Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 11.15 A.M.
Deacon Novak was waiting when Marcus and Scarlett arrived at the Netherland Plaza with Mila and Erica. Scarlett was in full cop mode, her eyes darting everywhere, her body positioned to protect the two women who’d been through so much.
Marcus was also keenly aware that Scarlett was positioning herself to protect him, especially when Deacon joined them in the hotel’s lobby. The two partners created a wall separating Marcus and the women from anyone who might want to hurt them. He wanted to grab Scarlett by the shoulders and yank her behind him, but he didn’t. She was who she was, which was a cop. To deny her the ability to protect him would hurt her deeply, and Marcus couldn’t even consider it. Still, he kept his hand on the grip of the gun she’d loaned him out of her own collection, since his old Glock was locked up in her gun safe.
Deacon towered over the two women just like Marcus did, but – just like Marcus had – the Fed hunched his shoulders so that he didn’t seem too intimidating. He also wore his trademark wraparound shades inside the hotel so that he didn’t startle the women with his odd eyes.
‘Mila, Erica,’ Scarlett said, ‘this is Special Agent Novak, my partner.’
‘Mrs Bautista,’ Deacon said to Mila, nodding at her. To the scowling Erica he gave an encouraging smile.
Erica still hadn’t accepted that she was safe, and Marcus understood that. He knew it would be a long, long time before Erica truly felt safe again.
‘And, Miss Bautista,’ Deacon said. ‘We’re very glad we found you. Please come this way.’ He ushered them all into the elevator, slid a hotel keycard through the reader, then hit the button for the penthouse, standing in front of the doors until they closed. Only then did he and Scarlett relax. Deacon looked at Scarlett over the petite women’s heads. ‘Everything is ready. Just as you specified.’
‘My dad’s here?’ Erica asked in a quavering voice. ‘And John Paul?’
‘Yes,’ Deacon said. ‘And they’re excited to see you. Your dad’s a bit thin, just to prepare you.’
Mr Bautista wasn’t thin, Marcus thought, having seen the photos Deacon had sent for Scarlett to show the two women. He was emaciated. John Paul appeared well fed, so Marcus assumed the father had been giving his son part of his own food rations.
Tears were running down Mila’s face yet again. Marcus wondered that the lady hadn’t dehydrated herself with all the tears she’d shed that day. But these tears were happy ones, or at least bittersweet. To be reunited with her husband and son, but to lose her daughter . . .
Marcus cleared his throat. ‘Is the attorney here?’
Deacon nodded. ‘Both of them are – Gabriel Benitez, Mrs Church’s grandson, and Peter Zurich, the immigration attorney.’
‘And who’s here from the FBI and CPD?’ Marcus asked.
‘Special Agent Kate Coppola and her partner, Special Agent Luther Troy – they’re leading the human trafficking investigation for this region,’ Deacon said. ‘Isenberg’s here too.’
Scarlett winced. ‘How is she?’
Deacon’s white brows lifted. ‘Not as bad as she could be. Not happy that you made so many demands or that you missed your command performance in her office, but she’ll survive.’
Scarlett’s ‘demands’ had been designed to make the Bautista family’s life simpler. She wanted them to have their reunion in privacy, in a hotel and not the police station. Marcus had been able to help with that, having already reserved the penthouse suite. The hotel had excellent security, and CPD had assigned a uniformed officer to guard the Bautistas’ room.
She’d asked that all family interviews be conducted here at the hotel, including the one with the CPD sketch artist. She’d also made it clear that the Bautistas had legal representation, so that no one tried to intimidate them by threatening deportation.
‘What command performance?’ Erica asked, still suspicious of their motives.
‘It’s nothing for you to worry about,’ Scarlett said with a smile. ‘I was supposed to go to my boss’s office for a lecture, but I came down to meet you two instead.’
‘Will Father Trace be here?’ Mila asked.
