Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 5:10 p.m.
Marcus O’Bannion leaned against Diesel’s desk in his office at the Ledger. “He’s a cute kid.”
Diesel looked up from his computer screen to check on Joshua, who sat at the worktable between their office manager, Gayle, and Marcus’s wife, Detective Scarlett Bishop, who worked with Adam and Deacon. The worktable was normally cluttered with printouts, maps, competitors’ newspapers, and coffee cups, but today it was covered with puzzles and pages from the coloring books Marcus and Scarlett had bought for Joshua.
Diesel smiled when Joshua grinned at something Scarlett said. The boy had cried all the way from the free clinic to the Ledger office, but Gayle’s grandmotherly hugs—and the candy she’d given him—had distracted him just enough. Then Marcus and Scarlett had arrived with enough toys and candy for six children. That Joshua had met Scarlett earlier that afternoon put him further at ease.
“You’re spoiling him,” Diesel said, but he could hear the warmth in his own voice. “Thanks, man.”
Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome. I had to put back half the stuff Scar put in the cart. She’s practicing.”
Diesel frowned. “Practicing what?”
Marcus was staring at his wife, a sappy expression on his face. “Mothering.”
It took Diesel a full second and then he pushed to his feet and grabbed Marcus into a bear hug, lifting him until only his toes touched the floor. “Oh my God. That’s . . .” He let his friend go, gripping his arms so that he could make eye contact. “Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.”
Marcus smiled and Diesel’s heart squeezed. His friend’s smiles had been a rare occurrence before meeting Scarlett Bishop. Now they were a daily given. A daily gift. He and Marcus had been through a lot together since they’d met in boot camp. War had made them brothers, but the years after had made them the best of friends.
Unfortunately, there were things even best friends didn’t tell each other. He didn’t think Marcus would think any differently of him if he knew about his childhood. About the abuse he’d endured. But Marcus had a past of his own and there was no way Diesel was adding to his friend’s load.
And now? Even more of a reason. Marcus was going to be a dad. Time to put all the dark years behind them and start fresh. Children were one of the best reasons to live in the light.
“When?” Diesel asked.
“In six months. We haven’t told many people yet. Just our immediate families.” Marcus grinned. “My dad and Keith are beside themselves. They’ve already started on a nursery.”
Jeremy O’Bannion had been like a father to Diesel in the years since his move to Cincinnati. At first the man had welcomed him out of sheer gratitude, because Diesel had pulled Marcus out of a Baghdad firefight one night. But then he’d been welcomed for himself. Jeremy and his husband, Keith, included him as one of their kids. They never forgot his birthday, and he’d had a place at their table on every major holiday for years. They were his home.
The thought of the two men as grandparents made him grin. “I’ll just bet they are. Keith’s probably bought a baseball bat and glove already, and your dad’s picked out wallpaper with all the best organs. Hearts, spleens. Bladders.” Jeremy had been a surgeon before suffering permanent damage to his hands in a fire.
Marcus laughed. “Yes to the baseball, no to the bladders. Scar’s folks aren’t far behind. Her mother’s knitting already. At least this isn’t their first grandchild, so the pressure’s a little less from them. I’ve been so close to telling you, but Scarlett threatened to make me cook dinner for a month if I told before now. She hasn’t even let Deacon and Adam know yet. She doesn’t want CPD to know. She’s afraid they’ll be weird about it.”
Diesel crossed his arms over his chest. “She is going to take a desk job when she starts to show, though. Right?”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “It’s ‘under discussion.’” He used air quotes. “But enough about me. What are you finding about the boy’s stepfather?”
“Enough to know the guy had severe money troubles.” Diesel sat behind his desk and Marcus pulled up a chair. “And a taste for young boys,” he added in a murmur.
Marcus grimaced. “Oh God. Not Joshua.”
“I don’t think so. But maybe his brother.”
“The one you asked Rex to meet downtown?” Marcus’s eyes widened as the significance sank in. “Oh shit. That’s not going to look good for Michael. It goes to motive.”
“Yeah. Deacon and Adam told me that they don’t think Michael did it. But I hate the thought of him getting dragged downtown. He’s had a shit day.”
