Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 4.45 P.M.
Adam needed to touch her, so damn bad. Needed to pull her into his arms and hold her until her trembling subsided. She was pale and . . . There was brain matter in her hair. He didn’t think she knew because she’d have tried to wash it out.
He let himself grip her elbow and tugged her back down to sit in the folding chair the hotel had provided. Crouching in front of her, he damned Isenberg and her warning to perdition and pulled off one of his latex gloves. Meredith’s slender hand was icy cold and smelled of antiseptic. He gripped it hard and looked up into her face.
‘Tell me what happened, Meredith.’
She shuddered. ‘We’d just sat down, Mallory and me. We were looking at the menu and then . . . all of a sudden he was there. Staring at me.’ She closed her eyes, any remaining color draining from her face, leaving her ashen.
He squeezed her hand again. ‘Meredith,’ he said sharply. ‘Open your eyes. That’s good,’ he said, more softly when she obeyed.
‘You have glitter in your hair,’ she murmured.
Wonderful. ‘It’s from the star on top of the tree at Mariposa House.’
Her eyes flickered, her mouth turning down in a frown. ‘You put up the tree?’
‘Diesel and I.’ He started to loosen his grip on her hand, but she grasped at him.
‘Let me hold on,’ she whispered. ‘For just a little while longer. Then you can let go.’
‘Whatever you need,’ he said quietly.
She huffed, bitterness flickering across her face so quickly he would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring. She started to speak, but stopped herself, giving her head a slight shake. ‘Fine. All right. It’s okay. I’m okay.’ She tried to tug her hand free, but he was the one who held on this time. He wasn’t ready to let her go. Nowhere close to ready.
He frowned at her. ‘No, it’s not okay. What were you going to say? No, tell me,’ he insisted when she looked away. ‘Look at me, Meredith.’
She met his eyes and he wanted to flinch at the raw misery he saw in hers, but he didn’t allow himself to respond. He didn’t deserve to flinch.
She cries, Wendi had said. If you don’t want her, let her go.
I did this, he thought, feeling as miserable as Meredith appeared. I put that pain in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but that was exactly what he’d done.
‘Whatever I need,’ she murmured. ‘Right. You can’t give me what I need. Or won’t. I don’t know which. And it doesn’t matter. Not right now, anyway.’ She tugged her hand again, swallowing when he still didn’t let go. ‘Please, Adam,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘I can’t do this here. I can’t fall apart. Not in front of all these people. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. It wasn’t fair to either of us and . . . and you have a job to do. So just let me go.’
‘I can’t,’ he whispered back. ‘Don’t ask me to. Not yet. Please.’
Her eyes were glistening now and she turned her head, blinking to send tears down her cheeks. ‘Fine,’ she said, shuddering out a sigh. But her hand went limp in his and he knew the moment he loosened his grip, she’d pull away. Emotionally, she already had.
She cleared her throat, straightened her spine, and schooled her features into the calm mask everyone else seemed to believe was her natural zen expression.
But Adam knew better. He knew what she looked like when she let go. When she lost control. When she screamed his name. He shuddered out a breath of his own.
He could not be thinking about that right now. ‘Later,’ he murmured. ‘We can talk about this later. I promise. For now, I need to get your statement. You said he was suddenly there, standing at your table, staring at you.’
She nodded, stoic now. ‘I wanted to run. Just instinct, I suppose. I had my gun in my pocket, so I unsnapped the holster.’
Her gun had been taken into evidence. ‘Do you always carry?’
Another nod. ‘For a few years now. I’ve had some parents threaten me after their children revealed abuse. A few have become violent.’
Adam had to choke back his rage. Not now. ‘I’ll need their names. All of them.’
Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. ‘I can give you names of the people who’ve specifically threatened me, but they’re already on record. I’ve filed official complaints on all of them with the police.’
He frowned at her. ‘Specifically? What about unspecific threats?’
She lifted a slender shoulder. ‘They don’t exist.’
