Closer Than You Think (17 page)

Another smile bent his lips, this one rueful but equally devastating. ‘She was.’

‘I take it that your brother is in trouble?’

Novak sighed. ‘For fighting and being a rebellious pain in the ass.’

‘Most teenagers are rebellious,’ she said mildly.

A growl rumbled deep in his throat. ‘Most don’t get suspended from school twice in as many months.’

His side of the conversation started to make sense. ‘You’re going to the principal’s office?’

‘Yeah. And not looking forward to it.’

She bit back a smile. ‘Spent a lot of time there, huh?’

He slid her a wary glance. ‘Quantify “a lot.”’

She chuckled, charmed in spite of her best intentions. ‘If I have to quantify it, that answers my question.’ But then something he’d said to Danny sank in. ‘Did you go to the same school as your brother?’ she asked sharply.

He’d smiled at her chuckle, but his expression now smoothed to one of bland curiosity. ‘Why would you think that?’

Again he’d avoided her question, giving her the answer. Disappointment rose to clog her throat. She’d really hoped he’d be different.
You, Faith, are an idiot.
‘Maybe because the same principal is still there? You know, if you didn’t want to give me the name of a defense attorney, you could have just said so. You didn’t have to tell me you were new and didn’t know any. God. I keep hoping I’m wrong, but you guys really are all the same. You lie about the small things and then wonder why people don’t trust you with their lives.’

He was quiet for a long moment, then finally blew out a breath. ‘I didn’t lie to you. I did grow up in Cincinnati – in Norwood, actually, then later we lived in Clifton. Google me if you need verification. I went all-state in track my senior year of high school and there was a write-up in the paper. You should find it in the archive. But then I went away to college and I didn’t come back except for holidays and birthdays. I joined the Bureau after graduation and worked all over the country before getting transferred back here a month ago. I said I was new in my job. From a professional networking standpoint, I’m new to the area. I meant no deception.’

‘I see.’ More than she’d expected to. There was a roughness in his voice when he’d answered, making her wonder why a young man would leave home never to return except for holidays and birthdays. And there was a desperate relief, deep in her gut. She hadn’t merely hoped he’d be different. She’d
wanted
him to be different. And she wasn’t sure what to do with that realization. ‘I apologize, Agent Novak.’

‘It’s all right.’ One white brow lifted as he stopped at a red light and looked over at her. ‘I can understand your assumption based on my background.’

Well, hell.
Her cheeks heated, and from the twitch of his lips, he’d noticed. ‘Touché,’ she said. ‘For the record, I was wrong. I’m sorry.’

His demeanor changed, his odd eyes growing intense, and Faith didn’t think she could look away if she tried. ‘Thank you. And for the record, I have not lied to you once all evening.’

She met his gaze with a challenge. ‘But you have withheld truths. Like what you really found in my grandmother’s basement. Which I would still very much like to know.’

‘I know you would,’ he said quietly. ‘And I’ll tell you what I can, when I can. You’ve withheld truths as well. I suspect it was to guard your personal safety.’

Faith swallowed hard, thinking of her old boss, of his blood on her hands, both literally and figuratively. Of her father, whose heart could not withstand the stress of knowing the danger that had stalked her. Of all the people in her old apartment building who’d been lucky to escape the fire with their lives. ‘And that of others.’

He frowned at that, but then the light turned green and he returned his attention to traffic. ‘You’ve discovered other young women near death recently?’

‘No. But I do seem to be a magnet for violence.’

‘You will tell me about this violence,’ he said sternly.

It was not a request, but she wasn’t offended. Lives were at stake, just as they’d been in Miami. ‘Of course.’ They turned a corner and the bright lights of the hospital came into view, reminding her of the phone conversation she’d overheard. ‘Who is Danny, and why did you ask him to come in to stitch me up when it’s his night off?’

‘
Her
night off. Danika is an attending at Cincinnati General.’

Her
. Danika was a woman. Which wasn’t a big deal. Except he’d only been here a month and had no professional network.

‘How long have you known
her
?’ she asked carefully.

