‘Why didn’t you shoot him again?’
‘I did. Bastard grabbed the woman, shouldered the door open and went through it like it was made of paper.’
‘Because Burton’s men had already broken the door in.’ Ken rubbed his temples. ‘O’Bannion will be impossible to catch now. He’ll be doubly careful. Plus now we’ve got CPD and the FBI out for our blood.’
‘I may have hit O’Bannion with the second shot,’ Demetrius said, completely ignoring the consequences of having shot a Fed. ‘I’m monitoring the cops on my police radio. The ones watching the front of the house just called for a second rescue squad. The first one is at the back of the house with the Fed I shot.’
‘You think they called the medics because you hit O’Bannion?’
‘They’re not coming for the detective. I don’t think I hit her at all, because he shielded her. It’s got to be for O’Bannion. I know I didn’t kill him. Probably just grazed him, so they’ll just stitch him up and send him home. He still needs to be dealt with. I won’t miss him again.’
‘Oh my God, Demetrius. Listen to yourself. You shot and may have killed a Fed. O’Bannion aside, the FBI isn’t going to let this pass. You’re going to have every Fed in the area looking for you.’
‘They didn’t see me.’
‘But they’ll find your bullet! Jesus.’ Ken’s voice had risen, and he sucked in a breath to quiet himself.
‘Look,’ Demetrius said reasonably. ‘They won’t know it’s us if we deflect. That’s why I was going after O’Bannion with my Ruger to begin with – to make it look like whoever shot at him this morning in the alley was just finishing the job. I have to get close enough.’
‘How are you planning to do that now?’
‘I’m going to his office and I’m going to wait outside for the first person to come out. I will then follow that person and grab them as soon as I can. I’ll draw him to me.’
Ken sighed. They were in too deep to turn back now. ‘If he escapes again . . .’
‘I get it,’ Demetrius growled. ‘I won’t miss again.’
‘You’d better not.’ He looked up to the security monitor, where he could see both surviving Anderses struggling with their bonds. ‘We might have another problem. It seems the Anderses have been holding out on us, buying time because there was either someone still in the house when Burton and Decker got there, or someone who will at least know they’ve been taken. I think they’re hoping for a rescue.’
‘Shit. Who was there?’
‘The girl was about to tell me when you called. I’m going to put Decker on it. Hopefully he’s had a chance to listen to enough of the audio files from the trackers to get an idea of who was in that damn house.’
‘I’ll take care of O’Bannion quickly, then I’ll deal with whoever the Anderses are counting on for rescue.’
‘Just sort out O’Bannion. I’ll deal with the Anderses and their witnesses myself.’
For a moment Ken thought Demetrius would argue, but his friend finally huffed out a breath. ‘Fine. Suit yourself,’ he said, his tone hard and angry.
Ken hung up. ‘I might just have to,’ he murmured. He and Demetrius had been friends for years, but this time the man’s cockiness might have caused them irreparable damage.
If CPD and the Feds got one whiff that Demetrius had pulled the trigger on their boy, they’d stop at nothing until he was behind bars or dead. And there was no way that Ken was allowing himself to get pulled down with him. Even if that meant ending Demetrius before the Feds did.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 1.35 P.M.
Marcus lay on his stomach on the basement floor, shining the light under the bed. An old woman flinched at the glare, moaning again. She looked to be in her seventies, or maybe even older. She’d been beaten severely, her face covered with more cuts and bruises. Her lower lip was split, the blood dried now. The wounds he’d seen on her hands were probably defensive in nature. The thought made him ill. Who would beat an old woman?
Perhaps the same person who’d bought, owned and beaten a young woman so severely that even a seasoned cop like Scarlett had pronounced it ‘bad’.
‘Ma’am?’ Scarlett slid to her stomach, her head touching Marcus’s as she squeezed next to him under the bed. ‘My name is Detective Bishop. We’re going to get you help. Just hold on.’
‘Thank you,’ the woman whispered.
‘Who are you?’ Marcus asked her, and had to strain to hear the reply.
‘Tabby.’
‘Tabby?’ he repeated. ‘Where’s the baby, Tabby?’
A tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek, and Marcus’s heart froze. Until he heard Tabby’s barely audible words.
‘Safe. She’s safe.’ More tears flowed. ‘Not enough. Never enough.’ Her bony hand shot out and grabbed Marcus’s wrist. ‘You’re him? The man from the park?’
The basement stairs shook as several people ran down from the first floor. Marcus didn’t look over to see who was there. His focus was on the old woman. ‘Yes. How did you know about me?’
‘Tala . . .’ A great gulping breath, followed by a dry hacking cough. ‘Told me. I told her to trust you. Make them pay.’
‘Who?’
‘Nephew. His wife. Their brat. Evil, evil. Please, promise me. Make them pay.’
‘Did they do this to you?’
‘He did. Chip.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I took the baby. His baby.’
Marcus’s stomach clenched, even though he’d expected the father of Tala’s baby to be one of her abusers.
Tabby’s lips curved. ‘Malaya,’ she whispered. ‘Free now.’
‘That’s good,’ Scarlett breathed. ‘That’s very good. Where is she, ma’am?’
‘Friend. Annie. Annabelle is her name.’
‘Is she a neighbor?’ Scarlett asked.
‘No.’ More of that hacking cough, and then Tabby’s eyelids fluttered, her grip on Marcus’s wrist weakening. ‘Church,’ she whispered.
A paramedic moved into their line of vision. ‘Detective Bishop, you and the gentleman need to move.’
Marcus and Scarlett rolled to their feet as two uniformed policemen picked up the bed over Tabby’s body and moved it to a sterile tarp. The cops’ movements were directed by the same man who’d processed the scene of Tala’s murder. Meanwhile, two paramedics knelt on either side of Tabby, taking her vitals while getting her medical information. The woman’s answers came in fits and spurts.
‘I need to ask her more questions,’ Scarlett said.
One of the paramedics glanced up and shook his head. ‘Her blood pressure is so low it’s a wonder she’s still breathing.’
‘One question,’ Scarlett insisted, moving close to the stretcher where the woman had been laid. ‘Where are your nephew and his wife and daughter?’
Another smile curved Tabby’s lips, this one grimly satisfied. ‘They took them. Kicking. Screaming.’
Scarlett crouched beside the stretcher. ‘Who is “they”?’
‘I don’t know.’ The words were uttered on an agonized huff of breath, the old woman significantly paler after being moved from the floor to the stretcher. ‘Had guns.’
‘How did you end up under the bed?’ Scarlett asked. Marcus wanted to tug her to her feet to get her to leave the old woman alone. But Tabby waved her closer.
‘Chip. Shoved me . . . under the bed.’ Another cough racked her. ‘When they came.’
The paramedics lifted the stretcher. ‘Detective, we have to go. Now.’
‘Hey, Bishop,’ Deacon called from the other side of the basement. ‘Come and see this.’
Marcus didn’t ask permission. He simply followed Scarlett. Someone had turned on the lights, illuminating a spartan but clean living space. There was a tiny kitchen, a bath, three beds and three small chests of drawers. For Tala and her family? But then where was the crib?
It was a fair bit nicer than the quarters Marcus had lived in while he was in the army, but if this basement had housed Tala, it was still a prison, no matter how nice and clean it was.