Alone in the Dark (26 page)

Gayle’s jaw tightened. ‘Don’t you point your finger at me, Marcus O’Bannion.’

Marcus drew a breath, slowly let it out. He lowered his hand and calmed his tone. ‘I understand why you didn’t tell me nine months ago. Even eight months ago. Maybe even six months ago. But I am no longer injured. I am fine. You should have told me.’

Her eyes snapped fire. ‘You were shot just a few hours ago,’ she whispered fiercely, ‘and you can say that you are
fine
with a straight face?’

Marcus looked down at his desk, measuring his words. The personal approach was not cutting it. They were both too angry. He’d stick to business. He lifted his eyes, meeting hers squarely. ‘You suffered a heart attack, Gayle. And then you missed a week of work. In a normal situation, HR would have moved you to the disability roster until your doctor cleared you to return, ensuring you received disability pay for that week. But your doctor didn’t clear you. You came back prematurely, allowing another employee to fulfill at least some of your responsibilities. You gave that entry-level employee access to confidential company records for which she was not authorized. That is a violation of company policy.’ He drew a breath that hurt his chest. ‘More than that, it’s a violation of my trust.’

Her mouth fell open in shock. ‘You think I let Jill see confidential information?’

‘She’s been screening your emails, Gayle. So no, I don’t
think
you let her see confidential information. I
know
you did.’

Gayle paled. ‘She’s been screening my emails? I didn’t tell her she could do that.’

‘She’s been doing it anyway. She’s been tending the threat list.’

Gayle sat back in her chair in shock. ‘Oh no.’

‘Oh yes. She confronted me with it this morning. Told me that I was expecting too much from you, that my family and I have been taking advantage of you for years. That you would have retired and had your own life if it weren’t for us. That the threat list was what caused your heart attack to begin with. Is that true?’

Gayle pressed trembling fingers to her lips. ‘No. No one has taken advantage of me. I’m here because you’re my family, Marcus. You and Stone and Audrey and your mother. Jeremy, too, even though he doesn’t live with us anymore. You’re all my family.’

He exhaled abruptly, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath. ‘I’m glad. You’re our family too. I . . .’ The words trailed away under a wave of emotion. ‘You’ve always been there for me. I would never want you to feel like I didn’t appreciate what it’s cost you. You could have had a husband and children. A home of your own. Yet you stayed with us.’

Gayle leaned forward in her chair, her expression fierce. ‘I
have
a home. I
have
children – you and Stone and Audrey. And Mikhail.’ Pain flickered in her eyes. ‘And Matty too,’ she added in a barely audible whisper. ‘God, how I miss them.’

Marcus bowed his head, his chest suddenly too tight to breathe. Matty’s name was rarely spoken in his family. And when it was, it was always a whisper, as if speaking his name at a normal volume would . . . wake him up. Because to imagine him sleeping was so much easier than to imagine him dead. Of course, Marcus didn’t need to imagine. He’d seen Matty’s body close up and very personal. He still saw it in his nightmares and the occasional flash of memory while awake. Now the image of Mikhail’s body had become part of the nightmare too. He wondered if Mikhail’s name would soon meet the same fate as Matty’s.
No
, he thought.
I won’t let it.
‘I miss them too,’ he answered, his voice cracking. ‘Both of them.’

They sat in silence for a long, long moment before Marcus finally looked up to find Gayle hugging herself tight, eyes scrunched shut, her body shaking with silent sobs. If she didn’t stop crying, she was going to give herself another heart attack.

He walked around his desk, crouching in front of her chair, a box of tissues in one hand. ‘Hey. Don’t cry anymore. Please. You’re scaring me.’

She glared down at him through her tears. ‘I’m scaring you?
I’m
scaring
you
?’ She grabbed a handful of tissues and dried her cheeks. ‘I could have been
burying
you, Marcus O’Bannion, and you don’t even seem to care.’

