‘Interesting. Marcus didn’t mention that.’
‘He may not have realized it himself.’
‘I imagine he knows now. I don’t guess he’d have sent us video files he hadn’t personally reviewed.’
‘I’m sure you’re right about that,’ she murmured, still stunned that Marcus had allowed her to see his pain. ‘The dog may be our best lead out of the video. Very fancy schmancy. So I talked to Delores Kaminsky – you know, the woman who runs the shelter where Faith got Zeus.’
Deacon blew out a disgusted breath. ‘Please tell me that she misses the damn shoe-chewer and wants him back.’
Scarlett’s lips curved. Deacon was very particular about his shoes, keeping them so shiny that one could see one’s face in them. At least until Faith had brought Zeus home. Now Deacon’s shoes bore the marks left by tiny pointed puppy teeth. Even though he pretended to be grouchy about the dog, Scarlett knew he was the worst offender when it came to spoiling the ball of orange fur. ‘Nope, sorry. But she’s putting together a list of high-end groomers who might have given Coco her ’do.’
‘Groomers,’ Deacon said thoughtfully. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Smart.’
‘Thanks. But what I don’t have yet is the list of the people who made threats to Marcus and the Ledger’s reporters. I’ve emailed and texted and even called Marcus, but he hasn’t answered any of my messages.’ Which made her both suspicious and disappointed that he hadn’t kept his word.
‘Do we really need that list now? Especially if Tala knew her killer?’
‘Probably not, but Lynda wants to be sure he isn’t withholding the list because he’s hiding something that can come back to bite us in the ass later, particularly if he’s eventually called to be a witness. I was on my way to his office to pick up the list in person when I got the call from Carrie to come here. Ready to go in?’
Deacon grimaced. ‘Yeah. Let’s get this over with.’
A sentiment Scarlett understood. Bracing herself for the odor she wouldn’t get used to if she lived to be a hundred, she pushed open the door to the morgue and grabbed a mask and gloves from the bin just inside, prepared to do her job without complaining.
Carrie looked up from the body on her autopsy table, her eyes magnified by the goggles she wore. ‘Detectives.’ She pulled a sheet up over the body with a respectful care that always tugged at Scarlett’s heart. ‘I’m glad you’re here. This way, please.’ She motioned them to follow her to the wall of refrigerated drawers and pulled one of them halfway out, revealing the top half of Tala’s body. ‘We ran her prints through AFIS but came up with nothing, so she’s got no record.’
Scarlett stared down at Tala’s face, remembering the desperation in her eyes seconds before a bullet ripped through her gut, and the agonizing grief in Marcus’s voice when he’d seen the bullet hole in her head. Gritting her teeth against the tears that stung her eyes, Scarlett pushed everything from her mind and focused on the body of a young girl who should still be alive. And free.
‘I hope the poodle is a decent lead,’ she muttered. ‘Otherwise we got nothin’ to ID her. Cause of death was the head wound, right? Nothing weird or funky we need to know?’
‘Lots of funky,’ Carrie said, ‘but more about her life than her death. She was in very good health. Good dental care, especially in the last few years. Someone had all the cavities in her mouth filled, fairly recently.’
‘What is “fairly recently”?’ Scarlett asked.
‘Longer ago than a year, but no longer than five years, if I had to guess. Her blood tests are within normal levels for all the major vitamins. Her body weight is normal for her height, so she was not nutritionally deprived – but again this is fairly recent. The X-rays show low bone density in her legs and arms.’
Deacon frowned. ‘She was malnourished as a child, but her captors have been feeding her well?’
‘I can only tell you she ate well,’ Carrie said. ‘It’s your job to figure out where she got the food.’
‘Did you find any evidence of drugs in her system?’ Scarlett asked.
‘Urinalysis came back clean for the usuals, but I’ve sent blood to the lab for a more detailed screening. I should have that tomorrow.’ Gently she drew Tala’s hand from beneath the sheet. ‘Her hands are rough but her nails and cuticles are well kept. She has calluses on all her fingertips and her knees. She’s done manual labor, but someone wanted her hands to look nice. The skin on her face is also smooth. Outwardly – and clothed – she appears the picture of health.’
