Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 12.30 P.M.
‘Thank you,’ he said for the hundredth time as the hundredth person shook his hand. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. Merry Christmas to you too.’
People were so much chattier at Christmas. Took for-fucking-ever to get out of the church and into the parking lot. But he had been especially good that morning, he had to admit. The choir behind him hadn’t been that bad either. A few of the members had been a little off-key, but on the whole, they worked well together.
‘Daddy, look!’ Ariel cried, tugging at the hem of his suit coat.
‘Whatcha got, Princess?’ He slipped his left hand into his pocket, then hefted her up to his hip using his uninjured right arm. It would keep the other parishioners from trying to shake his hand and maybe help him get out of there faster.
‘I made this for you in children’s church. It’s a design.’
‘I can see that.’ Giant loops and whorls and big gobs of glue dotted the red construction paper, cut into the shape of a bell.
‘Smell it!’ she commanded.
He complied dutifully. ‘It smells like Christmas.’ Because she’d sprinkled cinnamon and nutmeg on the glue. It did smell good, if you could sniff past the glue. But it was a terrible mess. He already had cinnamon all over his suit. ‘Thank you. I love it.’
Ariel beamed and smacked a kiss on his cheek. ‘Good.’
‘Let’s go to the car and get it warm for Mommy and Mikey.’ He carried her out, put her in her booster seat because she was tiny for her age, and slid behind the wheel. Cranking up the heat, he checked his cell phone for any recent developments.
Like that a bone-skinny hooker had been found dead in a gutter, having frozen to death overnight. I could only be so lucky. But there was no mention of a dead Linnea, or a live one for that matter. He swiped through a few more news stories and . . .
‘Oh my God,’ he muttered. His blood ran cold and it had nothing to do with the outside temps.
‘What’s wrong, Daddy?’ Ariel asked with concern.
‘Oh, nothing, honey,’ he managed. ‘Just one of the Bengals players got hurt.’
‘Goddammit,’ she said with a hard nod, but he was too absorbed in what he was looking at to scold her for swearing.
Butch’s face looked up at him from the phone screen. Butch, who’d stayed under the radar for years. It was a slightly grainy photo, taken from a camera overhead. A security camera. It was a bulletin out of Chicago PD, a BOLO for the man wanted for the murder of two Chicago women late the night before.
Goddammit, Butch, he thought viciously. Because now Butch had an ex date too. He was past due, in fact. He’d signed his own death warrant the moment he’d allowed his face to be photographed, even with the facial prosthetics. It’s not like he’d ever be seen without them, so that was his face. If he went without the prosthetics he was instantly memorable.
He brought up a text screen and typed one out to Mike, double-time, before Rita got in the car and asked what he was doing. Need you to do a job for me.
The reply was instant. OK. What?
Will let u know when I know. Be ready.
Mike sent him a thumbs-up emoticon. And just in time. The back passenger door opened, letting in a gust of frigid air. Rita buckled Mikey into his car seat and hurried to buckle herself in.
‘Mercy, it’s cold,’ she shivered. ‘Oh, the heater’s going. Thank you, dear.’
‘No problem, sweetheart.’ He pasted on a smile. ‘Let’s go home.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 1.45 P.M.
Lucky kids, Linnea thought, searching the Gruber Academy’s Facebook page on the public library’s computer. Each grade’s teacher had posted photos of their students doing fun, creative activities.
None of these kids looked hungry or afraid. She’d bet none of them had addicts for mothers and their fathers probably treated them like princesses.
Except that one of the kids – Ariel – had a father who was a killer. Among his other sins. Ariel, featured in several of the first grade pictures, was almost certainly his daughter. They had the same blue eyes. Linnea remembered his eyes with a shudder.
She wondered about the woman who’d married him, who’d given him children.
Could Ariel’s mother know? If so, how did she live with herself? Unfortunately, none of the kids had last names on the school’s Facebook page, so Linnea was no closer to knowing the name of the girl’s father.
But tomorrow would be a special day at the Gruber Academy, their holiday pageant scheduled for early afternoon. Ariel’s class would be reindeer. There were photos of earnest-faced little kids making their own costumes with antlers and red noses.
One of Ariel’s parents was sure to come to see her on stage, playing reindeer games with the other kids. And if Ariel’s daddy brought her to school? Could she kill a man in front of his daughter? He killed Andy in front of me.
But Linnea wasn’t like him. She couldn’t make the child suffer for what the father had done. She would kill him, though. She’d promised Andy revenge. She owed it to him. She owed it to herself. Hell, I owe it to the whole damn world.
She memorized the address of the school and found it on a map, then closed the browser on the library’s computer. Then she went back out into the cold.