He’d lost two brothers. She’d lost two boys who’d been sons of her heart. Yet the tears she cried now?
They’re because of me.
Because she’d nearly lost him too.

It could have been different.
The shooter could have finished me off with a shot to my head just as easily.
Lying there with the breath knocked out of him, his face scraping the asphalt, he’d been a sitting duck.

Y’think, dumbass?
It was Stone’s voice in his head, clear as a bell, and Marcus nearly smiled.

Fine. I can be taught
. When two people who knew you best told you the exact same thing on the same day . . . Maybe it was time he listened.

He rose from his crouch to sit on the edge of his desk. ‘I’m sorry, Gayle. You’re right. I didn’t mean to upset you. I promise I’ll be more careful from now on.’

She sniffed, turning her face away. She was still crying, but the intensity had wound down. At least she wouldn’t have another heart attack sitting here in his office.

‘I, uh, noticed you didn’t include Keith as part of your family,’ he said dryly, trying to distract her from her tears. Gayle’s dislike of Jeremy’s husband was no secret.

Gayle sniffed again, turning back to glare at him. ‘I don’t like that man. He acts like he owns Jeremy, checking his watch every five seconds when they come over, sighing like a pouting three-year-old so we’ll know just how eager he is to leave.’

It was true. No one in the family liked Keith. It had nothing to do with Jeremy’s sexual orientation, and everything to do with his choice of partner.

‘Keith is the possessive sort, but Jeremy loves him,’ Marcus said with a shrug. ‘What can you say?’

‘Nothing. Not that any of you would listen to anything I say, anyway,’ she muttered. She placed her hands on the arms of the chair and started to push herself to her feet. ‘Well, I’ve got to get back to my desk. There’s no one at the front.’

‘Not so fast.’ Leaning forward, Marcus touched two fingers to her shoulder and pushed her back into the chair. ‘That you never answered my question hasn’t escaped me. What about the list causing your heart attack? Is that true?’

She shook her head, far too calmly. ‘No. I had a small arterial blockage just waiting for the right moment to announce itself. It could have happened anywhere I got stressed out. It’s actually good it happened here and not when I was in my car doing seventy on the interstate. Jill got me to the hospital quickly. No fuss, no drama. They put me on a beta blocker and that was it. No stent, no surgery. I’m good as new.’

‘Hm.’ Marcus studied her until her cheeks began to grow pink. ‘I never realized how very good you are at dodging my questions. What was the threat you were reading when Jill found you clutching your chest? She said she came back later and you’d hidden it.’

Gayle’s chin lifted ever so slightly. ‘It doesn’t matter. I took care of it.’

Marcus blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Could you just answer my goddamn question?’

She glared at him. ‘Fine. I’ll get you the letter. It’s in my safe at home.’

She’d found it credible enough that she’d kept it, he thought. ‘Who was it from?’

‘Leslie McCord.’

He grimaced. ‘Ah, the lovely Mrs McCord,’ he said sarcastically.
Lovely
was the last word that described the bitch. ‘Wife of Woodrow, aka Woody, aka sex-pervert-slash-high-school-teacher who downloaded kiddie porn to his personal laptop.’ It had been the last story he and his team had broken before Mikhail went missing. ‘I guess a threat from her isn’t such a huge surprise. She was extremely unhappy when her husband’s perversion came to light. Went so far as to accuse me of planting those pictures on Woody’s hard drive.’

‘She never believed he was guilty, but then again, not many loved ones do.’

‘Even when the evidence is thrown in their faces,’ Marcus said with a nod. ‘I’m guessing she blamed us for his suicide.’ The bastard had managed to hang himself in jail while awaiting arraignment. ‘What was the specific threat?’

Gayle sighed wearily. ‘She blamed Stone for writing the story and you for printing it. She blamed everyone at the
Ledger
. Said she hoped you and your reporters would burn in hell for ruining her husband’s good name, for ruining his life.’