His eyes narrowed, immediately understanding the nuance. ‘They don’t actually exist or you’re not going to tell me who they are?’
‘Legally, the first one. Pragmatically, the second.’
He closed his eyes briefly, pulling his temper back into control. ‘Why not?’ he asked when he thought he could speak without snapping.
‘If I identify the parents, I identify my clients. I can’t do that. Not if they haven’t made a threat specific to their child or to me.’ Her voice was level. Kind, even. He imagined she used that voice on the children she counseled, but it grated on him.
He managed to keep his own tone professional. ‘But you carry a gun.’
Another half shrug. ‘I’m careful, Detective.’
Detective. Shit. ‘Has anyone given you reason to believe you need a gun, even if there was no explicit threat?’
‘Yes.’
His temper broke free. ‘Dammit, Meredith. Somebody nearly blew up a restaurant on a crowded street. Do you know how many people could have died?’
Her chin lifted. ‘I am quite aware. I will cooperate to the best of my ability.’
‘But you won’t tell me who you’re afraid of. For God’s sake, Meredith.’
She swallowed hard. ‘I will not breach the privacy of my clients. They are children, Detective Kimble. Children who’ve been traumatized. The ones who’ve come to me through the courts are on record. Anyone who has specifically said, “I’m going to make you pay, bitch,” has been reported to the police. By me. The ones that just happen to be running around the high school track at the same time I do every morning at five a.m., or just happen to be shopping for veggies at my neighborhood Kroger on Saturday mornings, or just happen to catch my eye across the crowd after Sunday mass at St Germaine’s for the past three weeks . . . Those I can’t tell you about.’
‘And they’re the reason you carry a gun.’
She nodded once, her lips pursed tight. ‘So. I unsnapped my holster and when he pulled his gun I tried to talk him down first. His hand was shaking.’
He’d get those names later. Now she was holding herself together by a fragile thread. ‘The first cop on scene said that other diners reported the man talking to himself.’
‘I don’t think he was,’ she said, her brow furrowing again. ‘I don’t know if it’s even possible now’ – a hard swallow – ‘what with his head and all, but you might check for an earbud. He was being coerced. I’m sure of it. He kept saying he was sorry and that “He’ll kill her.”’ Her eyes sharpened. ‘Everyone has video on their phones now. Maybe someone caught him talking.’
He’d already thought of that. ‘I plan to ask the other witnesses when I’m finished with you.’ Except he’d never be finished with her. Not while he drew breath. ‘And then?’
‘And then I drew my gun. We did a standoff for what seemed like forever, but it could only have been a minute. Maybe less. He dropped his gun and told me to run. To get down and run. He started to unzip his coat, but then . . .’ She swallowed again, audibly. ‘The shot came from outside. The window shattered and his head . . . well, you know.’ She stared down at her hands. ‘I was kind of in shock, you know? I just stared at my gun, thinking I hadn’t shot it, wondering what the hell had happened. I hadn’t put the window shattering together with everything else yet.’ Her lips twisted. ‘Luckily, Mallory did. She pulled me down, just in time. The next bullet hit the man sitting behind me. He’ll be all right,’ she added. ‘The EMTs were able to stop the bleeding.’
‘And then?’ he nudged patiently.
‘Then tires squealed.’ She sighed wearily. ‘And then I called you.’
‘I’m glad you did.’ He gave her limp hand a light squeeze. ‘So damn glad, Meredith.’
Another bitter twist of her lips. ‘At least it allowed you to have a head start in getting here. Agent Taylor told me that you and Agent Triplett are the lead investigators on this case.’ She looked pointedly down at their joined hands. ‘I imagine your boss wouldn’t want you holding a witness’s hand like this, Detective Kimble.’
Adam’s heart clenched. She was still calling him “detective”. He wanted – no, needed – to hear her say his name again. ‘I’m sorry, Meredith. I need to explain some things to you.’
