Closer Than You Think (29 page)

‘Any time.’ Rayburn gave Bishop a little salute. ‘You know where to call if you need me.’

When he was gone, Bishop turned to Deacon. ‘Go let the EMTs check you out. Bruises turn into blood clots. You could throw a clot and die. Then I’d have to break in somebody new.’

He gave her a weary smile. ‘You haven’t broken
me
in yet.’

‘My point exactly. Go on. Get yourself checked out. Check on the doc. You take the scene at the creepy old house and I’ll process the scene here and write the report.’ Bishop went to the window, looking at the broken glass and bloody concrete below. ‘That was a pretty amazing shot. Vega had to have done a background check on Combs. If he was military, it would show up. I don’t have her number on me, do you?’

‘I do.’ Deacon dialed Vega’s cell, put her on speaker. ‘It’s Novak in Cincinnati.’

‘What time is it?’ Vega yawned. ‘Hell, Novak, it’s after three
A.M.
What happened?’

‘I’m with my partner, Detective Bishop. A gunman fired on Faith Corcoran at her hotel.’

Sheets rustled, a bed creaked. ‘Shit.’ Vega was alert now. ‘Was anyone hurt?’

‘Corcoran is okay,’ he said, ‘but a bellman was shot in the chest, just like her boss. He’s on his way to the ER. No word yet on his status. He’d been holding the door for her. Just like Shue.’

A slight pause. ‘Gordon Shue didn’t die from the shot to the chest.’

Deacon frowned at Bishop. ‘Then how did he die?’

‘Shot to the head. Four shots were fired, two of which hit Shue. The first hit his chest, but probably wouldn’t have been fatal. The second hit the glass in the door a few inches from where Faith was kneeling beside him, so, thinking the gunman was shooting at Shue, she grabbed his feet and had dragged him halfway in when the third shot went over her head. The fourth struck Shue in the head. The first responders said they had to pull her away from Shue. She was trying to stop the bleeding in his chest, but his brains were all over the floor.’ Another pause, followed by a heavy sigh. ‘All over her, too. Her clothes, her hands. Her face.’

‘Oh my God,’ Bishop murmured. ‘Poor Faith.’

Deacon couldn’t say anything at all. Shue’s blood on her hands was what she’d described when she’d related the incident earlier that evening. When she’d been safe. But when they’d been on the hotel floor, Deacon’s body covering hers . . .

I can’t wear your brains.
She hadn’t been being wry. She’d been reliving personal trauma.

‘When I got there,’ Vega finished, ‘Faith was sitting in a chair, rocking herself. CSU had bagged her hands and one of the evidence techs was swabbing the brain material from her face. When I asked her what happened, she’d only tell me about his blood on her hands. And then later, when she realized she’d been the real target? No one took her seriously except me.’

Someone should have, Deacon thought, furious on her behalf. And then he remembered that someone had known the truth – the cop for whom she was a CI. ‘She mentioned a friend on the force, a Sex Crimes detective named Deb. Ring any bells?’

‘Debra Kinnion?’ Vega sounded shocked. ‘Debra hated therapists like Faith.’

Deacon frowned. ‘Hated? As in past tense? What happened to her?’

‘She died two years ago. Killed in the line of duty.’

Deacon was conscious of Bishop’s watchful stare. ‘Did you know her to be a successful detective?’ he asked. ‘With a good arrest and conviction track record?’

‘Hell, yeah. Nobody put away more sex offenders than Deb Kinnion and . . .’ Vega’s voice trailed away, only to return sharply suspicious. ‘Exactly what are you saying, Novak?’

Standing next to him, Bishop crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a pointed look.

‘Nothing,’ Deacon said easily. ‘Just asking questions.’

Vega snorted. ‘Seriously, did Faith Frye help Deb Kinnion put offenders away?’

‘That would have been incredibly unethical of her,’ Deacon said quietly, hearing Faith’s voice as clearly as if she was standing beside him.
I’m not exactly the poster child for ethics.

‘I suppose that’s true,’ Vega agreed, just as quietly. ‘A therapist who leaks her client’s information to the cops risks losing her license. Although that would make a lot of things make sense. But I don’t suppose it matters one way or the other now.’

Bishop’s eyes softened, her expression one of new understanding. ‘I have a question. How was Faith covered in Shue’s brains if she was by his feet when he was shot?’

‘After the third shot, people in their building came running to see what was wrong.’

‘After
three
shots?’ Bishop exclaimed. ‘What the hell?’

