She looked at him, emotion flaring in her eyes before she did another long blink, restoring her calm. ‘At least we know their first names,’ she said. ‘Mila and Erica. Lynda, I’ll call my uncle now if you can wait with Marcus while I do.’
Isenberg inclined her head once. ‘Of course. But, Scarlett, wait. I have a question about this uncle-priest of yours.’
Scarlett paused in the doorway. ‘Yes?’
‘Is he from your father’s side or your mother’s?’
Scarlett sighed. ‘He’s my father’s youngest brother.’
Isenberg’s eyes laughed even though her mouth remained almost grim. ‘Then he’s Father Bishop?’
Scarlett rolled his eyes. ‘If you know what’s good for you, you will not laugh at his name. He goes by Father Trace because of that.’ Then her mouth curved. ‘He says he hasn’t sought advancement within the church hierarchy because Father Bishop is bad enough. He doesn’t want to be known as Bishop Bishop.’
Isenberg’s lips twitched. ‘I will be on my best behavior with him.’
Scarlett’s brows lifted. ‘And with Marcus?’
‘Of course,’ Isenberg said again, sobering as Scarlett left the room.
Marcus wanted to protest at being left alone with the lieutenant, but he held his tongue for Scarlett’s sake. Isenberg had already given her a hard time about spending time with him. He wasn’t going to give her any more ammunition.
When the door was closed and they were alone, Isenberg cleared her throat. ‘She asked me to stay with you because she knows that I owe you an apology, Mr O’Bannion.’
‘You’ll have to be more specific, Lieutenant. I’m thinking you owe me more than one.’
One side of her mouth quirked up. ‘You might be right,’ she said wryly. ‘My first exposure to you was nine months ago, when you were shot trying to shield a victim. I thought you had to be a good guy. My opinion has not changed.’
‘Then why the hostility?’
Looking down at the table, she exhaled heavily. ‘I never met you nine months ago. I only read in Detective Bishop’s report about what you’d done. My first personal exposure to you was this morning, when I heard you singing on the video files you took in the park.’ She swallowed audibly. ‘You were singing the song they sang at the funeral of someone who was close to me. I’ve been . . . off all day.’
‘“Go Rest High On That Mountain”,’ Marcus murmured. ‘It was sung at my brother’s funeral too. I couldn’t sing it for him myself then because my lung was punctured. I only sang it the first time in the park because I thought I was alone. I sang it the second time because I thought it would draw Tala. It did.’
‘I know. Scarlett told me.’ Isenberg exhaled again. ‘Hearing your voice was a trigger for me as soon as you walked off the elevator, just as I’d known it would be. I knew when you became involved with this case that I would hear your voice again, probably often. Even if you’re just talking, it’s a trigger. It takes me back to a place and time I’d rather forget. Add to that the loss of one of our team members today, and I’m not myself.’
‘Special Agent Spangler.’ Marcus felt a stab of guilt that he’d almost forgotten about him. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you. Nevertheless, I took it out on you. I’m sorry. I was wrong.’
It was a pretty apology, he thought. Sincerely delivered. ‘It’s forgotten,’ he said. As long as it doesn’t happen again, he added silently. ‘I’m sorry my singing brought you pain.’
‘The pain was already there,’ she said with something between a smile and a grimace. ‘The pain is always there.’ She tilted her head, studying him closely. ‘Do you intend to pursue my detective?’ she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
‘Scarlett?’ he asked, stunned by her directness. ‘I think that’s not your business.’
She gave him a hard nod. ‘Good. I was hoping you had a spine. You’ll need it to deal with Scarlett Bishop. She’s a hard nut.’
That long blink thing must fool other people, he thought. Because the woman he wanted with every breath in his body had a soft heart he feared he could smash if he weren’t careful. So be careful, he told himself. Be very, very careful.
He said nothing, just sat staring at her, and Isenberg actually laughed. ‘This might be more entertaining than I thought,’ she said. ‘You might finally be the one to catch her.’
His brows lifted at this. ‘Others have tried?’
‘Others have tried and failed spectacularly. Others have hit the pavement face first after saying a simple hello. She’s got a rep, our Scarlett. Quite the ball-buster.’
He frowned at her phrasing, the lieutenant dropping several notches in his esteem. ‘I’m surprised you’d refer to another woman that way. Especially one you claim to respect.’
She smiled at him, a smile so genuine that it nearly knocked him speechless. ‘Good enough,’ was all she said, and he realized she’d been testing him.
‘Did I pass?’ he asked dryly.
‘With flying colors. For now.’ Her smile disappeared like it had never existed. ‘Now let’s talk about how this case will be covered in your paper. I’d like to keep a few facts back.’
Marcus pulled his phone from his pocket and opened a new file, willing to negotiate. ‘Like what?’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 6.30 P.M.
Scarlett slipped into the now empty observation room to use the phone, hoping she hadn’t made a bad decision in leaving Lynda alone with Marcus. Her boss had been off balance since early that morning. Lynda was normally brusque, but not rude. Scarlett wanted to give her an opportunity to talk to Marcus one-on-one, hoping that would bring her around.
Partly for Lynda, partly for Marcus. But mostly for me, she thought. There was no telling how long this case would drag on, and she didn’t want to keep him a dirty secret. The better Lynda regarded him, the easier doing her job would be.
She watched them for a moment through the glass until she was fairly certain no blood would be shed. Then she picked up the phone and dialed a number firmly engraved into her memory.
‘St Ambrose parish, this is Father Trace.’
The sound of her uncle’s voice made her heart ache. She hadn’t treated him well at all, and had missed him more than she wanted to say. He’d been her favorite uncle. He’d been her confidant – until Michelle’s death had stripped the veil from her eyes and she’d seen the truth about prayer. And God. Unfortunately, her uncle had been a constant reminder of that pain, so she’d begun avoiding him. A month had led to a year, then two, then five, and now ten.
‘Hello?’ he pressed. ‘Is anyone there?’
Scarlett cleared her throat. ‘Uncle Trace, this is Scarlett.’
A beat of silence. ‘I know it is, honey,’ he finally said warily. ‘I’d know your voice anywhere.’
She deserved his wariness. ‘It’s been a while. I thought maybe you’d forgotten.’
‘Well that’s just ridiculous. Just because you haven’t spoken more than hello, goodbye and Merry Christmas to me in ten years? You really think I could ever forget your voice? Besides, my caller ID said Cincinnati PD. It’s not your father or any of your brothers, unless they’ve undergone a serious hormonal change, so by process of elimination, it had to be you.’
She laughed unsteadily. ‘How are you?’
‘The same as the last time you saw and ignored me at Colin’s christening,’ he said tartly, making her wince. Then his voice softened. ‘Why are you calling, Scarlett?’
‘I . . . I need your help. I have two women who went missing earlier today. We believe they’re victims of human trafficking, so we don’t want to put their faces on the news.’