She shook her head, sadly now. ‘You don’t owe me any explanations. I want things that you . . . clearly don’t. I’m a big girl. I can deal.’ Pasting a fake smile on her face, she tugged her hand again and this time he let her go.
He needed to tell her everything. If for no other reason than because he didn’t want her to hurt like this. He’d never dreamed she could be hurting like this. Over me. I’m not worth it. And that was the fucking understatement of the century.
‘We need to talk,’ he insisted, keeping his voice to a murmur that no one could overhear. ‘I need to talk. To you. I need to explain.’
Her back went rigid. ‘Am I done? I need to see to Mallory. And I really want to go home.’ Her voice broke. ‘I’d really appreciate if I could be done now, Detective Kimble.’
No. Don’t go. Please do not go. But he swallowed back those words and pushed emotion aside to consider the case. ‘Where was Mallory all the time this was happening?’
She blinked, appearing surprised. ‘Next to me.’
‘In the chair? You said she pulled you down after the first shot was fired.’
Meredith frowned in concentration. ‘I told her to get down. After he pulled the gun.’
‘What did he do then?’
‘Yelled at me. Told me that nobody could move.’ Her head wagged slowly. ‘I can’t remember exactly what he said, but it was something like that.’
‘When did he talk to himself – or somebody else, if that turns out to be the case?’
Her frown deepened. ‘After he pulled the gun. Before I told Mallory to get down. I think. He got distracted when I pushed Mallory down. Pointed the gun at her then back at me. That’s when I pulled my gun from my pocket. I think Mallory went under the table then.’ She pressed fingertips to her temple. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t remember exactly.’
‘I understand.’
She folded her hands in her lap primly. ‘When can I have my gun back?’
‘I don’t know. It’ll be held as evidence, so not anytime soon. Certainly not today.’
‘It’s all right. I have another. Now may I go, Detective?’
‘Yes.’ He came to his feet when she did. ‘Can I call you? Tonight? Please,’ he added when she said nothing. He dropped his voice to a desperate whisper. ‘Please.’
Her shoulders sagged. ‘Okay. Whatever—’ Her voice cracked. ‘Whatever you need.’
She turned and walked away. He let her go, his gut churning with the urge to go after her. He let out a huge sigh, then sent a quick text to his AA sponsor. You home tonite?
His phone buzzed a second later. Yup. What’s up?
Meredith Fallon was what was up. But he wasn’t going to say that. John had discouraged him from seeing her before his year was up. But if she turned him away after he explained to her? Yeah. He’d need his sponsor then. Caught a bad case, he texted instead. May need to talk.
I’m here. Call me. Doesn’t matter how late.
Because John Kasper was a decent man, a retired cop who knew exactly what Adam’s job entailed. Thx, Adam typed, hit SEND, then rejoined Trip, who was watching him.
‘She okay?’ Trip asked.
‘No.’ Meredith Fallon was definitely not okay. For too many reasons.
Trip’s brows lifted, his shiny bald head tilting in question. ‘You okay?’
Adam made his lips move. ‘Of course. What’s our status on the bomb?’
‘On its way to the lab. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s deactivated, but the removal team took all precautions, just in case.’
‘How did you deactivate it?’
‘I didn’t,’ Trip said. ‘I think the victim did.’
Anderson Township, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 4.50 P.M.
Finally. Civilization. Linnea pulled into the parking lot of a seafood restaurant called Clyde’s Place, looking around for his thugs. That she didn’t see them didn’t make her feel better. She was pretty sure that she wouldn’t see them first. She’d realized about five minutes after leaving him in the muddy snow that he probably had a tracker on the SUV, that he’d probably already sicced his enforcers on her. But it hadn’t made sense to abandon the SUV on the side of the road. She’d be on foot and she was too sore to walk very fast or very far. Her chances were better now that she was in civilization. She could hide for a while. Maybe hitch a ride.
To where? She didn’t know yet. Not too far away. She needed proximity to kill him.