‘It’s a tough neighborhood in Miami,
chica
,’ Vega chided, purposely thickening her accent. ‘By the fourth shot we had witnesses who told us that Faith was standing over Shue, lifting him by his shirt to pull him over the threshold, which put her in Combs’s sight.’

‘Got it,’ Bishop said. ‘Did Combs serve in the military?’

‘Army,’ Vega answered promptly, ‘somewhere in the Gulf.’

‘Was he a marksman?’ Deacon asked.

‘Not that I recall. Why?’

‘He had to have used a rifle to make the shots he did tonight,’ Deacon said. ‘Not the handgun he used on Gordon Shue.’

‘I don’t know that Combs has a rifle, but I don’t know that he doesn’t either. I doubt his girlfriend would tell me if he did, but I can ask her. What else do you need?’

‘Nothing at the moment, but I’m sure that will change.’ Deacon ended the call and met Bishop’s sharply intelligent stare. ‘What?’ he asked as innocently as he could.

‘You knew that she helped cops arrest offenders. When did you plan to tell me that?’

‘When it became relevant to the case.’

‘I might have distrusted her a little less.’ Bishop’s eyes narrowed. ‘But you trusted her even before you knew the facts.’

The smile fell from his lips. ‘She’s a victim in this, Scarlett. Surely you get that by now.’

‘Oh, I get it. Your feelings for her are no secret. Watching the two of you from behind the glass . . . In my opinion you’re playing with fire. It’s too much, too fast.’

It
was
too much, too fast, but playing with fire was becoming more attractive with every new piece of Faith’s history he added to the puzzle. ‘So noted.’

Bishop sighed. ‘Just be careful. Mixing business with pleasure rarely ends well.’

‘I know.’ The thing was, Deacon no longer cared.

Chapter Fourteen

Cincinnati, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 3.30
A.M.

W
hat is wrong with me?
Faith rested her forehead on the edge of the table in the hotel employees’ break room.
First I proposition him, then I rip his clothes off.
The woman who currently inhabited her body was a stranger, doing the stupidest things.
What was I thinking?

She wasn’t thinking anymore. She was reacting, her mind protecting itself from the overload of one shock after another. The pressure had been building for months, but she hadn’t let down her defenses until tonight. Not until the moment she’d looked into Deacon Novak’s eyes, the shields she’d knitted so tightly unraveling in a few hours. She’d told him everything.

Almost everything
. She’d kept back the things that would hurt her father, and that was only out of habit. And fear, she admitted. If her father ever found out the lies she’d let him believe . . . 
Oh God
. He’d be so hurt.
So angry
. So those secrets she’d take to her grave.

Which, if Peter Combs had his way, wouldn’t be too long from now.

The door opened and Faith lifted her head, hoping it was Novak. But the man who walked in didn’t have a spiky head of snow-white hair and incredible eyes. He was dark and grim. Angry.

Faith watched warily as Detective Kimble took the chair across from her and placed a spiral notebook on the table. ‘I apologize for grabbing your arm, Dr Corcoran. I was out of line.’

Faith blew a breath up her forehead. ‘If I open that notebook, will I find those exact words written inside? Because that was as insincere and forced an apology as I’ve ever heard.’

His jaw tightened. ‘Just because it’s written down doesn’t mean it’s not sincere.’

‘Whatever. If you and Isenberg are worried that I’ll sue the department, don’t be. If you really want to make things right, apologize to Novak. You just made me mad. You
hurt
him. I don’t know exactly what you said, but I saw his face after your little testosterone-induced shoving match in my grandmother’s front yard. You cut him deeply.’

Something shifted in Kimble’s eyes. Shame.
Good. He
should
be ashamed.

‘You’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘I hurt him. I did apologize, but he didn’t want to hear it.’

‘If your apology was anything like the one I just heard, I’m not surprised,’ she said tartly.

‘Point made, Dr Corcoran. I still don’t like what you did for a living and I don’t like you. But your grief over the family in Miami seemed sincere. Plus, Agent Novak appears to think you’re misunderstood, and I trust him, so you and I will have to agree to respect his opinion of us.’

Faith had to breathe through a wave of fresh grief. She’d managed not to think about that family in Miami for a whole hour.
Because you were too busy escaping Combs. Again.
That sent another wave of guilt hurtling through her.

‘Do you know anything about the bellman’s status?’ she asked.

‘He made it to the ER and is now in surgery. It’ll be hours before we know anything more.’

‘That he’s made it this far is better news than I expected. Why are you here, Detective?’