She needed a weapon – a gun this time, because she didn’t want to get close enough to him again to use a knife. She was pretty sure she knew where to buy one. Working the streets had taught her a thing or two, after all.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 2.45 P.M.
‘Meredith. Meredith, wake up, honey.’
Coming slowly awake, Meredith breathed in the most delicious scent she could imagine. Adam. He sat next to her, smelling better than any man had a right to smell. And calling her honey. She liked that. She liked everything he’d done to her. With her. For her.
She hadn’t liked everything he’d told her, necessarily, because telling her had hurt him, but he’d trusted her with his secrets. That was everything.
‘Why?’ she asked without opening her eyes.
‘Because I have to go into work.’
Blinking hard, she squinted against the bedside light he’d turned on. The rest of the room was still dark, courtesy of the heavy drapes, but she could see that he was dressed in the suit he’d taken from her house . . . How many hours ago?
‘What time is it?’ she murmured.
‘Almost three.’
She blinked again. ‘Morning or afternoon?’
He laughed. ‘Afternoon. I need to go in.’ He ran a hand up her arm to caress her cheek. ‘I should have let you sleep, but I didn’t want you to wake up and find me gone.’
Again. The word he’d left unspoken hovered between them until she dashed it away with a shy smile. ‘I appreciate it.’ Her smile faded as it all rushed back at her – the shooting, poor Andy, poor Tiffany, both dead. Kyle and Shane, grieving. And Adam. My God. Adam. The things he’d seen. That he’d pulled himself back from the edge was testament to his strength. It was a wonder he hadn’t fallen completely, irreparably apart. ‘Has anything new happened?’
‘Not sure. I’m going in for a briefing and to take Kyle to meet his parents. They’re supposed to arrive from Michigan in the next hour or so. Shane wanted to see them too.’
Swallowing a yawn, Meredith sat up. Which was a mistake because her head pounded, like it always did when her sleep cycle got altered. She pushed the pain aside, making herself smile. ‘I need to set up time to talk to Penny Voss, get the details of what she saw. Should I have them come to the precinct or here?’
‘Not here. Tell Mrs Voss we’ll send someone to bring her and Penny downtown. I can have Agent Troy bring you to meet them later.’
‘Kate’s gone?’
‘Yeah, gone home to sleep, then she was going to Mariposa House with Cap. She thought letting the girls pet him might calm the tension.’
Meredith sighed. ‘Wendi said the girls were afraid. I wish I could have been there to help get everyone settled, but I’d just make them targets too.’
‘Wendi’s got it all under control.’ He frowned, lifting her chin to study her face. ‘You’ve got a headache. I can see it in your eyes.’
That he could see what she was normally able to hide should not make her as happy as it did. ‘Not too bad. Nothing some ibuprofen and a double espresso can’t cure.’
He winced. ‘Double espresso? I thought you drank tea.’
‘At night. I need my caffeine in the morning, especially when morning happens in the afternoon.’ She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, gratified when his arms came around her without hesitation, moaning quietly when he threaded his fingers through her hair and began massaging her scalp.
‘Better?’
‘Umm. Not sure. Need you to do it a little longer.’
He chuckled and kept it up. ‘Just another minute or two. I need to go.’
With another sigh, she sat back. She could get used to massages like that. Except that it made her want his hands all over her bare skin. ‘If you can wait twenty minutes, I can go with you. That way you won’t have to make Agent Troy stay here babysitting me when he could be helping you guard Shane and Kyle while you transport them.’ She pulled the blanket aside, but paused before sliding around him to get out of bed. ‘If Papa wants to stay, can the officer stay with him? The one who was guarding Shane and Kyle?’
Adam’s gaze dropped to the collar of her pajama top and Meredith was suddenly conscious that several of the buttons had slipped free while she’d slept and her breasts were very nearly completely bared. He drew a deep breath, twin flags of color staining his cheeks. Her own cheeks heating, she began to refasten the buttons, wondering how they’d come loose on their own. They never had before.
Maybe they had help. And I slept through the whole thing? Dammit.
‘No need to do that on my account,’ he murmured thickly.
Her hands paused, her heart beating against her chest like a hummingbird’s wings. She glanced up, almost whimpering at the sight of his slightly parted lips and the hungry set of his jaw. ‘You’ – she swallowed hard – ‘are in a hurry, aren’t you?’
He jerked his gaze away. ‘Yes. Dammit.’
Somehow that made her feel better, as did his scowl when she resumed the task.
‘Adam?’ she said softly when she’d finished. ‘Can the officer stay here with Papa?’
He met her eyes, the raw desire in his sending shivers all over her skin. He banked the desire, but slowly, by degrees, taking several lungfuls of air along the way. ‘No,’ he finally said. ‘First, the officer went off shift and since I was awake, we didn’t replace him. Second, your grandfather’s going downtown with Kyle and Shane.’