‘That doesn’t sound too bad,’ he said cautiously. ‘We’ve had a lot worse.’

‘She also said she prayed to God that someday someone would show you what it was like to lose someone you loved.’ Gayle’s gaze locked on to Marcus’s face and it was all he could do not to look away. ‘She said that a person doesn’t know suffering until someone they’ve loved is tormented, their life snuffed out. She wanted you to go to your grave knowing that your loved one had cried and begged and pleaded, but were shown no mercy, just like her husband was shown none by the
Ledger
and by the police.’ She drew a breath, let it out. ‘I received the letter the morning after your mother learned that Mikhail was missing.’

‘Oh God.’ Marcus could only stare. ‘You thought Leslie McCord had taken Mikhail.’

‘Or that she’d paid someone else to do so. I could only think,
not again
, that it would kill your mother to lose Mikhail the same way she lost Matty.’

Marcus’s heart had started to pound, slowly but hard. ‘Which she did,’ he murmured. ‘Just not at the hand of Leslie McCord.’ Mikhail had simply run away from home for a few days to get the space to work through some personal problems. He’d gone to the family cabin in the forest of eastern Kentucky, thinking he’d be safe there. Instead he’d surprised a sadistic killer who’d been using the house as a hideout, and was gunned down and tossed into a shallow grave.

Gayle’s lips curved bitterly. ‘Hell of an irony, isn’t it? I got so scared, then the next thing I knew, Jill was screaming at me not to die.’

Marcus dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, trying to think past the memory of that shallow grave and what he’d seen inside. ‘Okay, fine, I get why you didn’t tell me about the threat when it happened. You ended up in the hospital that day, and so did I.’ Gayle because of her heart attack and he because he’d been shot by Mikhail’s killer.

Marcus had gone out to the family cabin to search for Stone, who’d already found Mikhail’s body. But Mikhail’s killer hadn’t stopped at murdering their brother. He’d also kidnapped a young woman and a little girl who’d managed to escape their captor’s clutches. Marcus had found them, bedraggled and exhausted but alive – only to be discovered by the psychopath, who’d been searching for them. Marcus had acted out of instinct, throwing himself over the woman’s body when the killer began shooting. One of the bullets had pierced his lung, landing him in ICU.

So yeah, he hadn’t been coherent enough to be told about Gayle’s heart attack or the threat that triggered it. Not that day or even that month. Recovery and rehab had taken weeks.

He shook his head. ‘But what about later, when you knew Mikhail hadn’t been murdered by McCord? After we’d both recovered and come back to work. Why didn’t you tell me then?’

‘There was no need,’ Gayle said.

‘How do you know? Leslie could have just waited until we all returned to the office and we’d have been completely unaware. She still might.’

Gayle shook her head. ‘Leslie McCord is no longer a threat to anyone.’

Marcus frowned. ‘How do you know that?’ he insisted.

Gayle opened her mouth, but her voice was drowned out by a clatter in the office outside.

‘What the fuck?’ It was Stone’s voice, and he sounded furious. ‘What the mother
fuck
are
you
doing here?’

‘I suggest you remove your hand from my arm.’ The woman’s voice was cool, collected, and very familiar.

She’s here. Scarlett Bishop is here.

Eleven

Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 9.35
A.M.

Ken’s anger churned as he watched Demetrius pace the floor of his office.

‘Why are you still here?’ Ken asked coldly.

‘I’m trying to figure out what to do.’

Ken lurched to his feet and leaned forward, his hands braced on the glossy wood of his desk. ‘I told you what to do. Go and kill that sonofabitch O’Bannion, just like I told you to do nine fucking months ago!’

Demetrius paused his pacing long enough to shoot Ken a glare from the corner of his eye. ‘We didn’t need to kill him nine fucking months ago! He was out of commission.’