The hint of a smile played over his lips. ‘Oh, we go way back, to when I lived here before. Don’t worry. She’s a very good doctor.’

Faith was horrified to feel a spurt of jealousy and squashed it before it could gain any appreciable ground. ‘I never meant to imply otherwise. But I am surprised to be getting such preferential treatment. I figured I’d be triaged and sit and wait for two or three hours.’

Novak’s lips firmed to a hard line. ‘We don’t have two or three hours. We need to find Corinne Longstreet before she ends up like Arianna. Or worse.’

Assuming she hadn’t already, Faith thought sadly. ‘Or worse,’ she murmured.

‘Dani’s not sure how much faster she can get you through, but she’ll do her best. She can’t treat you if there are any life-threatening cases ahead of you, but she’s not on staff tonight so she can see you sooner than the other doctors.’ He guided the SUV into the ER’s parking lot. ‘Let’s get you into a private exam room, then we’ll talk.’

‘A private exam room? Not the waiting room?’

‘That’s the plan. I don’t know how long this will take, but I didn’t think it was prudent to have you sitting in the waiting room for hours. Arianna is at the same hospital and I know there will be reporters around. It won’t take them long to get wind of what’s going on out at your house. We’ve got it lit up like the surface of the damn sun. One of them sees you with me, puts two and two together, then all of a sudden, you’re front-page news. I don’t think having your picture online is the best way to stay under your stalker’s radar.’

The air rushed from her lungs at the thought of Peter Combs knowing where she was. ‘No, it’s not.’ She gave Novak a long, considering stare. ‘Thank you. I didn’t expect this.’

‘Expect what?’

She shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Thoughtfulness from a cop. You’re being very kind.’

‘I get something out of it too. A private area also ensures that we can talk without being overheard.’ He switched off the ignition, then sat back in his seat to give her a probing, troubled look. ‘Miami’s a big city. You must have known
some
decent cops.’

He’d shared a few personal details about himself. It wouldn’t hurt her to do the same. ‘I thought the one I married was.’

Novak went still, his eyes growing hard, his jaw tight. ‘Did he hurt you?’

‘Not the way you’re thinking,’ she said quickly. ‘He wasn’t a violent man. But our divorce was less than civil, and trash-talking me to his friends on the force must’ve made him feel a lot better, because he did it often.’

Novak studied her in the way he had at the beginning of the evening, like she was on display in a specimen jar. She now suspected it was a way for him to put the subject of his questions on edge. ‘Is that why you don’t trust cops?’

‘It’s one reason.’

‘I can’t wait to hear the others,’ he said dryly. He got out of the SUV and came around to her side, opening her door and extending a hand. ‘You’ve got to be feeling sore from the impact with the tree,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to fall again. Let me help you.’

Gingerly she took his hand, not expecting the gentleness of his grip. It was something about Novak that surprised her every time, that he could be so gentle. He let her go as soon as her feet were solidly on the ground, but stayed close enough to steady her if she stumbled. Though not so close that he sent her into a panic.

He was a quick study.

‘Thank . . .’ The words died on her lips. He was staring at her throat, his jaw even tighter than it had been before. She knew what he was looking at. The cowled collar of her sweater had shifted when she’d exited his vehicle, exposing the scar Peter Combs had left behind. Suddenly self-conscious, and annoyed to be so, she pulled a lock of her hair forward to cover the scar.

‘No,’ he said, regret thickening his voice. Carefully he hooked his finger through the lock of hair and pulled it back over her shoulder. ‘Don’t hide it. I’m sorry, Faith. I hate it when people stare at me, and I just did the same to you.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said, and meant it. ‘I’m used to it by now.’

‘So am I, but it doesn’t mean I like it. Peter Combs did that to you?’

She pulled the lock of hair back to cover the scar, nodding. ‘He did. And more.’

‘I need to know about that, too.’ He pulled a woolen scarf from the pocket of his leather coat and wound it around her face, hiding her nose and mouth. And her throat. ‘This way, if one of them does get a picture, no one will be able to identify you.’

