Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 12.45 P.M.
When they were out of sight of the house, both Marcus and Scarlett took their cell phones from their pockets. She placed hers on the dash of her car, put an earbud in her left ear, then used her hands-free to call Deacon Novak.
Marcus logged into the website he used for background searches and inputted Marlene Anders. Just in case Scarlett decided not to share everything she learned.
‘Hey, Deacon, it’s me. Did you get my text?’ She listened for a moment, then nodded. ‘Got it. Don’t wait for me, but don’t go in without backup.’ She made an impatient sound. ‘I know we don’t have a warrant. I thought you’d do your thing with the judge. You know, give ’em the eye . . . She is? Good. Lynda can push harder for a warrant than we can. She has more markers to call in, too. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.’ She glanced at Marcus. ‘Go ahead and send it, but I have Marcus with me. I’m sure he’s already run a background on Anders in the time it’s taken us to get to the end of Delores’s driveway. I’ll get the info from him. Suit up, Novak. They’ve already shot two people today.’ She stopped at the end of Delores’s long driveway and pulled the earbud out. ‘Deacon’s sitting out front of the Anderses’ house. Can you hand me the flasher? It’s in the glove box.’
Marcus put the blue flashing light in her outstretched hand and watched as she fixed it to the roof of the car. ‘Hold on tight,’ she said as she floored the accelerator.
‘You all need to have turbo engines,’ Marcus said, although he was more than a little surprised that the department vehicle had as much pickup as it did.
‘We need a lot of things,’ she said glumly. ‘Like a warrant, for starters.’
‘That’s what you wanted Deacon to get by giving someone the eye?’
She shot him a quick glare. ‘Hey, jack, don’t knock it. It’s worked before.’
‘Really? That’s quite a secret weapon.’
‘You have no idea.’
‘Will he go in without a warrant?’
‘Deacon?’ She seemed genuinely surprised. ‘Probably not. He’s a straight shooter.’
Marcus settled into his seat. She was driving faster than he’d anticipated even with the flashing light, but she was in control of the vehicle so he could relax a little. ‘Would you?’
‘Enter without a warrant?’ She made a facial shrug. ‘It’s possible, I suppose. I’ve been known to bend the rules from time to time.’
‘Like trespassing on private property and listening at closed doors to private conversations?’ he asked, only half teasing.
She didn’t break a smile. ‘I don’t know who would do anything that boorish.’
His lips twitched. He didn’t care if she wasn’t as much fun as her friends. He liked her sarcastic sense of humor. ‘So terribly rude.’
One side of her mouth quirked up, then fell again. ‘Part of me wishes that Deacon could wait for me,’ she confessed, ‘but that’s not the best thing for the victims.’
Her use of ‘for me’ was like nails on a chalkboard, but he didn’t fight it because he wanted what was best for the victims too. ‘Especially the baby. She’s gotta be hungry by now.’
‘Since her mama’s dead in the morgue,’ Scarlett said grimly, then cast him a cautious sideways glance. ‘You know I can’t let you go in with me.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll get the story one way or the other.’
She was quiet for a long moment, the only sound that of her tires as they ate up the interstate. ‘You’re not what I expected, Marcus.’
He turned in his seat to study her profile. ‘How so?’
She kept her eyes on the road. ‘You say you make your living digging up news. This is a big story. I thought you’d be on your phone to your office, having them send a reporter with a camera to the address that I know you’ve already looked up.’
‘How do you know I didn’t contact my office? I could have texted them.’
‘But you didn’t, did you?’
‘No,’ he said, and watched her shoulders relax a fraction. She’d been bluffing him, he thought, admiring the effort. But she’d really been hoping that he’d say no.
‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘Some other reporter with a police radio could follow Deacon and his backup to the Anders house and scoop your story.’
‘They wouldn’t have all the background,’ he said, ‘so I still have the exclusive. But sometimes it’s not about the story. Sometimes it’s about doing the right thing.’