Marcus frowned. “They couldn’t have questioned him at the clinic?”
“No.” Diesel told him what Deacon and Adam had explained. “I mean, I get it. I do. They don’t want anyone coming back later and pointing a finger at Michael, citing preferential treatment. But . . . God, Marcus.”
“Yeah,” Marcus murmured. “You’ll be good for him, though. Sounds like he could use a good male role model.”
Warmth at Marcus’s words spread through Diesel’s chest, softening the edges of the sadness, the helplessness, the absolute rage that had all but suffocated him since he’d heard Michael’s sobs in the clinic. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“It’s true.” Marcus scooted closer, so that he could see the screen. “Follow the money?”
“It’s an adage for a reason.” Diesel pointed at the spreadsheet he’d been studying. “I downloaded his most recent bank statements. Guy had his online bank account bookmarked and the password saved by his browser.”
“He deserved to get hacked, then,” Marcus said airily.
Diesel snorted. “Well, he certainly didn’t make it hard for me to do. I was surprised the cops hadn’t locked his accounts down, but I guess they’re a little slow on the draw. He was spending money at three times the rate he was making it. And . . .” He clicked to another tab. “He sold his house.”
Marcus blinked. “To whom?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t had time to drill into the transaction. The buyer is buried in shell corporations.” He cracked a knuckle, then wiggled his fingers. “I was about to start in on that.”
“What makes you think he has a thing for boys?” Marcus whispered.
Diesel clenched his jaw until it hurt. “Found some links to kiddie porn in his browser history. And photos. Not as hard-core as some of the shit I’ve seen on this job, but still . . . well, the photos aren’t going to look good for Michael, either.”
Marcus winced. “He had photos of Michael?”
“Yeah. And a few of Joshua.” Diesel swallowed hard. “Bath time.” The rage was back and he fought it down so that he could breathe. It was a good thing that the fucker was already dead, otherwise he’d kill him himself. “I didn’t make copies of any of his porn. The cops will find it when they search his computer. He tried to hide it in a partition on his hard drive, but a five-year-old could have found it.”
“So Michael had motive.”
Diesel felt sick, imagining the cops questioning the kid. “Yeah. But he didn’t do it. I just . . . don’t believe he did.”
“You’ve always had a good gut,” Marcus said softly. “He’s not you, though.”
Diesel’s gaze flew to his friend’s face, his mouth falling open, panic freezing his heart so that it skipped a beat. He could feel the color draining from his face. “What?”
Marcus dropped his gaze to his hands. “I know nothing, Diesel. I promise. But I’ve watched you take on sex offenders for years. It’s personal for you, just like it is for me. But different, too. My brothers were hurt, not me. My rage is once removed. Yours . . . isn’t.” He glanced up. “I don’t need to know what happened to you. Not unless you ever want to tell me. I’ve never told a soul what I think, and I never will. But I don’t want to see you get hurt. You’ve gotten attached to this kid so fast . . . You don’t really know him. I don’t want you to be blinded by your need to help him. Just be careful, okay?”
Diesel forced himself to let go of the breath he’d been holding. Exhale. Nice and easy. Marcus cares. I know he does. He only wants to protect me. Like I protect him. “Do the others know?”
That the team at the Ledger could tell his vendetta was personal hadn’t really occurred to him. It should have, of course. They were all reporters. Keen eyes. Keen minds with the ability to see connections others could not.
“No,” Marcus murmured. “At least I don’t think so. Nobody talks about you, D. I promise.”
“Okay.” Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his now-racing heart. “Okay.”
Marcus gripped his forearm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s . . . it’s okay. I’ll be okay. I hope Michael will be, too.” Diesel opened his eyes to see that Marcus’s had become too bright. Too shiny. “It’s okay, Marcus.”
Marcus pursed his lips and nodded. “Let me know if you need me to run any interference for you. I’ll do whatever you need.” His throat worked. “You know I’ve got your back, D. Me and Scar and everyone here.”
“I know.” Diesel dug deep and found a smile—and a subject change. “So, you’re going to name the baby after me, right?”
