More than fair.’ She popped a few candies in her mouth, then kicked off her shoes and propped her feet up on the edge of his mattress. She had pretty feet, with painted toenails. Barely visible through her black stockings, they were pink with …
He squinted, then laughed. ‘You have Captain America shields painted on your toenails.’
‘It’s called nail art,’ she said loftily, then winked at him. ‘It’s one of the only ways I can accessorize and still meet dress code.’ She tilted her left foot so that he could see. ‘Captain America shields, Hawkeye bows, Hulk fists, and Thor hammers.’
‘So you’re a fan, I take it?’
‘Deacon is. He got me hooked on the superhero movies. And Thor’s so pretty.’ She laughed when he rolled his eyes. Then sobered, back to business. ‘So, O’Bannion. What’s your question?’
He averted his eyes from her feet, because now he was wondering if the stockings went all the way up. And what it would take for her to let him pull them off. He cleared his throat and focused. ‘How did he know about McCord?’
She nodded in approval. ‘That is a good question. One that Scarlett Bishop is supposed to answer for us very soon. I was going to go over to the Ledger after I was done working with you, but then you had your little bout of excitement.’
‘Sorry.’ He took a bite of the cheeseburger and grimaced. ‘Oh, man. I thought I’d be hungry enough that wallpaper paste would be appetizing, but I was wrong.’
She chuckled. ‘At least it’s safe. I ate one and I’m okay. So far anyway.’
He frowned at her. ‘Not funny, Kate.’ Not when Alice was dead.
She shrugged. ‘It was a little bit funny, but fine. I take it back.’
‘Did Agent Troy find the nurse yet?’
‘No, not yet. He’s still downstairs with hospital security, looking at tapes, trying to figure out which door Eileen Wilkins used when she left today. He’s also still working on getting you a secure place to recuperate. I got the doctor lined up. Dani Novak will be here soon to meet you and consult with your doctor.’
‘Anybody giving you problems over this?’
She shrugged. ‘The hospital doesn’t like that we’re working around them and the Bureau doesn’t like the cost, but you could have died this morning, so . . . so what?’
‘When are you going to have this meeting with Marcus O’Bannion and his people?’
‘I’m still planning to go to the Ledger’s offices as soon as I can. You have a guard outside to make sure nobody bothers you while I’m gone.’
‘I know. Agent Triplett came in to introduce himself, and he checks on me to make sure I don’t have any new symptoms. Every five minutes. You could set your clock by it.’
She smiled. ‘He’s cute.’
Decker snorted. ‘He’s a goddamn behemoth.’
‘So says the Sherman tank.’ She put the half-bag of candy on his tray and snagged an apple, polishing it on the sleeve of her jacket. ‘I think he’s a nice young man.’
‘So says the young woman. You’re not old, Kate.’
She sighed. ‘Could have fooled me,’ she murmured. ‘But back to how Marcus knew about McCord. Apparently Marcus and his Ledger team have employed questionable techniques to get info about private citizens, including McCord, so they could then expose them in the paper. Deacon told me that O’Bannion’s targets were scumbags who slipped through the official net somehow.’
‘I thought Agent Novak went to the jail to check out Alice’s death.’
‘He did. He’s still there, trying to cut through bureaucratic BS, but, see, I have this thing called a cell phone. I use it to talk to people who aren’t in the same room with me.’
He bit back a smile and finished off the M&Ms. ‘Smartass. So Novak’s not coming here?’
‘No. I’m supposed to meet him at the morgue, actually, but I’m waiting for his sister to get here before I go. Deacon said she was on her way. We’ll all be able to focus better if we’re not worried that someone’s going to come in here and poison you through your IV.’
‘That’d suck,’ he agreed dryly. ‘So here’s another question. O’Bannion had the traffickers scared shitless. They hated him because he took down McCord. But why – if his investigatory skills are so amazing that they scare hardened criminals – why didn’t he expose McCord’s partner at the same time? They were partners, presumably working together.’
