Ken stumbled a step, genuinely startled. No one knew about the account in the name of the alias he’d kept secret for years. ‘You’re lying.’
‘Fine,’ Sean said easily. ‘I’m lying. Mr William J. Bosley.’
Shit, Ken thought, still holding on to his calm. Then Sean rattled off the number of Ken’s bank account with a quiet chuckle and his gut turned to water. ‘How?’ he asked softly, waiting for Sean to make a wrong move or step.
‘The same way I found out you were tracking us through our phones. I’m the IT guy. I control all the software, all the devices. Even the ones you believe are private.’
Ken had trusted him completely. Obviously he’d been very wrong. ‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Sean sounded incredulous. ‘Really?’
‘I rarely ask questions to which I don’t want answers,’ Ken said sharply. ‘Don’t play games with me. I asked you why.’
‘Because my mother did not run off with her yoga instructor,’ Sean said, his voice harsh with venom. ‘Because she did not abandon me, even though that’s what you’ve told me for years. She didn’t leave me voluntarily. You killed her.’
Well, fuck. ‘How did you find out?’ Ken asked, keeping his voice mildly curious.
‘Reuben. He told me that you killed her and . . . disposed of her. That she was in that pit along with all of the others you’ve had killed over the years.’ Sean’s voice shook, but his hand clenched on the gun, steadying himself. ‘You put my mother through that damn woodchipper.’
Sonofabitch. ‘That’s a lie,’ Ken lied. ‘Why would Reuben tell you such a thing?’
‘Because I caught him on video with underage girls. More than two dozen times, all different girls,’ he added bitterly. ‘He was unwilling to go to jail for his perversions so he offered me a trade. The videos I’d taken for the video he’d taken. Of you, killing my mother.’
Shit. Goddamn that Reuben.
They were almost to the garage. He’d overpower Sean and . . . He considered his options. He would kill the kid. Once he’d gotten back the money Sean had stolen from him. But he needed Sean physically able to communicate with his voice or a pencil, either would do. Bottom line, he needed Sean to be able to give him passwords and account numbers.
He had a little time before O’Bannion arrived, so he had time to get Sean to spill his secrets. He’d use the same methods against Sean that he’d used against Demetrius.
‘Reuben told me that she’d been working with the cops to turn us in,’ Ken lied. Sean’s mother had hated cops. She’d actually been planning to blackmail Ken and his entire team. ‘But now I know you can’t trust anything Reuben says. He’s stolen money from me. Both he and Demetrius did.’
‘No they didn’t,’ Sean said. ‘I moved that money around. Took Joel forever to find the discrepancy. Joel lied to you too, by the way. There was money in his account too. He moved it elsewhere and is keeping it for himself.’
Ken looked over his shoulder, surprised again. ‘You wanted me to kill Demetrius.’
Sean gave him a duh look. ‘I sure as hell didn’t want to have to do it myself. Demetrius was insane, especially when he was on the steroids.’
I tortured and killed Demetrius. Because of a lie. Well, no, he corrected himself. He’d killed him because he kept botching up the elimination of Marcus O’Bannion. That part was legit. But he wouldn’t have tortured him for that. He would have made it a quick and painless shot to the head. ‘Where is Reuben?’ he demanded.
‘That I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d killed him too.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Too bad. Reuben needed killing. He was a train wreck.’
They were approaching the entrance to the garage. There were two steps down between the laundry room and the garage interior. That would be Ken’s chance. If he fucked it up, he believed Sean would be capable of shooting him in the back.
Ken descended the first step, then . . . He whipped around, grabbing Sean’s hand and jerking the barrel of the gun toward the concrete floor. At the same time he twisted Sean’s wrist hard.
Sean grunted in pain and drove his elbow into Ken’s throat. Ken gasped, but used the height difference against his son. Sean was still a step above him, so he grabbed at Sean’s elbow as he fell backward, and both men went down.
Ken hit the concrete floor with a back-cracking thud, Sean falling on top of him. But while Ken’s back hurt, he’d had far worse pain. Sean had not, and was now a quivering, shaking mess. In a split second, Ken had his son rolled to his back and had wrested the gun from his grip.
Taking no chances, he fired twice, shooting Sean in the knee and in the side. He’d hit none of his important organs, but had robbed him of his mobility. Sean screamed and clutched at empty air, because Ken was already on his feet, the gun pointed at those more vital organs.