Marcus’s laugh held the echo of a sob, but he flicked the back of Diesel’s head as he stood up. “I don’t think so. Elvis O’Bannion? I think Scarlett would kill me in my sleep, and she’d have every right.”
Diesel rubbed his head with an exaggerated scowl. “Ow. But it’s fair. I wish to God I knew what my mother was thinking when she named me.”
“I think there were heavy-duty delivery drugs involved.”
Diesel was about to agree when his cell phone buzzed. He frowned at the call. Most people texted. Then he saw the ID. “It’s Dani.” He hit ACCEPT as Marcus sat back down, waiting. “Hey,” he said, “are you done at the station already?”
“No,” Dani said. “Can you figure out a way to come down here? I think Michael needs you. He had a panic attack on the way in and he’s about to have another.”
Diesel was already packing up his laptop. “Didn’t Rex get there?”
“Yes, but, um . . . Michael doesn’t believe he’s your friend,” she said with a trace of wry humor. “He’s too fancy.”
Diesel snorted. “Did you tell him I don’t just consort with WWE types?”
“I did. I even told him you had super-rich friends.” She sighed, abruptly sober. “I think you make him feel safe. I don’t know what to do about Joshua, though. There’s a crowd of reporters outside the station. I don’t want his photo in the news. It’s bad enough they took pictures of Michael when we walked him in.”
Diesel’s temper simmered. “They can’t use them. He’s only fourteen.”
“They’re not supposed to, but you know as well as I do that some of those guys with cameras would sell their mothers for a buck. I don’t think they were aiming for Michael. They were shouting questions at Deacon and Adam.”
It didn’t matter. “Dammit. Adam and Deacon should have taken him in through the back.”
“I said as much, but they said there were more reporters there. All the networks and major news outlets.”
“Hold on.” Diesel looked at Marcus. “Can you and Scarlett watch Joshua for a little while?”
“Of course, as long as he’s okay with it. Whatever you need.”
On the other end of the phone, Dani sighed her relief. “Tell them thank you for me. When you get here, text me. I’ll ask Deacon to come up and escort you.”
“Will do. Thanks, Dani.”
“No, thank you. See you soon.”
Diesel hung up, staring at his phone for a few heartbeats. She’d never called him before. Hearing her voice had him both calm and tense at once. He wanted to take a moment to remember how he’d felt when she’d leaned into him. How soft and silky her hair had been.
But he had places to be. Kids to help. And maybe a doctor to woo face-to-face, rather than just dream about.
Marcus’s lips had curved. “Finally?”
Diesel’s cheeks heated. “Finally what?”
“Dani?”
Diesel didn’t try to play dumb. But he also couldn’t let Marcus get the wrong idea. “It’s just for the kids. Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not.”
Marcus stood up and leaned in close. “Liar. If you need me, I’m here.”
Marcus knew him well. My hopes already are up. But Marcus also understood that Dani had kept him at arm’s length for eighteen long months.
Diesel shrugged. “I have to accept that she might not ever let her walls down.” Somehow that hurt more than having Marcus know that he had been abused as a kid.
“Is it her status?”
Diesel nodded. “That’s what she said when she told me to find someone else.”
Marcus frowned. “Did you tell her that you were okay with the risk?”
“I did. It didn’t change her mind.” He zipped his laptop case, unwilling to discuss it any longer. Shouldering the bag, he went to where Joshua was happily coloring. He bent down on one knee. “Hey, buddy. Everything’s okay, but Michael asked me to be with him at the police station. He’s a little scared and I’m going to keep him company. Are you okay staying here with Miss Scarlett, Mr. Marcus, and Miss Gayle?”
Joshua glanced at the adults around him, then nodded, pointing at Scarlett. “Yeah. She’s a police lady. My teacher says it’s the police’s job to help us.”
Diesel ruffled the boy’s hair. “That’s right. Miss Scarlett is good at helping people.”
Joshua stared up at him guilelessly. “Like the old man in the wheelchair today.”
“Just like him.” Diesel booped Joshua’s nose. “I’ll be back before you miss me.” Rising, he murmured to Marcus, “I’ll text you when I know something.” His gaze flicked to Joshua. “Keep him safe, okay?”
“You know it,” Marcus vowed.
