Closer Than You Think (8 page)

Detective Scarlett Bishop stood against the wall of the ER cubicle, watching the trauma team prepare the victim for surgery. The rape kit had been positive, which hadn’t really surprised anyone, since she’d been found nude.

Locking her gaze on the victim’s face, Scarlett looked for any sign of consciousness, but there was nothing. She’d tried to talk to the girl three times already, with no success.

The nurse standing at the victim’s head stepped away and Scarlett slipped into the vacated space to try again, leaning close to the young woman’s battered face. ‘Sweetheart,’ she said, quietly but urgently, ‘I need you to wake up, just for a minute.’

‘We’re moving her in less than a minute, Detective,’ the doctor warned.

‘Okay, okay.’ It would be easier if she knew the girl’s name. ‘Honey, please, wake up.’ Scarlett let her desperation come through her voice. ‘I need to know your name.’

The victim’s eyelids fluttered and Scarlett sucked in a breath. ‘Faith,’ the girl whispered.

‘Detective, we’re moving her.’

Scarlett shot the doctor a silent plea for a few more seconds. ‘Your name is Faith?’

The young woman shook her head weakly. ‘No. Need faith.’

Oh no.
Scarlett’s voice softened. ‘You want me to call a priest?’

The girl’s jaw clenched infinitesimally. ‘No. Faith. Fry.’

‘All right,’ Scarlett soothed, although she had no idea what the young woman meant. Or even if she spoke English. It sounded almost like she was saying
fith-fry
. Fish-fry? No, that couldn’t be right. ‘Who did this to you?’

Tears filled her dark brown eyes. ‘Krin . . . Krin . . .’

One of the monitors started to beep and the team flew into action.

‘BP’s dropping,’ a nurse said. ‘She’s going into V-fib.’

‘That’s it, Detective!’ the doctor snapped, issuing a string of orders to the team as they pulled the stretcher out of the bay and rushed it to the elevator.

Scarlett pulled out her phone, dialing her lieutenant’s info man as she walked to the ER’s exit. ‘Crandall, this is Bishop. Can you check the missing persons list for anyone named Faith? She’s five-ten, dark hair to her shoulders, possibly Hispanic.’

‘Just a second,’ Crandall said, his keyboard clacking in the background. ‘No. We have a Fawn and a Fiona. No Faith.’

‘I knew that was too good to be true,’ she muttered. ‘I ran a check based on the medics’ description before I came over here and came up empty. I was hoping for something new.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘Twenty-five minutes or so. Why?’

‘Because there is a new report, uploaded fifteen minutes ago. Arianna Escobar, seventeen years old. She fits your description and was last seen on her campus at King’s College, where she’s a freshman. I have a photo. Hold on, I’ll send it to your phone.’

Scarlett ran to her car and was buckling herself in when the photo came through. It took her a moment to find any similarity between the girl in the photo and the victim she’d just seen. ‘Man, the bastard did a number on her face. It’s hard to tell if it’s the same girl. I think it is. Who filed the report?’

‘Her roommate, Lauren Goodwin. She’s in Harrison dorm. I’ll send her cell number to your phone.’

‘Thanks, Crandall. Let Isenberg know I’m headed to the college, if you don’t mind.’

‘She’ll want to know the girl’s status.’

‘They were charging the paddles when they rushed her into surgery,’ she said, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt. If she hadn’t kept the girl talking . . . And she hadn’t even gotten anything useful for having risked the girl’s life. ‘Cross your fingers.’

‘I’ll pray.’

‘Yeah,’ Scarlett said flatly. ‘You do that too. I’ll call when I have something.’ She hung up, annoyed with herself for having snapped at Crandall, but the whole prayer thing rubbed her wrong. It didn’t seem fair that some people’s prayers came true and others’ didn’t.

Let it go, Scar.
Her phone buzzed, a text from Crandall with a phone number for Arianna’s roommate.
Thx
, she texted back and then dialed Lauren’s number.

Mt Carmel, Ohio, Monday 3 November, 6.10
P.M.

When his partner didn’t emerge from the vehicle, Deacon was surprised, but he was shocked when he saw Adam Kimble get out instead. Adam had been part of Isenberg’s Homicide Unit prior to the formation of MCES, when he’d moved to Personal Crimes – CPD’s euphemism for sex crimes. The more delicate term didn’t diminish the ugliness that the PC squad dealt with on a daily basis. It seemed to have taken its toll on Adam.

