Alone in the Dark Read Free

housing for both Edna and Tommy a couple of times over the years, but they always came back to the street. Which was bad for their health but, at times, beneficial to Scarlett’s investigations. The two were a reliable source of information about the neighborhood.
    She looked around again, but there was still no sign of the man she’d come to meet. ‘Have you two heard any trouble tonight?’
    Edna hid her water bottle in the deep pocket of the smock she never seemed to be without, then pointed to her left. ‘You wanna look maybe three alleys down that way, honey. Gunshots. Three of ’em.’
    Scarlett’s heart stuttered. ‘Why didn’t you say so before?’ she demanded.
    ‘Because you didn’t ask,’ Edna said with a shrug.
    ‘Gunshots happen ’round here,’ Tommy added. ‘We got to the point where we don’t pay them no nevermind unless they’re shootin’ at us.’
    Scarlett shoved her temper down. ‘When was this?’
    ‘A few minutes ago,’ Tommy said, ‘but I don’t know ’xactly when. Don’t got no watch,’ he added in a yell, because Scarlett had already started to run, her dread building.
    Her phone had rung thirteen minutes ago. If he’d been shot, he could be dead by now. He couldn’t be dead. Please don’t let him be dead .
    She skidded to a stop when she got to the alley, her vision drawn first to the motionless body on the ground. It isn’t him . The victim was far too small to be him.
    She drew her weapon with one hand, holding her Maglite in the other as she cautiously approached. She swept the beam of her light over the victim, a female who appeared to be of Asian descent. Who was she? And where was he ? Another sweep of her light up and down the alley revealed no one else.
    Scarlett crouched next to the body, her heart sinking. The victim, who appeared to be in her late teens, lay on her back, dark brown eyes staring up at the sky, wide and unseeing . So young, she thought. Setting the Maglite on the asphalt so that it illuminated the victim’s face, she pulled a glove on to her left hand, keeping her weapon firmly gripped in her right.
    Pressing her fingers to the victim’s throat, Scarlett found no pulse, which was no surprise. But the young woman hadn’t been dead long. Her skin was still warm.
    Her lower torso was bare, her white polo shirt cut away to just below her breasts.
    A bullet had entered three inches below her sternum, but based on the amount of blood on and around the body, it had probably not been immediately fatal. Cause of death was far more likely to have been the small hole in the victim’s left temple. The exit wound behind her right ear was the size of Scarlett’s fist.
    The girl had been pretty before someone had taken out a chunk of her head.
    Not him . It couldn’t have been him. Scarlett couldn’t believe it. You just don’t want to believe it. Which was fair enough, she supposed. Where was he?
    Picking up the flashlight, she ran the beam over the body. Blood had been wiped from the exposed skin of the victim’s midriff, the balled-up and blood-soaked remnant of her torn shirt lying on the ground next to her hip. Someone had attempted first aid.
    ‘He tried to save you,’ Scarlett murmured aloud.
    ‘Tried. Failed.’
    Her head jerked up . He was here. The man who’d dominated her thoughts, her dreams. For months. The man who once again had called her out of the blue to the scene of a homicide.
    Marcus O’Bannion.
    The voice she remembered so well had come from behind her, deep in the shadows. Holding her weapon at her side, she rose, turned and aimed the Maglite at the alley wall, illuminating long legs, a broad torso and wide shoulders, all clad in black. He leaned against the brick, shoulder to the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He was looking down, his face obscured by a dark baseball cap.
    He lifted his head and her heart stuttered again. His skin was ashen, his expression grim. He didn’t blink at the bright light.
    She hadn’t heard