Diesel did. Which was the only reason he was able to get into his truck and drive away.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 6:00 p.m.
Deacon walked Diesel to the interview room and stopped outside the door. “I’ll wait out here until Michael’s talked to his attorney,” Deacon said. “Adam’s checking in with CSU. The two of us will come in when Clausing calls us, okay?”
Diesel nodded. “And nobody’s in the observation room?” Because simply turning down the speaker didn’t constitute privacy when dealing with sign language.
“No one. I’ll turn on the light on the observation side, so you’ll be able to see if anyone enters. But I’ll stand guard. You have my word, Diesel. No one will spy on Michael.”
“Thank you.” Because Deacon’s word was as good as gold.
Deacon hesitated. “See if you can get him to tell us who the bald man is, the one he thought you might have been. The one who scared him.”
“I will. Do you or Dani know the interpreter?”
“Yeah. Andrew’s a good guy. He’s interpreted for Greg more than once, and a few times it was because Greg had gotten into legal trouble. The guy knows the courts. And he is bound to confidentiality.”
“Yeah, well, there are a shit-ton of reporters out there who’d pay a pretty penny for an inside story on this case. Especially one including an abused kid with a disability who’s been accused of murder.”
Deacon sighed. “I can’t guarantee that Andrew is untouchable, but in my experience, he’s been discreet. That’s all I can give you.”
“It’ll have to be enough for now, I guess. Thanks, Deacon.”
Deacon clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
I hope we don’t need it, but I’m pretty sure we will, Diesel thought as he entered the interview room. Michael was sitting in a chair, hugging himself, so pale that Diesel was surprised the kid hadn’t passed out. Dani sat beside him, a tenseness beneath her exterior of calm. Rex sat quietly, hands folded in front of him, the picture of the proper lawyer, and Diesel could see how Michael might doubt their friendship.
Hell, half the time Diesel wondered why any of them were his friends, but he was grateful that they were. The team at the Ledger was more like a family.
My family.
His gaze moved past Maddie, the social worker, to a man he’d never seen. Andrew, the interpreter.
Diesel would be doing a thorough search of his background and finances. Just in case the guy got greedy.
“Diesel. Thank you for coming.” Dani gave him a smile that made his pulse skitter. It was mostly relieved, her smile, but there was also something else there. Trust. That she trusted him with this was enough to make him hope.
If nothing else, it was a damn good place to start.
“Always.” He’d always come when she needed him. The woman had no clue just how much power she held over him. But this was about the boy looking at Diesel like he was his salvation. He sat next to Michael, bumping shoulders with the kid. “You okay?” he signed.
Michael shook his head. “Scared,” he signed back.
“I understand. But Rex is a very good attorney. I’ve known him for years. I’d trust him with my life.”
Michael nodded, seeming to relax a little. “I don’t want to tell anyone anything. This is . . .” He clenched his eyes shut for a few seconds before starting again. “What happened to me . . . it’s so embarrassing.”
“I get it,” Diesel signed, hoping the kid could see the seriousness in his eyes. “But if you were mugged, would you be embarrassed to tell?”
“No, but this is different.”
“Of course it is. But for now, for the next hour or however long it takes us to get through what you have to say, pretend in your mind that you were mugged. Tell Rex everything just like you would then, okay?”
“Okay.” Michael turned to Rex, squaring his thin shoulders. “I’m ready.”
Diesel glanced at Dani, his pulse stumbling again. She was looking at him with gratitude and respect and a bit of awe. Add those to trust, and I can work with that.
Rex smiled kindly. “I know this is difficult, Michael. Please know that I’ll do everything I can to get you through this. Plus you have Dani and Diesel. Let’s start at the beginning. Your stepfather, John Brewer, is dead. Your mother accuses you of doing it.”
“But I didn’t!” Michael interrupted. The interpreter’s voice clearly communicated the boy’s dismay.
Rex nodded. “I hear you.”
“Do you believe me?”
“I can’t know that until you tell me everything. I want to believe you, Michael. I know Diesel and Dani already do, and that’s powerful. Okay, so you had a gun hidden under your pillow. Those are basically the facts we have right now. That your mother accuses you doesn’t mean that I think you did it. But it’s a fact that she’s accused you. Do you see the difference?” When Michael nodded, he went on. “I want to note all the facts we have. To do that, I’ll be asking you for your opinions, too. Okay?”
