Alone in the Dark (23 page)

‘Latent got a single print, but it’s a clear one. It’s being processed too, along with this.’ Vince stripped the goggles from his face, then brought up a plastic evidence bin from the shelf below his worktable. He was about to pull the lid off when Deacon rejoined them. ‘Well?’ Vince asked him. ‘Can the Feds get the records from the tracker manufacturer without tipping them off?’

‘They’re planning an unannounced visit as we speak. The Bureau doesn’t source from Constant Global Surveillance, but the federal correctional system does. Their contract stipulates that CGS’s lab facilities are “open to quality audits conducted by the customer”. There’s no requirement for advance notice. The Chicago Field Office has agents en route. Hopefully they’ll get there before the lab shreds their records.’

‘So what are we thinking?’ Scarlett asked. ‘That someone inside CGS is smuggling working devices out of the factory and selling them on the black market? It doesn’t seem like it would be financially worth the risk. These trackers only sell for a few hundred bucks apiece.’

‘To legitimate buyers,’ Deacon said. ‘I imagine that anyone who’s purchased a human being through traffickers will pay a good bit more than a few hundred bucks to protect their investment. You can’t buy trackers like this on eBay.’

Scarlett shook her head. ‘Maybe. It still doesn’t seem worth the risk for the guy in the lab to steal them at a rate that would make him any money. If he “destroys” too many during testing, somebody’s going to notice. To keep from being caught, it would have to be an every-now-and-then thing. Unless he’s not stealing these units for the money. What if he’s being forced to provide them?’

Deacon nodded. ‘Extortion is a definite possibility. I’ll get backgrounds on anyone who had access to the units made around the same time as this one. We’ll see if anyone pops, then start with that person and follow the trail. Hopefully to whoever bought this unit.’

‘Which was about to give up the ghost when Vince cut it off Tala’s leg,’ Scarlett said.

‘Yeah, I heard. I was on hold when you two were discussing that part, so I listened in. Before we go on to the rest of the evidence,’ Deacon said, pointing at the bin Vince held on the worktable, ‘I have another question about the tracker. Does it transmit sound or just GPS signal?’

‘Well, it depends on who you ask. Constant Global Surveillance’s website claims it can be used to buzz the wearer – like a phone in vibrate mode. The buzz is used to remind the wearer of appointments with his parole officer, things like that. But some models can record or transmit live conversations without the wearer knowing it.’

‘Holy Big Brother, Batman,’ Scarlett muttered. ‘Defense attorneys must’ve had a field day with that.’ And of course the mere mention of defense attorneys had her remembering what Bryan had said just hours before. Trent Bracken, a goddamn killer, was going to defend actual people in an actual court.
Not now, Scarlett. Pay attention. For Tala.
‘Can this tracker do that? I mean, could someone have overheard Marcus talking to Tala in the park?’

‘Quite possibly,’ Vince said. ‘I was getting ready to take this one apart to find out what other goodies it’s got when you two came in. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.’

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Marcus was afraid that Tala had been beaten because he’d tried to talk to her. If someone was listening in while she walked the dog, he could be right. We need to know what precipitated the beating – if it was over Marcus or something unrelated.’ She pointed to the evidence bin. ‘So what’s in there?’

‘Everything else the victim was wearing or carrying.’ Vince lifted the lid, identifying each bagged item as he put it on the worktable. ‘Blue jeans, polo shirt, shoes, socks. Crucifix on a necklace chain. Dog treats. And this.’ He held up a small plastic evidence bag. ‘Ten grams of cocaine. I should have lab results on the purity in a few hours.’

Scarlett frowned. ‘The alley where I found her is drug-dealer central, but Carrie didn’t find any evidence of drugs in her system.’

Vince made no comment as he put the bag of coke on the table and took three more bags from the bin, silently holding them up for Scarlett and Deacon to see.

‘A pacifier, a teething ring and a baggie filled with Cheerios.’ Scarlett’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest. ‘For her baby.’

