It was possible, he supposed. It had always been possible. He turned to Deacon Novak. ‘Am I free to go?’ he asked formally.

Deacon blew out an annoyed sigh. ‘Yes, you are free to go. Just don’t get yourself killed. Faith likes your family, and I’m finally starting to feel like they might not totally hate me.’

Marcus nearly smiled. ‘Maybe not totally.’ Not at all, really. Deacon Novak had a charm that had thrown his family off balance, making them laugh in the midst of their grief. He had a way of making Marcus’s mother, brother, and sister smile even on their very worst days, and for that Marcus would be forever grateful. Faith had been a tireless source of emotional support after Mikhail’s murder, blending into the O’Bannion clan so seamlessly that it almost seemed she’d always been around. Getting close to the cousin they’d never known was the only good thing to come from the last nine months.

That, and meeting Scarlett Bishop, who was still scowling at him. ‘Seeing as how you make your living digging for news, should we expect to see Tala’s murder in the headline of today’s Ledger?’ she asked.

‘No. Today’s printed edition has already gone to press.’

‘What about the online edition?’ Scarlett asked, her disapproval clear.

It made him wish he could promise her anything she wanted, just to erase that look from her face. But he wouldn’t lie to her. ‘I guarantee someone else will run with the story as soon as Tala’s body hits the morgue. Wouldn’t you rather we publish the truth first?’

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes gone speculative. ‘How much of the truth do you intend to tell?’

‘Are you asking me to hold back details, Detective?’

‘Would you, if I asked?’

He should be offended. Conceptually, her request went against everything a newspaperman believed in, but Marcus was no ordinary newspaperman. He’d used the Ledger to punish evil ever since he’d taken the helm five years before. His investigative team followed normal news leads, but often took on special projects – exposing the lies of abusive men and women who’d managed to evade punishment by Children’s Services or the courts. Men and women who’d hurt their families and would go on hurting them unless they were stopped.

His team didn’t always play fair, and from time to time they’d acquired information in ways that crossed the legal lines. But they did so to protect victims. They knew they couldn’t save the world, but they could positively impact their little corner of it.

Honoring Scarlett Bishop’s request wouldn’t be that different from his status quo. But he didn’t want her to know that, so he shook his head. ‘It’s unlikely. It would depend on what you wanted me to hold back. I want that girl’s killer found too, but I do have a responsibility to report all of the news. Not just the news you approve. What detail were you wanting to withhold?’

‘The location of the park where you met, the shell casing we found, and her last words.’

It was exactly what he’d expected her to say and exactly the details he’d already planned to omit. ‘That’s three details.’

She ignored him. ‘You may print her photo and where she was killed.’

‘All that?’ he drawled. ‘Am I allowed to quote myself as an eyewitness?’

‘That’s up to you,’ she said. ‘I thought you might want to keep your involvement on the down-low.’

He did, but he knew it was too late for that. ‘That’ll be hard to do, given that I’ll end up in your police report. I’ll end up front-page news in my competitors’ papers.’

‘I can’t keep you out of the report. Sorry.’ She did look a little regretful, actually. ‘I could lock it down, but too many people saw you here.’

‘Then it’s already out there,’ he said mildly. ‘I’ll do no harm by including it.’

Regret vanished, annoyance taking its place. ‘Then please make sure the photo of Tala that you use is from the portion of the video you took in the park – where she’s still alive.’

Marcus frowned at her. Now he was offended. ‘Do you really think I’d use a photo of her dead body, Scarlett? What kind of man do you take me for?’

‘A man who makes his living selling newspapers,’ she said quietly.

Touché. He glanced at Deacon. ‘Give my best to Faith, will you?’ He dipped his head in a nod to Scarlett. ‘Detective. You’ll get those files within the hour.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 4.05 A.M.

Scarlett frowned as Marcus O’Bannion disappeared from view. ‘Do you think he’ll withhold the details?’

‘I don’t know,’ Deacon murmured. ‘Marcus is hard to read.’

That was an understatement, she thought. Just when she’d started to figure him out, he’d gone all newspaperman on her. ‘He has another gun somewhere.’

Beside her, Deacon’s snow-white brows lifted in a way that told her that he’d come to the same conclusion. ‘Why do you think so?’

‘Because there’s no way he’d bring only a knife to a gunfight.’

‘He had the Sig.’

‘In an ankle holster that he couldn’t get to that easily. The man wore Kevlar and a spy camera, for God’s sake. He expected trouble. He would have brought a bigger gun that he could have had instant access to.’

‘I agree, although it’s only important if he fired it.’

‘No GSR on his hands,’ she murmured. ‘But like you said, he could have worn gloves.’

‘Either way, it’s our word against his. Do you think he fired his other gun?’

‘I don’t think he shot Tala. If I did, I never would have let him walk away. But he could have fired on the shooter.’ She bit at her lip. ‘I don’t like that he hid another gun from us.’

‘Agree again.’ Deacon tilted his head, watching her a little too carefully. ‘Why would he?’

She glanced up at him sharply. ‘You ask me like I know him. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve talked to him and still have fingers left. You know him a hell of a lot better than I do.’

‘But he called you tonight. Not me. Not us.’

That was true. I knew you would help her, he’d said. But Deacon could have helped her too. He could have called us both. But he called me. Only me. That the knowledge left her feeling warm to her toes annoyed the hell out of her. ‘Because he was meeting a seventeen-year-old girl,’ she snapped. ‘He didn’t want it to look any worse than it already did. He said he knew I’d come to help her. That’s all there is.’

‘All right,’ Deacon said in his soothing voice, the one that grated like nails on a chalkboard. ‘Whatever you say, partner.’

She gritted her teeth. ‘Dammit, you know I hate it when you talk like that.’

‘I know.’ His sudden grin cut through her irritation. Deacon had a way of defusing her temper, helping her think more clearly. Initially it had annoyed her, but after nine months of working together, she’d come to appreciate his rare gift.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and meant it. It wasn’t Deacon’s fault she was out of sorts. She laid that firmly at her own feet. Being around Marcus O’Bannion never failed to leave her unsettled and . . . anxious. Scarlett hated being anxious. She drew a breath, found her center. None of this was about her anyway. This was about a seventeen-year-old girl on her way to the morgue. ‘I haven’t been sleeping well lately. It’s left me a bit tight.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Deacon’s expression said that she was fooling no one. ‘So why did he lie about his gun?’

She replayed Marcus’s words in her mind. ‘He didn’t lie. He said, “I drew my weapon.” He never said he drew the baby gun. But if he recorded the whole thing . . .’

‘His gun would be caught on his cap-cam.’ Deacon shook his head. ‘Although I doubt he’d have been so free with offering us the video if it had anything incriminating on it. That he didn’t tell us about the other gun has me wondering why.’

She reached for the ball cap that Deacon had dropped into an evidence bag, inspecting it from all angles. Clever little thing. ‘Does this store the video in the camera or does it feed to a drive somewhere else?’ she asked, all too familiar with Deacon’s penchant for gadgets.