Closer Than You Think (44 page)

‘He’s my brother. I’d know,’ O’Bannion insisted. Then he sighed. ‘God. This would have killed my mother.’

‘How did you feel about your mother leaving the house to your niece?’ Deacon asked.

‘I was surprised. But then I thought about why she had done it and I was fine with it.’

Deacon tilted his head, watching the man carefully. ‘Why do you think she did it?’

‘Because Faith needed a home. She’s been rather lost since her divorce and Mother wanted her to have a place to call her own. I certainly didn’t want the place. I couldn’t live way out there.’ He shuddered. ‘Not my cup of tea.’

Rather lost since her divorce
. Deacon had gotten the impression that the divorce had been the least of Faith’s stressors over the last few years.

‘Did your mother know what Dr Corcoran does for a living?’ Deacon asked curiously.

He frowned. ‘I can’t get used to you calling Faith Dr Corcoran.’

‘That’s how she introduced herself to us. Did your mother know what her job was?’

‘Yes, Mother knew, and she did
not
approve. Neither did I. We always thought that one of those perverts would attack Faith. Sure enough, one of them did. I kept that from Mother, though. Her heart had begun to fail, even then.’

Like Faith had brought the attack on herself, Deacon thought, disgusted. ‘Where were you this morning between two and four?’

O’Bannion’s eyes flashed, furious. ‘Now you’re accusing me of shooting my own niece? I won’t stand for this deliberate humiliation when you know I was with Alda, because she told you so. She told you far too much.’ His face burned with embarrassment. ‘Where can I find Faith? I need to see her with my own eyes to know that you’re telling the truth. That she is unhurt.’

‘She’s here where we can ensure her safety,’ Deacon said. ‘Because she was
shot at
last night. Which is why we are verifying everyone’s whereabouts. That my knowing your situation humiliates you is unfortunate, but your niece’s safety matters more to me than your dignity, sir.’

O’Bannion flinched. ‘I’m sorry. Keeping Faith safe is the most important thing. You already know that I was with Ms Lane in our apartment, Agent Novak. If I’d known Faith was in town, I’d have asked her to stay with me and she wouldn’t have been in harm’s way to begin with.’ He dropped his gaze to the table. ‘But I wasn’t there for her when she needed me because I was too busy getting drunk. And yes, that humiliates me.’

Deacon recognized the shame on the man’s face. His biological father had worn that look more times than he could count. It never made a difference. His father would just get drunk again the first chance he got until it had finally killed him.

‘Your personal issues are not my business, Mr O’Bannion. My business is finding out who abducted a young woman and held her in the basement of your family’s house, and who wants your niece dead.’

For the first time since Deacon had entered the room, O’Bannion met his eyes squarely. ‘Do you think whoever . . .’ He stuttered to a stop, staring for a moment, then gave one long, slow blink. When he opened his eyes, he seemed relieved, as if he’d been afraid he’d been imagining things. ‘Do you think whoever shot at her will do it again?’

‘Possibly. We’re taking the threat seriously.’ Deacon’s phone buzzed. Isenberg was messaging him and Bishop. ‘If you’ll excuse us, we’ll send Faith in so that you two can catch up. Detective Bishop?’

He and Bishop went into the hallway and shut the door.

Bishop held up her phone. ‘Isenberg wants a team status meeting in an hour.’

‘I got the same text. Can you go to Jordan and Alda’s love nest to verify his alibi? I’ll use the hour to run searches on Roza and on Jeremy and his children. I’ll bring Faith to the interview room and observe while she chats with Jordan.’

‘Sounds good. One love nest coming up. God, I hope Alda’s still wearing the genie suit.’

Cincinnati, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 6.35
P.M.

‘I didn’t tell him about Combs,’ Novak said, stopping with Faith outside the interview room door. ‘I thought you might want to handle that.’

Faith looked at the door, secretly dreading the conversation with Jordan. She wasn’t sure she had the energy – or the patience – for his reaction once he found out she’d been stalked by Combs. If he didn’t straight out say
I told you so
, he’d imply it.

He hadn’t approved of her work. He’d warned her she’d get hurt. When Combs had attacked her the first time, he’d given her the I-told-you-so look. And every time she’d visited her grandmother, he’d made her wear a scarf so that her scar wouldn’t show.