‘The dog treats and the coke were in her left pocket,’ Vince said quietly, ‘the baby things in her right.’

‘The baby’s at least eight or nine months old if she was giving him Cheerios,’ Scarlett said, hardening her voice so that it didn’t waver.

Vince looked surprised. ‘I didn’t know you knew anything about babies, Scarlett.’

She lifted a shoulder. ‘I’ve got six nieces and nephews. Difficult not to pick up a few things here and there.’

Deacon cleared his throat. ‘Can you get DNA off the pacifier, Vince?’

‘I already took a sample off the pacifier and the teething ring.’

Deacon nodded once. ‘Good. If we don’t find the child with her captors, at least we’ll be able to show that her child was with her at some point. Was there anything else in her pockets?’

Vince shook his head. ‘Nothing. No keys, no money, no ID.’

Scarlett caught Vince’s arm as he started to put the baby things back in the bin. ‘Wait.’ She took the pacifier and held it under the light on the worktable. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, pointing to three black smudges on the pacifier’s ring.

‘Magic Marker,’ Vince said. ‘But it’s too worn away to see what it used to say.’

She took the pacifier from the bag, then bent closer to the light, squinting at the smudges. ‘Can I see your glass?’ She held out her hand and Vince dropped the magnifying glass into her palm. ‘There are three distinct smudges,’ she said, ‘about the same space apart. They might have been circles originally. And . . .’ She squinted harder, tilting the pacifier one way, then the other, trying to catch the right light on the surface of the plastic ring. ‘Colors,’ she murmured. ‘Tiny leftover pieces of color. Red and blue and . . . yellow? Or maybe green. Each to the left of the black smudged circle.’

‘Other magic markers?’ Deacon asked.

Absently she nodded. She recognized this pattern, but the memory was hovering on the edge of her mind, just out of reach. And then her brain made the connection.
Holy shit.
Abruptly she straightened, her pulse hammering in her head as she met her partner’s curious stare. ‘Oh my God. He was wrong.’

Deacon’s head was tilted. ‘What? Who?’

‘Marcus. He was wrong,’ she said, her words coming out way too fast. ‘Do you ever watch
Wheel of Fortune
?’

Deacon blinked, then nodded warily. ‘Yes, quite often recently. Turns out Faith is a closet fan of Pat and Vanna. Why?’

‘You know those people who can solve the puzzle with one letter?’

‘I hate those people,’ Vince muttered. ‘They spoil all the fun.’

Scarlett pointed to herself. ‘Well
I’m
one of those people. These black smudges could have been lower case a’s. The blue, red and yellow – other letters. Blank “a” blank “a” blank “a”.
Malaya
. Somebody wrote “Malaya” on this pacifier. What if it doesn’t mean “freedom”? What if it’s a name?’

Deacon’s eyes widened as realization dawned. ‘When Tala said “Help Malaya”, she wasn’t asking Marcus to help free her family.’

Scarlett swallowed hard, Tala’s final plea taking on an even deeper meaning. ‘She was asking him to save her baby.’

Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 9.15
A.M.

Drake snarled when his cell phone’s ring tone pulled him out of a sound sleep. He opened one eye and groaned. Stephanie’s throwaway phone. ‘This better be damn important,’ he barked. ‘You woke me up.’

‘He knows,’ Stephanie whispered harshly. ‘He came to my room and took my iPhone. Slapped me. Hard. He knows I took Tala out of the house last night. He kept asking me why.’

Drake sat up in bed, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Did you tell him?’ he asked softly.

‘No!’ It was a hissed whisper. ‘I didn’t. I swore I didn’t know what he was talking about, even when he hit me again. But I don’t know how long I can hold up.’

‘Then get into your fancy car and leave,’ Drake said irritably.

‘I can’t. He took my purse – my wallet, my keys . . . everything. Told me that if he caught me trying to escape, he’d beat me within an inch of my life. I believe him. You have to come. I might be able to sneak out through the servants’ door, but I won’t get far. You have to come pick me up.’

‘In what?’