‘He arrived about ten minutes ago,’ Deacon told her. Marcus and Scarlett had taken longer to arrive because Scarlett had insisted on driving a circuitous route through the city to make sure they hadn’t been followed.
‘We also have a counselor available,’ Scarlett told Mila as the elevator doors opened. ‘Kids and teens are her specialty, but she can help you and your husband as well. She’s a friend of mine. She’s expecting your call, whenever you’d like to contact her.’
Mila drew in a breath as she stepped out of the elevator. ‘Thank you, Detective. For all your help.’ She pressed a hand to her heart. ‘I’m so nervous.’
‘Don’t worry, Mama,’ Erica said, taking her mother’s hand. ‘It’ll be all right.’ Mother and daughter held hands tightly as they walked down the long hall and entered the room.
The emaciated Mr Bautista stood awkwardly, staring at the women as if looking at ghosts. Then John Paul threw himself into his mother’s arms, sobbing loudly. A second later, the family was huddled together, crying and rocking each other. Mr Bautista touched his wife’s face with a careful reverence, as if not convinced she was real.
Leaving the attorneys in the room with the Bautistas, Marcus followed Scarlett and Deacon into the suite’s adjoining room to give the family privacy. He had to wipe his eyes and knew he wasn’t the only one. Father Trace and Isenberg were already sitting in the room with two people in black suits – a redhead and a man who was slightly balding.
The lieutenant gave Marcus a brief look before turning her attention to Scarlett. ‘We still have to talk about your personal priorities,’ she said. ‘But this was good work, Scarlett.’
Scarlett shrugged. ‘Uncle Trace found them.’
‘And you convinced the mother and daughter to trust us.’ Isenberg motioned for them to sit at the table. ‘We have some debriefing to do.’
‘Me too?’ Marcus asked Isenburg, letting a little sarcasm into his voice. She scowled.
She scowled. ‘Yeah. You didn’t print anything I asked you not to, so I’ll trust you one more day.’
‘Thank you,’ he said with exaggerated politeness and took the seat next to Scarlett, who shot him a rueful look before introducing the redhead as Kate Coppola and the balding man as Luther Troy. Scarlett had already told him that Kate had worked with Deacon back in Baltimore and that Deacon trusted her with his life. That was enough for Marcus, because Scarlett trusted Deacon with her life.
Scarlett’s uncle excused himself. ‘I think I’ll see if the Bautistas need me. Once the shock of the reunion passes, they’ll be grieving the loss of Tala.’ He squeezed Scarlett’s shoulder as he passed her chair. ‘I heard some of what you said to Mila and Erica back at Saint Barbara’s,’ he murmured. ‘I’m proud of the way you dealt with them.’
He left the room, leaving Scarlett blushing. ‘What’s new?’ she asked Isenberg, her voice a little gruff.
Marcus thought her gruffness was very sweet, and wisely didn’t tell her so.
‘Number one,’ Isenberg said, ‘ballistics on the bullet taken out of Phillip Cauldwell shows it was not fired from the same gun that killed Tala Bautista.’
‘But . . .’ Marcus frowned. ‘Shit. We thought the shooter at my apartment building yesterday might have been the one who shot Agent Spangler and Tala too. Are we back to square one?’
‘Not square one,’ Deacon said, ‘because the gun used to kill Tala was found – in the possession of Drake Connor.’
Marcus had been listening at the door at Saint Barbara’s, so he knew everything the women had shared. He narrowed his eyes at this piece of news. ‘So it was Stephanie Anders’s boyfriend who killed Tala.’
Deacon nodded. ‘So it appears. As soon as you texted me his name, Scarlett, I put out a BOLO and then went to check out his sister at her house. She’s not there, but there are signs of a major struggle. There was blood on the kitchen floor and smeared on one of the door frames like she grabbed it when she was being removed. She reported her car stolen yesterday morning. She suspected her brother had taken it. He’s been in trouble a few times.’