Decker grimaced. ‘Plus she knows curse words in at least six other languages. She used every one of them when we were dragging her out of her house.’
‘And she bites,’ Alice complained loudly.
‘She should be sedated for shipment,’ Ken said. ‘Plan on that.’
‘I’ll set it up,’ Demetrius said. ‘I have to go. I’ve nearly lost my mark twice now because I was distracted by listening to you. I’ll call in later.’ He disconnected without another word.
So sorry we distracted you, buddy, Ken wanted to say sarcastically, but held his tongue. ‘Burton, you haven’t given an update on what you’ve found in Reuben’s car.’
‘Not much,’ Burton admitted. ‘A few hairs that belonged to him, a few that belonged to Miriam, but she was his wife. She would have been in his car. I found one hair that’s consistent with Jackson’s. In the trunk.’
Everyone winced. That the assistant who’d disappeared along with Reuben had been in the trunk was not a good sign. Not good at all.
‘Reuben can’t just disappear off the face of the earth,’ Ken said decisively. ‘I’ve known the man for years and he has expensive tastes. If he falls off the grid and can’t get his fancy Belgian beer, he’ll have a fit. He’s not the kind to rough it in a tent. He’s going to surface sooner or later. You are all dismissed. Just keep your phones on.’
Decker and Alice left the room, and Sean and Joel signed off via video. Ken called Joel back on his cell phone. ‘So what did you need to tell me that you couldn’t say in front of everyone?’ he asked.
‘I found some money missing from our paycheck account. Five million. I traced half of it to an account that links to Reuben.’
Ken closed his eyes, both surprised and not, all at once. ‘Shit. What about the other half?’
‘It was harder to trace, but it went into an account that belongs to Demetrius.’
Ken stared at the phone in his hand, disbelieving. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Very sure. I put a tracer on both accounts. If either Reuben or Demetrius tries to access the money, I’ll know. I’m sorry, Kenny.’
‘Me too,’ Ken sighed. ‘Me too.’
Demetrius was his oldest friend, but this was business. He had to go. Demetrius of all people would understand that.
Nineteen
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 5.45 P.M.
‘I wish I knew what this was about,’ Marcus muttered as he followed Scarlett into the elevator in the lobby of CPD’s headquarters. Being summoned by Isenberg was disconcerting. He’d never met the lieutenant, but he knew Scarlett was nervous and that made him edgy.
Scarlett hit the button for the homicide floor, then stepped a foot away from him, her arms crossed over her chest. He didn’t mind the distance for now. She’d laid down the rule that there was to be no PDA at crime scenes or in public. He briefly wondered if elevators counted as public, then squelched the thought. Elevators had cameras, and CPD’s elevator-cams were probably strong enough to be scoping out his blood cells at this very moment.
‘I don’t know,’ she said glumly. ‘Lynda’s usually cool, but sometimes she gets a bug up her ass and turns kind of unpredictable. But if she gets on my case for my “involvement” with you, I’m going to go ballistic. She never said a damn word to Deacon when he started shacking up with Faith.’
He smiled at her. ‘Are we going to shack up?’
Her cheeks turned red. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘I don’t know if I do or I don’t,’ he said as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. ‘I may need you to explain it to me.’
‘Explain what?’ The clipped words came from a woman with short gray hair and steely gray eyes that snapped with temper.
Scarlett tensed. ‘Marcus O’Bannion, this is my boss, Lieutenant Isenberg, the CO of the Major Case Enforcement Squad. Lynda, this is Marcus O’Bannion, publisher of the Ledger.’
Isenberg glared at him. ‘Don’t even consider calling me Lynda.’ Then she turned to Scarlett. ‘Explain what?’
‘The hierarchy in MCES,’ Scarlett told her. ‘You know, how you and SAC Zimmerman share FBI and CPD resources, who gets the final say in any conflict, you know – stuff like that.’
Marcus wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or appalled at the ease with which Scarlett lied to her boss. He decided he’d wait to see how he fared with the lieutenant before making a final decision.
‘Yeah, well, when you figure it all out, maybe you can tell me,’ Isenberg said grumpily. ‘Come on. She’s waiting.’
Scarlett didn’t move, so neither did he. ‘Who’s waiting?’ she asked. ‘What’s this about?’
Isenberg’s smile was a shark-like baring of teeth. ‘Miss Annabelle Church. Follow me.’
‘Wait,’ Marcus said, and Isenberg halted mid-step, turning to face him. ‘Did you get the baby from her, Lieutenant? Is the baby safe? And did Annabelle know about the other two escapees? Tala’s family?’
Isenberg gave him a hard, indecipherable look. ‘Yes, yes, and no,’ she said, ticking off her fingers. ‘Children’s Services is in Interview One with Church and the baby. Church wouldn’t relinquish control until she’d talked to her attorney, and to you, Mr O’Bannion.’
Marcus stared at her. ‘Me?’
‘You. Church said that Tabby Anders told her to keep the baby safe and to contact you if she – Tabby – didn’t get in touch with Church by five P.M. today. It seems that after reading your article in the paper today, Tabby Anders trusts you. So, congratulations. You’ve managed to manipulate public opinion positively.’
Marcus let the sarcastic dig go, shaking his head. ‘It wasn’t only the article. Tala had told Tabby about me. It was Tabby that encouraged her to trust me.’
‘Marcus captured her saying this on the video file that I sent you,’ Scarlett said gently. The file he’d captured using his cap-cam.
‘I know. I listened to it.’
‘Then why are you angry with me?’ Marcus asked her bluntly. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘No, you haven’t.’ Isenberg rolled her shoulders as if to loosen them up. ‘You’re right. But I don’t like witnesses dictating the presence of the press. It’s a bad precedent to set.’
‘I haven’t printed anything that I haven’t cleared with Detective Bishop first.’
Isenberg shot Scarlett a sharp look of disapproval. ‘I know that too. Come along. Both of you. Time’s wasting.’
Marcus didn’t like the way Isenberg was treating Scarlett, but this wasn’t his world, and if his years in the military had taught him anything, it was to respect the chain of command. Biting his tongue, he did as Isenberg requested, following her into a classic interview room with a mirrored wall that undoubtedly hid observers. Those observers had probably muted the volume control, because Tala’s baby was wailing at the top of her lungs.
At the table sat an elderly lady with a frail, crêpe-papery look about her. Beside her was a sharply dressed man wearing a two-thousand-dollar suit and shoes that cost at least that much or more, rubbing his temples with a pained look. At the back of the room a woman in her thirties walked back and forth, trying to calm the source of the wailing.
The baby’s cries made Marcus’s shoulders sag in relief. This was the child that Tala had sacrificed her life to save. He nodded at the elderly woman at the table. ‘Ms Church? I’m Marcus O’Bannion.’
‘Finally.’ Annabelle Church glared at Isenberg. ‘I didn’t think she was going to let me see you.’
Marcus’s lips curved despite his best intentions to keep Isenberg happy. ‘Well, I’m here now. But can you give me just a minute?’ Without waiting for an answer, he walked to the social worker who was unsuccessfully trying to quiet Tala’s child. The baby appeared to be about a year old and – to his relief – very healthy. Physically she seemed no worse for the day’s events. Of course the emotional damage was yet to come.