‘Why?’
‘Apparently, he and Shane bonded over video games while the rest of us were asleep. Between Shane and Diesel, you’re picking up adopted cousins all over the place. Except for me,’ he added glumly. ‘I got the cold shoulder when I went out there to get coffee.’
‘That’s because of me. He’s . . .’ She had to look away. ‘Protective.’
‘Why?’ Adam asked, then hooked a finger under her chin, turning her face back to his when she didn’t answer. ‘Why?’ he asked again, his voice going deep and soft.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out because she never had any when it came time to telling that part of her story. She was saved from the effort by the ringing of his cell phone – an eerie flute tune that was vaguely familiar.
‘It’s Deacon,’ he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. ‘I’m going to take this outside on the balcony because I get a shitty signal in here.’ He hesitated, then took her mouth in a hard, fast kiss that left her stunned and breathless. He rose from the bed and walked toward the door, but backward so that he continued to face her. ‘It’ll be better if you go with us, so get dressed. I’ll wait.’
She heard him say hello to Deacon as he closed the bedroom door. Carefully she touched her lips and let out the breath she’d been holding. ‘Wow.’ Then she laughed, remembering where she’d heard Deacon’s ringtone. It was the theme song for an old Clint Eastwood spaghetti western. Perfect for Deacon, who marched to his own drummer. Kind of a rogue superhero. At least Faith thought so, which was exactly as it should be.
Meredith wondered if she had a ringtone in Adam’s phone, and if so, what was it?
Twenty minutes. Get dressed. She went into the bedroom she’d been assigned to get some clean clothes, only to find a cup on the nightstand. Hot cocoa, she realized.
She touched the cup. Cold cocoa, actually. The cup had been sitting for at least an hour, a candy cane placed on the saucer. Her grandfather’s offering. He’d been making her hot cocoa with a candy cane every year at Christmastime since she’d been small.
That he’d left it here in her empty bedroom was a message, for sure. Busted. No wonder he’d given Adam the cold shoulder. But it was totally worth it. And her grandfather would come around. He just needed to see what she saw. Adam’s heart.
Shaking herself into action, she collected a clean outfit from the bag Kate had packed for her and wished she had her phone, but she’d surrendered it to Adam and Trip last night, just as Shane and Kyle had been required to do. There was a landline on the nightstand, but nobody had told her it was okay to use.
She needed her art supplies if she was to work with Penny. She opened the door to the rest of the condo and stuck her head out. ‘Agent Troy?’
‘Dr Fallon,’ Troy said warmly, ambling up to the crack in the door. ‘How are you?’
‘Okay. And you?’ He looked wonderful, actually. Healthier. He’d looked spent and sad and haggard when she’d met him last summer, but today he had a spring to his step and a light in his eyes. She frowned slightly. ‘You look different. Did you change something?’
Troy ran a self-conscious hand over his smooth head. Which was now quite bald when his hair had been thinning before. ‘Took a page out of Trip’s book.’
Meredith smiled at him. ‘I like it. You look like Jean-Luc Picard.’
Troy rolled his eyes. ‘If I had a nickel for everyone who’s said that.’
‘You should be happy. Patrick Stewart’s like . . . still really hot. I think he has a painting aging in his attic.’
Troy chuckled. ‘I think you’re right. So thank you. What can I do for you?’
‘I need to make a few calls. Can I use the phone over there?’
‘Can I ask who you’re calling?’
‘First, Voss’s wife. Soon-to-be ex-wife, I hope. Adam wants me to talk to her daughter, see if she can tell us any more about what her father was doing. If she can bring her to the station, I’ll need my art supplies, so I was going to call my assistant. Actually, I need to call her first, because I don’t know Mrs Voss’s phone number. It’s in my files.’
‘Tell you what,’ Troy said. ‘I’ll make the calls for you on my cell while you get ready to go. Adam says we’re waiting for you. And my cell is secure. If I run into any trouble with either Voss or your assistant, I’ll knock on the door and let you know.’
‘Okay. My assistant’s name is Corinne Longstreet. And her cell’s . . .’ Meredith blew out a breath. ‘I have no idea. It’s in my phone. But Faith will know. Can you call her first?’
‘Of course. Do you want something you can eat on the way downtown?’
Meredith sniffed the air. ‘What did everybody else get? Because it smells good.’
‘Grilled cheese and tomato soup.’ He smiled sadly. ‘Comfort food for the boys.’
Meredith smiled back at him, just as sadly. ‘You’re a nice man, Agent Troy. Yes, a grilled cheese would be amazing. I’ll take a rain check on the soup. I’ll be ready in ten.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 3.00 P.M.
