‘He’d have called.’
‘Maybe his cell’s outta juice. He’s always playing games on the damn thing. I’ll check it out. Don’t worry. I’ll call you when I find him.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 8.15 P.M.
Scarlett found Deacon waiting for her in the lobby of the Cincinnati FBI Field Office. She hoped she wasn’t showing her shock at finding out about Marcus’s abduction and his brother’s death, but she knew she it was written all over her face when Deacon’s white brows shot up and his bi-colored eyes narrowed in concern.
‘What happened?’
She considered saying nothing, but they didn’t lie to each other. Hide shit they didn’t want to deal with, sure. But they didn’t out-and-out lie, and Scarlett wasn’t about to start now.
‘I just found out about . . .’ Her mouth hung open, no more words coming out. ‘I’m sorry, Deacon. I’m just not . . . me at the moment.’
‘I can see that,’ he said mildly. ‘Come with me.’
She followed him into a conference room and lowered herself into a chair, her legs shaky. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with this case. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it now, but I can’t . . . I can’t help it.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this rattled. Talk to me, Scar.’
Tears pricked her eyelids and she sucked in a breath, appalled at herself. A bottle of water appeared on the table in front of her and she used the few seconds it took to chug some down to wrestle her emotions back where they belonged.
She cleared her throat, her gaze locked on the bottle’s label. ‘Did you know there was a fourth O’Bannion brother?’
Deacon’s eyes widened. ‘No. I’m sure that Faith doesn’t know either.’
‘This was long before Jeremy even met Marcus’s mother.’
‘Della,’ Deacon supplied.
‘Yes, Della,’ she murmured. ‘Della was still married to her first husband, so it wouldn’t have been O’Bannion gossip at the time. Marcus, Stone and their younger brother Matthias were kidnapped and held for ransom twenty-seven years ago.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘They lived in Lexington then, and their last name was Gargano. It’s not a hard Google if you know the right search terms.’
‘How did you get these search terms?’ Deacon asked quietly.
‘Marcus told me, but only his brother’s name, their old last name, Lexington, and the year. He couldn’t get any other words out. It was like he’d been electro-shocked or something. But those words were enough. The kidnappers told the parents not to contact the authorities, but Della did and she nearly lost them all. The son who died was only three.’
Deacon dragged his palm down his face. ‘Wow. No wonder Della didn’t want the FBI in her business when Mikhail was missing. That’s gotta be a parent’s worst nightmare.’
‘Stone was shot, was in a coma for a week. Somehow the bullet meant for Marcus went wide.’
‘The lucky bastard’s charmed,’ Deacon murmured.
‘But for how long?’ Scarlett sighed. ‘Marcus told me not to judge Stone nine months ago. I understand why now.’ She also had a new understanding of the episode that she’d witnessed that morning in Marcus’s office, and wondered how many times Marcus had talked his brother down over the years.
Deacon squeezed her shoulder. ‘You feel better getting it out? Because it’s not like I’m rushing you, but I’m rushing you. Our trafficking contacts are waiting for us. Apparently they’ve got all the info there is on suspected human trafficking rings operating in the tri-state area. We need to go.’
She nodded, pushed to her feet and followed him on unsteady legs. ‘I know. I’ve arranged for a SAR unit to track Tala’s mother and sister, so I don’t have much time anyway.’
Deacon frowned. ‘You think dogs are the best idea?’
‘When the dogs are accompanied by a priest, yes.’ She gave him the highlights of what they’d learned from Annabelle Church and the agreement Marcus and Lynda had come to.
‘Lynda’s allowing Marcus to embed with us? How’d you manage that?’
‘By reminding her we have nothing to hide. Who are the people we’re meeting with?’
‘Zimmerman, a senior analyst named Luther Troy, and a new agent who just arrived from DC an hour ago. That’s all I know.’
‘They brought an agent in just for this?’
‘No clue.’ He shot her a light-hearted grin. ‘Your uncle is really Father Bishop?’
‘Yes,’ she said with a long-suffering sigh.
‘When he grows up, will he become Bishop Bishop?’
She lifted a brow. ‘You’ve met my dad.’
He frowned. ‘Yeah.’
‘Big guy, right?’
‘Yeah,’ Deacon said more slowly. ‘Why?’
‘Uncle Trace is the baby brother, but only in age. He’s taller and bigger than my dad. So you go ahead and crack all the Bishop Bishop jokes you want. The good father will crack your head like a walnut.’
Deacon was chuckling as he pushed the conference room door open, but he stopped dead in the doorway. Scarlett barreled into him and leaped back, sputtering. ‘What?’
But Deacon wasn’t listening. He was too busy staring across the room. Scarlett gave him a little push and slipped around him to see what had caused her partner to freeze in his puppy-chewed shoes.
A woman stood at the far end of a big table, a smile on her face. She was as tall as Scarlett, with dark red hair pulled back in a neat twist. Deacon started walking and she opened her arms, gathering him close for a quick, hard hug.
Scarlett glanced at SAC Zimmerman to find him wearing a small pleased smile.
Deacon was grinning like a lunatic as he pulled out of the embrace. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked the woman.
‘I work here. Now.’
Deacon’s head whipped around to stare at the SAC. ‘She’s the new agent?’
Zimmerman nodded. ‘She is. She wanted to surprise you.’
‘She did,’ Deacon said emphatically. ‘How, why? When?’
‘In a minute.’ The woman met Scarlett’s gaze directly, her brown eyes assessing. ‘You must be Detective Bishop. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m—’
Scarlett recognized her now. ‘Special Agent Kate Coppola. You were Agent Novak’s partner back in Baltimore.’ The only photo that Scarlett had seen of the woman had been taken at the wedding of one of Deacon and Coppola’s mutual friends, and everyone had been in formal wear, Coppola’s hair loose around her shoulders. She looked different in a black suit with minimal makeup. But still gorgeous, Scarlett thought with a tug of envy. But it was the woman’s eyes that had sparked Scarlett’s recognition. In the photo she’d seemed apart, watchful. Her eyes looked exactly the same today.
Deacon’s grimace was embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. Kate, this is my partner, Detective Scarlett Bishop. Scar, this is my old partner, Special Agent Katherine Coppola.’
Scarlett’s shoulders relaxed, surprising her because she hadn’t realized she’d gone so tense. Deacon called her ‘Scar’ to indicate that they were more than partners. After almost a year on the job together, they’d become friends. Scarlett began to walk toward Kate, but the woman met her halfway, hand extended, a smile on her face.
‘Deacon has spoken so highly of you, Detective. I’m glad to finally meet you.’
Scarlett found herself returning the smile without reservation. ‘Likewise.’ She gestured to the table. ‘Have a seat and answer Deacon’s questions before he pops a blood vessel.’
Kate laughed, and it was just that simple. Scarlett knew the woman would fit in well with their group.
‘I wasn’t supposed to start for another few weeks,’ she explained. ‘I was on leave, wrapping up some personal things back in Baltimore, when SAC Zimmerman called me this morning. He said they might need to bring me in early, that there was a case developing that would be excellent transition training.’ She motioned to the man who’d taken the seat beside her. ‘This is Special Agent Troy, my new partner.’