Pulling the hood of her coat forward to hide her face, she gingerly got out of the SUV, wincing at the blood she’d left on the seat. Terrific. She’d bled through her jeans. Not a huge surprise as she’d bled off and on all through the night after his right-hand maniac had finished with her. She stared at the bloody seat for a long moment, the assault replaying in her mind. Her own screams. The laughter. His and his thug’s.
He’d watched. He got off on watching.
Stop. She pushed the memory into the box inside her mind and visualized locking it tight. Along with all the other memories she couldn’t seem to delete.
Go to the ER before you bleed to death. It could happen. She’d come close once before.
But she couldn’t go to the ER. He had people inside the hospital too. She wasn’t sure which hospital, or if he had staff in all of them. She couldn’t take the chance.
There was a clinic downtown. She’d used it before, after another brutal time just like last night. The lady doctor had been so kind. She’d asked if Linnea needed help from the police, accepting her quick refusal. The doctor had merely stitched her up, given her a non-narcotic painkiller. Then she’d recommended a series of STD tests, including HIV.
There’d been no judgment in the lady doctor’s oddly colored eyes when Linnea had returned for the test results. No pity. No revulsion or disapproval. Only sympathy and understanding. That had been Linnea’s second time at the clinic.
Which had been six months ago. Linnea hoped the shot of antibiotic she’d been given had taken care of the gonorrhea, because she hadn’t been back for a second shot or to be retested after three months as the nice doctor had recommended.
What difference did it make? The other diagnosis she’d been given was a death sentence, even though the lady doctor had insisted that it no longer was. Except Linnea had no money for medicines. No money for care.
She’d been stuck in her worst nightmare, forced to ‘entertain’ his ‘associates’ over and over again. The other girls got paid, but Linnea didn’t, because he’d had leverage. Information that he’d been able to use to force her compliance.
Some of his associates used condoms. The others would share her fate. There was some satisfaction in that. Although she had worried about the women his associates went home to. They didn’t deserve to be infected too, but she’d been powerless to stop any of it. Once he’d known she was HIV positive, she’d have become a liability. He’d have had no reason to keep her alive and once she was gone, he’d have gone after Andy.
She’d have done anything to protect Andy Gold. But none of that mattered anymore.
At least she knew to warn whoever was on duty at the clinic today. Because she would go. Get sewn up. Again. She’d live long enough to kill the man who’d done this to her.
The man who’d killed Andy like he was nothing.
She just needed a little cash. Enough to get back to the city. She looked up and down the street, relieved to see a bus stop a block away. There was also a hotel at the entrance to the interstate. It wasn’t a fancy place, but she’d be able to get a cab from there. If she could find enough cash for the fare. She hoped so. It was late on a Sunday and the buses wouldn’t be running that often. It was cold. And I’m still bleeding.
Not sure how much time she had before he or his goons arrived, she quickly lifted the lid of the center console and peered inside. Nothing. It was as clean as new. The glove box was also empty, but the pouch on the back of the front passenger seat yielded a single piece of paper, folded over and over until it was only a little bigger than a postage stamp.
Linnea shoved it in her coat pocket and continued searching for cash. Even some change would be helpful. Maybe she’d even find enough to buy some food. The smell of hamburgers made her stomach growl and she tried not to think about how long it had been since she’d eaten. Focus. Get to the clinic first and then eat.
She opened the ashtray, exhaling in a rush. Cash – a roll of twenties, secured by a rubber band. Which made sense, actually. Prostitution and drugs – his bread and butter – were generally cash-only businesses. There were at least ten twenties in the roll. Maybe fifteen. That would more than pay for a cab. She’d have enough left over to buy another weapon, since she’d left her switchblade in his arm.
She shoved the money into her pocket. Stepping away from the SUV, she slammed the door, locked it, and pocketed the key.
The blood she’d left on the SUV’s seat was deadly. If the cops found the vehicle first, they’d have gloves on. They’d be protected. If he or his thugs found it first, they deserved whatever exposure they got.