Michael nodded again, suspicion in his eyes. “Okay.”
“Why did your mother accuse you of killing your stepfather?”
Michael swallowed hard. “She knew I hated him.”
“Did you hate him?” Rex pressed.
Michael nodded again, his jaw setting with fury. “I did.”
Rex held the boy’s gaze. “Why?”
“Because he beat me. And . . . did other things. He’d come to my bed and—” Michael pressed a fist to his mouth.
Diesel placed his hand between Michael’s shoulder blades, anchoring him. “Think of it as a mugging,” he signed one-handed. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She said I did.” Michael’s hands shook as he signed. “She said I seduced him.”
Diesel bit back a roar of rage. “I don’t believe you did that. You shouldn’t believe it, either.”
Michael nodded shakily and turned back to Rex. He took a deep breath and signed, “He raped me. And when I told my mother, she said I was lying—at first. But then she found bloodstains on my sheets and got so mad at me. She said I seduced him. That I was the reason he didn’t want her anymore.”
Rex jotted notes on the legal pad in front of him. “What did you say to your mother?”
“That she was wrong.” Michael lifted his chin. “That I’d go to the cops.”
Rex’s smile was gentle. “That was very brave. What did she say then?”
“She said she’d throw me out. That I’d have to go to the homeless shelter.” Michael gritted his teeth, but a tear leaked out of his eye. Angrily, he dashed it away. “I’m fourteen. I’d end up in the system. And I’ve heard the stories about kids in the system. Plus, that would leave Joshua alone. I don’t think the bastard hurt him, but if I left, he might. I wasn’t going to let that happen. So I shut up and stayed.”
“For your brother,” Rex clarified.
“Yes.”
Rex took a moment, and it was only because Diesel had known him so long that he knew the man was shaken. Rex had a good heart under his Armani suits. Diesel hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he’d trust him with his life.
“Okay,” Rex finally said. “Where did you get the gun?”
“From Brewer’s safe.”
Rex’s brows went up. “You knew the combination?”
“I watched him open it once. He didn’t know I was there.”
“Weren’t you afraid he’d miss it?”
Michael shrugged. “He had five more. I got the one at the back.”
Diesel wondered what else was in the bastard’s safe. The contents would fall into the hands of the cops soon enough, if they hadn’t already been entered into evidence. He wished he could get a look at that haul.
Brewer’s finances were hinky as hell.
“Do you know how to fire a gun?” Rex asked, jotting more notes.
Michael nodded. “I found a YouTube video with captions. I didn’t fire it, but I practiced loading, aiming, and flipping the safety.”
“The police will be able to verify that the gun hasn’t been fired recently,” Rex said. “So I don’t want you to worry too much about having it. They have the gun now. When did you take the gun from your stepfather’s safe?”
Michael drew a deep breath, let it out. Glanced at Diesel, looking for encouragement.
Diesel nodded. “You can trust him.”
Michael squared his shoulders. “Last Friday night. Or maybe it was Saturday morning by then. A week ago. I don’t remember what time, but it was still dark outside.”
“Why then?” Rex asked. “If he’d been abusing you all that time, why did you get the gun just last week?”
Another deep breath, another shuddering exhale. “You won’t believe me,” he said, his face the picture of misery.
“We believe you, Michael,” Diesel signed.
“It’s stupid. It sounds stupid to me, and I saw it.”
Rex put his pen down. “What did you see, Michael?”
Michael gave Diesel another quick glance before returning his full attention to the lawyer. “I saw a man kill my stepfather.”
Diesel’s eyes widened and he looked at Dani, who’d turned to him, her expression equally stunned.
Rex blinked once. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know. But I think he broke Brewer’s neck.” Michael had grown pale again, dangerously so.
Dani tapped the boy’s shoulder. “Breathe,” she told him, and together the two took long, deep breaths. “Maybe you should start with the beginning of this part,” she said once Michael no longer appeared to be on the brink of fainting.