‘But?’ Deacon asked.
‘But she was beaten. Not enough to break any bones, but enough to leave bruises.’ Carrie pulled the sheet to Tala’s waist, exposing her torso.
Scarlett sucked in a breath. ‘Fucking hell,’ she whispered. Nasty dark bruises covered the young woman’s entire torso. ‘What’d they hit her with?’
‘Fists would be my guess, at least for these bruises. Somebody knew what they were doing, hitting her hard enough to cause pain but not enough to require a doctor to set a broken bone or stitch cut flesh.’
‘And hitting her where no one would see,’ Deacon said quietly. ‘Her shirt hid the bruises so that when she walked the dog no one would suspect.
‘What did you mean by “cut flesh”?’ Scarlett asked, not wanting to hear the answer. Carrie gently turned the body, and Scarlett winced. Beside her, Deacon hissed a curse. Tala’s back was a mass of bruises, welts and open cuts.
‘It appears to have been done by the buckle end of a belt. Nothing fancy or unique.’ Carrie’s voice was toneless as she resettled the body and pulled the sheet back over it, her hands briskly capable. But her breath hitched a little as she pulled the drawer out the rest of the way, her swallow audible in the quiet of the morgue.
‘You okay, Carrie?’ Scarlett asked softly.
Carrie’s smile was thin. ‘Yeah, sure. It’s just that the ones with bruises . . .’ She blew out a breath, cleared her throat. ‘The welts continue down the backs of her legs, but again, they were hidden by her jeans. Which also hid this.’ She pulled the bottom of the sheet up to Tala’s knees, revealing a strip of skin worn red and raw, scattered with lesions. A few inches above her ankle, the strip was about an inch high and extended all the way around her leg. ‘She was wearing a tracking device, the kind that probationary prisoners wear.’
Scarlett blinked, her thoughts scrambling. ‘You cut it off her?’ she asked carefully, keeping the without telling us? accusation from her voice.
Carrie nodded. ‘It was still transmitting when my assistant started processing her. He called CSU, who got here about the same time I did. CSU cut it off and took it with them to the lab. They said they’d contact you about it.’
Scarlett pursed her lips, annoyed. ‘They didn’t. I would have liked to have known about that.’ She glanced up at Deacon. ‘Did they contact you?’
He shook his head, clearly equally annoyed. ‘Nope. We’ll deal with it when we’re done here.’ Then he turned back to Carrie. ‘If they cut it off her and it was still transmitting, it would have sent a tampering alarm to whoever was monitoring it. I might have wanted to time that alarm to our advantage.’
‘Depends on the style of tracker they used,’ Scarlett said, shoving her annoyance aside for the moment. ‘If it detected a pulse or body temp, it would have alarmed the moment she died, or at least as her body cooled. When and where they cut it off her might not have mattered.’
‘The lab will tell us what kind of tracker it is, so we’ll at least have an indication of when her captors knew she was gone, assuming they weren’t the ones who killed her.’ Deacon frowned down at the body. ‘Either way, the tracker makes no sense. If she knew she was being tracked, why would she arrange to meet Marcus in an alley? She had to have known they’d follow her.’
‘She did,’ Scarlett murmured, the look in Tala’s eyes the split second before she was shot making more sense now. ‘She knew who shot her. She knew they’d come after her. Maybe she thought t
hat by leaving in the middle of the night they wouldn’t notice for a while.’
‘But they watched her at night,’ Deacon said. ‘She walked the dog at night.’
Scarlett bit at her lip, thinking. Something was off, a detail either missing or perhaps not noticed or understood, but she wasn’t sure what it was. ‘Not every night. There were a few nights Marcus sat for hours and she didn’t show up. Now I’m wondering why that was. It wasn’t like they knew she was stopping to listen to him in the park, or they wouldn’t have let her return night after night. Why the sporadic schedule?’
‘Maybe they had someone else walk the dog those nights, somebody who picked a different path through the park. And maybe they did finally figure out she was stopping to listen to him. Maybe that’s what triggered this beating. Didn’t Marcus say she was limping the last time he saw her in the park, and that it was at a different time of the day?’