The man who now scanned the crime scene with a hardened expression was a far cry from the boy who’d grown up in the house next door to Deacon’s. Their mothers had been sisters who’d given birth to their sons only two months apart. Best friends from the time they could crawl, Adam had been Deacon’s partner in their childhood adventures – the ones that had had the neighborhood sentries reporting to their mothers. In school, Adam had defended Deacon and his sister from the bullies who had hassled them for their unusual appearance. Deacon had been too scrawny to fight back then. When his growth spurt had finally hit, it was Adam who’d taught him how to use his new muscle to defend himself. His cousin had been there for him during the most traumatic events of his life.

Even the fact that Deacon was with MCES was Adam’s doing. When Greg’s behavior had become so serious that Deacon needed to come home, Adam had not only made sure his cousin got the heads-up on the new task force, but had personally and enthusiastically recommended him to MCES leader Lieutenant Lynda Isenberg, who was now Deacon’s boss.

But then something had changed – and whatever it was, it was epic and sudden. Adam had completely avoided him since he’d arrived from Baltimore. Deacon didn’t take it personally, though. Instead, he worried, because Adam was completely avoiding everyone, including his mother, Deacon’s Aunt Tammy.

Based on Adam’s current scowl, whatever was bothering him had taken a turn for the worse.

Oh no.
Deacon remembered his aunt’s pale face as he’d fought with Greg.
Not again.
Aunt Tammy’s heart attack had been the catalyst for Deacon coming home. ‘Is your mom okay?’

Adam’s body seemed to still, an oddly menacing sight. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’

‘Because we upset her. Greg and I. We were arguing and it got kind of . . . intense.’

Adam shook his head. His shoulders relaxed but his expression remained dark and closed. ‘She’s okay as far as I know. Why were you arguing?’

‘Greg’s getting suspended again for fighting. Same old,’ Deacon said with a shrug.

‘Goddamn idiot kid,’ Adam spat. ‘He’s gonna kill her, Deacon. One of these days—’

Deacon held up a hand to stop Adam’s tirade. ‘I have two more rooms to paint and then Dani can move in.’ The house he and his sister had bought together had been a fixer-upper, because it was all they could afford. Deacon had spent much of his free time doing repairs, but he was almost finished now, and pretty proud of his work, actually. ‘Dani and I are coordinating our shifts so that one of us is always home with him. We’ll have him out of Aunt Tammy’s by the end of the week.’ He hesitated. ‘If your mom’s okay, then why are you here?’

Adam’s lip curled. ‘Our boss sent me.’

Our boss?
Deacon’s eyes widened. ‘You’re in MCES? Since when?’

‘Since an hour ago.’ The words were spat out in a show of temper that had Deacon backing away.

‘I take it that it wasn’t your idea,’ Deacon said cautiously.

Adam’s jaw clenched so tightly that Deacon was surprised his teeth didn’t crack. ‘Still the boy genius, I see. No. It wasn’t my idea, but I’m here and I’m all yours. Lucky you.’

O-kay.
‘What about Bishop?’

‘Don’t worry. She’s still your partner. Think of me as the waterboy.’

‘The waterboy,’ Deacon repeated, feeling as if he’d been sideswiped. Isenberg had some explaining to do. ‘Tanaka,’ he called to the leader of CSU, who was getting his gear from the van. ‘Come here and I’ll bring you both up to speed. We need to hurry. The light’s nearly gone.’

‘I have spotlights,’ Vince Tanaka said when he’d joined them. A veteran crime-scene analyst, he was very good at his job. ‘My tech’s setting them up by the marker in the road.’

‘Not yet.’ Deacon pointed to the shoulder where he’d seen the blood. ‘Over there first. I think she came from those trees.’

‘I thought she was dumped,’ Adam said with a frown.

‘She may have been, but I found blood on the grass.’ Deacon quickly filled them in. ‘I want her path traced. Mark every blade of grass that she dragged herself across. The sheriff took photos when he got here. He said he’d email them to us. He also bagged and tagged the Good Sam’s coat and gun.’

Tanaka blinked. ‘The Good Sam was armed?’

‘Apparently so. Make sure she gets a receipt for her things.’

‘Will do.’ Tanaka headed toward the shoulder, leaving Deacon and his cousin alone.

Deacon searched Adam’s angry face, wanting to dig deeper, to find out what the hell was wrong, but this wasn’t the time. ‘Look,’ he whispered, ‘I don’t know what your issue is or what happened to land you on my team, but you need to deal with it on your own time. The girl is the priority. Can you do that?’

Adam flinched, then nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly. ‘I can handle that.’

Handle
wasn’t the word Deacon had used. That Adam had used it . . . 
Isenberg has a lot of explaining to do.