‘All right, son,’ he said coldly. ‘Let’s talk passwords.’
Thirty-six
Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 10.45 P.M.
‘Almost there,’ Scarlett said quietly. They were less than ten minutes from the site where Marcus would walk into a certain trap. She wanted to talk him out of it, but knew that she couldn’t. If he left Gayle with that monster to save his own skin, he’d never forgive himself.
It was who he was and she accepted that.
‘Would you have really done it?’ he asked. ‘Given up your badge?’
‘I told my dad that if I were forced to choose, I’d choose you. I never said I’d give up my badge, but that’s what it translates to. But you know, if it came down to that, I wouldn’t want to stay, anyway. I’m a good cop. I have integrity. If I didn’t believe in it, I wouldn’t do it. If the department and I came to an impasse, I wouldn’t be the one to yield.’
‘I’m . . .’ He stammered, flustered. ‘Thank you.’
She smiled at him. ‘If you want to thank me, call Deacon. He’s late checking in. If I call, he’ll yell at me.’
‘Thirty seconds late,’ Marcus said, ‘but I’ll call. For you.’ He dialed Deacon’s number and put him on speaker.
‘Thirty seconds, people,’ Deacon growled. ‘That’s all the late I was. But’ – his voice became lighter – ‘we have what you asked for. You want me to read it or send it?’
‘Both. Send it to my phone,’ Scarlett said. ‘I’ll pull over to look at it.’
‘You’re welcome, Detective Meanness,’ Diesel said.
Scarlett grinned. ‘Thank you, Diesel. I’m sorry I threatened you, but you deserved it.’
‘I did,’ Diesel agreed. ‘And I have to admit, it was kind of hot.’
Scarlett started to scold him, then looked over at Marcus. He was nodding vigorously. ‘Very hot,’ he mouthed, and she swallowed her rebuke, giving Marcus a wink instead. Terrified for Gayle, he was holding on to his composure by a thread. If a little flirtation helped him, Scarlett could flow with it.
‘I’m pulling over now,’ she said, ‘and, Diesel, you are going to forget we ever had this conversation.’ By the time she’d stopped the car, the letter had arrived in her email inbox. She and Marcus huddled over her screen, studying the note while Deacon read it aloud.
When they’d finished, Scarlett frowned, completely disappointed. ‘It’s exactly as Gayle said. Dammit. Thanks anyway, guys,’ she said into the phone’s speaker. ‘I was hoping.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Marcus said. ‘Not so fast.’ He expanded her phone’s screen and glanced over at her with a smile of satisfaction. ‘Look at the return address. That’s not where the McCords lived. But it is about five miles from the entrance to the park where we’re supposed to meet Sweeney.’
‘Oh my God – do you think . . . Could she have put Sweeney’s return address on her letter?’ Scarlett asked. ‘Why would she? How would she even know it?’
‘She did it so that we’d check it out,’ Diesel said. ‘I bet Leslie McCord realized her and her hubby’s numbers were up and she wanted someone to know who’d done them
in. As for how she knew the address . . . Maybe she’d visited, or even followed Sweeney after a meet. Anders took photos to cover himself. Maybe the McCords wanted a little insurance too.’
‘But why not just tell you?’ Deacon asked.
Scarlett got it. ‘Because she was worried about what would happen to her, but Woody was trying to cut a deal with the prosecution. She didn’t want any evidence floating around to indicate that her husband actually was guilty.’ She let out a breath of air, ‘So, let’s rethink our plan. We have a little more than an hour now. It is entirely possible that we’re wrong. If so, I want to be able to quickly punt back to plan A – meeting Sweeney where he specified. To that end, we should leave at least Adam in place. We can call Kate to meet us at the address Leslie McCord left us. If we’re wrong about Gayle being there, then Kate will be our backup.’
Adam Kimble had camped in that park and knew the layout, so they’d all agreed that he’d go ahead, scout out the area and find a tall tree with a good vantage point of the meeting place. Kate was a sharpshooter, so the base plan had been that she would accompany Adam, finding her own tree.
‘Adam and Kate should be at the park by now,’ Marcus said. ‘Let’s tell Kate to meet us at the McCord address.’