Once again, she was touched by his thoughtfulness. ‘Thank you.’

He lifted his brows mockingly. ‘All part of the good-cop service. I see one of the ER nurses up there at the side door waving us over. Let’s go.’

Chapter Eight

Eastern Kentucky, Monday 3 November, 9.55
P.M.

Where the hell is the damn road?
He hadn’t been here for a while, and last time it had been in the daylight in the summertime. The road looked different with many of the surrounding trees now leafless skeletons.

He’d passed his turnoff, not realizing he’d gone too far until he’d seen the lights of Morehead. He’d had to double back, and now drove extra slow with his high beams on. What should have taken him two hours had taken nearly three.

Ah. There it is.
He turned from the main road on to an unmarked, rutted dirt one, ignoring the painted symbols on the trees indicating that he’d crossed on to private land. Gritting his teeth as the van bounced unmercifully, he rounded the final curve and relaxed.

There it was. The little cabin in the very big woods. He’d wondered why its owner had picked this particular location, but had never asked.

He’d already decided that he’d bury the two dead bodies he carried under the cabin’s rustic wood floor. The other two . . . He hadn’t yet made his mind up. He’d figured on killing them quickly when he arrived and dumping all four bodies in a mass grave. But that seemed like such a waste.

He’d worked hard to obtain Longstreet, having chosen her carefully. He’d already lost his home because of the Escobar bitch. He didn’t want to lose his prize, too. He had plans for the blonde. Fun plans.

And the child? When his temper had cooled, he knew that she was worth more to him alive. She was leverage, pure and simple. She always had been. But she’d need to be reconditioned. Somehow she’d grown up a little faster than he’d expected, finding a spine somewhere.

But spines could be broken. He’d get a lot of pleasure teaching the child everything he knew, and in so doing increase her value. Truly good leverage was damn hard to come by.

The little cabin was isolated, so no one would hear their screams. He could stash the Longstreet woman and the child here and come back for them later.
Over and over again.

And when he was finished, he’d bury Corinne Longstreet under the floorboards with the power guy and the locksmith. As for the child . . . he’d find a place for her when he was confident that she no longer had a spine.

The more he considered the idea, the more he liked it. He wouldn’t have to rush with the females, and it allowed him to get back to the city with all haste. Because he had one more loose end to snip. As long as Faith Frye still breathed, she was a danger.

He slowed the van to a stop in front of the little cabin. Hopefully the owner had left some food in the pantry, because he was starving, and there was still significant physical labor to be done before he could leave.

He had to pull up the floor and dig a hole big enough for the power guy. The locksmith was a skinny, bony old man who wouldn’t take up much room at all. The power guy was the challenge. He got out of the van, slamming the door in annoyance. Of course the power company couldn’t have sent a skinny tech to his house. That would have been too easy.

He’d walked toward the cabin, and was a foot from the door when he realized that something was off. He drew a breath through his nose, his stomach growling at the enticing aroma.

Stew.
What the hell? Someone was making beef stew.

He slunk around the building, squinting into the surrounding woods. No car. Peering through the window, he saw a dirty backpack, and a dirtier young man standing at the stove, stirring a pot.

A trespasser. A squatter. They happened from time to time, even in the best of homes. He’d had a few of them himself, but any who’d been foolish enough to enter the O’Bannion house were buried in his basement.

This trespasser had made himself at home. The trash can in the back was filled with empty cans of soup. At this rate, the pantry would be empty and the gas tank drained.

He slid his gun from his waistband and palmed it. The interloper would have to be dealt with. Cleanly, of course. It wouldn’t be wise to leave a mess inside.

He made his way quietly to the gas tank and twisted the knob, cutting off the flow. A few minutes later, he was rewarded with an oath from inside the cabin.

‘Sonofabitch!’ the young man said. ‘Do not tell me the gas is out.’

He pressed his back to the cabin wall, waiting patiently in the shadows, rewarded when the front door slammed and the young man came around the back, his steps loud enough to wake the dead. The kid had his arms wrapped around himself, shivering as he walked up to the gas tank and bent over to read the gauge.