‘Hey, D,’ Adam said, stepping onto the balcony and closing the sliding glass door. He shivered, his suit coat no protection from the cold. At least the wind was being blocked by the bulletproof glass that ran the perimeter of the balcony. ‘What do you have?’
‘Several things. When are you coming in?’
‘As soon as Meredith is ready. She’s setting up a session with Penny Voss and her mother in one of the interview rooms. She said she’d be ready in a few minutes. We’re bringing Kyle Davis in to meet up with his parents. They’re taking him home.’
‘Does Chicago PD know Kyle’s coming back?’
‘Yes. I spoke with them a half hour ago.’ Right before he’d gone in to wake Meredith. ‘Why? What’s going on?’
‘We got an anonymous 911 at nine forty-seven this morning from a young woman telling us where to find the SUV used in the shooting.’
Adam stood up straighter. ‘Where? Was it there?’
‘Not anymore. We got surveillance footage from the restaurant where the SUV had been parked, near 275 and Beechmont. We saw a young woman get out, search for something, then lock up the SUV and set off on foot. Not ten minutes later, a big guy came to pick it up. He had a different woman with him. That woman walked away and he got in the SUV, but cleaned the seat first, which is consistent with the 911 caller who told us to use gloves, that the person who ditched the SUV was HIV positive and had bled on the seat.’
‘Linnie,’ Adam breathed. ‘At least we know she’s alive. As of nine forty-seven, at least.’ But bleeding. And positive. He wanted to sigh, then realized Deacon had gone silent. ‘What?’
‘You didn’t demand to know why we didn’t call you already.’
‘You let me sleep. I appreciate it. If you’d needed me, you would have called.’
Another pause. ‘Okay,’ Deacon said warily. ‘Good to know.’
Adam sighed. That Deacon was shocked at being thanked spoke volumes about how badly Adam had fucked things up between them. He never should have put it off so long. But he’d wanted that year. Wanted to prove to himself that he’d changed before he’d told anyone else. Because he’d been so damn ashamed. And, if he was honest, afraid of what his cousin would say when the truth was finally told. ‘I need to talk to you at some point. Not on the phone. But I’m sorry, Deacon. I’m sorry I was a dick. I’m sorry I hurt you. Please know that.’
‘It’s okay.’ There was warmth in his cousin’s tone. And caring. ‘Are you back now, Adam?’ His voice cracked. ‘Because we’ve missed the hell out of you.’
Adam cleared his throat harshly. ‘Yeah. I think I finally am.’ He changed the subject before they both started bawling. ‘Were you able to trace the 911 call?’
‘Yeah,’ Deacon said, back to business. He’d asked no questions and, for the most part, had taken everything Adam had dished out in those early months. Without knowing about the drinking or the quitting drinking.
I’m a lucky asshole. I don’t deserve him.
‘We traced it to a pay phone downtown,’ Deacon went on. ‘We dusted, took all the coins, still processing the prints. The exterior of the machine was wiped down. So far nothing off the coins is popping up in AFIS.’
‘Were you able to get a photo of the girl’s face? Either the one who dropped off the SUV or picked it up?’
‘The drop-off girl, yes. Partial, anyway.’
‘Is it Linnie?’
Deacon made an uncertain noise. ‘Maybe? If so, she’s a lot thinner now than she was in the photo Shane gave you. I’ve sent the footage to the lab to see if they can clean it up. We’ve got uniforms canvassing up and down Beechmont, looking for where she went after she dropped off the van.’
‘What about the guy who picked it up and the woman with him? Was she Linnie?’
‘No. The woman with him was at least four inches taller. We didn’t get their faces because they had scarves wrapped around them. Only their eyes showed. But, the man? He had the same body type as the guy who went looking for Shane Baird last night at the Kiesler dorm. Your pals in Chicago sent the university’s video along with their crime scene photos. He has the right height, weight, and stride.’
Excitement prickled up Adam’s spine. Things were connecting. ‘Let’s have Shane listen to the 911 call. He might be able to recognize Linnie’s voice.’
‘Good idea. I’ll have it set up for him when you get him down here.’
‘Thanks. What do we know about Voss?’
‘Nothing yet. You knew that Isenberg borrowed Hanson from Narcotics, right?’
‘Yeah,’ Adam said, ‘he got there when we were talking to the Chicago detectives. Isenberg was going to have him investigate the college hookers and Voss’s drug source.’
‘Well, Hanson’s been knocking on Voss’s door, but Voss isn’t answering. We’re going to go for a warrant, but we need more info. Hate to drag Mer down here, but we need her.’ Deacon made a disgusted sound. ‘I hate that we’re putting such a burden on a six-year-old’s shoulders. If Mer can’t get anything more from Penny Voss, we got nothing.’
Adam sighed. ‘My confidential informant found something.’
