Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 8.40 A.M.
Adam hadn’t known it was humanly possible to cry that much, but he’d held Meredith on his lap through it all, whispering whatever soothing words he could think of as she ripped his heart apart. She’d clung to him, arms around his neck, her tears soaking his chest. But eventually her sobs stilled and he turned the water off.
That he’d contributed to the pain she’d so obviously stored up and shoved down . . . it shamed him. He pressed his lips to her temple. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry.’
Her sigh echoed in the quiet of the bathroom. ‘It wasn’t just you. It’s been building for a while.’ She loosened her hold on his neck, her hands sliding down to flatten against his chest, and she began petting the soft hair there, just like she had earlier, when she’d caught him wearing nothing but a towel. The memory, combined with her soft touch, made him wish for more. A lot more. Now that the memory of her hands on his wet chest and her eyes on that towel was in his head, it wasn’t going anywhere, tormenting him with all the things he shouldn’t be wanting a few seconds after she’d finished crying her eyes out.
This was far from the best time. And what kind of man was he to be wanting her now? He shifted beneath her, moving her closer to his knees and farther from his groin because he was getting very hard, very quickly. I am the goddamn worst.
She was spent. And I still haven’t told her what she needs to know about me. But even though his brain knew these things to be true, his cock wasn’t on board. At all.
Her next words had him scrambling for focus. ‘I’m sorry too,’ she said. ‘I could have come to you. I should have come to you.’ She pulled back to meet his gaze, and even with swollen eyes and a red nose, hers was the prettiest face he’d ever seen. ‘Because you were hurting too.’
‘There were times I wished you would,’ he confessed. ‘Then I could say that it wasn’t my fault that I broke my promise to you.’
Her eyes widened. ‘But you . . . you never promised me anything.’
‘Not that I told you about. Out loud anyway. But to myself, yeah. Every goddamn day. One year sober and I’d be knocking on your door.’
‘You were planning to come back?’ she asked in that same small voice she’d used earlier when asking Kate about the kettle and his chest grew painfully tight.
Because now he understood. He could still see all those small scars on her arms, and the two bigger ones at her wrists. He wondered how he’d never noticed them before. He wondered if any of her friends knew they existed.
He’d known her serenity was a mask, but he’d had no clue what it had actually hidden. The truth was almost too much to bear, so he set it aside to answer her question.
‘Yes,’ he said fiercely. ‘I told myself that I needed to be sober for one year and then I would have earned the right and I was coming back.’ He hesitated. ‘And then, if you’d have me, I was never leaving again.’
For a long, long moment she only stared at him and he didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling or planning to say. Then her smile – her real smile, not the zen one – bloomed, her green eyes growing dark with purpose. And desire.
He knew this look. He’d seen it once before, that very first night. He’d imagined it on the hundreds of nights that followed, nights he’d lain alone in his bed, missing her. Wanting her. He wanted her now. Right now. He wanted to pick her up and toss her on the bed and . . . have her. Give her everything he’d denied them both for the last year.
But he remained as he was, frozen, silent, because she was regarding him intently, her confidence back with a vengeance, and he couldn’t control the shiver that raced across his skin. Her hands came up to cup his jaws, her thumbs caressing his cheeks.
‘I’ll have you, Adam,’ she murmured, her gaze locked with his, filling him with bubbling warmth. It was joy and relief and contentment and . . . too many other feelings to parse. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so valued, in . . . God. Maybe never.
It had been worth it, he thought. Every damn day he’d said no to the cravings. Because he’d been saying yes to this. Yes to her. He could never tell her no.
Her hands slid up into his hair, a smile curving her mouth, sweet and provocative all at once. As if she knew exactly what she was doing to him. That she’d rendered him speechless. That she understood the power she had over him and would never use it to hurt him. ‘I’ll have you in my life.’
His chest hurt. But it was good hurt. The best kind of hurt.
She tugged his face down, gently brushing her lips over his and . . . God. He’d been hard before but now . . . God. It was all he could do not to buck his hips up into her like a savage. He balanced them on the edge of the tub, not daring to move because once he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop.
‘I’ll have you in my heart,’ she whispered against his mouth, humbling him.