She chuckled ruefully. ‘I told Zimmerman that it might be a while before your brain was clicking along on all cylinders again because of the anesthesia, but I stand utterly corrected. That is another good question. I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘You’ve been a little busy,’ he said quietly, holding on to her praise deep down where he hoped it didn’t show.
‘A little,’ she allowed. ‘Still, it’s a damn good question. Maybe there’s a reason that the partner wasn’t obviously clear to O’Bannion’s people. Maybe they were working on different things, or only sharing distribution channels or servers, that kind of thing.’
‘Maybe. It would be helpful to know what kinds of things McCord was caught with.’
‘CPD raided his house and removed his computer. It was filled to capacity with photos.’ She drew a breath. ‘Of kids.’
Decker pushed the tray away, no longer hungry. ‘I knew that part, about it being kids,’ he said quietly. ‘I meant what format – photos, videos, what?’
‘I don’t know exactly. One of our other team members, Adam Kimble, is with ICAC right now, going through the files that were taken into evidence. It could take them a while.’
Decker was quiet for a long, long moment. Thinking. Remembering the time that he was Decker McGee. The time before Mama D and Griff had taken him in. When he hadn’t known how to fight for what was right, but had still known that he was surrounded with wrong.
Before he’d remade himself into someone worth saving.
‘Where did you just go?’ Kate asked softly.
Decker sighed. ‘I was a foster kid. In and out of the system,’ he said, and immediately she stiffened, something akin to horror flickering across her face. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Whatever you just assumed, it didn’t happen.’ He swallowed hard. ‘But only because I could run really fast and was bigger than most of the men my mother brought home.’
‘Decker,’ she whispered, her sorrow on her face, in her voice. Bare for him to see.
‘I ended up fine. But I knew . . . people . . . kids . . . who didn’t.’ Including the girl who’d had eyes just like his. ‘What your colleague is having to look at right now. Man, I have to say I’m not envying him. That shit, it kills you a little more every time you see it. It kills you a little more every time you hear about a person being sold – for whatever purpose. Being made to be a thing. A possession, less than human. The labor trafficking is bad enough, but . . .’
‘The sex trafficking rips you up inside,’ she said sadly. ‘And if you’re not careful – or if you care too damn much – it can drain your soul, leaving you nothing but a twisted husk.’
‘Did it drain yours?’ he
asked, totally serious.
‘No. Not all the way. But then I haven’t been working this area all that long. I got moved to the DC task force shortly after we helped the Minneapolis field office bring down some kiddie pornographers. I was working a double homicide and the only witness was the victims’ six-year-old daughter. The murderers wanted the mother’s jewelry, but they’d also planned to sell the girl to one of the Minneapolis kiddie porn guys. Kiddie porn guys went to prison. The one who wanted to buy little Lana was killed within a month. Shiv in the shower.’
‘Good. One less piece of scum on the earth. What happened to the girl?’ Because he needed to know. He needed to know that some of the kids got saved. He was relieved when Kate smiled.
‘Lana and her little sister are back in Russia where they were born, living with their aunt. I got a Christmas card from the aunt with a picture of the two girls. They looked happy. Safe.’
‘Those good pictures have to balance out the bad ones.’
‘Except that they don’t,’ she said. ‘Not by a long shot. But they do help to keep us from becoming dried-up husks as quickly as we might otherwise.’ She went quiet then, watching him for so long that he started to feel self-conscious.
‘What?’ he asked warily.
‘I was debating asking you who you lost.’
He flinched, then his eyes narrowed. ‘What makes you think I lost anyone?’
Her mouth curved wryly. ‘Maybe the anesthesia left you a little off your game, because it’s written all over your face.’
Suddenly tired, he scrubbed his palms over said face. ‘Anesthesia. I’ll go with that.’
Kate straightened abruptly, sliding her feet off the bed and into her shoes before getting up to throw away the apple core. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said as she cleaned the trash from his tray. ‘I shouldn’t have pried. I don’t like people doing that to me. Rest now. I’ll stay as long as I can.’
He felt a pang of guilt that he’d pried into her husband’s death, but shoved it aside. That had been necessary. And you are a jerk, Decker. Quid pro quo her, at least. Give her something.