‘Oh?’ The single syllable was rife with meaning. ‘Like?’
‘Voss may be being blackmailed, for fifty grand a month. That’s all I know.’
‘Then tell Diesel to dig deeper,’ Deacon said dryly.
Adam had to laugh. ‘I will. Listen, I need to make another call or two and then we’ll be leaving here. I’ll text you when Troy and I get to the parking garage at the station. We’ll bypass the lobby and bring everyone directly up in the elevator.’
‘I’ll meet you in the station’s parking garage, then.’
‘Thanks, man.’ It was always good to have another set of eyes and another gun. He ended the call, then called Trip and brought him up to speed, including the photo Chicago PD had sent of the big bruiser who’d likely killed Tiffany and her mother.
‘I’m at Mariposa House,’ Trip told him, ‘talking to the girls to see who knew Mallory and Meredith were going to be at Buon Cibo yesterday.’
‘Thanks. Pass around Andy’s photo too. And Linnea’s. Hell, show them Bruiser’s photo too. Chicago said they’d put out a BOLO so you can pull up the bulletin to show them. Maybe one of the girls will recognize them.’
He ended the call to Trip and checked his messages. And sighed. He’d gotten fifteen texts from his sponsor. Who he was supposed to have called last night. He hit redial and braced himself for the explosion. John’s texts had grown steadily more worried. He’d even gone by Adam’s apartment to check on him. Poor guy hadn’t slept all night.
‘So you actually live?’ John barked without a greeting.
‘Yeah,’ Adam said. ‘I’m sorry, John. I got busy.’
‘You could have sent a goddamn text. I was pulling my fucking hair out, worrying about you, asshole.’
‘You don’t have any hair to spare,’ Adam told him.
John sputtered. ‘You do not get to make jokes. Not after I’ve been worrying all night long. What the fuck happened?’
‘I got pulled into a case. It got complicated.’
John’s sigh sounded exasperated. ‘I know. I’ve been, uh, reading the updates.’
‘And listening to BOLOs on your scanner?’
‘Maybe,’ John groused, because of course he did. He’d been a career cop. A man like him did not simply retire and fish all day. ‘I heard enough to know there were multiple triggers for you in this case.’ He sighed again, exhausted this time. ‘You still good?’
‘Yep. Still on the wagon and still on track for my shiny gold coin.’
‘Yeah, well, I read that Meredith Fallon is involved, that she was the target at the restaurant downtown yesterday. She’s the biggest trigger you got, boy.’
And wasn’t that the truth? ‘I know. I, um, told her. Everything.’
A shocked silence. ‘You did? When?’
Adam frowned because John didn’t sound as supportive as he’d expected. ‘This morning, when we got a break.’
‘You’re with her? Right now?’
‘Yes.’ Adam snapped it out, then turned around to lean on the bulletproof glass. His eyes searched the interior of the condo, looking for Meredith, but she hadn’t left the bedroom yet. ‘Look, John, I know what you’re going to say. Just . . . don’t. I can’t right now.’
‘That’s why it’s bad for you to be around her right now. Dammit, Adam. You’re at a vulnerable point. Too many triggers without adding wuv-twoo-wuv into the mix.’
That John was a Princess Bride fan had always boggled Adam’s mind. And then the movie got shoved to the side, his mind now boggling at the gorgeous redhead leaving the bedroom, looking professional and . . . mine. ‘Look, I’m heading out to the office, so I gotta go. I’ll try to text you with updates. And I promise I’ll hit a meeting.’
‘When?’
‘As soon as I get a break in this case or tomorrow morning, whichever comes first.’
‘Fine. Let me know when and where. I’ll meet you there.’
For the second time in ten minutes, Adam was all choked up. ‘Thanks, John.’
‘You’re welcome, kid. Just . . . focus on staying sober, okay? Even if that means handing this case off to someone else. This is difficult shit.’
‘Don’t I know it.’ Adam ended the call, drew a breath. And froze. Because on the air was a scent that hadn’t been there thirty seconds before. Pipe smoke. Slowly he turned and walked the length of the L-shaped balcony. Clarke Fallon sat on a lounge chair, bundled up in a coat, hat, scarf, and gloves, calmly puffing on his pipe. Sonofabitch. The man had been eavesdropping and wanted Adam to know it.
Adam rewound his conversations and groaned inwardly. Lots of personal shit had come out of his mouth. Wagons, gold coins, and meetings. Shit. ‘You should have told me you were out here. It wasn’t your business.’
Fallon returned his gaze levelly. ‘I considered revealing myself. Then I thought about the fact that Merry didn’t sleep in her bed last night. So I made you my business.’
Adam’s cheeks went hot, despite the blustery cold. ‘She’s a grown woman. Sir.’
