Stone’s eyes popped open to lock on his in disbelief. ‘You like her. Oh my God. You have got to be freaking kidding me.’
For a split second Marcus considered denying it, but realized he didn’t want to. ‘Why? Because she’s a cop?’
‘Because she’s Bishop. She eats men for breakfast, spits out their bones, then grinds them up to make her bread. She’s a fucking praying mantis.’
Marcus’s lips twitched. He was feeling true amusement for the first time in a long while. ‘Where do you get this stuff? She grinds their bones to make her bread? Really?’
‘She’s a hardass,’ Stone insisted. ‘A real ball-buster.’
Stone and Scarlett Bishop had not met under ideal circumstances. Deacon and Scarlett had been investigating an abduction, and Stone had been withholding evidence. To be fair, Stone had just found Mikhail’s body buried in a shallow grave, so his emotions had been unstable at best.
‘You lied to her, Stone,’ Marcus said mildly. ‘Did you honestly expect her to be okay with that?’
Stone stared, dumbfounded. ‘Did the medics give you hallucinogenic drugs? Because that’s the only way this is making any sense to me. I mean, okay, she’s built. I’ll give you that. Really built.’ He held his hands out lewdly, as if squeezing a woman’s breasts. ‘Under the circumstances, I guess I can understand your momentary lapse of sanity, because the bitch has an impressive rack. Take her out for a spin if you have to, just to get her out of your system. But guard your nuts while you do, because if you don’t, she’ll add ’em to her personal collection. And once you’ve taken her around the block, park her somewhere and, for the love of God, walk away.’
Marcus’s amusement had evaporated as soon as Stone started with the crude commentary on Scarlett’s physical appearance. ‘That’s enough,’ he snapped. ‘You don’t like her. I get it. I can even accept it. But I won’t accept you talking about her that way. You don’t like the way she does her job, that’s your opinion, but the rest . . .’ He trailed off, stopped in his tracks by the bewildered look on his brother’s face.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let me get this straight.’ Stone’s forehead bunched as he considered it. ‘You really like her? As in someone you might even . . .’ He grimaced. ‘Date?’
‘I don’t really know her,’ Marcus said truthfully. ‘Not yet, anyway. I may never get to know her.’
‘But you’d like to?’
Marcus shrugged. ‘Maybe. I may never see her again, but if I do, I don’t intend for it to be a single spin around the block.’
Stone sighed. ‘No, I guess not. You’re just not built that way. Okay, Mr Right-thing-to-do, give her the damn list. Just give me copies of everything you give her. I need to know where you’re vulnerable.’
‘That’s fair. I can do that.’ Marcus glanced at the security monitor on his desk. From here he could see every entrance and exit to the building. ‘Jill’s in the lobby and she’s got her arms full of breakfast. She could use a hand with the boxes.’
Stone stood up. ‘I’ll let her in and then get started on the story about Tala.’
‘I don’t want Jill poking around here unattended.’
Stone’s eyes widened. ‘I’m her babysitter?’
‘Until I can find someone else to do it, yes.’
Stone was not pleased. ‘If she’s smart enough to hack into Gayle’s email, I’m sure she’s able to access the computers remotely. I’m not going to watch her 24/7.’
‘I’ll change all the passwords on the servers,’ Marcus said. ‘And I’ll get Diesel to add a few firewalls or something.’ Diesel was their resident computer nerd. Marcus could manage around the computers, and had even hacked into a system or two, but Diesel was a fucking artist. ‘Just watch her for the next few hours. I want to know what she tries to do.’
‘You think she knows more than she’s letting on?’
‘I think she’s a lot more curious than is safe. For her or for us. Just watch her, at least until morning meeting. Then we’ll figure out what to do about her.’
‘Okay,’ Stone said with a shake of his head. ‘You’re the boss.’
Marcus waited until the door was closed before muttering, ‘Yay me.’
He leaned back in his chair to fish his phone from the pocket of his jeans. It had vibrated with an incoming text while he and Stone had been talking. He read the text, then, his heart hammering, read it again. Especially the greeting. Scarlett Bishop here. Not ‘Detective Bishop’, but ‘Scarlett’. It was warmer. Inviting, even. And you’re a fool, O’Bannion.
It wasn’t an invitation. It was her name, clear and simple. So don’t read in shit that isn’t there, and focus on the actual message.
The prompt for the list in and of itself came as no surprise, as he was overdue on delivering it, but he had hoped that after seeing this morning’s video, she’d realize the list wasn’t necessary. Clearly Tala had been the target.
However, he’d met enough cops to know that once they got an idea in their heads, they wouldn’t let up until they had evidence in hand. He just needed to find a few names that would satisfy her while not piquing her curiosity so much that she started to dig. Because what she’d find probably wouldn’t end well for either of them.
Five
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 7.05 A.M.
‘What is this?’ Lieutenant Lynda Isenberg asked sharply as she leaned against the side of Scarlett’s desk. ‘I thought you were watching the O’Bannion footage of the victim.’
The note of disapproval in her boss’s voice startled Scarlett to attention. Lynda rarely used that tone on anyone, and almost never with Scarlett. Scarlett had never given her reason to.
Surreptitiously wiping her eyes, Scarlett muted her computer before pausing the video she’d been watching. And listening to. Which, admittedly, had perhaps involved getting a little too lost in the beauty of Marcus’s music. His singing voice was exactly as she’d expected – rich and smooth, soothing the hurts in her heart even as it drew a new kind of pain to the surface.
‘I am watching the victim,’ she said, relieved that her own voice was steady. ‘She’s right there.’ She pointed at the edge of her screen, where Tala stood, tentative and wary, barely visible through the trees bordering the clearing where Marcus had recorded the scene with his cap-cam.
‘She looks like she’s about to bolt,’ Lynda observed, her voice oddly cold. Something was wrong, but Scarlett respected Lynda enough not to pry. Her boss would share if she so chose. Thankfully Lynda extended the same respect to her people. If she’d noticed Scarlett’s eyes were still a little red from crying, she gave no indication of it.
‘But she doesn’t bolt,’ Scarlett said. ‘Not until he stops singing. I’ve watched five of the ten video clips from the park. When Marcus finishes his song, she leaves, but not before.’
Lynda’s gray brows snapped up to the edge of her hairline, her eyes going wide in a rare display of shock. ‘That was Marcus O’Bannion singing? Really?’
‘It was. That’s how he got Tala’s attention the first time. He said that he’d been singing because it was the middle of the night and he thought he was alone. He looked up and saw her in the trees with the dog.’ That had been the ballad, the one he’d sung for his dead brother. Scarlett hadn’t expected to hear it, since Marcus hadn’t recorded that first meeting, but she’d heard it on every one of the park video files she’d watched so far. Sometimes he sang three or four other songs first, but he’d always switch to the ballad as soon as Tala came into view.