‘Meredith.’ It came out fervently. Like a prayer. Which it was. ‘I—’
She pressed her finger to his lips, which relieved him, because he was about to beg her for things he still had no right to. But then she licked her lower lip, then his, and his control shattered. ‘In my bed,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’
He couldn’t have halted the upward surge of his hips or the groan that broke free from his throat, not if he’d tried. His fingers flexing, he dug into the softness of her curvy butt to keep her from sliding off his lap. He shoved his other hand into her hair, crushing his mouth to hers. Mine. Mine. She’s mine.
She moaned quietly, startling him by swinging one of her legs across his lap so that she straddled him. He rocked backward, nearly tumbling them both into the empty tub. He caught himself at the last second, propelling himself forward and up, gripping her thighs to keep from dropping her as he came to his feet.
Her arms wound around his neck and she hummed against his mouth. ‘Please,’ she whispered and he knew he should say no, knew he still had things to say, things she needed to hear, but God help him, he had no defense against the sweetness of her voice or the soft kisses she was pressing all over his face. ‘Please.’
Panting hard, he hefted her higher so that her legs wound around his hips, his erection finding a home between her thighs. She ground against him, her head falling back, her lower lip caught between her teeth. ‘Please,’ she whispered again.
‘Please what?’ he asked, his voice tight with strain because he wanted to back her against the door and plunge deep into her heat. ‘What do you want?’
‘You. Please. It’s been so long and I’ve missed you. I need you.’ She ground against him again and any blood remaining in his head fled south. ‘Please.’
Then she was kissing him again, breaking down his inhibitions, making him want. He staggered into the bedroom and ripped his mouth away from hers. ‘I need to be inside you,’ he said roughly, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. Rough and gruff and vulnerable. But he trusted her not to hurt him. ‘If that’s not what you want, tell me now.’
She met his eyes in the semi-darkness. ‘Yes. You. Inside me. That’s what I want.’
Thank you, God.
But she needs to know. She needs to know! He must have some conscience left because it was screaming at him, its words just barely breaking through his haze of want. He shook his head to clear it. ‘I need to tell you things.’
She tugged his hair, kissing him hard. ‘I know. But after. I need you now.’
I need you now too. Telling her his secrets was going to hurt. He’d take this moment of respite. He’d take it and hoard it and draw on it for strength when he turned himself inside out with confessions. His conscience bowing out gracefully, he carried her to the bed, pulled back the blankets, and gently laid her down, arranging her hair on the pillow.
‘I dreamed of this,’ he whispered. ‘Dreamed of you.’
Her smile was like sunlight, filling him up, driving away the shadows. Most of them, anyway. A few stubborn shadows lingered and he’d deal with them. After.
‘I dreamed of you too.’ She splayed one hand over his chest, slowly fanning her fingers back and forth, dropping lower with each pass. ‘Dreamed of this.’ Her gaze dropped to follow the path her hand had taken, focusing on the bulge that his sweats didn’t do a thing to hide. ‘And this.’ Her finger traced his length and he shuddered violently. She took the drawstring in her pretty fingers and gave it a slight tug. ‘Can I?’
‘Please,’ he rasped, his voice gravelly and breathless.
She pulled at the string, releasing the neat bow he’d tied, then hooked a finger in the waistband and pulled at the sweats, freeing his cock. She sucked in an appreciative breath, lifting hungry eyes to his for a split second before returning to stare at his erection which bobbed toward her like she was its true north. Because it wasn’t stupid.
His body wanted Meredith Fallon. His heart wanted her even more. That she wanted him too? It was almost too good to be true.
Her hand wrapped around him, giving a quick slide up and down, making him gasp.
‘Stop thinking,’ she ordered with a squeeze that had his eyes rolling back in his head. ‘Start doing. Please.’
Smothering a laugh at her impatience, he kicked the sweats aside and climbed in beside her. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, then groaned when her hand found him again.
‘We have to be quiet,’ she whispered. ‘You weren’t the last time.’
He smiled now, because the memory had changed from bittersweet to just sweet. And hot. She’d been uninhibited in bed and he’d greedily relived every moment they’d shared. ‘You were louder.’
‘But I can be quiet.’ She lifted a brow. ‘Especially if you finally start kissing me.’
He obliged, taking her mouth in a kiss that was more warm welcome than sizzling passion, but it must have been the right thing to do because she hummed against his lips, opening her mouth and her arms. It started out sweet, a tentative tasting. Relearning.
He freed the buttons of her silky pajama top, one by one, until there were no more buttons. He pulled away from her mouth to slip the top from her shoulders, letting himself stare at her beautiful breasts for a long, long moment. ‘You’re perfect,’ he whispered, then cupped one breast reverently.