But no one else deserved exposure to her blood. She hoped a locked door would keep them out. At least her coat was still clean. She’d sit on it once she was in a taxi.
She started walking toward the little hotel, throwing the SUV keys into the first storm sewer she came across. Stay away from the road, she told herself. Stick to the shadows. Which wasn’t too hard, because that was how she’d lived for the last six months.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 4.50 P.M.
I need to explain something to you. Meredith sat next to Mallory on a small sofa in the hotel manager’s office, her arm tight around the girl’s thin shoulders, Adam’s words echoing in her head so loudly that it was all she could hear. How could he explain away months of ignoring her? He wasn’t interested, plain and simple.
Yes, he’d sent her pictures he’d colored – even painted – but that only meant he was letting her know he was recovering. That he was getting a hold on his PTSD.
If he even starts to say ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ I’m going to fucking hit him in the face.
‘Hey,’ Wendi said from the doorway, thankfully halting her thoughts. Wendi’s face was tear-streaked, her eyes red. Trembling head to toe, she rushed into the room and wrapped Mallory in her arms. ‘You’re both okay. I was so scared. But you’re okay.’
Meredith met her friend’s eyes over Mallory’s shoulder and shook her head. Not okay, she mouthed. At all.
‘You’re unhurt,’ Wendi corrected in a fierce whisper. ‘All I knew was that there was a shooting. I was afraid you’d been hit.’
‘I told you she was fine,’ Agent Colby said in that very quiet way he had. ‘That they were both fine.’ He came into the room and winced when his gaze passed over Meredith’s hair. ‘We’ll get your statements squared away and take you home. You can shower.’
Meredith clenched her eyes shut, her stomach heaving again. ‘It’s in my hair?’
‘Not much,’ Wendi said quickly – way too quickly. ‘It looks like . . . like the dust bunny fuzz you pull out of your dryer filter.’ She sounded so pleased with herself.
Meredith opened her eyes, her lips curving wryly at her tiny best friend. ‘You are such an awful liar, Wen.’
‘She really is,’ Colby said, affectionately tugging a lock of Wendi’s hair.
Wendi looked over her shoulder at him, frowning. ‘Mer can’t stay by herself in her house. That man tried to kill her today. What if he comes back?’
Mallory stiffened and Meredith sighed. ‘Wendi, stop. You’re scaring Mallory.’
But Colby just nodded as if Meredith hadn’t said a word. ‘She can stay at the big house,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some vacation saved up. I’ll take a few days, stay with you too.’
Meredith rolled her eyes when Wendi made goo-goo eyes at Parrish Colby like a lovesick teenager. But the man was sweet and he absolutely doted on Wendi.
I’m just jealous, she admitted. Adam Kimble had voiced no such worry about her welfare. Considering someone did just try to kill me. And the thought brought a new wave of nausea. God. Somebody tried to kill me . . . and a restaurant full of people.
Who? Who could have hated her that much? Who had that much disregard for human life? Well, lots of her clients’ parents. The court-referred ones, anyway. That was usually why those clients were her clients. The adults in their lives had been too selfish – or evil – to keep them safe.
‘We have a free room on the third floor,’ Wendi was saying. ‘Mer can sleep there.’
Wendi and Colby had been discussing her living arrangements while her mind had gone wandering, so Meredith made herself smile and take back at least some control of her life. ‘Thank you, Parrish. I really appreciate it, but I think it’s better if I don’t stay with the girls at Mariposa House. It will be disruptive to their routine.’ She glanced at Mallory and swallowed hard. She might have been killed today. Because she was with me. ‘And it might put the girls in danger. I need to keep my distance until this . . . situation is resolved.’
‘You didn’t cause this, Mer,’ Wendi protested.
‘I know.’ And she did. Logically. ‘Doesn’t mitigate the risk I pose by staying there. Parrish, you stay with Wendi. Keep the girls safe. I’ll get Kendra to stay with me.’ Kendra had only been a cop a little more than a year, but the woman could take care of herself. So can I, Meredith thought, but she didn’t want to be alone tonight.