‘Yeah, he did. It was what pushed him to leave his card on the bench.’ Scarlett turned to the ME. ‘Carrie, did you see any evidence of other beatings in the past?’
‘No. Her back and legs are too torn up for any scars to be visible to the naked eye, but I might be able to see older subdermal scarring with an ultrasound. How important is it?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe not at all. I’d just like to know what we’re dealing with here.’
‘I’ll do the test this afternoon.’ Carrie pulled the sheet down to cover Tala’s legs, gently smoothing it with a light swipe of her gloved hand before pushing the drawer closed. Her gentleness had Scarlett’s throat tightening, just as it did every time she’d witnessed it. Apparently reserved for victims of violence, it was motherly in its own way. Almost as if Carrie were tucking a child into bed at night.
I couldn’t leave her alone in the dark. The words Marcus had spoken in the alley hit Scarlett’s mind with a hard slam. He’d sounded bleak and . . . lost. And Scarlett wondered why. Was it simply the shock of seeing a girl gunned down in front of him? Somehow she didn’t think so. He’d served in the military, and as bad as Tala’s shooting had been, he’d likely seen things far worse.
‘Scarlett? Hello? Yo, Earth to Detective Bishop.’ She blinked as Deacon’s hand waved in front of her face. He was hunched forward, staring at her with eyes narrowed in concern. ‘You okay?’
Cheeks heating in embarrassment, she squared her shoulders. ‘Yeah. Sorry. My mind wandered for a second.’
Deacon straightened to his full height. ‘Or ten,’ he said warily. ‘Did you even hear what I just said?’
Scarlett barely resisted the urge to drop her gaze to her shoes. ‘No, I didn’t. Could you repeat it?’
‘I asked Carrie if the victim had been sexually assaulted,’ he said, still frowning.
That was a good question, Scarlett thought. I should have asked it myself. Instead, she’d been daydreaming about Marcus O’Bannion’s emotional state. Get your brain back in the damn game, Bishop. ‘And was she?’ she asked evenly.
‘There’s no evidence of recent physical trauma per se. No vaginal bruising or fluids present. But she has been sexually active. She has gonorrhea and genital warts, vaginal and anal. They’re not visible, so she might not have known she had them. I’ve sent a culture to the lab to determine what strain is present.’
‘Not surprising,’ Scarlett said quietly. ‘I’m more surprised you didn’t find evidence of repeated assault.’
‘So was I,’ Carrie admitted, ‘especially after seeing the bruises and welts. I’ll report this to the health department – they’ll want to be informed after you’ve identified her and found her captors. Anyone who’s had sexual contact with her is potentially infected.’
‘I’d be only too happy if the bastards who raped her got infected too,’ Deacon said tightly, ‘except that they’ll take it home to their wives and girlfriends, who haven’t done anything wrong other than believing the lying sonofabitch they had the misfortune to trust in the first place.’
Surprised by the leashed viciousness in his voice, Scarlett turned to study his face. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard, twin streaks of dark red staining his cheekbones. He was holding on to his temper by a thread. Deacon was a natural protector and she’d seen him get righteously angry on a victim’s behalf many times over their ten-month partnership. But this was more than indignant anger. This was fury, and it was personal.
And then Scarlett suddenly understood. She’d known Deacon’s sister Dani was HIV positive, but she had never asked when or how she’d contracted the virus. It was simply not her business. But now, looking at Deacon’s furious face, she realized that Dani had been one of those innocent girlfriends victimized by a lying sonofabitch.
She placed a careful hand on Deacon’s shoulder. ‘Easy,’ she murmured.
Deacon’s chest expanded as he drew a deep breath and slowly, visibly, calmed himself. Closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ Carrie said. ‘I couldn’t have said it better myself. So when you report it, it’ll be for the innocent wives and girlfriends.’
Carrie’s ‘when’ rather than ‘if’ seemed to calm Deacon a little further. His eyes opened, and he was back in control. ‘You got it, Doc.’
Scarlett gave his arm a squeeze before dropping her hand to her side. ‘You’ll contact us with anything new?’ she asked Carrie.
