Closer Than You Think (60 page)

‘The victim in the grocery store parking lot survived the night, but she’s in a coma. No one’s reported her missing yet. I’ve got copies of her photo and a list of every veterinary office in the tri-state area for the uniforms to canvass. I’m also looking at dog parks, kennels and feed stores. ID’ing her will give us her vehicle make and home address, in case he’s hiding there.’

‘Good,’ Deacon said. ‘Vince, you’re with Sophie today?’

‘Not till noon. I have a ton of stuff to do in the lab. I’ll run some tests on your letter, too. See if the inks and paper match with the uncle’s story.’

Deacon ignored Faith’s surprise. ‘And also this.’ He gave Tanaka the cell phone that Jordan had given Faith. ‘Make sure this is clean.’

Faith frowned. ‘And maybe give me back my iPhone that you took on Monday night?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Tanaka promised.

Faith looked up at the bulletin board. ‘You’ve got Peter Combs’s picture up there, but do you still consider him a suspect?’

‘Yes,’ Deacon said. ‘Certainly not the mastermind, since the crimes go back too far. But he could be a hired thug. Scarlett, where is Detective Vega’s investigation? She have any luck with Combs’s girlfriend?’

‘Not yet. The girlfriend’s lawyer wants to deal her down on the possession charges, and now the DA is involved and everyone is posturing. She knows we’re growing desperate.’

‘I’ll give her LT another call and reiterate our level of desperation,’ Isenberg said icily.

‘We also still need his souvenirs,’ Adam said. ‘He’s got them there. You know he does. Faith’s recipient list may help us ID victims, but finding their belongings might too. Their families deserve to know what happened to them.’

‘I remember a few hiding places,’ Faith said. ‘If you want me to go to the house and try.’

‘I don’t,’ Deacon said. ‘Not unless we don’t have another choice. You are a target everywhere you go, and unfortunately, everyone around you is too.’ Her wince made him feel lower than dirt. He sighed. ‘Vince, aren’t you planning to X-ray the walls?’

‘Yes, though the X-ray equipment works differently – and more slowly – than Sophie’s ground-penetrating radar. It could take us all day to do one wall. If Faith can remember anything specific, we might cut that time considerably.’

‘You could just knock down the damn walls,’ Deacon said curtly.

‘We could – tomorrow,’ Vince said. ‘But not until Sophie finishes scanning the floor.’

Deacon scowled. ‘Fine, but Vince, if Faith goes out to that house, any of your people on site must wear vests and helmets. And I want to be there.’

‘Everyone should have been wearing vests and helmets already,’ Isenberg said. ‘I’ll begin the family notifications of the dead we’ve identified. The brass agrees with me that we can’t keep the names back any longer. The families deserve to know.’

Deacon hadn’t realized how much he’d dreaded telling the families until Isenberg took the burden. ‘Thank you, Lynda. So we all have our orders. Faith, let’s visit Henson.’

Miami, Florida, Wednesday 5 November, 11.15
A.M.

‘
Vega!
Get in here.’

Detective Catalina Vega winced. The shout had come from her LT’s office. She gathered the files she’d been reading and took them with her into Davies’s office. ‘I’m here.’

Davies pointed to a chair in front of his desk. ‘I just hung up with Lieutenant Isenberg in Cincinnati, who tore me a new one. Can you guess why?’

Cat wanted to scream. ‘Because I haven’t interviewed Peter Combs’s girlfriend yet.’

‘Right on one. Care to tell me why not?’

‘Because the girlfriend’s attorney figures that if I want to talk to her, she’s got to have something I want. He’s told her not to cooperate until the DA drops her possession charge. She was found with almost a half-kilo of coke in her car, so of course the DA said no. I can’t get anything out of her until the DA gives me something to work with.’

‘Isenberg thinks that if Combs is involved in this – and she’s not certain that he is – it’s as a stooge or hired muscle. She wants to know if she can eliminate him entirely.’ Davies leaned back in his chair. ‘So tell me what you know.’

‘I know that the car was tampered with by a guy driving a white van early Sunday morning. Same style van that tried to run Faith off the road three weeks before that.’

‘And shot at her?’

