Scarlett clenched her jaw, steeling herself for the low cry of pain that sounded like it came from a wounded animal rather than a man. He’d been so in control by the time she’d arrived. So . . . unmovable. Invincible. Seeing him – hearing him – had left Scarlett shaken as well, every time she’d watched the video.
Lynda sighed quietly. ‘His brother Mikhail was also shot in the head, wasn’t he?’ she murmured.
Scarlett nodded. ‘Marcus and his brother Stone found him.’ Buried in a shallow grave. ‘Mikhail was only seventeen.’
‘Just like Tala.’
On the screen, he knelt beside Tala’s body for another fifteen seconds, panting like he’d sprinted a mile, then pushed to his feet with a groan of pain. He looked behind him, but the lens picked up nothing, the shooter long gone.
Scarlett stopped the video. ‘He went to look for the shooter, but there was no one there. I’ll have the lab check to be sure there isn’t something in the background that I’m missing. Marcus voluntarily surrendered a small pistol he’d holstered at his ankle,’ she added.
‘Deacon said that you both think O’Bannion had a gun that he didn’t surrender.’
That Deacon had called Lynda with his initial report was no surprise. Scarlett had done the same after she’d showered and cleared her throat about a million times, not wanting her boss to notice that she’d been crying.
‘Yes,’ Scarlett said. ‘And before you ask me – yes, that bothers me a helluva lot. Marcus O’Bannion is definitely hiding something, but that something isn’t involved in Tala’s murder.’
‘Find out what it is,’ Lynda said. ‘I don’t want any surprises coming out in court if he does prove to be our star witness.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Scarlett wasn’t keen on surprises either. She’d dig until she discovered exactly what he hadn’t told them, then she’d decide if he was the kind of man she could even consider trusting.
She checked her email, saw that she had no new messages from Marcus O’Bannion, so still no list of threats. She didn’t think he was holding on to the list just to be difficult, or because he was embarrassed or ashamed. He’d given up the video files so easily, so quickly, with no demand for discretion, even though they revealed severe cracks in his emotional armor.
The list was probably irrelevant with regard to finding Tala’s killer, but it just might give Scarlett insight into the man himself. Either way, it gave her an excuse to talk to him again.
So that I can start looking for whatever it is that he’s hiding, she told herself sternly.
That she’d hear his voice again was simply a bonus.
Six
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 7.15 A.M.
The buzzing of his cell phone drew Drake’s attention from the TV in his bedroom. Ever since Stephanie had dropped him off at home, he’d been channel-surfing the news while periodically searching online for any mention of what had gone down this morning. So far, nothing more than a few vague reports of shots fired in the ghetto downtown. Of course the reporter would never call it ‘the ghetto’. That wasn’t PC.
He rolled his eyes. The media was overrun by liberals with their heads up their asses, where it was so dark that they couldn’t see what was really happening in the world, or – luckily for Drake – even in their own city. They’d mumbled about ‘unidentified victims’ whose status was ‘still undetermined’. Idiots. Their status was dead. D-E-A-D, dead.
There had been no mention of Tala or the man she’d been with. Not yet, anyway.
He rolled his eyes again when he saw the caller ID on his cell phone. Stephanie. Probably wanting to be reassured. Picking up his phone, he frowned, annoyed that his hand still trembled. The adrenaline high had crashed hours before, leaving him a little on the shaky side. He needed some food, but there hadn’t been anything in the fridge except beer.
The phone in his hand stopped buzzing. He’d stared at it too long, and Stephanie’s call had gone to voicemail. He considered calling her back, but knew there was no need. Too OCD for words, Stephanie would try him again in a few minutes.
Drake’s stomach churned, bile bubbling up to burn his throat. Dammit. I really need some food. Especially since he’d gone ahead and drunk all the beer. His older sister was gonna shit a ring when she came home tonight to the empty fridge. So I’d better refill it before she gets home. Not because he was afraid of her, but just so he didn’t have to hear her bitch.
Stephanie would give him the money for more beer. He wasn’t worried about that.
What did worry him was that he’d drunk the entire six-pack and his hand still trembled. Both hands, actually. Okay, fine. He was shaking all over, like a damn leaf.
You’re rattled. It’s okay. It’s not every day you kill someone. Someones, actually.
It still didn’t seem quite real. I killed two people.
He hadn’t really planned to – especially not the guy. The big dude dressed in black had moved like a cop, but he hadn’t been arresting Tala. He’d been talking to her, a serious expression on his face.
Probably just trying to convince the bitch to give him a blow job.
But Drake knew it was a helluva lot more likely that Tala had planned to tell. Now he’d never know – nor would anyone else. The only thing he knew for sure was that she’d arranged to meet the guy, whoever he was, because she’d used Drake’s cell phone to send him a text. She’d thought she’d been so clever, slipping the phone from the pocket of the jacket he’d left on Stephanie’s living-room sofa. Of course he had left it there on purpose, just to see what she’d do.
Served her right for thinking she could keep secrets. He’d felt the business card through her bra when he’d come up behind her, grabbing a breast in each hand. He would have had the card out of her bra a second later had Stephanie’s father not picked that moment to walk into the room.
Drake huffed a chuckle. Stupid bastard. Stephanie’s old man actually thought he could keep Tala all to himself. Drake had lost count of the number of times he and Stephanie had proved the old man wrong. But Stephanie didn’t want to piss her father off, so they played along when Papa was in the room. Which meant that by the time Drake caught up with Tala again, she’d hidden the card and neither he nor Stephanie had been able to find it. So he’d set her up and Tala had taken the bait just like he’d known she would, thinking she’d pulled something over on him by borrowing his phone.
Stupid backward bitch. He and Stephanie had set the trap by telling Tala that they’d be going out that night to get Steph some coke. Tala had texted someone to meet her a few blocks from the homeless shelter where Drake and Stephanie always bought their blow. Tala’s text was no longer on his phone. She had immediately deleted it, thinking she was safe.
Well, tonight she’d been educated, hadn’t she? Drake had simply used his laptop to open the app that synced his phone, tablet and computer.
He only wished he’d been able to stay to watch her bleed, but he hadn’t had the luxury of time. He’d made sure that he’d finished the job by putting a bullet in her skull before running like hell. And not a second too soon. He’d escaped those sirens by five seconds. Ten tops. Way too close for his liking.
But at least Tala wasn’t a problem anymore. And even if she had told the guy everything, it didn’t matter. They were both dead and wouldn’t be talking to anyone else.
His phone buzzed again, startling him, sending his pulse rocketing up. It’s just Stephanie. Who would freak if Drake wasn’t calm and in control. So calm the fuck down so she doesn’t freak. Answer the phone like it’s nothin’ special.