Which she would have done anyway, because she hadn’t wanted to upset Gran any more than she already had. But to be commanded to do so had really pissed her off.

And then, of course, there was always the house. Jordan had claimed to be relieved when she inherited it, but she knew he’d really been hurt. He was the oldest surviving O’Bannion male and he’d cared for her grandmother for so long, yet Gran hadn’t left the house to him.

It had to be especially galling because he knew how much Faith hated the place. And why.

‘Got it,’ she said quietly. ‘Where will you be?’

‘In the observation room. Not observing, but staying close by.’ Novak hesitated, then sighed. ‘Faith, do you know who would’ve inherited the house if . . .’ He winced. ‘You know.’

‘If whoever’s trying to kill me had succeeded? If I’d made a will – which I haven’t – my father would. If I’d died without a will, the house would go to the Foundation.’

‘What Foundation?’

Faith could hear her grandmother’s voice in her mind as clear as day.
Your birthright, child
.

‘The Joy O’Bannion Foundation. It’s a charity my grandmother oversaw,’ she told Novak. ‘They give financial help, mainly in the form of scholarships, to college students who’ve had a debilitating illness. As Gran’s heir, I’m expected to manage the details at some point. I’ve put it off, though. I can barely manage my own life right now, much less a scholarship program.’

He tilted his head. ‘Is Henson the attorney for the Foundation?’

‘Yes, he is. Why?’

‘Bishop and I talked to him this morning. He wouldn’t answer the question about who would get the house, insinuating it was to protect another client’s confidentiality.’

‘You were thinking that whoever got the house had motive to kill me, but nobody really gets it. It would have been added to the Foundation’s assets.’

‘Who has access to those assets?’

‘Only the accountant who writes the checks and the investment broker who manages the portfolio. The board has access to the account statements, but not to the money itself.’

‘I see. How much money are we talking about?’

‘A lot. Five million maybe? Give or take.’

Novak blinked. ‘That’s a chunk of change. Is it a private or public charity?’

‘Private. Why?’

‘Where can I get a list of the board members, the broker and the accountant?’

‘They’re on my laptop, which is at your house. I can send you the list when I go back. But why? They don’t have access to the money.’

‘Not legally, but it’s the illegal activities that’d be motive for murder. Brokers skim. Accountants cook books. And private charities don’t have the same level of auditing scrutiny. It may be nothing, but it’s too many zeros to ignore when we’re still not certain of why someone wants you dead. One other question. What can you tell me about Jeremy’s children?’

It was Faith’s turn to blink. ‘Oh dear. They wouldn’t know who did inherit, but they’d know they didn’t, wouldn’t they? I hate to think of any of them as suspects. Jeremy has a daughter named Audrey. She’s in her early twenties. I don’t know anything about her other than that she lives in Cincinnati and often gets into trouble with the law for being a bit overzealous with her causes. Jeremy has two stepsons – the ex-wife’s sons by her previous marriage. He must have adopted them – they go by O’Bannion, not their father’s name. I met Stone and his older brother Marcus the Christmas before my grandfather died, when Jeremy brought them to the house for Christmas Eve. Stone was my age and Marcus a year older. Jeremy announced his engagement to Della that night. I remember my mother being a bit appalled because Della was at least ten years older than Jeremy, who was only twenty-two – and even worse, a Protestant.’

‘Really? Jordan just said your uncle Jeremy liked ’em young – boys and girls. Just this side of legal, even.’

‘Oh, no, I never heard that, but the adults never directly told me anything. Everything I know I overheard by accident. My father was shocked that Jeremy married a woman. I heard him tell my mother that he’d always thought Jeremy “light in the loafers”, though I had no idea what that meant. Stone is now a famous journalist, kind of bigger than life, and Marcus runs a small newspaper in one of the northern suburbs. That’s all I know.’ She turned toward the interview room door. ‘I shouldn’t keep Jordan waiting any longer.’

‘Faith, wait.’ Novak curled his fingers around her arm, the sweep of his thumb making it a caress. ‘I didn’t tell him about the bodies. Not yet. Not until we verify his alibi.’