‘Yes. And now I know something more from looking through these prison visitation logs.’ She held up the folder she’d been reading. ‘Combs was visited in prison by Charlie Frye, Faith’s husband at the time, shortly after Combs claimed that Faith was having an affair with him. I don’t think Charlie believed him, but the accusation was handy for him in the divorce.’

‘When did Combs shack up with the girlfriend he has right now?’

‘He met her in prison – she was his pen pal.’

Davies rolled his eyes. ‘For the love of . . . Who’s the DA who’s gumming up your works?’

‘John Scheiderman.’

‘Call him right now, tell him you’re arresting the girlfriend for conspiracy to murder Faith. Don’t ask the girlfriend for any favors. People like her and her lawyer smell blood in the water and circle. Put her on the defensive.’ He pushed the phone across his desk. ‘Call. Get the DA to officially charge her with attempted murder. She’ll talk.’

Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 11.30
A.M.

‘Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,’ Faith said as she and Deacon were admitted into Herbert Henson Senior’s office by his secretary.

Henson studied them from behind his desk, gesturing for them to sit. ‘The unmarked car outside my house was unnecessary, Agent Novak. If you’d wanted to talk to me, you should have come up and rung the damn bell. You frightened my wife.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. That was certainly not my intent. My intent was to find your grandson. I expected that he’d call me back yesterday, but he hasn’t. He is back from his client, is he not?’

Henson looked uncomfortable. ‘No, he has not returned.’

That doesn’t look too good for Herbert Henson the Third
, Faith thought.

‘We have evidence that he was not personally overseeing the semi-annual maintenance of the O’Bannion house,’ Deacon said. ‘A witness says that he dropped off the key at Maguire and Sons and went to play golf. I don’t think that behavior is considered “unimpeachable”.’

Henson’s lips thinned. ‘I’ll call him again, Agent Novak. Is there anything else?’

‘Yes,’ Faith said. ‘I’d like a list of all the recipients of Foundation scholarship funds, from the very beginning.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ve heard about the local college student who was found near the house? She’d been held there. Her friend is still missing. The missing woman’s name is Corinne Longstreet and she was a recipient of a scholarship from the Joy Foundation.’

Henson’s face blanched. ‘Surely you can’t be suggesting that Ms Longstreet was abducted because of her connection to the Foundation? Or that I am a suspect? Is that why you had an unmarked car in front of my house?’

‘Agent Novak has a car outside your house because he is erring on the side of caution. If Ms Longstreet were your daughter, you’d want him to do the same for her, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes, I suppose I would.’ Henson swallowed hard. ‘Of course I would.’

‘I thought so. May we have the list?’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll print it up for you.’

Faith squeezed Deacon’s knee as they waited for Henson to find the file in his computer.

‘You’re right,’ Henson said heavily, as if he’d hoped she was wrong. ‘Miss Longstreet is a Foundation recipient.’ A printer whirred to life.

‘Who else has access to this list?’ Deacon asked as pages printed.

‘Only my secretary. The board approves applications without seeing the applicants’ names. They read only their essays to minimize any bias.’

‘I know Gran signed the checks to the applicants, but who mailed the checks?’ Faith asked. ‘They’d have to have their names too.’

‘Mrs Lowell mails the checks herself, but I suppose anyone auditing the accounts would see them as well. And anyone they told, of course. Here is the list.’

Faith’s heart sank. It was pages and pages long.

‘How many names are on it?’ Deacon asked grimly.

She leafed through the pages, her heart sinking further. ‘Hundreds.’

Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 11.45
A.M.

‘Thank you for coming in, Mrs Winston.’ Scarlett led the woman who’d seen the Maguire and Sons mystery woman into an interview room where the CPD sketch artist waited. ‘This is Sergeant D’Amico. She’ll be working with you today.’

D’Amico was a sweet-faced woman who didn’t look like she’d ever said a cross word. Based on the two years they’d spent on patrol together, Scarlett knew that to be untrue. Lana D’Amico was a damn fine cop and a brilliant sketch artist, and her sweet face put the witnesses at ease. Scarlett had been specifically thinking of Arianna when she’d requested D’Amico. But she was as tough as any other cop, and had a mouth on her to match it.

‘I’ll wait outside. Thank you again, Mrs Winston. You’re in good hands here.’