A single nod. ‘I expected you to say that this morning when I asked you why you came back to the alley, but you didn’t. You said that you couldn’t leave her alone in the dark. Why?’
He’d known she was perceptive. He should have expected that she’d pick up on that nuance. ‘Scarlett,’ he drawled, ‘sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.’
‘Okay,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Don’t tell me. I understand the need to keep some things to yourself. Tell me about Marlene Anders instead.’
Fifteen
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 1.05 P.M.
Scarlett cleared all thoughts of cigars being cigars from her mind, focusing on the information Marcus was reading to her from the background check he’d run while she’d been coordinating the search of the Anders home with Deacon.
‘Marlene Anders is a fifty-two-year-old Caucasian,’ Marcus said. ‘Married Charles “Chip” Anders when she was twenty-one. She worked as a dental hygienist for ten years, quitting the same year that she gave birth. Her daughter is Stephanie Anders. Marlene has no work history in the years that followed. I see links to about thirty articles, all in the Style section of various newspapers.’
‘What about Chip?’
From the corner of her eye she could see him typing on his phone with his finger. ‘Chip Anders got an engineering degree from Xavier and went to work in the family-owned snack-food business.’ He was quiet for a few minutes. ‘The state business database says that the company declared bankruptcy ten years ago. The same year Chip is listed as incorporating a contract manufacturing company. It’s privately owned, so we can’t see the earnings report, but two years later his and Marlene’s address changed from Bridgetown Road to a three-million-dollar place in Hyde Park, less than a quarter-mile from the park where Tala walked their dog.’
Scarlett whistled softly. ‘Wow.’ Those homes were like something out of a dream. Of course, the fact that Marcus’s apartment was in the same neighborhood had not escaped her notice. But then she’d always known he was wealthy. His mother’s house was a fricking estate, for God’s sake. My whole house would fit into her foyer, she thought, then shoved it aside. She loved her house on top of one of the highest hills in the city. And she’d paid for it herself.
None of which was important right now. Finding Tala’s baby was critical. She crossed her fingers that the Anderses were the people they were looking for. ‘I didn’t know the contract manufacturing business was so lucrative.’
‘Depends on what they were manufacturing, and for whom. Now this is the interesting part. His business is listed as going from five hundred employees to under a hundred about seven years ago. Seems like it took a downward turn.’
‘Lots of businesses did. That’s when everything crashed. And poor Chip and Marlene with that new mortgage. Hard times.’
‘Exactly. And then,’ he said, ‘a year later, Chip opened three new facilities, in different parts of the state. None of the locations have more than a hundred employees.’
‘But he’s churning out enough of whatever it is he’s making with a few hundred employees to expand even bigger than he was when he had five hundred. You’re thinking he had a little labor help?’
‘Yeah.’
Scarlett nodded, considering the picture. ‘Me too. But now I’ve got a few holes to fill.’
Marcus put his phone down, giving her his undivided attention. ‘Hit me.’
Her lips curved briefly, but then she wa
s frowning again as the thoughts swirled in her brain. ‘Deacon and I wondered how Tala got to the alley. If she lived near the park, which now seems more than likely, it’s four and a half miles to the alley. She didn’t look hot and sweaty enough in the video to have walked that far in the heat.’
‘I wondered the same thing.’ His voice hardened. ‘I didn’t have a chance to ask her.’
‘I know,’ she said gently, not taking his tone personally. ‘At first I thought maybe she lived closer to the alley. That she was transported to the park by a handler. That maybe he or she was watching as she walked the dog. I was thinking that was why her owners felt comfortable enough to allow her the freedom to walk the dog all by herself, because even at night she might meet someone. And then we found out about the tracker. And the baby.’
‘The baby was reason enough for her to obey them,’ Marcus said. ‘Knowing that they could hear her through the tracker was just another layer of intimidation. They didn’t need to be watching her so closely. Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing. Now that it’s more likely that she lived right near the park, we have to ask the question again – how did she get to the alley? And why did she choose that alley?’