The young man never looked up as he approached. One bullet to the back of the head, and the body crumpled to the ground, blood spilling all over the recently fallen leaves.

Luckily the guy was skinny, otherwise he’d have to dig an even bigger hole.

Eastern Kentucky, Monday 3 November, 9.55
P.M.

Corinne flinched at the single shot, her heart beating so hard that it hurt. She’d heard the door slam. Then nothing until the gunshot.

He’s going to kill us
. Her and the girl.
He’s going to shoot us and kill us
.

But why hadn’t he done that already? Why wait? She didn’t know and was too afraid to guess. All she knew was that she hadn’t had enough time to cut through the ropes. It had taken her forever just to open the old man’s penknife and position it where she could cut the rope around her wrists without hurting herself.

And sawing through rope? A helluva lot harder than she’d thought it would be.

She was covered in sweat and teetering on exhaustion. Even if she managed to free herself, she couldn’t fight him. And if she did, she couldn’t run. Her legs were too sore, her joints too swollen.
More time
, she thought, sawing the rope across the knife wildly.
Just a little more time
.

Cincinnati, Ohio, Monday 3 November, 10.25
P.M.

‘I’m all done in there,’ the nurse said, closing the door to the small, unoccupied office where she’d taken Faith’s personal information. ‘You can go in now. I’ll let Dr Novak know you’re ready for her when she comes in.’

Deacon found Faith sitting at a small round table, hands folded in front of her. It was the first time he’d seen her in normal light. Her skin was porcelain, with a faint spattering of freckles over her nose. Her eyes were a darker green than they’d appeared in the dim light of his SUV.

Leaning over her, he took a second to check the roots of her hair before sitting next to her, angling his chair so that he could fully see her face. She was frowning, just as he’d expected.

‘What were you looking at?’

He hadn’t lied yet, and decided not to start now. ‘Your hair. Your coloring is very unique.’

She gave his hair a pointed glance. ‘So is yours.’

He inclined his head. ‘Touché.’ He took a notepad from his coat pocket and dropped it on the table. ‘When did your grandmother die? The exact date?’

She blinked at him. ‘September twenty-fifth. Why?’

‘Because I’m starting from the position that you are a completely innocent bystander and that your finding Arianna was simple coincidence.’

She stilled. ‘It doesn’t sound like you believe either of those things,’ she said quietly.

He held her gaze. ‘I don’t, but only because Arianna knew your name.’

‘Because she heard it from her captor. He had to have known that I’d inherited the house.’

‘How would he know that?’

‘If I were squatting in someone’s basement, I’d want to know what was going on with the owner. I’d do a property search online. It’s easy enough to do. He wouldn’t need to have super cyber skills. How long has he been there?’

‘Why?’

A muted sound of frustration. ‘Because if it was longer than two weeks, he would have found my grandmother’s name on the deed, not mine.’

He thought of the basement’s torture room, the well-used cot with its rusted shackles. The office and the kitchen and the little sleeping alcove. ‘Assume it was longer.’

‘All right. Then he would have known that my grandmother was the owner. He’d also know that her death was just a matter of time,’ she added sadly.

‘How would he know that?’ Deacon asked.

She shrugged. ‘She was eighty-four. Even if she’d been in the best of health – which she hadn’t been in years – she wasn’t going to live forever. If I’d been squatting, I’d set up a Google alert to let me know as soon as she died, because the house would change hands. There’s lots of activity when a house changes hands. Realtors, appraisers, buyers, tax assessors. He would want to be gone before they descended. He’d also want to know about the new owner. My grandmother’s attorney transferred the deed into my name two weeks ago. It’s public record.’

‘So you’re assuming that whoever assaulted Arianna has a computer and is tech savvy.’

‘Who doesn’t have a computer these days? He might not be young, but he’s not old either. You said there was evidence of a fight behind the house and the power company tech is missing. He had to have moved the body, so he has some strength. He’s not eighty-four, that’s for damn sure. And even if he weren’t tech savvy, there’s always the public records office. He could have gotten my name any number of ways.’