She hummed again but it sounded more like a growl as she undulated, pressing her flesh harder into his palm. ‘I won’t break, Adam.’
‘I know. That’s why you’re perfect.’
She gave him another one of those lust-filled stares, then hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him down to her, kissing him with all the passion he remembered and the intense heat was back, burning him from the inside out. He’d gladly go down in flames.
‘Want you,’ he gritted out, pulling at the pajama bottoms that were in his way.
‘Good,’ she gritted back and kicked free of the pants.
He wanted to take a minute, to look his fill, but her hips were arching and his heart was pounding in his head. Pretty. So pretty. So mine. He palmed her between her legs and she bit her lip, releasing a muffled cry, grinding up into him. ‘Goddammit, Adam. Please.’
He slid a finger up into her and had to press his face into the curve of her neck, muffling his own groan. ‘God. You’re so wet. I can’t wait to be inside you.’
‘Then don’t wait.’ It was close to a snarl and he chuckled into her neck.
Then froze. ‘I didn’t bring anything. Fuck.’
Blindly she slapped at the nightstand until she found the drawer pull. ‘In there.’
He lifted up on his elbow to stare over her body into the drawer. Which was full of condoms. What the . . . ? Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Pushing the question aside for later, he grabbed one of the packets and ripped it open.
She took it from his hand, muttering under her breath. ‘What part of need you now are you missing, Adam?’ She sheathed him, then gave his cock a hard squeeze and he almost came right there.
‘Fuck,’ was all he could say and she laughed breathlessly.
‘Yes. Please. For all that’s holy, please.’
So they were smiling at each other when he pushed inside her with one thrust.
God. Oh God. Perfect. She was hot and tight and absolutely perfect.
Planting his elbows into the mattress, he let them take his weight as he hung his head and shuddered. ‘I missed this. Missed you.’ Love you, he wanted to say but held the words in. He knew they were true, but it was too soon to say them.
She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin and he welcomed the burn. She rolled her hips, graceful and mercilessly seductive at the same time. ‘Feels good. So good. More. Move.’
He obeyed, finding her eyes in the dim light as he moved, as they moved together. He found her hands, one then the other, twining their fingers. Which he hadn’t done the first time. He’d been so overwhelmed by her, by everything about her, so wrapped up in his own miserable head, that he’d forgotten. He wasn’t making that mistake again.
He moved slowly, steadily, and she dug her ankles into the backs of his thighs, meeting him thrust for thrust. Until she pressed her head into the pillow, closing her eyes. Arching her throat. Silently chanting his name.
Incinerating his every good intention of making this last forever, making him curse when the orgasm began to build at the base of his spine.
‘Meredith. Look at me. Please.’ It was with difficulty that she opened her eyes, but he immediately saw everything he’d needed to see. She was with him, body and mind and heart. His hips jacked up the tempo as he took her mouth in a ravaging kiss, all tongues and teeth, raw need with none of their earlier tenderness.
Her arms tightened around his neck. ‘Adam.’ It was a quiet little moan.
He let go of her hands to grip her hips, tilting her up so that he could drive deeper and she covered her mouth with her hand, muffling a little scream.
Yes. He remembered her screams. Remembered her screaming his name. ‘Let me see you come,’ he ordered. ‘Now.’
And she did, giving herself up to him as she had that first night. As she would for nights to come if his wishes came true. Eyes slamming closed, she bit the back of her hand, and convulsed around him, her groan muted, but far from silenced.
Hearing her, seeing her, feeling her . . . God. He shuddered again and let go, let the orgasm take him, throwing his head back, only vaguely aware that her hand now covered his mouth.
He dropped his head, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. Shaking. He was shaking. And so was she. Her arms wound around him, her hands rubbing big circles on his back, soothing him. Bringing him back.
She’d brought him back in more ways than one.
Gratitude swelled inside him. Thank you. Thank you.
She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder, then licked the skin. ‘Mmmm.’ She fell back onto the pillow, smiling like a cat in cream. ‘Well?’
He had to laugh. ‘Well, what?’
Her smile faltered. ‘Was it what you remembered?’ she asked and there was a thread of vulnerability in her words. Which was fucking unbelievable to him.
‘Better,’ he said and watched the vulnerability disappear. ‘Better than better.’