“I woke up to pee that night, and I saw Brewer going into Joshua’s room. So I followed him and . . . I saw him sticking a needle into Josh’s arm. A big syringe. I grabbed Brewer and we fought. He threw me on the floor and I was dizzy. By the time I got up, he was down the stairs, carrying Joshua to the front door. Joshua was sound asleep. I think he didn’t wake up because of the drug.”
“So you followed?” Rex asked.
Michael nodded. “I got Joshua away from him before he reached the front door and we fought some more. He kicked me in the ribs a few times. That really hurt. So I . . . I grabbed a shovel from the fireplace and hit him with it. After he fell down, I grabbed Joshua and ran.”
“Where were you going?” Rex asked.
“I didn’t know, but I needed to get Joshua away from him, so I ran. I was going to the road. I guess I was going to try to stop a car so I could take Joshua to the ER. He was out cold. I didn’t know how much Brewer had given him, or what he had given him, but Josh is so little. He could have died. Anyway, I got to the old orchard and tripped on a branch or something. I went down, but I didn’t drop Josh.”
Dani had stiffened where she sat, her cheeks flushed with anger, and Diesel wondered which part of the exam she’d done corroborated this part of Michael’s story.
Rex shot a questioning look at her, before turning to Michael. “Did your stepfather follow you?”
“Yeah. At first I thought maybe I’d knocked him out with the fire shovel, but he came after us in his car, down the driveway. I hid in the orchard. That’s when another car came up the driveway—an SUV—and blocked Brewer’s car. A man got out, dragged Brewer from his car, and . . . he put his hands on Brewer’s neck and he went limp. But that was after Brewer pulled a gun on him.”
Rex looked up from his notepad. “What did the man do with your stepfather?”
“Put him in the back of his SUV. Then he drove away.”
“And left Brewer’s car in the driveway?” Rex asked.
“Yes. For then.”
Rex’s brows went up. “He came back?”
“Later that night. I was standing guard in Joshua’s room with the gun.”
“That’s why you got the gun,” Rex said. “Because of the man who killed your stepfather?”
“Or Brewer. I didn’t know he was dead then. I thought he might come to, then come back. I wasn’t going to let him try to take Joshua again.”
Again Rex smiled gently. “How many nights have you guarded Josh, Michael?”
“Every night since then.”
Dani’s expression softened with sympathy. “You must be so tired.”
Michael nodded wearily. “I really want to just go somewhere and sleep.”
“You can do that when we’re finished,” Rex promised. “Where was your mother Friday night and Saturday morning?”
“She has rich friends in Louisville. She was partying with them.”
“Does she do that often?” Rex asked.
“Once or twice a month. Sometimes more.”
Rex noted it. “And your stepfather was always home then?”
Michael swallowed. Nodded.
“That’s when the abuse happened?” Dani asked him.
Another nod. Two tears ran down Michael’s face and Diesel’s eyes stung. Michael’s mother had basically sold her sons for a good time.
At least my mother didn’t know, Diesel thought. It would have killed her if she had.
Diesel squeezed Michael’s good shoulder very lightly, just to remind him that he was there. “You said the man who killed Brewer came back. Have you seen him since he left in the SUV?” he asked the boy.
Michael sagged in his chair. “Yes,” he voiced in a ragged whisper. He was growing too weary to even sign.
“When?” Rex asked.
“A few hours after he took Brewer away in his SUV. I was in Joshua’s room and felt the shaking of the garage door opening. I thought Brewer was coming back.”
“You didn’t think it could be your mom?” Rex asked.
Michael shook his head. “She’d be too stoned to walk, much less drive home. She didn’t get home until Monday morning.”
“Did the man come into your house?” Dani asked.
Michael’s expression became haunted. “He came into Joshua’s room. He was so . . . big. I had the gun in my hands, but they were shaking.” He shook his hands to demonstrate. “I was hiding behind the chair.”
“So he didn’t see you?” Rex asked carefully.
“No. I don’t think so. He just came in and stood at the foot of Joshua’s bed.” Michael frowned. “Like he was . . . checking on him or something. I just hid there, frozen, until he left,” he added, his mouth bending in disgust. “Lot of good I was.”
