‘Fuck.’ It was the local TV news website, and the shooting at O’Bannion’s apartment building was the top story. Two victims en route to the local hospital with ‘grave wounds’. The building was on lockdown. It was good that Demetrius had gotten out when he did.
‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘He didn’t mention that he didn’t actually kill the employee, or that he shot the security guard, did he?’ She let it sink in, then turned to go. ‘I’ll get the room upstairs ready for him.’
‘Alice, wait,’ he said, and she paused mid-step. ‘You’re right. Both of them need to go. I’ll take care of Demetrius. O’Bannion is now officially yours.’
She gave him a hard nod. ‘Thanks.’
‘Two more things.’ He waited until she’d turned around to fully face him. ‘Are you still monitoring McCord’s partner?’ The partner who would have been exposed if Marcus O’Bannion and his Ledger team had continued to dig for the story nine months ago.
‘Yes. He seems to be in control and to have learned from Woody’s mistakes.’
‘Has he added any assets?’
‘A few, but not from us. We’re still taking a cut of his profits, though. Not huge profits, but steady, and there’s promise for future expansion. McCord’s partner welcomed Sean’s e-commerce expertise. Locating his server offshore and teaching him about proxies was also . . . appreciated. His appreciation increased the profit trickle to a steady flow. We haven’t made personal contact in months. He knows I watch his progress, but as long as the deposits are made every month, I don’t bother him.’
It had been an agreement among the team, to take a cut of the business that high school teacher McCord and his more socially prominent partner had successfully started and maintained. But then McCord had thrown his share away when he’d attracted O’Bannion’s attention for being a little too friendly with the students in his class.
Wanting to expose McCord’s lechery, O’Bannion had somehow hacked his way into McCord’s computer and discovered his collection. What O’Bannion had believed to be his collection, anyway. The newsman hadn’t realized what he was looking at, because most people didn’t have the stomach for those kind of pictures to begin with. To clinically analyze them required a specific kind of individual. Marcus O’Bannion was not that man.
But O’Bannion was a man who didn’t give up once he’d gotten the scent of a story. He had published the ‘truth’, exposing McCord’s proclivities to the disgust of the community. Luckily he hadn’t published the whole truth. Luckily Sean had been able to remove the more damaging files from McCord’s server before the police raided his house, took his computers and tossed his ass in jail.
We had to take a huge risk to ensure that good ole Woody McCord didn’t talk. It had been a stroke of fate that O’Bannion had been hospitalized at the same time, his life turned upside down by his own injury and the loss of his brother. Had he kept going, Alice was right. Ken and his entire team would be sitting behind bars.
‘And the second thing?’ she asked.
‘How will you get close to O’Bannion?’
‘I don’t plan to get close. I don’t care if anyone thinks it’s related to the girl this morning or not. Like I said earlier today, the man has so many enemies, nobody will know what hit him. I’ll make up a room for Demetrius, then I’ll focus on the O’Bannion problem.’
Ken dialed Decker as she left the room. ‘I need your medical services again,’ he said when the younger man answered. ‘Meet me in Eden Park near the Conservatory. I’ll be waiting next to Demetrius’s car. And bring some chloroform or something to knock him out with.’ He hung up and dialed Burton. ‘I need you to tow Demetrius’s vehicle to my garage. I want you to clean out the blood and then get rid of it.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Twenty-three
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 9.05 P.M.
Scarlett found Marcus sitting on a sofa in a sleek, opulent living room, cradling a Sheltie in his arms. The dog wasn’t moving.
Oh no, she thought, her heart hurting for him even as her body trembled with relief. He was unhurt. Strong, healthy and alive. He looked up, met her eyes, and a new wave of fear passed through her. His looked stark and cold. Empty.
An officer stood behind him, his expression irritated. The man had his hand on his holstered service weapon as if he expected Marcus to bolt and planned to gun him down when he did. ‘Are you Bishop?’ he asked stiffly.
Scarlett glanced at the man’s badge. ‘I am Detective Bishop, Officer Towson. Stand down, please.’ She could see that there were people in the bedroom and knew from Dispatch that Marcus had made two calls to 911, one for the doorman, Edgar Kauffman, and the other for his employee, Phillip Cauldwell. The second ambulance had still been parked outside, so the medics weren’t done with Phillip yet. She looked over her shoulder at Kate, who’d stayed a step behind her the whole way. ‘Can you see what’s happening in the bedroom?’
Kate nodded and went to the master bedroom. Scarlett carefully sat next to Marcus.
‘Are you hurt?’ she asked, keeping her voice low and calm. As calm as she could, anyway, with her heart beating a hole in her throat.
‘I’m not hurt.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Phillip Cauldwell’s one of my team,’ he said, his normally beautiful voice flat and emotionless. ‘On the Ledger. Good kid. I’ve known him for years. His sister is Lisette Cauldwell. She’s also on my team. She’s one of my oldest friends. I need to tell her about Phil. I don’t want her to hear it from strangers.’ He fixed his gaze on the dog in his arms. ‘I also need a vet,’ he continued in the same flat voice. ‘He hurt her.’
He was in shock, she understood. Not physical shock, but emotional shock. ‘The person who attacked Phillip?’ she asked softly.
‘She bit him. She’s evidence, but I don’t want her in a cage. I want her taken care of.’ Another audible swallow. ‘She’s all I have left of Mikhail,’ he whispered, his voice breaking.
‘I understand.’ She placed her hand on Marcus’s forearm and gave it a light squeeze. ‘I called Sergeant Tanaka. He’s on his way with a team. I’ll ask him to call a forensic vet, okay?’ She made the call, then ran her hand gently over the dog’s coat. The animal whimpered softly, and Marcus’s hold tightened ever so slightly.
Kate came back in and crouched next to the sofa, looking up at Marcus. ‘Your friend isn’t dead. He’s hurt badly, though, but you knew that,’ she said honestly. ‘You stopped his bleeding, so he’ll have a chance.’
‘This is Special Agent Coppola,’ Scarlett told him. ‘She’s Deacon’s old partner. She’s just been transferred here, so she’s helping us with this case now. Deacon says you can trust her. Tell us what happened.’
He glanced at Kate before lifting his eyes to Scarlett’s again, his still stark and cold. He told them how he’d found the wounded guard in the lobby, how he’d found his apartment trashed. ‘He forced Phillip to bring him up here, but I guess he didn’t expect the dog to bite him or Phillip to stab him with his own knife.’
‘I guess not,’ Scarlett said softly. ‘I’m glad they took him by surprise.’
‘You were right,’ Marcus said, his voice as dead as his eyes. ‘I was the target this afternoon. They were shooting at me, not you. Maybe this morning in the alley, too. Maybe it’s been me all along.’
‘Not this morning,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘Tala’s killer tracked her to the alley.’
‘And Agent Spangler,’ he continued, as if she hadn’t said a word. ‘Maybe he’s dead because of me too. Maybe they’ve been following me all day.’
Scarlett wanted to sigh. His emotional shock was worse than she’d thought. He was taking responsibility for everything that had gone wrong this day. Although he didn’t sound paranoid. He sounded too coldly logical. Her gut had told her to look at Marcus’s enemies this morning, but she’d brushed the instinct aside, focusing on Tala as the target.