She was right about that. Why Arianna’s abductor would have revealed Faith’s name to his captive was another question. ‘When was the will read, and who was there?’

‘October first. The attorney called us into his office individually. I don’t know if he does that all the time, or if he expected one of my uncles to make a scene.’

He lifted his brows. ‘So you
were
here more recently than twenty-three years ago.’

‘In the city, yes, for the will, and several times over the years to visit my grandmother. But I never went to see the house, not when she was alive and not when she was gone.’

He’d suspected as much. ‘Why not? It was your property.’

‘Because,’ she said calmly, ‘as you so astutely noted earlier, I don’t like it. I didn’t intend to live in it.’

He glanced at the hollow of her throat where her pulse beat rapidly. She wasn’t as calm as she appeared. ‘What had you intended to do with it?’

‘On the day I found out I’d inherited it? Nothing. I was too shocked. I thought she might leave me a few of the paintings she’d hung in the townhouse, but not the house. Never the house.’

Every time she referred to the house, she recoiled. It was a subtle reaction, Deacon thought, one that seemed deeply ingrained. He made a mental note of it, planning to dig deeper later. ‘Did you see either of your uncles when you were here before?’

‘I had lunch with Jordan.’

Outwardly she was the picture of serenity, but her pulse continued to hammer in the hollow of her throat. Deacon wished he knew if it was his mention of the house that was still agitating her, or her uncle – or both uncles. ‘You don’t trust Jeremy, but what about Jordan?’

She shook her head slightly. ‘I’m not going there, Agent Novak. I’m not throwing my family under the bus, as Kimble so colorfully put it. Investigate Jeremy for this by all means. But other than a few childhood memories – which did not seem to have any validity when I checked them out as an adult – I don’t know him.’

‘And Jordan?’

‘We were closer when I was a teenager. For the last twelve years or so, I only saw him when I came to visit my grandmother, and then only a few minutes here and there. He took care of her for twenty-three years and never once complained, but he did appreciate when I visited because he got a little break. He’d usually go off and paint.’

‘How did he feel about you inheriting the house?’

‘He was thrilled, because it meant he wouldn’t have to fight with Jeremy over it.’

‘Jeremy wanted the house?’

‘I don’t know that for sure,’ she said hastily. ‘I never heard him say so because I haven’t talked to him in years. But if Jordan had inherited the house, he told me that he and Jeremy would have probably ended up in court contesting the will. My grandmother made it clear that she did not want Jeremy to get a penny.’

‘Just because he was gay?’ Deacon asked mildly, although he knew families that had been bitterly divided over the very issue.

She shook her head, making all that dark red hair pool on her shoulders before sliding down her back.
Like silk
, he thought, and wondered how it would feel running through his fingers—

Whoa
. He stopped that train of thought in its tracks.
No, no, no. Not like silk. Like
hair
. It would feel like
hair
.
Nothing special.

‘I think Gran’s issue was really that Jeremy wouldn’t just hide it. She said that he sent my grandfather to an early grave. Anyway, Jordan said that my inheriting the house saved him a lot of trouble and a fortune in attorney’s fees. I need to call him about what’s going on.’

‘I called him while you were asleep in the car. I called both of your uncles. Neither was home, so I left messages on their answering machines asking them to call me back.’

‘Jordan is never home this time of the night. He’s an art dealer and always seems to be at a party. You’ll have a better chance of contacting him after eleven in the morning. But . . .’ she bit her lip again, ‘if Jeremy’s involved – and I am not saying that he is, but
if
he is – won’t leaving him a message just tip him off?’

‘You don’t need to worry about that right now.’

She gave him an annoyed look. ‘Because you put surveillance on his house.’

And outside his office at the medical school as well
, Deacon thought, but didn’t mention it. Instead, he held her gaze steadily, giving away nothing, until she rolled her eyes and muttered in a twangy drawl, ‘You don’t need to worry ’bout that right now, little lady.’