Which they hadn’t needed to lift a finger to accomplish. A bona fide serial killer had nearly done their job for them. ‘It appears he’s no longer out of commission,’ Ken said coldly. ‘He’s out there again – and in our business. Why didn’t we know this? I thought we were watching him.’

‘We were. According to Reuben’s reports, when O’Bannion got out of the hospital, he spent a couple of months recuperating at that mausoleum of his mother’s. Since then, he’s spent most of his time at the paper.’

Ken straightened, arms crossed over his chest. ‘He wasn’t at the paper this morning. He was in an alley with one of our assets. God only knows what the little bitch told him.’

Demetrius held up his phone. ‘I just read the damn article. Maybe you should too, before you start one of your rants.’

Ken drew a deep breath. ‘I am not ranting.’

‘Fine. We’re having a rational discussion.’ Demetrius’s eye roll indicated exactly what he thought of that. ‘Look, the article says that O’Bannion got there as she was bleeding out. She didn’t say anything to him.’

Ken sat back in his chair and scanned the entire article, but he wasn’t swayed. O’Bannion was slime. Dangerous slime. ‘So he says. The man lies more easily than he breathes.’

‘He’s the goddamn media,’ Demetrius spat. ‘Of course he lies. We can listen to more of the recordings from the wearer’s ankle tracker. She might not have told O’Bannion anything in that alley, but she told someone something. Enough that he met her there.’

‘Why weren’t we watching him last night?’

‘Because Reuben was short-handed. When he lost his two people in the accident last month, he proposed transferring the person he’d had watching O’Bannion to transporting shipments. We all agreed, including you.’

Ken ground his teeth, remembering now. He had agreed, dammit. ‘It was supposed to be temporary. Reuben was supposed to hire someone new.’

‘Reuben was supposed to do a lot of things,’ Demetrius said evenly. ‘It appears he was busy doing
other
things. Like our suppliers’ wives and daughters.’

Ken shook his head. ‘We’ve already gone around and around about Reuben. We’ve got a plan in place for him. Now we’re talking about O’Bannion. We should have killed him as soon as he got out of the hospital.’

Demetrius rubbed his palms together. ‘Will you stop saying that? We couldn’t kill him then. Not without risking the cops connecting him to McCord and his wife. And we couldn’t do the suicide thing again. Not so soon after we staged McCord’s
and
his wife’s suicide.’

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?’

The slight stiffening of Gayle’s spine was the only sign that Scarlett’s knowledge of the threat list had surprised her. ‘I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Detective . . . ?’

‘This is Detective Bishop,’ Marcus supplied. ‘Scarlett Bishop.’

‘Homicide,’ Scarlett added curtly.

‘Detective, this is Gayle Ennis. She manages my office.’

Gayle’s eyes widened as Scarlett’s name registered. ‘You investigated Mikhail’s murder,’ she said, her voice suddenly rough.

Scarlett’s expression changed again, gentling. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said respectfully. ‘You knew him?’

Gayle nodded, her throat working as she tried to swallow. ‘I was his nanny.’

Startled, Scarlett’s mouth opened, then closed. She let out a quiet breath. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she murmured. ‘I’m working the murder of the young woman who died this morning. She has a family too, and they deserve to know what happened to her. Getting the list would be a major help to my investigation, and every second counts.’

Gayle glanced at Marcus uncertainly.

‘I’ll take care of this, Gayle.’ He squeezed Gayle’s shoulder, then crossed his office to where Scarlett still stood in the doorway. He had to fight the urge to lean in closer and sniff her hair. She smelled like wildflowers, just as she had when she’d sat by his hospital bed nine months ago. ‘Did you watch the videos?’ he asked softly.

She met his eyes. ‘Yes. Many times.’

‘And you still think you need the list?’

Understanding flickered in her eyes. ‘If you’re asking if I still think you were the target, the answer is probably no. But I owe it to Tala – and to you – to be sure.’

She’d scored major points with both Stone and Gayle with that answer.
And with me
, he grudgingly admitted.
Shit
.