‘But . . .’ Faith shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t. He’s . . . No. Jordan has his faults, but he takes care of people. He doesn’t hurt them. He took care of Gran. He took care of me. If he hurts anyone, it’s himself with all the drinking.’

‘I understand that. But until we verify his alibi, I’m keeping my cards close to my vest. And even then, I don’t want to tell him any details that we’re not putting in press releases. I don’t get the impression that his girlfriend would blink twice before talking to anyone who’d listen. If you gave him confidential information and he told her, even a bit, she could compromise our investigation.’

‘But when the truth comes out, he’s going to be hurt that I knew and didn’t tell him.’

Novak frowned, concentrating. ‘All right. Tell him we’ve found one body, and that there could be more. At least we’ll know if we can trust him if the information gets out before the press conference.’

That was fair, she thought. She’d always believed that Jordan had kept her secrets safe, but the truth was, she didn’t know what he told people when he was drunk out of his mind.

He’d always been too wild, too spoiled, too
bohemian
, ever since she could remember. But it seemed he’d only grown wilder over the years. She’d outwardly smiled when Novak had told her about the pink genie gymnast, but inside she’d winced. Still, she understood why Jordan was the way he was. He’d had a sister who’d lost her fight with leukemia. He himself had fought cancer when he was only seventeen. He’d been told that it could come back at any time.

Some people would see that as a call to make every day count for good. Jordan had taken it as a call to see that every day counted for Jordan.
There
but for the grace of God go I
.

She’d walked that road with him for a while – the drinking, the parties. She was glad she’d left it before she’d fallen into the same hole that trapped him.

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open and went in, finding her uncle sitting at the table looking . . . old. His hard living was catching up to him. He was only forty-four, but he looked ten years older. ‘Uncle Jordan.’

Jordan jumped to his feet, folding her in his arms and hugging her so tightly that the bruises on her body protested. At her gasp he dropped his arms and stepped back. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m just a bit bruised up.’

His face fell. ‘I’m sorry, Faith. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

‘It’s okay, don’t worry about it.’ Faith sat at the table and twisted her fingers together. ‘Jordan, we have a problem with the house.’

‘That girl was held there. I know.’

‘There’s more than that. The police found a body in the basement.’

He went still, horrified. ‘In our basement? Who? When?’

‘I don’t know.’ Which was the truth. ‘I only got a glimpse of her.’

‘You
saw
her? Oh, Faith.’ Then Jordan’s eyes changed, filling with a different kind of horror. Gentler. ‘You went down there? To the basement? Are you all right?’

She shrugged her shoulders fitfully. ‘I’m fine. Unsettled.’

‘I guess so.’ Jordan squeezed her hand. ‘I would have gone with you.’

‘I know.’ She made her lips curve at him. ‘It’s all right. I’m a big girl now, Jordan.’

‘And obviously a busy one,
Dr Corcoran
, I didn’t make a big deal of it with the detectives, but . . . what the hell, Faith? What’s with the name change to Mother’s maiden name? I mean, I’m happy you finally ditched that asshole Charlie completely, but why not just go back to Sullivan? Or even O’Bannion? Why Corcoran?’

She drew a deep breath. ‘Because Faith Frye needed to disappear. I was being stalked.’

His eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘By whom?’

She looked away. ‘Peter Combs.’

He leaned back on a furious exhale. ‘God
dam
mit, Faith. Did you report him?’

‘Of course I did. Dozens of times.’ She forced herself to look her uncle square in the eye. ‘The cops thought I’d brought it on myself. Just like you did,’ she added bitterly.

‘I never thought you brought it on yourself,’ he denied, still furious. ‘Not once. But you have to admit that working with the scum of the earth lifted your odds of being attacked. I worried every day that I’d get that call, and then I did.’

‘And you came to the hospital,’ she murmured. ‘Right away.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, quieting down. ‘I came. Because I had to see for myself that you were okay. Mother needed to know, too, and she wasn’t always sure your father told her everything.’

That’s because her father hadn’t, Faith thought. The O’Bannions and the Sullivans were master secret-keepers.
Of course I would be too. I come by it honestly enough.

Her uncle leaned forward, now intensely earnest. ‘But Faith, you weren’t okay. You haven’t been okay in a long time. That scared look you had when you left the hospital is still there. I can see it. What did the bastard do to you?’