Scarlett nodded. ‘Kate can be our lookout while we search the place for Gayle.’
‘First priority is to get Gayle out, then find Sweeney,’ Marcus said. ‘I say we give ourselves until 11.30 to find Gayle. If not, I go to the meet as agreed, miked up so that you all can hear. If Kate can safely find a new tree in time, she should. Otherwise, she’s Adam’s backup on the ground.’
Once they had a visual lock on Gayle, they were to shoot Sweeney to injure, but not to kill. Not unless Sweeney did something stupid, like attempt a double-cross, and then all bets were off and Adam and Kate were to do whatever necessary to bring the bastard down.
Scarlett and Deacon were to remain far enough back so that their presence would go undetected. Unless, again, something went wrong with the trade, or Sweeney simply started shooting. Then they’d sweep in and, like Adam and Kate, do whatever needed to be done to stop him. Not allowing Sweeney to escape was the one thing they’d all agreed on. Either they brought him in alive or they took him down. Permanently.
Marcus gave Scarlett a frighteningly sober look as he added into the speaker phone, ‘And, guys, if it comes down to saving only one of us, choose Gayle. Promise me.’
There was silence on the line. Scarlett’s lips tightened. She wasn’t entertaining that as a possibility. If she did, she’d crack and be utterly useless to everyone.
Finally Deacon sighed. ‘All right,’ he said quietly. ‘But let’s pray this McCord address is the right place.’
Scarlett cleared her throat. ‘If it is the right place, we storm the castle instead of walking into a slaughter.’
‘Not to be too particular,’ Deacon commented, ‘but what exactly does storming the castle entail?’
Scarlett hesitated. ‘Assessing the perimeter first. We can at least check out the house and the property on Google Earth. Then we find a way in, find Gayle and get out.’
‘In other words,’ Diesel drawled, ‘you really have no flippin’ idea.’
‘Pretty much,’ Scarlett admitted. ‘We’ll play it by ear. It’ll be dicey, but at least we’re following our plan, not a response to his.’
‘I’ll contact Kate and Adam,’ Deacon said. ‘I’ll leave Adam in place and have Kate call you to coordinate. I’ll meet you at the McCord address in twenty.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 11.05 P.M.
‘The wall’s at least a hundred yards long on each side,’ Kate Coppola said as she jogged up to where Scarlett and Marcus stood next to the car they’d parked at the edge of the property to which Leslie McCord had led them. ‘Maybe half that widthways. Encloses about an acre.’
Kate had arrived ten minutes earlier and, her rifle strapped to her back, had attempted a perimeter check. Deacon was still ten minutes out. Scarlett checked her phone. They were very quickly running out of time to figure out a way in. Hopefully Sweeney was still in there and they could catch him coming out.
‘The wall is eight inches thick and ten feet high,’ Kate continued, ‘with high-voltage wire on top. There’s an iron gate at the end of a long tree-lined driveway. Remote-controlled. I didn’t see a guard shack inside, but my angle was bad so there could have been one.’
‘Cameras?’ Scarlett asked.
‘I counted at least sixteen of them on the side of the wall I could see, evenly spaced along the outer perimeter, and they’re active. The high-voltage wire is live. I climbed a tree and got a decent view of the interior, but none of the limbs extend over the walls, so there’s no entry that way. Good news,’ she finished, ‘is that with all this security, this is probably Sweeney’s place.’
‘But bad news,’ Scarlett said grimly, ‘is that it’s a fucking fortress.’
Marcus closed his eyes on a wave of palpable despair, but his voice remained strong. ‘Are you sure the wire fence is live?’
‘I could hear it humming,’ Kate replied briskly, but there was sympathy in her eyes.
He nodded, eyes open and alert once more. ‘What else?’
‘The wall itself only encloses the house and an attached garage,’ Kate said. ‘There’s a chain-link gate in the back wall that opens to the rest of the property. I didn’t run the entire perimeter, so I can’t tell you how many acres it covers, only that it’s enclosed by a twelve-foot chain-link fence, also high-voltage, also live.’
‘If the property database is correct,’ Marcus said, ‘the entire property is just under forty acres. I ran a quick check as we were driving here. The owner is listed as Kenneth Spiegel, forty-eight years old.’