Because she was there to buy drugs, Scarlett thought, considering the wisdom of sharing that opinion with him. But she’d told him nearly everything else. ‘CSU found a bag of cocaine in her pocket.’
She felt his shock. ‘Tala was an addict?’ he asked. ‘She didn’t have any of the signs.’
She wondered how he knew what the signs were, but kept the question to herself. ‘The ME found no cocaine in her system and no signs of drug use. No thinning nasal membranes and no track marks.’
‘Then maybe she was buying it for someone else. Maybe she was on an errand. Wait a second.’ He did another search on his phone. ‘Stephanie Anders has an arrest record. One misdemeanor possession of pot, one for coke. No convictions.’
‘Money talks.’ She glanced at him. ‘No offense.’
‘None taken. So Miss Stephanie wants some snow, and she sends Tala into the neighborhood with cash. Tala scores, and then ducks into an alley to wait for me.’
‘Maybe she used Stephanie Anders’s cell phone to text you.’ She put her own phone on speaker again and called Deacon. ‘Hey, it’s me.’
‘Hey, you. Lynda doesn’t have a warrant yet and nobody’s answering the door. The house is fucking huge, so saying we don’t hear anything inside is virtually meaningless. At least we haven’t attracted too much of a crowd so far, but the SWAT team hasn’t arrived yet.’
‘Small mercies,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘Listen, when you do get in, check the daughter’s room for drug paraphernalia. Stephanie is . . . Wait. Marcus, how old is she?’
‘Twenty. Goes to Brown University.’
‘I heard him,’ Deacon said. ‘So you think the cocaine in Tala’s pocket belonged to Stephanie?’
‘It’s possible.’ She told Deacon the rest of the details that Marcus had uncovered. ‘I’m about ten minutes out from you. We should get Lynda to use what I just gave you to sweeten the warrant pot.’
‘I’ll call her,’ Deacon said. ‘See you soon.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 1.25 P.M.
‘Dammit,’ Scarlett muttered as she turned the car on to the Anderses’ street.
Marcus sighed. It seemed like half of CPD had gathered there ahead of them. At the head of the line of cars stood Deacon Novak, arms folded across his chest, jaw taut, his eyes covered by the wraparound shades that had become his trademark. ‘Doesn’t look like Deacon got the warrant from your boss.’
‘He would have called if he had,’ she said, stopping the car at the tail end of the line. ‘But I was still hoping.’ She turned to him, her expression severe. ‘Please don’t do anything that’ll force me to call in favors to bail you out of jail.’
He blinked at her innocently. ‘I am a law-abiding citizen, Detective.’
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. She didn’t disbelieve him, he could see. But she wasn’t entirely sure of him either. ‘Keep it that way,’ she murmured. ‘Please.’
She hadn’t told him to stay in the car. Just not to get caught. So he nodded. ‘I’d prefer to call in a few of your favors for something much more pleasurable than bailing me out of jail,’ he said quietly. And very, very seriously.
She sucked in a sharp breath, the uncertainty in her eyes flashing to an arousal she immediately shuttered away. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
He took a few moments to admire the movement of her long, lean body as she jogged up the line of cars toward her partner. She was . . .
Mine. She’s mine.
And she had been from the moment he’d opened his eyes to see her leaning over him as he lay bleeding . . . and dying. He’d been ready to die that day, hadn’t truly minded the idea – not until he’d seen her staring down at him. What he’d seen in her dark, dark eyes, which he now knew were the deepest blue he’d ever seen, had called him back. Had filled him with a sudden craving to fight for another day.
It still did. Enough that he should keep his damn ass in her department car and let her do her job. But that wasn’t who he was. He owed it to Tala to find her child. He owed it to himself, too, knowing he wouldn’t be able to look in the mirror if he sat here and did nothing when he might have an entrée that the cops didn’t have.
Sitting here was not the right thing to do, plain and simple.
