‘You think he came back for Tabby?’ Scarlett asked.

Marcus shrugged. ‘Maybe. Whoever broke down the door could have shot Anders and his family and left their bodies here, but they didn’t.’

Scarlett nodded. ‘They dragged them out kicking and screaming, according to Tabby.’

‘Lots of bullet holes in the walls upstairs,’ Deacon said. ‘There was a definite struggle.’

‘They might have killed them when they got them away from the house,’ Scarlett continued, ‘so that they didn’t leave any bodies for us to find. They didn’t take Tabby because Chip had shoved her under the bed.’

Deacon frowned. ‘It doesn’t make sense that he’d try to save her from the thugs that broke in after nearly killing her himself.’

‘She was trying to reach for a cell phone when I found her,’ Marcus said. ‘Chip might have shoved her under the bed not to save her, but so that she could save them later. Maybe he left the phone so that she could call the police, but she was beaten too badly to crawl out and get it once the intruders were gone.’

‘Vince, what can you tell us about the phone?’ Deacon asked, motioning the man over.

‘It’s a throwaway,’ Tanaka said. ‘The number doesn’t match the one that the victim used to text your cell phone, Mr O’Bannion,’ he added before Marcus could ask that very question. ‘It’s bagged and tagged. We’ll check it out at the lab, see if we can figure out who it belonged to.’

Scarlett was frowning. ‘If the intruders had known Tabby was here, they would have searched until they found her. I don’t think they would have left her here to be a witness.’

‘So Chip was keeping secrets from his dealer,’ Deacon said thoughtfully.

‘Secrets they might have since forced out of him,’ Marcus said. ‘That’s why they didn’t kill them here – they wanted answers.’

‘Like maybe who killed Tala?’ Scarlett asked.

Marcus nodded. ‘It keeps coming back to her.’

Scarlett retrieved her phone from where it had fallen when she and Marcus barreled through the door. ‘I’m calling in for a security detail to stand outside Tabby’s door at the hospital. If the shooter did come back to find her here, he might try to get her there. She may be our only witness to what happened here. If she lives.’ She made the call, then handed Marcus’s cap-cam to Tanaka, who put it in an evidence bag.

‘Wait,’ she said with a frown when Tanaka opened evidence bags for the trackers Deacon still held. ‘Why did they leave the trackers?’ she asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Tanaka asked.

‘I’m trying to get the timeline straight in my mind too,’ she said. ‘If the intruders came in through that door, they would have walked right by these trackers on the floor on their way to the stairs. They kidnapped the Anders family, firing shots in the process. They had to think that the cops might be called at some point. Why leave the trackers here for us to find later? Why not take them?’

‘Especially since they’re a match for the one you took off Tala,’ Deacon added.

Tanaka shrugged. ‘I can’t venture a guess right now. Did you get the serial numbers from these two?’ he asked, holding up the bags with the trackers.

Deacon nodded. ‘I did, thanks. I’ll check it out ASAP and get back to you. I’m off to pick up Zimmerman.’ He glanced at Marcus. ‘Lie low for a while, okay? Twice in one day . . . I’d hate to see them get a chance to get lucky on a third try.’

‘I’ll keep my head down,’ Marcus said. It was the most he would promise, because he didn’t want to lie to Deacon.

Scarlett’s pointed gaze said that she hadn’t missed his evasion and that he hadn’t heard the end of the matter. ‘I’ll start tracking down Annabelle,’ she said to Deacon.

Deacon sighed wearily. ‘Zimmerman and I need to notify Agent Spangler’s wife. Don’t forget about our meeting at the field office. I’ll meet you there.’

When he was gone, Scarlett moved to the open doorway, stepping around the door that lay on the floor. Silently she studied the wreckage, then turned to face Marcus, her expression subdued. ‘I’ll take you back to your office now.’

Sixteen

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 2.30 P.M.

Scarlett buckled her seat belt, then leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She’d been calm through the whole ordeal, but now that they were truly alone, she let herself feel the terror of those moments when bullets were flying far too close to their heads. Or, more accurately, to Marcus’s head. Those bullets had not been meant for her. A shooter good enough to follow them as they fell to the ground had aimed several inches above where her own head had been. ‘You could have been killed,’ she murmured to the man sitting beside her. ‘Again.’

‘But I wasn’t,’ Marcus responded calmly, his voice giving her chills despite the fact that the black department car, having been sitting in the August sun, was about five million degrees inside. ‘Again,’ he added, his voice dipping lower.

A new shiver raced over her skin, tickling between her legs. Swallowing a sigh, she pressed her thighs tighter together, her hands clenching the steering wheel. Words formed in her mind but disappeared before they reached her lips, so she sat there, clenched and . . . wanting.

‘Although,’ he said after a minute of absolute silence, ‘I might die of heat stroke soon if you don’t turn on the air.’

The rueful amusement in his voice shook her into action. Starting the car, she kicked on the AC. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking straight ahead.

‘I’m not.’

She twisted her head to stare at him, exhaling when she saw the raw desire in his eyes. ‘You can’t look at me like that.’

‘Why not?’ His lips curved, sinfully sexy. ‘I’m not a cop. No breaking of police rules there. I’m not a suspect, am I?’

‘No.’ The word she’d intended to sound businesslike and practical came out husky and breathless.

His jaw clenched and he swallowed hard. ‘You can’t talk to me that way, then.’

She drew a breath, executed a quick three-point turn, and pulled away from the line of police cars. ‘Okay.’

From the corner of her eye, she saw his lips twitch. ‘Okay to what?’

‘I won’t talk to you that way and you won’t look at me that way.’

His almost-smile disappeared. ‘Where will I, then? And when?’

She didn’t pretend not to know what he was asking. She knew what she should say, that they couldn’t have a relationship until this case was finished. Or maybe ever, at least until she knew what kind of reporter he was and what kind of threat he represented. But none of that came from her mouth.

‘Not at a crime scene. And not in public while this case is still ongoing.’ She could feel his gaze, studying her profile.

‘Why were you looking at that door in the basement?’ he asked.

She blinked, not expecting that response. ‘I wanted to see where the bullets hit. He was aiming at you. If you hadn’t moved, you’d be dead.’

‘But I did move, and the bullets missed us. You’re not dead and neither am I. Not by a long shot,’ he added in a mutter.

She glanced over at his face, then down at his lap. And had to bite back a whimper. No, he was not dead. Nowhere even close. She clenched her hands around the wheel to keep herself from touching him, from stroking that hard ridge that beckoned her.

‘God,’ she whispered. ‘That’s not fair, Marcus.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ he said under his breath, then adjusted himself with a grimace. ‘So where, Scarlett, and when?’

‘I . . . I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far.’

‘I have,’ he said quietly. ‘Take me home with you.’

She turned her head with a jerk to stare at him. He was not joking. She’d never seen a man look more serious. Another car tooted its horn, and she abruptly returned her attention to the road just in time to avert an accident. ‘You mean now?’