‘Thank you,’ Deacon said. ‘I’ll get a statement from the Good Sam. I want you to see what’s down there.’ He pointed in the direction from which the girl had come. The direction in which the Good Sam had been headed. ‘Do it on foot. Take one of Tanaka’s techs with you to sweep for evidence.’

Adam gave him a terse nod. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

Deacon turned his attention to the woman sitting in the back of the ambulance. Faith Corcoran. She’d been watching him the entire time he’d been talking with Adam and Tanaka. Now she swallowed hard, fear flickering across her face, troubling him. He wanted her off guard, not afraid.

He’d taken two steps toward the ambulance when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. A glance at the caller ID had him backing up, out of Corcoran’s earshot. It was Lieutenant Lynda Isenberg, his boss.
Oh, wait. Excuse me.
Our
boss.

‘When did you plan to tell me about Adam?’ he demanded, forgoing the pleasantries.

Isenberg’s voice was level, as usual. ‘Twenty minutes ago, but I had to take two other calls. Kimble’s officially part of your team.’ A slight hesitation. ‘Keep an eye on him.’

‘You’ll tell me why later?’

‘No,’ she said in a way that brooked no argument. ‘I’m calling now because I have new information regarding your case. Bishop’s ID’d your vic. Her name is Arianna Escobar and she’s a seventeen-year-old freshman at King’s College. Her roommate reported her missing yesterday, but the cop who took the report figured Arianna was off partying. Lauren Goodwin, the roommate, kept pushing and finally got Campus Security to view the tapes this afternoon. They show that Arianna left the library at eleven on Friday night with another student, Corinne Longstreet, who also appears to be missing. I’ve added her to the missing person database.’

Deacon muttered a curse. ‘Can you send me the profiles on both girls?’

‘They’ve already been sent to your phone. Corinne’s a sophomore, but she’s older than her classmates. She’s twenty-six years old, five-six, about a hundred and thirty pounds, blonde hair.’

‘Thanks. Does Bishop have a feel for if Corinne’s a victim or involved in the abduction?’

‘She’s not sure. Arianna tried to say Corinne’s name when Bishop asked her who’d taken her. But she was crying too, so she might have been trying to tell Bishop that Corinne was in trouble.’

‘Did she say anything else?’

‘Bishop thinks she was saying “fish-fry”,’ Isenberg said flatly. ‘She has no idea what that means. The victim’s roommate was equally puzzled.’

‘Okay. We’ll assume that Corinne Longstreet is a victim until we learn differently. Adam’s tracing Arianna’s path. I’ll have him search for signs of Corinne also. The local sheriff seems sharp and he knows the area. I’ll ask him to organize a search party.’

‘I’ll send you as much manpower as I can spare,’ Isenberg said. ‘If the sheriff doesn’t have access to search dogs, let me know. I’ll get some out there.’

‘Good, thanks.’ Deacon eyed the woman in the ambulance, whose gaze had followed every move he’d made. She was biting her lip, her face shadowed with concern. ‘Do me a favor, boss. Run a check on a woman named Faith Corcoran. She has Florida plates.’ He recited the plate number, which he’d committed to memory earlier. Good thing, too. It was now too dark to see the Jeep, much less its plate.

‘Okay. Why am I running a check on her?’

‘She’s the Good Sam who discovered Arianna, but this road is way off the beaten path and she’s acting twitchy. I want to know why she’s here at the same time Arianna turned up.’

‘Did she hit the girl?’

‘No. The skid marks show she swerved off the road about twenty feet from where the girl was found, so that’s not it.’

‘Maybe she’s in shock.’

‘She might have been, but she’s not anymore. My gut says she’s nervous about something.’

‘I have to admit that your gut’s proven pretty reliable so far,’ Isenberg said grudgingly. ‘I’ll put Crandall on it. He’ll text you with whatever he can dig up.’

If it was accessible online, Crandall would find it. ‘Thank you. I’ll keep you—’

‘I’m not finished yet. The ER did a rape kit on the Escobar girl and it came up positive.’

‘Shit,’ Deacon whispered. He wasn’t surprised, but he always hoped it wouldn’t be the case.

‘I know. Doctor found evidence of previous abuse, too. Arianna’s been in the foster system for years. Because of this, and because she’s under eighteen, we’ve called in social services and they’ve recommended a kid shrink. Dr Meredith Fallon. Bishop’s still at the college, but she’ll head back to the hospital when the girl gets out of surgery. That’s all I have for you right now. Keep me up to speed with what you find.’