Taking a plain black ball cap out of his computer bag, he settled it on his head and activated the camera in the bill. He then got out of Scarlett’s car quietly, walking in the direction opposite from the Anders house until he reached the line of trees that bordered their property, shielding the house from the road. He made his way through the trees, staying in the shadows.
The basement wall was fully visible at the back of the house, which was built into the valley between two hills. Perfectly centered was a solid, non-windowed door covered by a storm door. Both doors opened level with the ground. There was no cover along the back of the house. No trees or bushes to hide behind. The back yard ran flat for the first hundred feet, before the property sloped back up toward the main road.
He glanced up the hill and saw the unmarked car parked on the other side of the treeline. Of course Deacon would have someone watching the back to prevent the Anderses from making a break for it. Or to aid any of Tala’s surviving family who managed to escape. Marcus knew that as soon as he showed himself, the cop in that unmarked would be on his ass, keeping him from trying to gain entry.
Sending up a little prayer, he darted along the basement wall, reaching the back door without interruption, which made him frown and glance over his shoulder at the unmarked car. Nothing. No shouts, no demands for him to stop. Nothing.
Pulling the storm door open, he raised his fist to knock on the entry door, then froze when the storm door literally fell away from the frame. Shit. It was now precariously balanced, one corner dug into the dirt, the opposite corner resting against the house, most of its weight supported by Marcus’s hold on the handle.
The frame itself was splintered, with both sets of hinges – those of the storm door and the entry door – no longer attached. This was no accident. Someone had broken in and then put the doors back in place so that their forced entry wouldn’t be immediately visible.
One little shove and the entry door would be on the floor. Marcus had reached for his phone to text Scarlett to come and see when the detective in question rounded the corner, her annoyance evident in the look on her face and the stiffness of her stride. She was wearing a tactical vest, her service weapon tucked into the built-in holster.
She stopped inches from where he stood. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she hissed.
‘I was about to knock on the back door,’ he said calmly. ‘You knew I would.’
‘Yeah, but I thought you’d be more discreet about how you did it. Every cop up there saw you come back here.’ She narrowed her
eyes at the storm door, her attitude abruptly changing as she took in the damage. ‘Shit. I need CSU.’ She pulled out her phone and dialed. ‘Deacon, send Vince down here. The back door’s been—’
The door frame exploded, sharp shards of wood showering down on their heads, and Marcus’s military training kicked into gear.
Sniper. On the hill behind us. Suddenly the lack of activity from the unmarked car made grim sense. Shit. No cover here. They were sitting ducks, standing in the open. Not a single tree they could hide behind. The only cover was inside the house.
He grabbed Scarlett around the waist, hunkered down and shoved his shoulder into the basement door a split second after a second bullet hit the door, inches from where his head had just been.
The hingeless door gave way, and he and Scarlett followed it down, their bodies slamming against it hard as it hit the floor. Marcus rolled them out of the now open doorway as a third bullet hit the floor directly behind them. Concrete shattered, sharp debris pelting his head and back like mini-daggers.
Breathing hard, his body hovering over hers in a protective shell, Marcus lifted his head. The light coming in through the open door had illuminated a section of the basement floor and inner wall. The concrete was a mess, the bullet having hit the floor an inch beyond where the door had come to rest. The shooter had changed his aim as they’d fallen, following their trajectory.
Had Marcus not rolled them out of the way, the bullet would have hit one of them for sure. He looked down at Scarlett’s face, relieved to see her alert and aware, her pistol firmly gripped in her right hand. She must have drawn her weapon while they were falling. While a small part of his ego wished she’d trembled and clutched at him just a little, the larger part of him was relieved that she remained cool under fire. She needed that cool to stay alive on a day-to-day basis.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked quietly.
‘Yeah. Just knocked the wind out of me. Are you?’
He nodded once. His head hurt, but it was nothing worse than he’d had before. She twisted in his arms, craning back to study the concrete, then following the trajectory with her eyes. She swallowed hard.