‘Kenneth Spiegel, Kenneth Sweeney,’ Kate said. ‘At least he did us the courtesy of keeping his first name in his alias.’
‘The age is about right too,’ Scarlett added, ‘assuming Kenneth is the man in the photos with Alice.’
‘Did you get a photo of Kenneth Spiegel?’ Kate asked.
Marcus said. ‘Not yet. Deacon’s having Isenberg’s clerk search the DMV database. Spiegel still exists – as a name, anyway. He’s on record as paying the property taxes every year. He assumed ownership from Martha Spiegel – his mother – twenty-two years ago, when he was twenty-six. It appears this land has been owned by Spiegels for a hundred years. The primary residence is a six-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath Tudor-style home with a six-car garage, just under four thousand square feet.’
‘That’s what I saw within the walls,’ Kate agreed. ‘The back part of the property is mostly forested, but I did see two sheds through the chain-link fence. One is normal-sized – for shovels and stuff – and the other is large, with a high ceiling, almost like a building you’d see at a state fair.’
‘Lots of places to hide one small woman,’ Scarlett muttered.
‘She’s likely being kept in the basement,’ Marcus said, ‘based on the video he sent us. The cage was on a concrete floor and the walls in the background were unfinished.’
‘And the sound echoed a little,’ Scarlett added. ‘I’d start looking there once we get in.’
‘Did you see any sign of people?’ Marcus asked. ‘Guards specifically?’
‘Not walking around,’ Kate said, ‘but there have been people there recently. There’s trash in the cans outside and one of the garage doors is up. I took some photos.’ She handed over her phone, and Scarlett and Marcus flipped through the pictures, confirming what she had described.
‘Any ideas of how we get in?’ Scarlett asked.
Marcus shook his head, his shoulders sagging. ‘No,’ he murmured.
Scarlett curled her hand around his forearm. ‘Then we wait for him to come out. If he hasn’t left yet, he’ll have to come through the front gate. We put Kate up in the tree and she can take him out with a head shot, assuming his vehicle isn’t fitted with bullet-resistant glass.
If we can’t take him out, we disable the car and physically ambush him.’
Marcus lifted his head. Stared at her for a moment, hope in his eyes. ‘We have to get him before he knows we’re coming. Kate?’
Kate checked the time. ‘Deacon will be here soon, but the SWAT guys are still twenty minutes out. I really want the backup.’
‘But Sweeney might leave for the meet before they get here,’ Marcus protested.
‘Kate, let’s get as close to the front gate as we can without setting off the security, and find our positions,’ Scarlett bargained. ‘We won’t move in until backup arrives, unless Sweeney’s vehicle comes through the gate. Does that work?’
Kate considered it for a split second longer. ‘Yeah, that works.’
‘Then let’s go,’ Marcus said, his jaw clenched. ‘How do we avoid the cameras?’
‘I hid in the tree cover. I assume it worked because nobody shot at me. Follow me.’
Scarlett gave his arm another squeeze. ‘You heard the woman, soldier. Fall in.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 11.10 P.M.
Ken logged out of his bank account and closed his laptop before turning to look down at his son, who lay on the floor shivering, despite the heat in the garage. Bound hand and foot, Sean boasted fewer fingers and toes than he’d had before they’d started.
It only seemed fair. Ken had taken Demetrius’s fingers based on the belief that his old friend had betrayed him, when in reality it had been Sean setting his team up to mistrust each other. Sean fancied himself a grand puppet master, pulling the strings. Sean had been wrong.
‘I gotta hand it to you, son,’ Ken said. ‘You held out far longer than I expected before spilling your secrets.’ But he had spilled them. ‘You’ll be happy to know that I’ve reclaimed my money – and yours. But not to worry. You won’t be needing it anymore.’
Sean stared up at him, hatred and agony glazing his eyes. ‘You fucking bastard,’ he croaked hoarsely. He’d screamed long and loud, and his voice was mostly gone.
‘Watch your tone, boy,’ Ken said mildly. Swiping his shirtsleeve over his brow, he wiped away the sweat that dripped into his eyes. He’d opened the garage door to get a little fresh air after finishing with Sean, but the air outside was hot and muggy too. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. I reek, he thought. His clothing was smeared with Sean’s blood. Now that his money was safe, he needed to clean up and get in position to eliminate O’Bannion.