‘For me too,’ she whispered and two tears leaked out of her eyes and down her face. ‘I was a little afraid it wouldn’t be. I’m so glad it was.’
He kissed her forehead, her eyes, the tracks of her tears. Her gorgeous, generous mouth. ‘Better than better, Meredith. You’re perfect.’
‘I’m not, but I’m glad you think so.’
‘Perfect for me.’ He closed his eyes, dread stealing over him. ‘I still have things to tell you.’
‘Then let’s clean up and you can tell me whatever you think I need to know.’ Her thumb caressed his lips. ‘But I doubt anything you tell me will change how I feel.’
He didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t. ‘Which is how?’
‘That you’re perfect too. Perfect for me.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 9.25 A.M.
Meredith’s body was confused – half-sated and half-tensed with dread. They’d cleaned up and were back in bed – clothed as they’d been before making love. And making love was exactly what it had been.
He hadn’t said anything more as he’d pulled his sweats back on, so she’d followed suit, sensing the clothing was like armor for him, allowing him to tell his story outside of the intimacy they’d created. Because now was the time for him to bare his soul and she hoped she was strong enough to hear it. She’d meant what she’d said – she didn’t expect anything he was about to tell her to change how she saw him, how she felt about him, around him or under him, for that matter. But she knew her reaction would matter to him.
Please let me say the right things.
He was stiff as a board beside her, and not in a good way. She cuddled up to him, laying her head on his shoulder, relaxing a little when his arm came around her to pull her closer. She slid her hand across his chest, resting it over his heart.
It was pounding to beat all hell. She pressed a kiss to his collarbone. ‘So. We were talking about the fact that you promised to come back to me when your year is up.’
His chest rose and fell with the breath he drew. ‘Yeah. January sixth.’
‘You’ll be my birthday present. A little belated, but that’s okay.’
‘What?’ he asked, but she had the feeling he knew exactly what she meant.
‘My birthday’s on the fourth.’ She hesitated. ‘Why did you go sober two days later?’
He dropped his head back into the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. ‘God, I do not want to tell you any of this. But I owe you this much at least.’
She touched her fingertips to his lips. ‘You don’t owe me anything, Adam.’
He held her hand in place and kissed her fingers. ‘Yeah, I do. So let me tell you now.’ He took a deep breadth. ‘I started drinking when I was about twelve.’
She reared up to stare at him. ‘Twelve? Why?’
‘My dad drinks. Always has. My friends knew we had a well-stocked bar and that my dad’s friends came over sometimes. If we were careful how much we took, he’d just think it was his friends. I stopped when I was in high school – during baseball season anyway. Told myself I didn’t have a problem, because I could stop whenever I wanted.’
She slid her hand down his arm, twining their fingers together. ‘I heard you were really good at baseball. Your friend told me.’
‘Did Hanson show you that picture of us?’
‘Yes. You were very cute.’
He snorted softly. ‘Thank you.’
‘And now you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,’ she added quietly. ‘I just wanted you to know.’
Heat filled his cheeks, charming her. ‘The first time I saw you I thought you should be in a painting,’ he said, charming her even more.
‘The first time you saw me, I was fussing at you.’
‘Because I’d brought Faith to the ICU ward covered in a victim’s blood.’ The victim had been an FBI agent who’d been killed protecting Faith from a serial killer the year before. ‘You were mad because I hadn’t given her time to change. You were right, of course. I was not . . . okay that day.’ He winced. ‘I almost said “not myself,” but I was that person then – an asshole to just about anyone unlucky enough to cross my path.’
‘Yeah, you were,’ she agreed, because she respected him too much to lie to him. ‘Were you drinking that day?’
‘No.’ He huffed a bitter laugh. ‘That’s why I was such an asshole. I hadn’t had anything to drink because I was working with Deacon. I didn’t want him to smell it on me, but goddamn I needed a buzz. I kept telling myself that Deacon would “tell on me” or some such juvenile bullshit, but I think I really just didn’t want him to be disappointed in me. And that just pissed me off even more. As soon as I was done that night, I hit the bar.’
‘You were hurting.’
‘Because of Paula.’ There was pain in his voice as he said the girl’s name. ‘I still don’t know what her last name was.’ And that hurt worse, because Paula hadn’t known it either, not for sure. ‘What kind of person doesn’t tell their child her last name?’
‘One who’d cage an eleven-year-old like an animal,’ Meredith said.
He flinched. ‘I told you that?’ he asked, stunned.