Fallon shrugged. ‘I’m her grandfather. I’m allowed. So . . . Gold coins and meetings? Staying on wagons? You told her about AA?’
Adam’s teeth clenched. ‘Not your business. Sir.’
‘But you did.’
Adam closed his eyes. Goddammit. ‘Yes. I did.’
‘Good. You’re the one who colored all the pictures, I take it.’
Adam’s eyes flew open. ‘Yes. How do you know that?’
‘Because I saw them. She kept them all.’
‘You snooped?’
‘Not entirely. She had half a dozen stuck to her fridge door. She put them in a drawer with the others when people started coming into her house.’
‘Diesel saw them.’ That’s how he knew to rib me about it yesterday.
‘He did. We liked them, for what it’s worth. Especially the painting.’ He puffed on the pipe for a minute that felt like a day. ‘Look, Adam. She thinks you’re worth waiting for. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, especially now that I know what your story is. Or part of it anyway.’
‘Big of you,’ Adam said sarcastically.
Fallon laughed. ‘I know.’ He stood up, emptying his pipe into a little wooden box which went into his coat pocket. ‘That was your sponsor? That last call?’
Adam gritted his teeth. ‘It was. He’s a good guy. Retired cop.’
‘Good. I imagine he can relate to everything you’ve seen.’ He crossed his arms over his burly chest. ‘I’ll be honest, a recovering alcoholic isn’t who I would have chosen for my Merry. But it’s not my choice. Just . . . don’t hurt her. Any more than you already have.’
Adam winced, because that dig was completely deserved. ‘I’ll do my best. I know she’s not impervious to hurt, not like everyone thinks she is. She’s got everyone fooled.’
‘But not you.’
‘Well, I knew there was something going on, but I didn’t expect what she’s revealed to me. And that’s all I’m going to say.’
Fallon nodded. ‘Fair enough. Let’s talk later. I want to know you.’ Adam must have looked horrified because Fallon laughed again. ‘You don’t have to look so worried, son. I’m not a bad man. I just love Meredith. If you do too, or come to over time, and you treat her right? We’ll be the best of friends.’
‘Okay.’ Adam turned to look into the condo and saw Meredith accepting a wrapped sandwich from Agent Troy. Which made Adam smile for no good reason.
‘This might actually be okay,’ Fallon murmured. ‘If what I see on your face is real.’
Adam just nodded. ‘Time to go.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 3.40 P.M.
The back of the van was arranged like a military transport plane, with jump seats along each wall that faced one another. Meredith, her grandfather, Shane, and Kyle resembled paratroopers ready to jump because Agent Troy had brought them bulky bulletproof vests.
The windowless CPD van was probably five minutes from downtown, if Troy was taking a direct route. It was impossible to know as Adam had pulled the curtain separating the front seats from the back, cutting off their view – and cutting them off from view, which was more important.
But Meredith wished she had just one window, so she could stare out of it. Or glare out of it, which was more accurate. In the absence of a window, she focused her irritation fully on her grandfather. She didn’t need to be a shrink to see that he and Adam had had words on the balcony. Adam had been tense, her grandfather uncharacteristically broody.
‘You can look at me like that all you want to, young lady,’ her grandfather said, breaking into the heavy silence. ‘It won’t change one little thing.’
Her grandfather sat opposite her, Kyle next to him. Shane sat next to Meredith, silent except for an occasional sigh, but at the sound of Clarke’s voice, Shane’s chin came up, his gaze bouncing between Meredith and her grandfather. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
Clarke started to answer, but Meredith shot him a warning look. ‘Sometimes,’ she said to Shane, but kept her gaze on Clarke, ‘folks can love you a little too much. Sometimes they forget you are all grown up and not five years old any longer.’
Shane shrugged. ‘He is eighty-four. Which he claims allows him to give unsolicited advice. On video games and life.’
Clarke snorted. ‘He’s a smart kid, Merry.’
‘Yeah, he is. He said claims.’ She glanced at Shane. ‘What advice did he give you?’
Shane’s expression softened. ‘That I shouldn’t feel guilty that I laughed at his jokes when I’m supposed to be grieving. That laughter is basically my heart taking a break.’
Meredith’s heart clenched, because Clarke had said the same thing to her when her parents had died and her life as she knew it was imploding. ‘He’s right about that,’ she murmured. She sighed and met Clarke’s gaze. ‘Just . . . don’t push, okay, Papa?’
‘Okay.’ Clarke rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll try, anyway.’
‘Thanks,’ Meredith said dryly, then looked at Shane. ‘How are you doing, Shane?’
He shrugged. ‘Detective Kimble asked me if I’d listen to a recording of a 911 call.’
