by Karen Rose
He got his cane and followed her up the well-tended walk. ‘What does Stone’s dad do?’ Whatever it was, the man was loaded.
‘Jeremy O’Bannion’s a teaching doctor, because he was in a car accident that burned his hand. He was a surgeon before that. He lives with his husband, Keith.’ She lowered her voice so that he had to lean in to hear. ‘Deacon and Faith really like Jeremy. Keith can apparently be . . . abrasive. Deacon doesn’t dislike the man, but says he’s hard to get to know. Now you know everything I do about this family.’
The door was opened before Kate was able to knock by a forty-something man wearing a lightweight gray suit, a tie, and black leather gloves. ‘Agent Coppola?’
‘Dr O’Bannion,’ Kate responded politely. ‘This is Special Agent Davenport. I hope we’re not calling at a bad time.’
Decker studied the man carefully and did the math in his head. Stone had to be thirty, at least. Marcus was even older. This guy didn’t look more than forty-five. Stepfather, then?
‘No, of course not,’ Jeremy was saying. ‘Please come—’
‘Jeremy! Goddammit!’ There was a thumping sound from behind the door seconds before a bulky man appeared, positioning himself in front of Jeremy. Dressed far more casually in jeans and a polo, the man also had a gun holstered on his belt. He leaned heavily on a walking stick that looked hand-carved out of very heavy wood. It also sported a shiny brass grip – perfect for whacking the hell out of someone. I need to get me one of those, Decker thought.
‘I told you to let me get the damn door,’ the man said, glaring at them.
Ah. The abrasive Keith.
‘I knew who it was,’ Jeremy said very mildly, as if this was an argument they had often. ‘Can you invite our guests in, please?’ The two men stepped back, then Jeremy drew a sharp breath as he got a good look at Kate’s face in the light of a crystal chandelier that probably cost Decker’s salary for a year. ‘You’ve been crying. Is Dani . . .’
Kate shook her head quickly. ‘No, sir. Dani’s out of surgery and she’s going to be okay.’
He was clearly relieved. ‘Good. I know the surgeon who worked on her. She’s one of my former students. Straight A’s. Talented hands.’
Kate’s mouth curved. ‘The grapevine’s been working overtime.’
‘Marcus called me. He knew I’d be worried about Dani. I’ve only met her a few times, through Deacon and Faith, but she’s an extraordinary woman. Please come in.’ He led them into an honest-to-God parlor with a silver tea service on the coffee table. ‘Can I offer you tea?’
‘No thank you,’ Kate said politely, taking the chair Keith indicated with a grunt. Decker eased himself into the chair beside her while Jeremy and Keith sat on the sofa opposite them. ‘We’re actually here to see Stone. We won’t stay long, I promise.’
Jeremy gave her a sharp look before glancing at Decker. ‘You’re up and about, Agent Davenport. From what I read in the Ledger, you should still be in bed.’
Kate snorted softly. ‘Sayin’,’ she muttered, and Jeremy’s lips twitched.
‘Keith didn’t want to rest and recover either.’ He gave his husband a look that was both fond and scolding and some of Keith’s anger visibly melted away. ‘But what can you do?’
‘Nothing,’ Kate said, resigned. ‘Is Stone here?’
‘Yes,’ Jeremy said, then hesitated.
Keith rolled his eyes. ‘Stone said he’ll talk to Davenport but not you, Agent Coppola. Jeremy doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.’
Decker and Kate exchanged a glance, in sync again. Diesel warned him, Decker said.
Go on. It’s okay. ‘Tell him I understand,’ Kate added aloud, very evenly. ‘I think I will have a cup of tea, Dr O’Bannion, if that’s okay.’
‘Of course,’ Jeremy said. ‘Keith, will you take Agent Davenport to Stone?’
Keith pushed to his feet and jerked his head toward the door. ‘This way.’
Decker looked over his shoulder as he followed the gruff man. Kate and Jeremy were smiling as Jeremy poured tea. ‘They’re going to talk about us,’ Decker complained.
Keith shrugged. ‘They worry about us, I guess.’
‘I guess. So, what’s your story?’ Decker pointed to the walking stick.