‘Yes. That first time you came to me. You don’t remember?’ she added carefully.
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I was on the edge of totally losing it. I wasn’t even sure I knew how I’d gotten to your house that night.’ When he’d ended up in her bed. ‘I’d overheard you talking to one of your patients, the victim we were guarding, and all I could think was that I needed to hear your voice again. I’m not sure how I knew your address.’
‘Well, if it makes you feel better, you didn’t stalk me or anything. We’d spoken on the phone about that victim earlier that day, so you had my number. You called me that night, sounding so sad. I told you that I’d listen. I gave you my address, so if you’ve been worried about stalking me, then don’t.’
‘I was, actually.’ He rested his cheek on the top of her head. ‘Thank you.’
‘What do you remember about that night?’ she asked even more carefully.
‘Touching you. Watching you come apart. Falling asleep in your arms.’
‘All very good answers,’ she said lightly. ‘What else do you remember?’
‘I remember that I’d been here, at this condo. Scarlett and I were waiting for Deacon and Faith. Deacon and I had a big argument and he was pissed at me. He had a right to be. We hadn’t been getting along and it was my fault. All my fault.’
‘What happened? I mean, why were you not getting along?’
‘I was a shithead. And jealous of him. I helped him get the job with Isenberg, when she was setting up the joint task force. I’d left Homicide to work Personal Crimes and there was an opening. Deacon had been on a joint force back in Baltimore and he needed to come home because Greg was out of control at school and needed him. It was a perfect fit. D was coming off a high-profile case – a serial killer who’d buried his victims in West Virginia. He was golden. I gave his name to Isenberg and she jumped at the chance to bring him in. I was happy for him. Really. Until it all fell apart.’
‘Paula,’ she murmured.
‘Yeah. I’d been working Personal Crimes for three months. That’s as long as I lasted,’ he said bitterly.
‘Hey,’ she chided. ‘Don’t criticize yourself. That’s a hard assignment. Lots of cops transfer out. Even your old partner did. He told me so.’
‘Yeah, Hanson did transfer, partly because of me. He watched me lose it after Paula was killed. Had to put me back together. After that, I think it was harder for him to compartmentalize the way he’d done before. I feel bad about that, because he was good at that job. Lasted a helluva lot longer than I did, that’s for damn sure. But now he’s back in Narcotics and I’m back in Homicide, so it’s like we both stepped back to our comfort zones.’
‘No shame in that.’
‘Maybe.’ He shrugged and she knew he hadn’t believed her. ‘Anyway, Hanson put me back together after I watched Paula get killed, but he didn’t use a strong enough glue. I came back to Homicide . . . not the same. And then Deacon was there, running the show.’
‘You resented him?’ she asked and he hesitated.
‘Not Deacon himself. But his success? The respect he got? Yeah. I resented that.’
‘Respect from whom? Not Isenberg. She gets you. Not Deacon or Scarlett. And not Faith, although you caused trouble for her at the beginning.’
‘I know.’ He’d been sure that Faith was in cahoots with a murderer when in reality she’d been a target, much like Meredith, her life threatened over and over again. ‘I regret that more than you know. I was jealous of Deacon for that too. At the time it felt like he was taking it all – the job, the respect of my boss, and he got the girl.’
She blinked at that. ‘You wanted Faith?’
‘Oh no.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s not my type at all.’
She arched a brow, only half-teasing. ‘She’s a redheaded, gun-carrying, opinionated child psychologist.’
He tilted her chin so that his gaze locked with hers. ‘But she isn’t you.’
Meredith’s lips curved. ‘That was another really good thing to say.’ She snuggled against his shoulder. ‘So what happened the night you came to me? The first time?’
‘Deacon thought I’d put Faith in danger. She was safe, surrounded by cops – including me, but Deacon was livid. He’d just come from a gruesome crime scene and he was so upset. But he was moving on the case too slowly, at least in my mind. At the time I thought that he was so worried about keeping Faith safe that he didn’t care that the killer was holding an eleven-year-old girl hostage.’
‘Roza,’ Meredith murmured. She knew the girl well, had treated her after her rescue. And then she gasped softly. ‘Oh. Oh, Adam. Roza was eleven last year when all that happened to her. Just like Paula.’
‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly. ‘Nobody else made that connection.’
She pressed a kiss over his stuttering heart, her lips warm against his skin. ‘To be fair, I don’t think you’d told anyone about Paula, except maybe your boss at the time.’