‘I know. I overheard him talking to you.’ It had been as they were putting on their coats and bulletproof vests. Meredith figured that Adam had intended for her to overhear, since he’d talked to Shane while she stood only a few feet away. ‘Are you okay with that?’
Shane bit at his lip. ‘He thinks it might be Linnie. But what if it is?’
‘Well, I guess first and foremost, if it is her, then we know she’s alive.’
‘Or was this morning,’ Shane said gruffly.
‘What are you afraid of, hon?’
‘That it is Linnie.’ He dropped his head, his shoulders sagging. ‘And that she had something to do with Andy getting killed. Because if she didn’t, why didn’t she go to the police? Why call anonymously? I mean, I thought I knew her. I thought she’d do anything for Andy, because he would’ve done anything for her.’ He looked at her, his eyes narrowed and red from tears, fear, and a mostly sleepless night. ‘He died to keep her safe.’
‘All good questions,’ Meredith admitted. ‘Ones I wish I could answer. I can ask Detective Kimble if I can sit in there with you, if you want. For support.’
His lips trembled, then firmed when he pursed them. ‘That would be good, I think.’
The curtain whipped open and Adam’s face appeared. But instead of agreeing to her sitting in with Shane, his jaw was taut and he held a rifle in his hands.
‘Get down!’ he shouted. ‘Everyone on the floor.’ Then he was gone and the van took a hard turn, brakes squealing.
After a single blink, Meredith sprang into action, unbuckling her seatbelt, but Shane was fumbling with his. She batted his hands away and released the catch, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him off the seat just as the van careened again, throwing them both to the floor. Meredith’s head hit the floor hard and she blinked to clear her vision of the bright flashing stars, vaguely aware of her grandfather and Kyle falling to the floor beside her.
Just as the windshield shattered and bullets sprayed the top half of the van’s walls, on the side where Meredith and Shane had been sitting.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 3.43 P.M.
Crouching as low as he could, Adam grabbed the radio. ‘Detective Kimble,’ he barked when Dispatch acknowledged his call. ‘Shots fired during transport of witnesses. We were shot at. We did not return fire.’
‘Injuries?’ the operator asked.
Troy’s right arm was bleeding, but it appeared to be a slow bleed. He’d slid down so that he could see through the stripe of undamaged glass at the base of the windshield. ‘Special Agent Troy has been shot in the arm. Hold on.’ He looked over his shoulder, his heart stuttering at the sight of Meredith’s green eyes looking up at him from the floor. Thank God. ‘Is anybody hit back there?’
‘No,’ Meredith called back. ‘We’re just shaken up.’
Troy pulled into a small city park and stopped the van behind a thick copse of evergreens. ‘We’re out of range,’ he muttered. With his left hand, he pulled his service weapon from its holster, wincing. ‘The trees will provide cover if the sniper tries again.’
‘No injuries other than Agent Troy,’ Adam told the operator. ‘Send backup. We’re one block north of Linn and Ezzard Charles, out of range of the shooter.’
‘Backup is on the way,’ the operator informed him.
‘Send officers to the school nearest the corner of Linn and Ezzard Charles. The shots came from the roof. Then send another van or several cars to our location. Five of us to continue to the precinct. Agent Troy will need an ambulance.’
‘I can go in one of the squad cars,’ Troy gritted out.
Adam didn’t argue. He figured Troy knew his own body and how badly he was hurt. Besides, EMTs wouldn’t approach a hot zone until it was declared safe. ‘Did you copy that?’ he asked the operator.
‘Yes, Detective,’ she said. ‘Officers on their way.’
‘All right.’ Adam took stock of the damage. The windshield was a mess of fractures, but it had held. Both he and Troy were covered in glass because Adam’s side window had not. ‘Keep your heads down,’ Adam said to Meredith and the others in the back. ‘I’m going to take a look,’ he murmured to Troy, ‘in case he decides to approach on foot.’
Because if he did, they might not see him until it was too late. The sniper would likely try again to take out Adam and Troy, leaving the passengers unprotected.
Adam slipped out of the van and took a three-sixty look, holding his rifle against his chest. It was quiet today, too cold for anyone to be enjoying the small park. It was so peaceful, it was hard to believe they’d been shot at only minutes before. Not wanting to drop his gaze to his phone, he called Isenberg using a voice command.
‘Detective Kimble?’ Isenberg answered when she picked up the call. ‘We expected you already.’
‘We hit a snag,’ Adam said, walking around the van, his eyes on the trees, looking for any movement. Until he saw the passenger side of the van, riddled with bullets. Holy shit. He’d heard the bullets hitting the van but hadn’t had any idea . . . We were lucky. So damn lucky. He jerked his gaze away from the van and back to the trees. ‘We were shot at.’
‘Explain,’ Isenberg said sharply.