“You were amazing,” Dani said. “You saved Josh from your stepfather that night. He’s here because of you, Michael.”
“I guess so.”
Rex tapped the table, getting Michael’s attention. “Can you describe the man?”
Michael’s gaze darted up to Diesel, half-guilty and half-apologetic, confirming Diesel’s suspicion that he’d been afraid of a man who resembled him.
“He was bald,” Michael told Rex. “Really big. Like Coach. But not Coach,” he insisted. “I saw the guy’s face. It wasn’t Coach Diesel. The man had no tattoos.” He sighed. “Sorry, Coach.”
Diesel took his hand off the boy’s back so that he could sign. “It’s okay. I thought as much.” He looked at Rex, continuing to sign as he spoke. “When Michael arrived at the soccer practice field this morning, he was so shocked when he saw me that he fell backward. He was having a panic attack, I think. But then he realized I wasn’t the person he was afraid of and we were fine.” He locked gazes with Michael. “We are fine, right?”
Michael’s nod was immediate and firm. “Hell, yeah.”
Rex’s lips twitched as he wrote it all down. “Got it. The police will probably want you to sit with a sketch artist and describe the man, since you saw his face. Will you do that, Michael?”
“Yes. But they won’t believe me.”
Rex put his pen down. “We believe you. Besides, they don’t have enough evidence to keep you. I want you to tell them everything you told me. If they don’t believe you, we’ll begin investigating on our own, so that we can back up your story with facts.”
Michael’s eyes grew wide. “You can investigate? Like the cops?”
“Sometimes better than the cops,” Rex said with a smile. His eyes flicked knowingly to Diesel. Like he knew Diesel had already begun. “I have a private investigator on my staff at the law firm.”
Michael frowned. “I can’t pay you.”
Rex leaned across the table, his hand extended. “Some work I do for free. If you’ll let me, I’ll represent you.”
Michael shook his hand, then dropped it to sign. “For free? Seriously?”
“Seriously. It’s called pro bono and it’s legit. You won’t owe me anything. Plus Diesel is one of my best friends. I’m happy to do this for him and for you. Although I think we’ll be okay. I think the detectives will believe you. At least enough to search for the facts themselves. Kimble and Novak are good men.”
“They’re my family,” Dani said. “My cousin and my brother. They won’t rest until you’re safe and they know the truth.”
Michael finally relaxed—so much so that he swayed in his seat. Diesel put an arm around his shoulders. “Just a little longer, kid,” he signed one-handed. “Then you’ll go to Dr. Dani’s house to sleep.”
“Will you stay?” Michael asked.
Diesel risked a glance at Dani, relieved when she nodded once. “I will. I’ll keep you safe. You and Joshua.”
Michael tilted until his head rested on Diesel’s shoulder. “Thank you. I don’t know why you’re being so nice to us, but thank you.”
Rex stood. “I’ll go get the detectives. Hopefully we’ll be out of here soon.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 8:30 p.m.
Cade blinked hard, trying to stay awake. He was fucking exhausted. He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he’d taken care of the fisherman. Which was why he was sitting in a darkened SUV outside a darkened house, waiting for CSU tech Charlie Akers to get home.
He’d been able to find everything he’d needed on Mr. Akers’s social media, including his most recent photo, which confirmed he was the same man Cade had met at the crime scene, and that Akers complained a lot about money.
That explained the man’s minute hesitation before declaring he wasn’t interested in what Cade would pay for information. Akers had left himself open to convincing. Cade could be very convincing.
Sitting up straighter, Cade slapped both his cheeks to wake himself up. “Come on, Akers. Get your ass home.”
As if obeying his command, a car pulled up in front of the small house, stopping long enough for Akers to stagger out and wave to the driver. Cade rolled down the window.
“I’m good,” Akers said loudly, with a slur to his words. “You can go.”
The man was totally drunk. While that might make him more pliable, Cade hoped he wasn’t so drunk that he’d forget what he’d heard at the crime scene.
“You sure, man?” the driver asked. “I can walk you to the door.”
“Yep. I’m just fine.” Akers waved him on. “I’m gonna go to sleep.”