‘No, I hadn’t. I couldn’t. Hanson knew, and Nash Currie knew, but only because they was standing next to me when it happened.’
‘Who is Nash Currie?’
‘One of Personal Crimes’ IT guys. He was trying to track her computer’s IP signal. But I couldn’t tell anyone else about it. I tried, but it was like there was this disconnect in my mind. I’d think of her and my words would . . . I don’t know. They’d just disappear.’
PTSD, she thought sadly. He’d suffered all alone. ‘But you can talk about her now?’
‘A little. My shrink has helped. I still . . . react when I think about her, but it’s not that raw, debilitating panic anymore. It’s just garden-variety panic.’
‘I get that too. Everyone has their public face. Most people never look past mine. Even my friends.’
‘Because you wear it so well. I didn’t. I was a pathetic mess. I accused Deacon of ignoring what was happening to Roza, that she’d die because he was moving too slowly. He said he knew what was happening to her. He’d been to the morgue, seen the victims.’
‘But you saw Paula actually die and that’s different than attending to the aftermath.’
He frowned. ‘I told you that too?’
‘Yes. You were sketchy on the details. You kept saying, “So much blood.”’
‘Yeah,’ he grunted. ‘There was that.’
‘Who was Paula? I mean, who was she to you?’
He swallowed hard. ‘A little girl who asked me for help. But I couldn’t save her.’
She brought his hand to her lips. ‘You don’t have to tell me any more.’
‘I do. Because even though I started drinking when I was a kid, I could always stop. After Paula, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. I was awful to my family and my friends. I pushed Hanson away. His dad too, even though he’d always been there for me. Always the good dad that mine never was.’
She felt a sliver of relief. ‘I’m glad you had someone who was good to you.’
‘Dale Hanson, Wyatt’s dad, was that guy. Coached me in Little League, was always encouraging me. Went to father-son events with me when my own dad was too busy or too drunk. Dale kept trying, even after I pushed him away. But I pushed everyone away – Isenberg, Deacon, and Dani . . . I even pushed my mother away because she wouldn’t see me without bringing my father and he kept calling me a sniveling coward.’ She stiffened in his arms, so he tipped her chin up and kissed her mouth softly. ‘And I shouldn’t have even brought him up because he’s nowhere close to the most important person I pushed away.’
‘I want to kick his ass,’ she whispered fiercely, hating Jim Kimble.
‘That actually helps. The most important person was you, by the way.’
She smiled at him. ‘I was hoping so.’
‘But back to my point. I was an asshole. It’s a wonder anyone still talks to me.’
‘Detective Hanson said I should make sure you knew that you had people who cared about you, even if you didn’t want to accept it.’
‘I do now. But it’s hard to see the support around you when you’re mired in shit.’
‘I know,’ she soothed. She laid her head on his shoulder, her fingertips softly petting the hair on his chest. ‘How did Paula die, Adam?’
She felt his body bracing itself. ‘Her throat was slit. On Skype.’
Inhaling sharply, she held the breath for a long, long moment. ‘Oh,’ she finally breathed mournfully. ‘And you saw that?’
‘Yeah. She’d been kept in a cage. Not a small one. More a cell.’
‘By whom?’
‘She didn’t know his name. He only locked her up at night. Or when she was “bad.” Her word. Other times she was left to roam the house freely, but the doors were locked and the windows made of hurricane glass. She’d tried to break out, but was never able to. One day, she emailed me, out of the blue. She’d seen a news report on TV about the youth baseball team I was coaching. There were deaf kids and hearing kids on the team. The report showed me signing to them. Gave my email at the bottom of the screen in case other deaf kids wanted to join. She saw me signing and knew I’d understand her.’
‘Oh.’ Comprehension filled the single syllable. ‘She was deaf?’
‘Yes. She’d watched her captor send emails, but when she’d tried in the past, the computer was always locked. One day it was left unlocked and she contacted me.’
‘From whose account?’
‘Her captor’s. We checked it out thoroughly, but we never turned up an owner.’
‘What did she say in the email?’
‘That she was scared, begged me to help. But she didn’t know where she was, just that she was out in the country. That when she looked out the window, she didn’t see anyone or anything.’
‘You couldn’t track the email to an IP address?’
‘No, and we tried. So hard. It had been bounced off of so many proxies by the time it got to us that Nash couldn’t track it.’
‘What was Paula’s situation?’