‘Knee replacements. Got popped nine months ago.’ He crooked his hand like a gun and pointed at each knee. ‘Bang, bang.’
Decker winced. ‘Ouch.’
‘You got no idea.’
‘Not exactly, but I’ve taken a bullet or two. Or twelve.’
Keith gave him another considering look. ‘Army?’
‘Two tours. Afghanistan.’ Decker was quiet for a moment, but curiosity got the better of him. ‘Lotsa stuff happened nine months ago.’
‘Very little of it good,’ Keith said darkly. ‘Except for meeting Faith. She’s a sweet kid. I like her. Deacon, too, even though he thinks I’m abrasive.’
Decker’s cheeks heated. ‘Busted. I wondered if you had the cameras wired for sound.’
‘I take my duties seriously. I take care of my family.’ It was meant to be a warning, and Decker took it as such.
‘I hear and understand.’ They hobbled along together for another few seconds. ‘I like your walking stick, by the way. Can I ask where you got it? My cane came from the hospital and it sucks ass.’
Keith grunted what could have been a chuckle. ‘I’ve got a spare. I can loan it to you.’
‘Does it have the brass knuckle equivalent on the end? Because I want me one of those.’
Keith smiled then, an actual smile. ‘Got a spare one of those too. Had ’em made special.’
‘I’d appreciate it. Hopefully I won’t need it for long. No offense, but I’m hoping I’m back to snuff pretty damn quick, because I’m at a disadvantage like this. I can’t keep up with Kate if she needs to run. I can still shoot, but she does that better than I do too.’
A grunt. ‘She made that shot last week. When you were hit. Read about it in the paper.’
‘She’s deceptively deadly,’ Decker said, and he heard the pride in his voice and didn’t care.
Keith grunted again and Decker decided it was a chuckle. ‘I think you’ve got secret weapons of your own, Davenport. Don’t think I don’t know when I’m being charmed.’
Decker grinned. ‘Damn. Busted again.’ Then he drew a breath, sobering. ‘So, cards on the table. Stone knew we were coming?’
‘Yes. Diesel called him. Don’t know why you’re here. Don’t want to know. Just . . . if it’s going to impact Jeremy, I need to know. Cards on the table.’
‘I think we can keep it from coming to that,’ Decker said quietly.
‘Thank you.’ They stopped at a set of dark wooden doors, pulled closed. ‘He’s in here.’ Keith hit the door once with the head of his stick. ‘Stone!’ he barked. ‘Davenport’s here.’
‘Well let him in,’ Stone barked back. ‘I’m ready for him.’
Keith opened the doors, revealing a library that soared three stories, packed with books. Dark wood everywhere. A giant circular window let in the dimming evening light, casting shadows. ‘Holy fuck,’ Decker breathed, then shook himself. ‘Sorry. I was . . . well, it’s an impressive sight. Thanks for seeing me, Stone.’
Stone sat in his wheelchair next to a hospital bed, his dark hair combed but still wet. He’d just shaved, too, his cheekbones stark and prominent in a face that was far thinner than it should have been. His eyes were dark, his mouth tight with pain.
‘Sure,’ he said wearily. ‘Come on in.’
‘Can I get you anything, Stone?’ Keith asked, surprisingly gentle.
‘No, but thanks. Davenport? You hungry?’
Decker hesitated, then figured what the hell. ‘Famished. Kate stopped at a drive-thru when we left the hospital, but it wasn’t nea
rly enough.’
‘I’ll bring something. Go sit with him.’ Keith closed the doors and it was quiet.
Decker pulled a chair from a reading table carved from the same dark wood as the walls. ‘Goddamn,’ he muttered as he sat down, because it felt far too good to sit. ‘Hate this recovery shit. Hated it every time I’ve done it.’
‘Better than the alternative,’ Stone said with a shrug. ‘Besides, you just woke up yesterday and look at you. Running all over the damn place. I’m . . .’ He shook his head wearily. ‘I feel eighty years old.’
‘You were shot how many times, Stone?’ Decker asked. ‘Four? Five?’
‘More.’ Stone said nothing else and Decker sighed.
‘You know why I’m here, right?’