‘Both boys are all right, as are Meredith and her grandfather. Shaken, but unhurt.’
‘Hold on.’ Isenberg relayed this to the Davises and Adam heard a small sob. Then Deacon’s voice, asking Isenberg’s clerk to find the parents a conference room in which to wait. ‘Deacon is here. I’m putting you on speaker. Explain.’
‘Are you and Troy all right?’ Deacon asked.
‘Troy’s hit in the arm. Not a gusher, but he’s losing some blood. We’d just gotten off the highway. Troy was driving. I was shotgun. Or rifle.’
‘You’re the sharpshooter,’ Isenberg said practically. ‘Did you return fire?’
‘No. I saw the glint of the rifle on the school rooftop as we approached from the west. I warned Troy and he hit the gas, but the shooter got some shots in as we took evasive action. The windshield was hit with’ – he counted bullet holes –‘four bullets. Passenger side window was destroyed and there are five bullet holes on the passenger side of the van, all at the top.’ He frowned as he came around to inspect them again. ‘All inches from the roof. None would have hit anyone in the back unless they’d ricocheted.’
Adam heard sirens. ‘I’d be shocked if the shooter stuck around, but I had dispatch send officers to the rooftop anyway. CSU should check for the casings. We’re going to move the four passengers to squad cars ASAP and continue to your office. Troy will have one of the squad cars take him to the hospital.’
‘All right,’ Isenberg said wearily. ‘How did they know where you’d be, Adam?’
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘And I’ve been wondering the same thing. Who knew we were on our way in?’
‘My clerk, who called Kyle’s parents.’ She sighed. ‘And anyone who was in the lobby when they arrived, asking for me. Which was at least a dozen people.’
‘Someone might have heard and assumed we’d be bringing both Shane and Kyle in, but how they knew where our vehicle would be at that exact moment is still unknown.’
‘They’d have to have known your route, which means they’d have to have at least suspected where you’d be coming from.’ She sighed again. ‘Come on in and we’ll figure it out. Be careful.’
‘I will.’ Ending the call, Adam studied the bullet holes on the passenger side once again and took photos with his phone. Either the shooter had been rattled, or he hadn’t intended to kill any of the four passengers.
He frowned again. The only one who’d been actually shot at . . . was me. He did another walk around the van, watching for any movement through the trees. Hugging the van for cover, he didn’t relax his watch until backup arrived.
He directed two of the officers to help Troy, then opened the back door of the van and took his first easy breath. Meredith sat on the floor of the van, her arm around Shane, whose eyes were closed, his face unnaturally pale.
Kyle hadn’t looked good before. Now . . . he was all but catatonic.
Meredith’s gaze shot to Adam’s. Eyes filling with tears, she huffed out a breath that sounded like a sob, letting go of Shane to slide to the open door. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No,’ he said, then staggered back when she threw her arms around his neck. She was trembling now and he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her. To hell with Isenberg’s ‘no getting involved’ bullshit. Meredith needed him now and he wasn’t going to turn her away.
He smoothed a hand down her back. Then frowned when something hard poked him in the sternum. ‘Meredith?’ he murmured cautiously. ‘Are you carrying?’
‘Duh,’ she whispered unsteadily. ‘I’ll check it at CPD security. I do that every time I visit anyway.’
He found himself chuckling. ‘Okay.’
‘You’re sure you’re not hurt? I saw your window. It’s gone.’
‘Just glass in my hair, which is going to be all over you now.’
‘I don’t care.’
Was it ridiculous how good that made him feel? ‘I think me leaning back to warn you guys kept me from being hit. Unfortunately, Troy was.’
‘I’m fine,’ Troy snapped from the front seat.
‘I’m glad,’ Adam called back, then bent his head to whisper in Meredith’s ear. ‘You gonna be okay if I step back?’
Her arms tightened for a few heartbeats, then she nodded and let him go. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. We need to get you all out of here. I haven’t seen any activity in the trees and I think if the shooter had wanted to try again he would have already. But let’s not take that chance.’ He took a step back, then unapologetically met her grandfather’s sharp stare. ‘Mr Fallon, do you need to be checked out?’
The old man looked insulted. ‘You mean did I have a coronary? No, son. I did not.’
Meredith turned to face her grandfather, shaking her head. ‘Papa. You promised.’
Fallon huffed. ‘He’s implying I have a weak constitution.’
‘You are eighty-four,’ Meredith said affectionately. ‘He doesn’t know you well enough to know you’re a tough old coot. He’s being professional. Cut him some slack.’
Then Shane sobered the mood. ‘Were they shooting at me, Detective Kimble?’
‘Or me?’ Meredith asked.
Or me? ‘I don’t know,’ Adam said honestly. ‘We’re going to find out.’