‘Kept locked away. Isolated from the world, she had access to a TV and a computer. Of course it was being monitored. We knew that. That the computer was left unlocked right after she saw me on the TV news was too coincidental.’
‘Of course.’ She sighed. ‘So Paula signed?’
‘Enough that I could get the general gist. She remembered having a family once. A nice one, she said. But I never knew if that was her imagination or those memories were real. Anyway, I told her how to use Skype because her signing was better than her typing and because I was afraid her email was being monitored. That made everything more urgent, like we had to find her before he came back and punished her for reaching out.’
‘Even though he might have set her up to be caught.’
‘Exactly. She talked to us three times over Skype, for just a little while each time. Nash Currie tried to trace the signal, but he couldn’t. I kept looking for clues as to where she was. I had ICAC examine the recordings I made of each call. They had all the experience on what to look for, but they were at a loss too. There was nothing to give us her location.’
Meredith kissed his jaw. ‘And the fourth call?’
‘It started out like the others. Then I heard a door slam on her end. She didn’t hear it and I told her to hide, to disconnect, but it was too late.’ He buried his face in her hair. ‘He wore a mask. Only showed his eyes and his mouth. He was big. And she was small. Frail. Poor nutrition. She didn’t have a chance.’
‘She was just a little girl,’ she murmured.
He swallowed audibly. ‘I wanted to help her. So much. She was so alone. And then . . .’ His voice broke. ‘He started slicing at her skin and she was screaming, but it was . . . rusty screams, because she didn’t use her voice.’ His breathing became shallow and rapid. ‘He kept smiling at the screen. Like he knew I was there. Then he’d cut her again.’
‘And you were helpless.’
‘I just stood there. And watched. And then I started hoping he’d just . . . finish so she wouldn’t suffer anymore. Which made me feel like a monster,’ he confessed, ‘wishing for the death of a child so that I didn’t have to hear her suffering.’
Meredith’s sigh was shaky. ‘Adam . . . You can’t feel guilty about hoping that. She was suffering. Whoever killed her wanted to hurt you too. Maybe not you specifically, but whichever cop had the bad fortune to be her lifeline. He could have dragged her away. He could have cut the connection. He didn’t. He was playing with you, like a cat with a mouse.’
He stilled against her. ‘But why? What would he have gained?’
‘That’s a damn good question, don’t you think? Whoever killed her wanted her to pay for trying to get help. But he also wanted to send CPD a message.’
‘Don’t fuck with me,’ he murmured. ‘Well, he didn’t have to worry about CPD. We never did find out where she’d been held. Where she died.’
‘You never found her body?’
A laugh broke free, bitter and cold. ‘Yeah. I found her.’
Again she shifted to see his face. ‘Where?’ She wanted to look away, to avoid the misery in his eyes, but couldn’t make herself do so.
‘Trunk of my car,’ he whispered.
New horror filled her and she framed his face with trembling hands. ‘He left her for you to find?’
He nodded. ‘We’d gotten a tip that someone might be being held against their will in this house out in the country. On a farm.’
‘You thought you’d found her.’
‘Yes, but it wasn’t the same place. We checked the place from top to bottom, but it was a false tip. When we got back to the car, the trunk had been forced open.’
‘She was there?’
He nodded. Cleared his throat, but could say nothing.
‘And?’ Meredith prodded gently. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’
He nodded again. Closed his eyes, then opened them, latching onto her like she was his lifeline. ‘He’d . . . burned her,’ he whispered.
‘How do you mean?’ she asked so very quietly.
He looked away. ‘Gasoline. She was . . . unidentifiable.’
She couldn’t control her flinch. ‘Then how did you know it was her?’
‘She had a bunny, a stuffed toy. It was the only toy she had. That she’d ever remembered having. It had been placed on her. Or what was left of her.’
‘Oh my God. You still see her, don’t you? How could you not?’
‘Yeah,’ he said grimly. ‘I had to get rid of the car. That’s when I got the Jeep. But I’d still see her, every time I went to sleep. I’d wake up screaming. Unless I got drunk first. That was the only way I could get any sleep.’
She lifted her hand to his cheek, cupped it. ‘I understand. I really do.’
Nodding, he sighed heavily. ‘I really hope you do. But I have to tell you the rest.’
So this would be it, she thought. They were finally getting to the part for which he’d been making amends all over town. She settled herself against his side once more and prayed again that she’d say the right things.