Scarlett stepped into the hall just as her phone started to buzz in her pocket. For a moment she frowned at the caller ID. It was her own cell number. Her phone had been ‘spoofed’. Companies that would reroute a call and relabel its caller ID could be found in five seconds on the Internet.
Careful here, Scar.

‘This is Detective Bishop,’ she answered. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I’m helping you.’

Scarlett controlled what would have been a sharp intake of air. The man’s voice was deep and . . . like music. The saddest music she’d ever heard in her life. ‘I’m listening.’

‘I’m going to send a set of GPS coordinates to your phone. It’s a cabin in the Daniel Boone National Forest. Under the floor are four bodies. I believe three of them are yours.’

Three bodies. Oh God. Not Corinne. Don’t let her be one of them
. ‘How do you know they’re mine?’

‘One is wearing an Earl Power and Light uniform. I saw him on the news. There is also an old man and a woman.’

Scarlett’s heart sank. ‘And the fourth body?’

‘He belongs to me. I have to go now.’

The call disconnected and seconds later a text was delivered to her phone, also from her own cell phone. GPS coordinates, just like he’d said. Had she just spoken to the killer? She didn’t think so. If it had been the killer, he would have insisted Faith accompany her. No, this wasn’t the killer. But then who?

Scarlett started for the elevator, dialing Novak’s number as she jogged, scowling when she got his voicemail. ‘It’s Bishop. Call me ASAP. I just got an interesting phone call.’

Her next call was to Isenberg, and she quickly updated her boss. ‘Can you have someone escort Mrs Winston out and tell D’Amico to go to Arianna’s room by herself? I already cleared her with the uniform on guard duty outside Arianna’s room, and the kid shrink, Meredith Fallon, will be there while D’Amico sketches. The coordinates are about two hours from here, but I’ll shave some time off of that.’

‘I’ll get a trace placed on the call,’ Isenberg said.

‘You can try, but I wouldn’t bother. He used a spoofing service to make it look like he was calling from my number. Spoofed calls get wired through a dozen different servers before they hit the recipient’s phone. I’m going to ask Novak to contact the closest Fed office to the coordinates for backup before we alert the locals. I don’t want my crime scene demolished by a well-meaning deputy. Can you have Crandall find the owner of the cabin at the coordinates?’

‘Will do. Drive carefully, Scarlett. Keep me apprised.’

Eastern Kentucky, Wednesday 5 November, 11.45
A.M.

He was becoming very irritated by the Longstreet bitch, but at least she hadn’t known how to cover her tracks. Disgusted, he stood behind the cabin, staring at the trail that was so obvious that it was probably visible from space. She’d run into the woods. Not down the road as he’d thought. The footprints he’d been following were a decoy. A damn ruse.

From the look of the trail, it appeared that Longstreet had dragged Roza kicking and screaming every step of the way. There might be some hope for the child yet. Which was good, because he had plans for her.

Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 12.05
P.M.

Sitting at Deacon’s desk, Faith looked up from the long list of Foundation recipients she’d been reviewing when Deacon returned from Isenberg’s office. He sat on the edge of his desk, his muscular legs stretched out, his arms crossed over his chest. His grim expression told Faith what she needed to know about the phone call he and Isenberg had just had with Bishop.

‘It’s Corinne, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘The dead woman?’

‘I would have to assume so,’ Deacon said quietly. ‘No one’s gotten to the cabin yet. I have to leave now and catch up to Bishop.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Faith whispered. ‘For the locksmith and the power company man. For Corinne and for Arianna too. She’ll be heartbroken.’

He took her hand, squeezed it hard. ‘I know. There’s something else, though. The cabin belongs to a business registered to Della Yarborough.’

‘Jeremy’s ex-wife.’ Disappointment and fury mixed with her sorrow. ‘Dammit. I can’t believe it’s Jeremy. I just can’t accept it.’ She watched his jaw grow taut. ‘There’s more?’

‘Yeah. Jeremy and Stone are gone. As in “in the wind”, not dead.’

‘But . . . how can they be
gone
?’ she asked. ‘I thought they were being watched.’

‘I had three Feds watching – one each for Jeremy, Keith and Stone. One followed Stone to a bar last night, then followed him back shortly thereafter. When I told the agents to pick them all up, the house was empty. The agents found a dirt road in the trees well behind the mansion. It had recently been driven over by a large vehicle. Range Rover size.’