‘To take your statement. Yours and the other witnesses. And to coordinate the efforts of our people with the FBI’s forensic team. We had to contract out,’ he added in disgust. ‘Your ex-con has wreaked a lot of havoc in a very short time.’

Your ex-con.
Faith rubbed her aching forehead, sighing when her fingers came away bloody. The superglue Dani had applied to the cut on her head had ripped.
Dammit.
She stood up and grabbed a box of tissues. Dabbing at her forehead, she sat back down, glaring at Kimble.

‘
My
ex-con? Do you understand what it means to be a victim? Do you tell the victims of sex crimes that they shouldn’t have worn that skirt or walked down that street? He is not
my
ex-con. I didn’t ask for
anything
he did to me and I don’t deserve your back-handed insults or half-assed apologies. Just ask your damn questions and leave me alone.’

‘All right,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell me what happened.’

In as few words as she could, Faith told him, then pushed away from the table, wobbling on her feet. ‘I need some air. I assume I’m allowed to leave?’

‘Of course. Where do you plan to go?’

‘Agent Novak asked me to wait in the lobby. That’s where I’ll be.’

‘Stay out of sight if you don’t want your picture in the paper. The press is gathering.’

‘It doesn’t matter anymore,’ she said, finding it hard to stay upright. ‘I was hiding from Combs. He’s obviously found me.’ She swallowed hard, furious that her eyes were filling with tears. Turning on her heel, she walked away. Her hand was on the doorknob when he spoke again.

‘We fought about you, Dr Corcoran.’

She looked back at him with a frown. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Our little testosterone-induced shoving match was about you. I thought he was thinking with the wrong head. I still do. I’ve known him all of our lives and only one other time did I see him jettison all common sense because of a pretty face. He fell like a rock that time too. I warned him that she was a viper, but he wouldn’t listen and she nearly destroyed his life.’

‘Are you suggesting
I’ll
destroy his life, Detective Kimble?’ she asked, injecting as much haughty incredulity into the question as she could muster.

‘You could destroy his career,’ he said coldly. ‘For men like Deacon Novak, that’s the same thing. While you appear to be a legitimate victim in all this, you are a distraction at best.’

Appear? Legitimate?
‘A distraction?’

‘At best. At worst, you’re a career killer. He shouldn’t be looking at you the way he did in that interview room. He for damn sure shouldn’t have touched you, even to comfort you. Even if you
were
sincere in your grief. He’s personally involved now and everyone knows it.’

Mortification mixed with fury. ‘You were watching?’

‘Damn straight. We all were. Deacon Novak is new to Isenberg’s department. Don’t think she’s not watching every move he makes. This case could make him, but if you distract him and that missing girl dies, you’ll break him. And not just professionally.
So stay away from him
.’

He clearly meant every word he said. And the devil of it was, he was right. She was a distraction whether she meant to be or not. In the space of several hours she’d come to depend on Deacon Novak in a way that wasn’t healthy – for either of them or for Corinne Longstreet.

I’ve been alone for a long time
. She could be alone again. But she didn’t want to be. Nor was she sure that she could let Novak go. And that terrified her.

Shaken, Faith left the break room without another word, closing the door behind her.

The lobby was loud and crowded, a forensics team hard at work processing the scene. Faith looked around numbly, uncertain of where she should go.

All she knew was that she could not, would not, be a distraction.
I will not risk that girl’s life
. No matter how safe Novak made her feel.

Cincinnati, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 3.40
A.M.

Deacon pushed past the media gathered on the other side of the crime-scene tape, wishing for the first time in years that he wasn’t so noticeable. He was going to draw attention to Faith.

‘No comment,’ he kept saying, gritting his teeth when their flashes popped all around him. He’d be front-page news tomorrow morning. He didn’t want Faith plastered there with him.

He saw her as soon as he entered the lobby. She was sitting on a chair next to the front desk, waiting for him as she’d promised. There was activity all around her as hotel employees dealt with hysterical guests, CPD officers blocked the press from entry, and a forensics unit wearing FBI jackets processed the scene. But Faith sat as still as a statue, her hands folded in her lap.

Alone in a throng of people.

He headed toward her, halting when a thin young man with horn-rimmed glasses stepped in front of him. ‘Agent Novak, I’m Agent Taylor with the Cincinnati field office.’

‘CPD called you in?’ Deacon asked, and Taylor nodded.

‘I’ll be processing the scene here and across the street. I understand you were just there?’

‘Yeah. Caucasian male in room 245, one bullet in the head. Detective Bishop is still there, waiting for you and the ME.’ He started to resume his path to Faith, but Taylor shuffled a half-step, blocking him again. ‘Do you need something from me, Agent Taylor?’