Can I call you later? Tonight? Please? It had been the please that had left her undone. Dammit.
‘Kenny’s on duty today,’ Meredith added quickly, because Wendi looked ready to argue. ‘She’ll be free tonight.’ She lifted a brow. ‘Oh, come on. Do you really think Kendra will let anyone in my house who shouldn’t be there?’
That might even include Adam. Like Wendi, Kendra had told her to move on. Neither of the Cullen sisters wasted any love on Adam Kimble.
‘No, she won’t.’ Wendi looked unhappy, but didn’t push it. ‘All right.’ She looked up at Colby again. ‘Can we leave now?’
‘I’ll find out,’ Colby said. ‘Trip and Kimble are here somewhere. This is their case.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 5.00 P.M.
‘He really did disarm it,’ Adam murmured as he and Trip stood in the small meeting room that the hotel had provided for their use, watching the restaurant’s security tape on Trip’s laptop for the third time – but not the footage of the shooting itself. The dining room camera had only gotten a partial view of the young man’s face before he’d been shot. The most revealing footage had come from the camera mounted outside, specifically the three seconds that the man had crossed the street, approaching the restaurant’s front door.
‘He unzips his coat right there,’ Trip said, pointing at the laptop screen. ‘Then . . . right there he yanks the wires.’ He paused the video. ‘You wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t watching. I missed it the first time I saw the tape. I thought he was adjusting his collar.’
‘He knew someone was watching him,’ Adam said. ‘Meredith thinks he was talking to someone, that he was wearing an earpiece.’
‘He was,’ a mild voice said from behind them.
Adam looked over his shoulder and had to fight not to scowl when Agent Quincy Taylor closed the door behind himself. ‘Did you find it?’ Adam asked, trying to keep the anger from his voice. The man had been . . . What, Kimble? the voice in his head asked sarcastically. Patting her hand to calm her? Because you weren’t there to do so?
Agent Taylor blinked at him. ‘Yes,’ he said, his wary tone indicating that Adam hadn’t hidden his anger all that well.
Even Trip was giving Adam a strange look. ‘Where was the earpiece?’ Trip asked the forensic investigator.
‘In a puddle of brain matter,’ Agent Taylor answered flatly. ‘One of the bomb disposal techs saw it there and took a photo for me, because the crime scene isn’t cleared for my team yet. Did I hear you say the victim pulled the wires out of the bomb?’
Trip nodded. ‘Sure looks like it. The kid must have known what he was doing, to be that bold. One false move and he could have been blown to bits.’
Adam forced himself to pull his head out of his own ass and focus on his job. ‘Maybe he knew what he was doing. More likely he just didn’t care. If the bomb had detonated at the door, the impact would have been a lot less serious.’
‘You think he was trying to save the people in the restaurant?’ Trip asked.
‘He tried to save Meredith,’ Adam answered. ‘He told her to get down, to run, just before he was shot. That indicates to me that he was still afraid of the bomb.’
‘So he wasn’t sure if he had disabled the device,’ Trip said thoughtfully. ‘That boy knew he was gonna die either way. You can see it on his face. How he flinches right before he yanks the wire.’
Adam sighed, his chest tight with compassion for the kid. ‘He said “he” was going to “kill her.” We can start with the assumption that the person the kid was afraid of was the one who shot him and drove away. We’ve got a BOLO out on the black SUV, ads for “Plumber’s Helper” on both sides.’ Multiple witnesses had seen it driving away. ‘But it’s a fake company and nobody seems to have seen a license plate.’
‘A witness caught the SUV on video,’ Agent Taylor said. ‘I got a partial plate and added it to the BOLO. That’s the other thing I came in to tell you.’
Adam blinked in surprise, but at least Trip did too, so Agent Taylor wasn’t keeping him out of the loop deliberately. ‘When did you get the video?’ Trip demanded.