‘Absolutely, but I wasn’t finished,’ Carrie said.
Scarlett’s heart sank. ‘There’s more?’
Carrie nodded. ‘Your victim has given birth at least once. From the pelvic spread, I’d say the birth occurred within the past one to three years and that the child was carried to term.’
Scarlett felt the added weight of new dread settle over her. ‘Assuming that the child lived, he’s out there somewhere.’
‘I’d say her child lived,’ Carrie said grimly. ‘Your victim was still lactating.’
Deacon’s jaw tightened. ‘Then we’ve got a baby out there somewhere who’s becoming very hungry.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 8.45 A.M.
Marcus stared at the phone on his desk for a long, long moment before forcing himself to pick it up and call his mother. Her maid picked it up on the first ring and Marcus nearly collapsed in relief, like the coward he was. Guilt chased the relief, quickly overwhelming it.
‘Yarborough residence. May I help you?’
Della Yarborough had retaken her maiden name when she and Jeremy O’Bannion had divorced almost twenty years ago now. Here in Cincinnati, the Yarborough name had status and his mother had known the power it could wield. But Marcus and Stone had kept Jeremy’s name, a gesture of love and support for the stepfather who’d legally adopted them, caring for them like they’d been his own sons.
‘Hi, Fiona. It’s Marcus. Is she awake?’ he asked, even though he knew the answer. The quick pickup of the phone meant that his mother was still asleep. That she was still asleep meant that she’d taken sleeping pills the night before. She’d been going to bed earlier and earlier and sleeping later and later as the weeks went by.
‘No, sir,’ Fiona said quietly.
‘Have you been in to check on her this morning?’
‘Yes, sir, three times since dawn. She’s sleeping soundly. Can I help you with something?’
‘Um, well, yes. When she wakes up, have her call me or Stone, right away.’
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, no, we’re both fine. But there’s a story online that I’d like to talk to her about before she reads it. It will be in the morning papers too, so I need to talk to her before she reads those.’
‘All right,’ Fiona said hesitantly. ‘Should I have her doctor here?’
‘No, I just want her to hear my voice and know I’m all right. Thanks, Fi.’
Marcus hung up, torn between anger and pity and fear for his mother. He’d nearly lost her once. He didn’t want her to get to that place ever, ever again. Especially by her own hand. But there didn’t seem to be much he co
uld do. She’d do what she wanted to do, no matter what he said, no matter how worried he became.
With a slight wince he remembered Cal’s almost identical words from morning meeting. At least I come by my stubbornness honestly.
He checked his cell phone, knowing he had several calls or texts. He’d felt his phone vibrate at least five times during morning meeting. He sighed when he checked his log. Two of the four calls and two of the texts were from Scarlett Bishop. The others were from his stepfather. Marcus knew what the detective wanted – most likely the same thing she’d wanted before he went into the meeting. The list of threats. But he listened to the new messages anyway, just to hear her voice. And how goddamn pathetic was that?
The first message was another request for a status update, asking if he’d sent the list yet. The second message sounded worried. ‘Marcus, it’s Scarlett Bishop. I haven’t heard from you and I’m . . . well, I just wanted to be sure you were all right. If your back begins to bother you, I hope you’ll call for medical attention. I hope you’re simply getting some rest. Could you call me when you wake up? I have a few follow-up questions.’
Marcus played the second message twice more and would have played it a third time had his cell not started to ring in that moment. It was his stepfather, Jeremy, which made sense since the last two messages were from him.
He answered, feeling a bit foolish for listening to Scarlett’s message several times before playing Jeremy’s even once. That Jeremy O’Bannion was his stepfather was a blessing for which he’d be grateful for the rest of his life. The man had come into their lives when he and Stone had been so young, so broken. And so desperate for a good father. Despite being only twenty-one at the time – only eleven years older than Marcus – Jeremy had adopted them, given them his last name and helped drive many of their nightmares away.
Jeremy loved them and Marcus loved him too, even though he and his mother were no longer married. ‘Hi, Jeremy. What’s up?’
A long sigh. ‘God, Marcus, I needed to hear your voice. I’ve been worried ever since Detective Bishop called me.’