‘I don’t know,’ Stephanie snapped. ‘Figure it out. Just do it fast or it won’t matter. If he makes me hurt enough, I might just tell him what he wants to know. Somehow I think that’ll hurt you more than me.’

Drake’s eyes narrowed at the girl’s sudden spine. He hated spine. He thought he’d trained it out of Stephanie, but obviously he’d been wrong. He wanted to tell her to go ahead, tell her father everything. It wasn’t like her old man could call the cops or anything. He considered telling her to shove her rich head up her rich ass, that he was going to out her father for the cheating sonofabitch he really was.

But it would be easier just to pick Stephanie up, put a bullet in her head and dump her body in the river. Less fuss all the way around.

‘Okay,’ he said quietly, going along with her for the moment. ‘My sister has a Honda Civic. It’s white. Watch for it. I’ll text you when I’m two minutes away, okay?’

‘Okay.’ A shuddering exhale. ‘Thank you, Drake.’

‘No worries. Just stay out of dear old Dad’s sight until I can come get you.’

Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 9.15
A.M.

Scarlett pushed through the exit from CPD, dragging in a breath of air that was already hot and humid. She paused on the sidewalk, waiting for Deacon to catch up. Neither of them had said much since leaving Vince’s domain, each caught up in their own thoughts.

Malaya is a baby.
Tala’s baby. And she was out there somewhere, hopefully not alone. Hopefully with someone who would take care of her, make sure she was fed. And safe.

But the reality of the child’s situation had hit Scarlett hard as she’d stood staring at that pacifier. Tala had been beaten severely. Held captive.
Owned
. She’d still been nursing, so her baby must have still lived with her.
Help Malaya
.

The panic Tala must have felt became Scarlett’s and, chest too tight to breathe, she’d rushed out of CSU, chased by a wave of hot tears that she couldn’t let anyone else see.

She gulped more of the humid air, her throat still painfully thick. No wonder Tala had taken such a risk to see Marcus last night. Her baby wasn’t safe.

Please God, let that baby be safe.

Scarlett’s shoulders stiffened, abruptly aware that she’d whispered a prayer, if only in the privacy of her own mind. She didn’t pray. Hadn’t prayed in ten years. That she’d just done so meant only that she was exhausted, not that she actually expected the whispered entreaty to do a bit of good. She’d stopped believing in Santa and the Easter Bunny when she was five. She’d stopped believing in prayer ten years ago, when she’d stood over the mutilated body of her best friend.

But at least the shock of hearing herself pray had knocked her out of the thick fog of panic that had seized her chest in a white-knuckled grip. She drew another deep breath, shuddered it out.
What the hell is wrong with you today, Scarlett?
She’d been on an emotional roller coaster since the ringing of her phone had yanked her out of sleep. Since Marcus’s voice had rolled over her, waking her up.

Waking up a lot of things
, she thought darkly, thinking of the way her body had responded when she’d seen him standing there in that alley.
Too damn many things
.

Of course Bryan’s visit hadn’t helped, layering regret and guilt on top of her disappointment, then whipping up the fury within her that never seemed to cool. Dredging up the memories that still had the power to trap her in a nightmare, wake her up screaming.

That was why she was so emotional. This roller coaster of feelings had been triggered by remembering Michelle – finding her body, watching her killer go free to live his life. To become a goddamn defense attorney. That would drive anyone crazy. And who wouldn’t be upset at the thought of a defenseless baby in the hands of someone capable of administering a beating like Tala had received? To not be moved would make a person a monster. The lump in her throat had almost nothing to do with Marcus O’Bannion. Or his voice, or his face, and especially not his chest without his shirt . . .

Yeah, girl, you go on telling yourself that if it makes you feel better
. Which it did. It also helped her clear her mind so that she could concentrate on doing her job. On finding that baby before it was too late.

Willing her hands not to tremble, she checked her phone for new messages, emails or voicemails, finding a number of all three. But not one of them from Marcus O’Bannion. He still hadn’t returned any of her calls, nor had he sent her the damn list of threats.