‘Yes. But before we get to that, I need to know why Coppola was crying.’ He pointed to his laptop, on the hospital bed. On the screen was the view from the camera mounted on the garage. ‘I saw her get out of the car. Her eyes were all swollen. Is Dani really okay? Marcus said so, but sometimes he sugar-coats when he thinks it’s going to hurt us.’
‘Kate said Deacon said she’d be okay. Kate was crying because she had to notify two parents that their sixteen-year-old son was dead. OD’d. Courtesy of the Professor.’
Stone closed his eyes, paling. ‘I haven’t seen or talked to him in four years.’
‘Diesel didn’t want to tell us. Kate guilted him into it. The bastard was the one who stabbed Dani. The Professor, I mean. Not Diesel.’
Stone huffed a chuckle. ‘Diesel’s a bastard too, but a good-hearted one.’ He looked away, shame on his face. ‘I didn’t tell anyone about the drugs. Not even Diesel. He dropped by my apartment one morning unannounced and found me high as a fucking kite. He’d suspected something was wrong and wanted to catch me in the act. I agreed to go to rehab if he didn’t tell Marcus. To my knowledge, he never did.’
‘He said Marcus doesn’t know. How did Diesel know about the Professor?’
Stone’s lips twisted bitterly. ‘Apparently I’m chatty when I’m stoned out of my mind.’
‘Why didn’t you turn the guy in when you were clean and sober? Why didn’t Diesel?’ Decker’s temper was heating. ‘Dammit, Stone, he was selling to kids.’
Stone grew even more drawn and suddenly he really did look eighty years old. ‘I know he was selling to kids,’ he said almost in a whisper. ‘Because I was one of them.’
Twenty-two
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Friday 14 August, 8.30 P.M.
Decker blinked at the man slumped in the wheelchair. Stone O’Bannion had been buying drugs from the Professor since he was a child? Shit. He remembered what Kate had told him about Stone and Marcus being kidnapped. Their baby brother’s death. ‘Dammit, Stone.’
Stone made a sound that was not a growl, not a sob. It was pure pain. ‘I’ll tell you what I know. Arrest me if you have to. But let me tell my dad first, okay? He doesn’t know.’
‘All right,’ Decker said quietly. ‘But if I can possibly not arrest you, I won’t. And if I can help you maintain your privacy, I will.’
Stone’s startled gaze snapped up to meet his. ‘Why in the fuck would you do that? My silence, my pride, just caused a sixteen-year-old kid to die.’
Decker swallowed hard, because his sympathy for this man made his chest hurt. ‘For the record, I know you were kidnapped as a kid. I know your brother was killed when you were a kid yourself. I know you’ve served your country with distinction and I know you’ve been through hell during the last nine months because you lost another brother and you nearly lost Marcus and you nearly died yourself. And I know you’re hurting right now because I can see it on your face. Did they give you pain meds?’
‘Yeah. I flush them. I’m an addict. I can’t take them.’
‘You can take something. Let’s find someone who can help you with the pain, okay?’
Sharp dark eyes considered him. ‘You didn’t answer my question, Davenport. Why would you help me? You’re one of the good guys. Golden. Why would you risk your career to help an addict who let kids die? Why?’
‘Because you’re not the only one who’s done things he’s not proud of.’ He let that statement float between them. ‘I will probably spend the rest of my life making amends for the sister I couldn’t save and for how I dealt with the bastard who did it. If you want to make amends, start by telling me what you know of this asshole Professor.’
Stone nodded unsteadily. ‘I was already going to do that.’
‘Then let’s start with the most recent information. You said you hadn’t spoken to him in four years. How did you contact him, what did you buy, and where did you buy it? I’ll assume you paid with cash.’
‘Of course. He contacted me, actually. Used my cell phone. I’d just come back from my second tour. I’d signed up for classes at King’s College.’
Decker perked up at that. ‘One victim was a student at King’s. Another took a class or two there, but hung at the gym. These last two were in high school. He’s going after students.’
‘Two?’ Stone recoiled. ‘I thought you said one kid died.’
‘One died. The other’s getting his stomach pumped. The kid who lived was the actual target, or rather his father was. The kid who died . . . He may have been collateral damage.’
