Marcus rubbed his forehead. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered. ‘Somehow I can’t see human traffickers biding their time for five years. Whatever it was, it most likely occurred nine months ago. And the only big story in play then was Woody McCord.’
‘So we’re back to the kiddie porn collector,’ Deacon said thoughtfully. ‘Somehow McCord and Demetrius connect and you’re the common denominator, Marcus.’
‘People started shooting you again when you met Tala,’ Scarlett murmured, ‘after nine months of nothing. You expose McCord in an article and Demetrius shows up a few days later in the hospital to kill you. You publish a story about saving Tala, and Demetrius shows up to kill you. The connection isn’t just between Demetrius and McCord. Tala’s in there too somewhere.’
Marcus frowned. ‘But the stories are different. Tala was a victim of human trafficking. McCord was a collector of kiddie porn.’
Scarlett stood up and began to pace. ‘But they were both the subject of stories published by you. Let’s assume that this Demetrius character was the one who killed Agent Spangler and took a shot at you at Chip Anders’s house, then later came after you at your apartment.’
Marcus still looked unconvinced. ‘But Demetrius didn’t kill Tala, Drake did.’
Scarlett stopped pacing. ‘But her murder put her in the spotlight, bringing Chip Anders into the picture by association. Tala was simply the trigger. Anders is the connection, not Tala.’
‘If you’re right,’ Deacon said, thinking through the various possibilities, ‘then Demetrius links to both Anders and McCord. How?’
‘I need to check Stone’s notes on the McCord story,’ Marcus said. ‘He’s over at the Ledger building now. He’ll have his notes in his desk. Come on.’
Scarlett held up her hand. ‘Wait. First I have to change my clothes.’
‘Why are you wearing a dress?’ Deacon asked her.
‘Because I like her in it,’ Marcus said, smiling at her.
She blushed. Deacon didn’t think he’d ever seen Scarlett Bishop blush.
‘It’s because my uncle wanted me to look as non-coppish as possible so we didn’t scare Mila and Erica away. Now, we have several places we need to be all at once. Let’s figure this out.’ Scarlett ticked off a finger. ‘First, we have the guys coming from the ankle tracker company. They’ll hopefully be able to tell us who was buying the trackers. That should be either Anders or the head traffickers. Hopefully the traffickers.’
‘Like Demetrius and Alice,’ Marcus said. ‘They met the Bautistas at the airport and drove them to Cincinnati.’
Scarlett ticked off a second finger. ‘Then we have to find Tommy and Edna to find out if they can put that bastard Drake Connor on the street yesterday when Tala was shot. Third, we want to find out if Demetrius fits into the Woody McCord story.’
Marcus’s cell phone buzzed against the table. He grabbed it, read it, then closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. ‘Oh God,’ he breathed. ‘Thank you.’
Scarlett looked over his shoulder, her smile bright. ‘It’s a text from Phillip’s sister, Lisette. Phillip just woke up and asked for Skyline Chili.’
‘You can take him a copy of the sketch,’ Deacon said to Scarlett while Marcus immediately called the victim’s sister. ‘See if he can ID his attacker.’
‘I’d rather wait till we have an ID and a photo we can put in an array,’ Scarlett said. ‘I don’t want any lawyers saying later that we led the witness.’
Deacon frowned. ‘You’re right, but it would be tidy to have IDs for all of yesterday’s shootings.’
Scarlett checked the time. ‘In another twelve hours or so we’ll have DNA on the shooter in Marcus’s apartment. The forensic vet got tissue from BB’s teeth. It won’t give us a name for this guy, but when we find him, it’ll give us corroboration.’
Both Deacon and Scarlett’s cell phones buzzed at the same time. They grabbed them, then cursed in unison. ‘Fuck.’
Marcus ended his call. ‘What? What’s happened?’
‘Someone took a shot at one of the ankle tracker makers as he was being taken into CPD,’ Scarlett told him. ‘He wasn’t hurt, but the agent next to him took a bullet in the arm when he pushed the tracker guy out of the way. No fatalities.’
Deacon breathed a sigh of relief. He was still shaken by his notification of Agent Spangler’s wife yesterday. Then his and Scarlett’s phones buzzed with a second text. They read the incoming, then looked at each other with wide grins.
Scarlett caught Marcus around the neck and pulled him down for a loud, smacking kiss on the mouth. ‘They caught the shooter who tried to kill the ankle tracker guy,’ she said.
Deacon’s phone buzzed alone this time. ‘From Kate. She and Agent Troy were the ones who caught the shooter.’ His grin widened. ‘Go, Kate. Pretty good for her second day.’
Deacon dialed Kate’s phone and put her on speaker. ‘It’s me. I’m here with Scarlett and Marcus. I hear congratulations are in order.’
‘Hell, yeah,’ Kate said. ‘Damn, I’m juiced right now. Shooter’s a female, blond, mid-twenties. She was on the roof of a building across the street from CPD. We surrounded her as she was squeezing the trigger. That’s why she missed the lab tech from Constant Global Surveillance. We yelled “Gun!” into the radio and the agents took the lab tech down. A few seconds different and we’d have been burying the guy. She had a direct bead on him.’
‘How did you know to look on the roof?’ Marcus asked.
A long pause, then a sigh from Kate. ‘We had a tip. That’s all I can say, for now anyway. Sorry.’
Scarlett looked at Deacon, her brows raised, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing – the man the Bureau had inside one of the organized crime operations had provided the tip.
‘Things are finally coming together,’ she told Kate. ‘We’re getting close to an ID on the shooter who took out Agent Spangler, the guard in Marcus’s building, who’s still unconscious, and Phillip Cauldwell, who’s just woken up.’
‘Excellent news about Cauldwell. I’m going to interview the quality tech right away. He’s so shaken up from almost getting shot that he should sing like a bird. So if you want to observe, you need to hurry. Deacon, I’d like you to do the interview with me. Like I said, I’m a little juiced.’
Deacon smiled at his phone. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’ He sobered then, thinking of Agent Spangler. ‘What about the roof shooter? Was she using the same kind of rifle as the sniper who took out Spangler and almost got Marcus?’
‘No,’ Kate said. ‘Different rifles, different bullets, different range. I have a feeling the chick will be a hard nut to crack. She’s got attitude to spare. I may save her for later. She hasn’t said a word other than the initial “Fuck!” when we spoiled her shot. She’s not giving her name. We printed her and I’d like to give Latent a little time to put ’em through AFIS. I want to know who I’m dealing with when I go into interview with her.’
‘Makes sense,’ Scarlett said, looking torn. ‘I really want to be part of the interview, but we have other priorities.’
‘We’ll record it,’ Deacon promised. ‘Go. Wear body armor.’
‘I absolutely will,’ Scarlett said fervently. ‘What with snipers shooting off roofs. Shit. Let’s plan on a debrief in Isenberg’s conference room at eighteen hundred. I’m going to check on the Bautistas before we head out. Bye, Kate.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 2.30 P.M.
Alice was gone. Taken. In custody. Standing in the middle of his living room, Ken stared at the shattered picture window that had been the target of his immediate rage. Now he was numb. Drained. What now? What do I do now?
Hearing the crash, Decker ran from the upstairs bedroom, where he’d been tending Demetrius, to peer over the balustrade that ran between the twin spiral staircases.
‘Mr Sweeney!’ Decker shouted, running down the stairs as Ken stood unmoving. ‘Get down.’ He took Ken down in a tackle that was reminiscent of the time the young man had saved him a year ago. Except this time there were no bullets. No danger. Not here. Nothing to see except the destruction Ken had caused himself. Literally and figuratively.