They’d arranged for McCord’s death in prison – not terribly hard to manage. The man had been about to talk and he would have taken them all down. He’d been hanged in his cell and his jailers had called it suicide. His wife’s killing was a necessary snipping of loose ends. They had no way of knowing what she knew, but she’d been vocal in his defense and they’d shut her up as a pre-emptive strike, making it look like she’d OD’d on pills. Two suicides, both fully accepted because the authorities had been expecting it to happen.
The same approach should have been applied to O’Bannion.
‘Suicide would have worked after O’Bannion got out of the hospital. He was grieving his brother’s death. No one would have blinked.’
Demetrius sighed. ‘You’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘I was wrong. We were all wrong except for you. Happy now?’
Ken opened his mouth, a torrent of words at the ready, but he stopped them at the last minute before he could say something he’d truly regret later. ‘No, I’m not happy,’ he said, forcing himself to find his composure. ‘We’ve made some mistakes. We, Demetrius. That includes me too.’ Which he didn’t truly believe, but it was only important that Demetrius thought he did. ‘We need to fix them, starting with O’Bannion.’
Demetrius’s mouth curved. ‘You are so fulla shit, Kenny,’ he said, almost affectionately. ‘You don’t ever think you’re wrong. Why should I believe you’re starting now? But you are right in that we do have to fix this. O’Bannion needs to go. But I’m not willing to go to jail, not even for you. So let’s figure this thing out.’ He sat down in the wingback chair, studying his phone screen with a frown.
Ken reread the article. ‘Whoever shot the girl in the alley also shot O’Bannion in the back, but O’Bannion wasn’t injured badly enough to go to the hospital. Sean’s source says he was treated and released at the scene.’ Eyes narrowed, he looked at Demetrius. ‘Who shot the girl?’
‘Very good question,’ Demetrius murmured. ‘But a more immediate question might be “With what?” If we can pin down the kind of gun that was used, we can get one and kill O’Bannion. Then – as long as we make sure we get the bullet out of him – nobody will be able to prove that the same shooter didn’t come back for him.’
‘Will you do that?’ Ken asked.
‘You’re asking this time?’ A chuckle. ‘Maybe the boy can be taught after all. Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ve got a few favors floatin’ around down at CPD. I’ll collect some. All I really need to know is the bullet caliber. I’ll wait till O’Bannion’s alone. But that means you’ll have to take care of Reuben’s wife. If you’re not too rusty.’
Ken raised a brow. ‘I’ll take care of Miriam. You make sure O’Bannion doesn’t cause us any trouble. Any more trouble, anyway,’ he added bitterly.
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Demetrius saluted smartly. ‘Since we’re back to not asking.’
Ken shot him a dirty look. ‘Don’t be an asshole, Demetrius.’ He rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. ‘Burton should have called by now.’
‘I know.’
Sighing again, Ken hit the speaker phone and dialed Burton’s cell phone. ‘Status?’ he snapped when Burton answered, his voice grim.
‘We have the Anders family, all three of them. They had to be restrained and . . . muted. None of them were able to get off a phone call for help, so at least we won’t have that cleanup.’
‘What about the tamper alert?’ he asked, already knowing the answer. He’d heard it in Burton’s grim tone. Still, Ken held his breath.
‘We found the cut trackers in the basement, which apparently had been the women’s quarters for the past few years. But both of the women are gone.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 9.50 A.M.
Scarlett Bishop. How long had she been standing there? What had she heard? Nothing damaging, Marcus decided. Worst case, she’d heard him rebuking Gayle for giving Jill access to her computer. Best case, she’d heard only Gayle’s worry that he’d been shot at. Again. He pushed the panic to the edge of his mind.
The edge of his mind was getting mighty crowded with all the emotions he was shoving over there. The ridiculous thought was enough to make his lips quirk up, so that when he spoke, his voice was only mildly irritated.
‘Stone?’ he called. ‘Escort the detective in, please.’
Stone shoved the door open. His brother looked just like a bar bouncer, his scowl one that would have scared most street thugs. But Scarlett was unaffected, her face serene. And so goddamn beautiful it was all Marcus could do to remember the fact that she’d eavesdropped on a private conversation.
‘Detective,’ Marcus said evenly. She’d changed her clothes. Gone was the sexy tank top and tight jeans that had hugged her body like a glove, a conservative blouse and slacks in their place. Sadly, a tailored jacket now covered the shoulder holster that he’d found so hot. The black braid that had hung freely down the middle of her back was looped close to her head in a clever spiral, and he wondered how many pins she’d had to use to make it stay that way. The image of his hands pulling those pins out one by one flashed into his mind. She looked good enough to eat.
‘She was listening at the door,’ Stone snarled.
‘There was no one at the desk and I got tired of waiting,’ Scarlett said with a shrug of shoulders he now knew were well toned and muscular in a very feminine way.
‘You didn’t call out for anyone,’ Gayle said indignantly. ‘I would have come right out.’
‘She has a habit of doing that,’ Stone said through clenched teeth. ‘Showing up and not announcing herself.’
Scarlett and Deacon had tricked Stone the first time they’d met him, walking into his house when he’d called ‘Come in’, thinking it was Jeremy’s husband who’d knocked. They’d announced themselves as police only after they were already through the door. Technically they’d violated Stone’s civil rights by barging in unannounced, but technically Stone was withholding critical evidence about multiple murders at the time, so they’d all let it slide. Now here Scarlett was barging in unannounced again. A repeat offender, as it were. Clearly she didn’t mind bending the rules when it suited her. Which shouldn’t have made Marcus want her even more, but he had to admit that it did.
Scarlett didn’t acknowledge either Gayle or Stone, continuing to regard Marcus with an unflappable calm. I should be royally pissed off right now, he thought. But he found himself intrigued instead.
Gayle came to her feet. ‘I’ll show the detective out.’
Marcus stopped her with a wave of his hand. ‘It’s all right, Gayle. What can I do for you, Detective?’
‘I came by to see if you were all right,’ Scarlett said, then arched one black brow. ‘Seeing as how you hadn’t returned my phone calls.’
He bit back a wince. What could he say? I ignored your messages because I was busy figuring out which threats would make me the least suspicious to you? He didn’t think so. ‘I’m sorry if I worried you. I’m fine, as you can see. Just busy earning a living.’
Scarlett scanned his office, her gaze lingering on the wall covered with the framed newspaper headlines his grandfather had collected over a lifetime. For a moment he thought she’d comment on the front page of the Malaya, but then she turned to face him and he frowned. The calm he’d seen when she’d arrived was gone. Now her expression was purposefully blank.
‘Earning a living by digging up news,’ she said quietly.
The sudden change in her demeanor rubbed him the wrong way. ‘We are a newspaper, Detective,’ he said sharply. ‘You’ve seen that I’m still unharmed, so if there’s nothing else?’
The flash of temper in her dark eyes irrationally soothed his irritation. ‘You promised me a list of those who’d made threats against you. I expected it hours ago.’ She turned her attention to Gayle. ‘I assume you’re Mr O’Bannion’s office manager. He told my partner and me that you keep a list of all the threats to his life made by those unhappy with your newspaper’s content. Since he is obviously too busy, can you print me a copy?’