Stone hung his head. ‘Fuck this shit.’ He drew a breath, squared his shoulders, still broad even with the weight he’d lost. ‘The Professor had a wide user base and he recruited carefully. Some of us had been customers since middle school. He sold high-quality stuff. Nobody wanted to turn him in. Nobody even discussed him with anyone else. You wanted to stay on his good side or he’d cut you off cold. He called me when I got home from the Gulf to say I was looking good. Buff. That the army had worked off all my baby fat. He asked if I wanted to be even stronger. Offered me steroids.’ A shrug. ‘I took them for a little while. But my poison was usually pills. I just wanted to be happy or sleep. Or forget. Whatever made my brain stop thinking.’
Decker figured they’d get to the pills in a minute, but he needed to understand something else first. ‘Baby fat?’
Stone shrugged. ‘I was a real chunky kid. Never met a donut I didn’t like. I started to slim down when I took the uppers the Professor was selling around the school. Private school, lots of kids with disposable income. Me included. I took uppers to lose weight, feel happier. I took downers to sleep at night. Because . . . well, you obviously know about the abduction.’
‘Just that it happened. So this man drew you in at the beginning by exploiting your vulnerability. He hit on the thing that made you the most self-conscious. The guy is a royal sonofabitch, preying on children.’
‘And college students and anyone who had cash, including middle-aged women. One time I met up with him, I was just a kid, maybe fourteen? I’d paid him and he was handing me my stuff when this woman came running. He looked surprised that she’d approach him. He dealt with everyone one-on-one for the most part. He had his favorites and they’d be his middlemen. I’d take the cash from my friends, make the buy for all of us, because he liked me. Anyway, this woman came up to him, begging for a fix. He told her to call him later, in a real mean voice, and she got desperate. Ripped her blouse open. Said she’d do him right there if he’d give her just enough to get her through until her husband got paid and she could take cash from his wallet.’
Decker’s eyes widened. ‘Whoa. Can you describe the woman?’
Stone gave him a look. ‘Dude, I was fourteen and she was flashing her breasts. I was not looking at her face.’
‘Fair enough.’
Stone frowned thoughtfully. ‘But she did pull his shirt out of his pants. He . . . he had a tattoo. I don’t know what it was, and that’s the truth. I only saw the top edge of it. It was on his ass. Made me want one too. I’d forgotten about that.
’
‘What did he do about the woman?’
‘He slapped her, knocked her down. I can remember being really shocked. She just . . . crumpled on the ground, sobbing. He told her to go to her car and he’d meet her there.’
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘In the park.’ Stone frowned. ‘East Fork. Rumor had it that he had a pot patch there.’
‘That’s where we found the body of the nurse who drugged me.’
Stone blinked. ‘You’d think after twenty years that he’d have moved to a different place.’
Twenty years? ‘So how old were you when you started buying from him?’
‘Thirteen.’ Stone shook his head bitterly. ‘We thought he was a god, man. He had a face that got the chicks, a muscle car that purred like a tiger, and he wore really nice clothes. Now I know he got the chicks by selling them blow.’
‘Describe him for me.’
‘Five-ten, average build, brown hair. Green eyes. Or maybe blue. I can’t remember.’
‘And when you saw him again after coming home from the Gulf?’
‘Same, just older. Some gray in his hair. A few wrinkles.’
‘Huh.’ Decker was reluctantly impressed. ‘His disguise ages.’
Stone stared. ‘He wears a disguise? How the hell do you know that?’
‘One of our witnesses saw a buckle in the seam of his facial appliance one day when it got hot.’
Stone sat back in the wheelchair, stunned. ‘Holy shit. I never would have suspected that. Hell of a reporter I am.’
‘He’s survived twenty years without getting caught,’ Decker said dryly. ‘He’s good.’
Stone scowled. ‘I’m supposed to be better.’
‘You were mired in your own shit, Stone,’ Decker snapped. ‘Cut yourself some slack, will you?’ He rubbed his temples. ‘Sorry. I’m tired and hungry.’ He looked away, then froze when his eyes focused on the laptop on Stone’s bed. ‘What the fuck?’ He lurched from the chair. A man was creeping up to Kate’s car.
‘Oh hell,’ Stone said, dialing his cell. ‘Keith. Someone’s in the driveway.’