“You do that,” the driver agreed. “Maybe things won’t be so shitty tomorrow.”
“Yeah, they will be,” Akers said sadly. “’Cause Quincy fuckin’ Taylor is still my fuckin’ boss and I’ll still be on fuckin’ suspension.”
Suspension? That was good news. Akers’s anger might make him more inclined to spill the beans.
The car drove away and, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, Cade got out of his SUV, reaching Akers just as the man stumbled, nearly falling to his knees.
“Whoa, there,” Cade said. “Let me help you.”
Akers looked up at him, frowning. “I know you. You’re that fucking reporter that got me fucking suspended.”
“You got suspended? You didn’t even tell me anything.”
“I know!” Akers said vehemently. “Fucking Agent Taylor. He didn’t believe me.”
“He’s a prick.” Cade led Akers up the front steps, giving him support when his knees started to buckle again. “Seems like you should at least get paid for information if you’re being suspended. I mean, you’re doing the time without doing the crime.”
“S’true. All of the above.” Akers fished his keys from his pocket, closing one eye and squinting at the lock. Cade took the keys and opened the front door. Akers stumbled in and spun, pointing one finger at him. “You need to go.”
“I will. Let me help you first.” He put his arm around the man and led him to his bedroom. “You sure you won’t take my money? Seems like you earned it.”
Akers nodded. “I did.” He squinted. “How much?”
“Five grand.” Like hell, but Akers was too drunk to know better.
“That’s a lot,” Akers said. He dropped backward onto the bed, resting on his elbows. “Depends on what you want to know.”
“The name of the fisherman.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody else has it. I’ll get a scoop and my boss won’t fire me.”
“Somebody should keep their job,” Akers muttered. “Sorry, though. Can’t tell.”
Cade had to focus on not clenching his fist and punching Akers’s lights out. He smiled instead, backtracking and coming in from a different angle. “Why didn’t Agent Taylor believe you?”
Akers’s head fell backward, like he was too tired to hold it up. “’Cause I might have talked to a reporter in the past.”
Cade’s lips twitched. “Might have?”
Akers harrumphed. “Fine. Did. It was just a little thing.”
“Did you get paid for that?”
“No,” Akers said sullenly.
“Then let me pay you, since you’re already kind of convicted, dude.”
Akers raised his head slowly, blinking owlishly. “I am, aren’t I?”
Cade said nothing, just let Akers ruminate on this truth for a few seconds. If I have to, I’ll get the fisherman’s name with a threat. He still had his gun, after all. But he’d have more confidence in the information if it were freely given.
“Garrett,” Akers said abruptly.
Cade managed to conceal his excitement. “That’s his name?”
“Yep. George Garrett. He was a fucking mess, I gotta say.”
I guess so. Cade felt a tiny bit of pity for the man who’d wanted to catch some crappie, but had pulled up a human head instead. “Do you know where he lives?”
“That’ll cost you extra, dude.” Akers began to laugh as only the truly drunk could do. “Double.”
“Fine. I’ll pay it,” Cade lied.
“Fine. Somewhere in Oakley. Don’t remember the street.”
“That’s okay. That’ll be sufficient.” He pulled Akers to his feet. “Come on, you need to take a little trip.”
Akers frowned and struggled. “No. Wanna go to sleep.”
“Don’t worry. You will.” Cade hoisted the man over his shoulder and carried him to the entrance of the basement stairs, right off the kitchen. Akers was fighting him now, the surprise of being lifted like a sack of potatoes having sobered him up enough to know something was not right.
Duh. Having a stranger follow you into your house shoulda been your first clue, Einstein.
Setting the man on his feet, Cade gripped his head and twisted, satisfied at the cracking sound. He then gave Akers a little shove, watching as he tumbled down the stairs, landing in a heap. Gingerly, he walked down himself, careful to touch nothing until he got to Akers’s body. He wouldn’t leave prints, but he might leave a mark in the dust that coated the railing and the walls. Pulling his trusty stethoscope from his coat pocket, he listened to be sure Akers’s heart beat no more. It did not.
He knew it would look like an accident. After all, he’d watched his father kill his mother in the exact same way.
Now to George Garrett’s house. And then I can sleep.