Taylor hesitated. ‘Your coat. As evidence.’

Deacon sighed. He’d known this was coming. He shrugged out of his coat, wincing when his shoulder complained. ‘I want this back. We’ve been together longer than most marriages.’

‘I know.’ Taylor gave him a crooked smile. ‘Everyone read about the case in West Virginia you worked on with the Baltimore task force. Your coat kind of has a legend of its own.’

‘A legend, huh. Who knew?’ Deacon kept his expression bland, even though the mere mention of that case in West Virginia always made him feel like throwing up.

Taylor still stood in front of him. ‘I’ll need your shirt and the vest too,’ he said apologetically. ‘I have a T-shirt in your size. The SWAT team should have an extra vest.’

Sighing again, Deacon quickly unbuttoned his shirt, risking a glance across the lobby at Faith. She was watching him. Steadily. He looked away as he stripped down, then re-dressed, feeling far too exposed. ‘Who’s in charge of this scene?’ he asked.

‘Detective Kimble. He’s in the break room taking statements from the hotel staff.’

Shit.
‘Did he take a statement from Dr Corcoran?’

‘I don’t know. You’d have to ask Kimble. She was visibly upset when she came out of the break room. I asked her if I could call anyone for her and she said she was waiting for you.’

Adam, you are a dead man.
‘Thanks for looking out for her. Can you call me when you’ve finished processing the coat? I don’t have another and it’s cold outside.’

‘Of course.’ Taylor stepped away, nodding. ‘It might be a few weeks, though.’

Deacon barely heard him. He was already crossing the lobby to Faith, who rose uncertainly, a host of questions on her face. ‘You didn’t get Combs, did you?’ she asked.

‘No. We found the room he used. And the body of the man who’d been checked into it.’

She lowered herself to the chair, what little color she had draining from her face. ‘Oh no.’

Deacon crouched in front of her, holding her bandaged hands between his. The bandages were now dirty and torn, her fingers icy cold. ‘Not your fault, Faith,’ he said softly.

Her throat worked as she struggled to swallow. ‘I wish I’d killed him when he came into my room that night,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Too many people have died. How do we stop him?’

We.
It was like a fist grabbed his heart and squeezed it bloodless.
We.
Most people would have turned tail and run long, long ago, but Faith kept coming out swinging.

‘The attacks started when you inherited the house.’

Her green eyes flashed with a virulence that stunned him. ‘I hate that fucking house.’

He leaned in, watching every nuance on her face. ‘
Why
do you hate it so much?’

It was as if he’d flipped a switch. She blinked once, and when her lashes lifted, the fire had transformed into that calm he found disquieting. She tugged her hands free from his.

‘I already told you, Agent Novak, I have bad memories. I learned about my mother’s death there. I saw them put her in the ground. I had nightmares for years. I still do.’

Deacon didn’t blink, holding her gaze in a way that let her know he didn’t believe a word. The stare had worked hundreds of times in the past, cracking the wills of everyone from teenaged punks to hardened killers. But Faith Corcoran remained calm, staring back impassively until finally he exhaled his frustration. ‘You said you wouldn’t lie to me, Faith.’

Her eyes shifted, grew pained. ‘I haven’t. I never lie. To you or to anyone else.’

But she hadn’t told the whole truth. ‘Combs doesn’t want you to have the house. Why?’

Confusion clouded her expression. ‘Because he used it to torture Arianna and her friend. You called the basement his torture chamber. He didn’t want anyone to know.’

‘And an hour ago I believed that, but then he tried to kill you again. We already knew about the house. We had Arianna. It’s all over the news. Why would he risk killing you now? He saw the squad car from the window across the street. He saw me escorting you. He got away just minutes before CPD blocked the exits and had that entire hotel under lockdown.’ He rose a little higher from his crouch, invading her space, and when she backed up, he followed until his nose was only an inch from hers. ‘Why, Faith? Why would he risk it?’

‘I don’t know,’ she blurted out, ‘and that’s the truth. I just don’t know.’ Her shoulders slumped, leaving her looking exhausted and lost. ‘If I did know, I’d tell you. I promise.’

‘I want you to come with me, to the house.’

She closed her eyes on a weary sigh. ‘I knew you would. When?’

Tomorrow. Next week. Never
. ‘Now.’

Her eyes flew open, her terror a tangible thing. But she controlled it quickly and moments later she appeared detached.
Her mask of choice
, Deacon thought.