‘They say that songs take you back faster and harder than any other reminder,’ Scarlett murmured. Now that she’d seen her boss’s vulnerability, she didn’t want to see the real Lynda to disappear behind her hard shell. Not until Scarlett herself was able to do the same. ‘We played that song at my best friend’s funeral too. So . . . yeah.’ She shrugged fitfully. ‘It’s hard.’

They were silent for a long minute, neither looking at the other. Then Lynda cleared her throat, pointed to the computer screen. ‘Does she ever come out of the woods?’

‘Not that I’ve seen so far. Marcus said that she let the dog come close enough to be petted, but she stayed back. I haven’t gotten to that file yet, but everything I’ve seen on these videos has corroborated his story.’

‘I didn’t expect that he’d voluntarily give you anything that wouldn’t,’ Lynda said carefully.

Her tone had Scarlett glancing up once again. This time Lynda’s eyes were shadowed with concern. ‘What?’ Scarlett demanded, hearing her own belligerence.

‘You’re personally connected with this man. He’s a witness now, but he could become a suspect. A murder suspect, Scarlett. I am, quite frankly, concerned.’

Scarlett didn’t think Marcus would ever become a suspect, but she wasn’t going to argue the point, not wanting to give Lynda any reason to kick her off this case. Not because of Marcus, but because of Tala.

‘I’m not connected,’ she replied, not looking away. ‘Not like you’re thinking, anyway. I’ve interacted with Marcus O’Bannion five times.’ She held up her hand, counting on her fingers. ‘When he was wounded saving a woman’s life, twice in the hospital afterward, then at his brother’s funeral, and now tonight. We have no relationship beyond that.’

She didn’t have to count all the nights she’d lain awake wishing that they did, right? Best to keep that little jewel to myself.

Lynda did not look convinced. ‘Then how are you connected, if it’s not the way I’m thinking?’

‘I think we’re testing each other’s preconceptions. He doesn’t trust many cops, but he believed he could trust me to help Tala. I don’t trust newsmen, but I’m hoping he’s different. I do hope you’re planning to have this same conversation with Deacon,’ she added coolly. ‘He’s more connected than I am, what with Marcus being his future cousin-in-law.’

Lynda gave her a long, probing look before pointing back at the screen, where Tala was still frozen in place at the forest’s edge. ‘What more can you tell me about her?’

‘Seventeen, possibly an immigrant. I’ve already watched today’s file. I couldn’t see her face that clearly because there was very little light in the alley, but the audio was clear as a bell. Her English is flawless, but she has a definite accent. I’m thinking Filipino.’ Marcus had suggested that first. Again, keeping that to myself. Scarlett brought up the video Marcus had taken that morning in the alley, cranked up the sound and hit PLAY.

Scarlett turned her screen so that Lynda had a better viewing angle, then sat back in her chair, watching the events unfold for the fifth time – Tala’s hesitant greeting, Marcus’s careful, gentle questions.

Why do you cry, Tala?

Why do you? the girl pushed back.

That Marcus hadn’t denied it made Scarlett’s throat hurt, just as it had all the other times she’d watched. It wasn’t just that he still grieved for the brother he’d lost. It was that he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Still, he’d cried when he’d thought himself alone. It made Scarlett wonder about the face he showed his family and the rest of the world.

It made her wonder if he’d ever show his grief to her.

Then she realized that he just had. By turning over the videos without any coercion, he’d effectively bared his soul not only to Scarlett, but to anyone she allowed to watch. He’d trusted her. Thrown suddenly off balance, she decided that these videos would be locked up and she’d do whatever she had to do to ensure that as few people as possible viewed them.

Will you let me help you, Tala?

I . . . I can’t pay you.

The picture shifted side to side as Marcus shook his head hard.

I don’t need your money. I don’t want it.

A second of heavy silence followed, Tala’s shoulders sagging, her head hanging in defeat. Then she lifted her chin, her young face having transformed from frightened to sensuously inviting. She reached for the waistband of Marcus’s jeans, her husky whisper intended to entice.

I understand. I can make you feel good.

The picture jolted abruptly as Marcus took a giant step back, his hands shoving into the frame, palms out. His response was panicked. Horrified.

No. Stop. You don’t understand. That’s not what I want. I don’t want anything from you. I just want to help you.

Why? Why would you help me? I’m no one.

Scarlett’s throat hurt again. For Tala and for all the victims she’d ever met who believed they were no one.

Everyone is someone, Marcus said sadly. Why do you cry, Tala?

Tala’s expression was a jumble of fear and hope that made Scarlett’s heart twist. Help had been so damn close, but in the next minute it would be brutally ripped away.

It’s dangerous. They’re dangerous. My family will die if I’m found here.

Marcus’s voice became icy. Brittle. Furious. Who are you afraid of?

The man. His wife. They . . . Tala looked away. They own us.

How? Marcus demanded. Who?

Scarlett braced herself, knowing what was coming, but still she flinched at the gunshot.

Tala crumpled to the pavement, her face filling the screen as Marcus dropped to one knee beside her. Tala? Shit. You’re hit. His hands were trembling as he cut a piece of her shirt and packed the wound, then sprang to his feet.

Lynda made a sound of disapproval. ‘He’s leaving her alone.’

‘For just a minute,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘He’s calling 911 and securing the scene.’

‘Not a soul in sight,’ Lynda said, her jaw taut as they watched him run. ‘It would have been too much to expect that he’d catch a glimpse of the shooter.’

‘He didn’t know it then,’ Scarlett said, ‘but the shooter was circling the block, coming back to take two more shots. He made the 911 call at 2.47.’

Tala’s face was filling the screen once again as Marcus resumed his first aid.

Tala! he was shouting at her now. Don’t die, dammit. Don’t you dare die.

Tala’s lips moved on the word Help, but no sound came out. She forced the next word out in an agonized huff. Malaya.

Lynda grabbed the mouse and paused the video. ‘Help and malaya.’ She glanced at Scarlett. ‘What does malaya mean?’

‘According to Google, it means “free” in both Tagalog and Malay,’ Scarlett supplied, once more keeping the original source of the information to herself. She’d double-checked the definition, and determined that Marcus had been correct.

‘She was asking him to free her family,’ Lynda murmured, then lined up the frozen frame of Tala at the edge of the trees with that of the young woman as she lay dying on the asphalt. ‘Same clothes.’

Scarlett nodded. ‘I noticed that. She wears the same exact thing in every video I’ve seen so far. A white polo shirt and faded blue jeans.’

‘A uniform of some kind?’

‘I thought that,’ Scarlett said. ‘I didn’t see any logo on the shirt she was wearing when she was shot, but there was a lot of blood on it. The CSU tech working the crime scene said that Vince would call me if the lab found any identifying marks on her clothes, but I haven’t heard from him yet.’

If there was anything to find, Sergeant Vince Tanaka would find it. The head of CSU ran a tight ship, and his people were well trained and meticulous.

‘There don’t appear to be any visible logos on the shirts she wore to the park, either,’ Scarlett went on, ‘although the video quality is grainy. The lab is checking that too.’ Reaching for the mouse, she rewound the alley video to a point about two thirds through. ‘There are two other things I can tell you. One, Tala knew who shot her.’