‘Just now, when I went to check on the crime scene. That was after I finished cleaning Dr Fallon’s hands,’ Agent Taylor added pointedly. ‘And that’s all I was doing, Detective Kimble.’
‘I know. She was pretty freaked to have her hands covered in human remains. Thank you for making the situation easier for her, Agent Taylor.’
The man nodded once. ‘Quincy.’
‘Adam,’ Adam returned.
‘And I’m Trip,’ Trip said sarcastically. ‘Why didn’t that witness bring the video to us when we first got here?’
Quincy seemed unruffled. ‘They’re kids. Brothers, ten and twelve. They were goofing off, play-interviewing their parents about what they’d find under their Christmas tree. They were two blocks away when the SUV passed through their picture. At first, they didn’t know they’d gotten anything valuable. The press put the BOLO in their “breaking” report and the kids saw it. They walked up to me when I was outside, saw FBI on my jacket and showed it to me, then emailed it to me.’ He tapped the screen of his phone. ‘I just emailed it to you, Trip. They’re waiting in the lobby with their parents.’
‘Thanks,’ Trip said. ‘We got any leads on who might want the doc dead, Adam?’
‘Or why she was carrying a gun?’ Quincy added.
‘Really the same answer,’ Adam said. ‘She had a gun because she’s been stalked and/or threatened by parents of her child clients.’
Trip frowned. ‘What kind of threats? Has she reported it?’
‘She’s reported everything that’s a specific threat.’ He scowled. ‘Apparently, at least one of her clients’ parents has been showing up when she runs in the morning and at the store where she shops. And whoever it is just smiles at her. There’s no explicit threat.’
‘But plenty of implicit,’ Quincy said, his jaw going hard. ‘She didn’t tell you who she was afraid of, did she?’
‘No,’ Adam admitted, wondering if he was relieved or even more jealous that Quincy seemed to be protective of Meredith too. ‘She refused to tell and I didn’t push.’
‘Why the hell not?’ Trip exploded.
Adam gave him a bland look. Which was difficult because Jefferson Triplett was at least four inches taller than he was. ‘She was protecting her clients’ privacy. I didn’t push because she was close to breaking. I’ll get the information, one way or the other.’
Trip’s returned look was more of a glare. ‘I’ll ask her. You treat her like spun glass. She’s tougher than she looks.’
Adam’s brows shot up. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I Googled her when I arrived on the scene,’ Trip said. ‘She’s faced down some nasty-assed characters in the last five years. Any of which could have put a contract out on her. Our suspect list is goddamn long.’
‘What nasty-assed characters?’ And why hadn’t he known this? God, Kimble, you’re a selfish, clueless bastard.
‘At least three drug dealers, two pimps, and a corporate shark who vowed he’d see her pay for getting his kids taken away.’
Adam frowned at him. ‘You did not get all that off Google.’
Trip looked a little shamefaced. ‘Fine. I also asked Kendra. Officer Cullen, I mean.’
Kendra was Wendi’s sister. Both women were close to Meredith. ‘How would Kendra know?’ Adam asked suspiciously. ‘And why would she tell you anything?’
‘They run together in the morning sometimes. Kenny told me about the dealers and pimps when I got here. She was one of the first cops on the scene. She was the one who saw the bomb, actually.’ Trip seemed to hear the pride in his own voice and awkwardly looked down at his enormous hands. ‘We’ve, uh, gone out a few times. Kendra and I.’
Quincy rolled his eyes. ‘Good God. Are you all panting after each other? Adam, you looked like you wanted to take off my damn head today and Trip’s getting the low-down from her best friend’s sister.’ He huffed out a breath. ‘Look, I’m going back to work. I just wanted to tell you about the earpiece and the video.’
‘Thanks, Quince,’ Trip said, embarrassed, then waited until the man was gone before continuing. ‘I’m going to the lab to follow up on the bomb. The lab techs are transporting it as we speak. I want to take a look at those wires the kid pulled out. If he was able to disarm it so easily, we’re not talking about a sophisticated bomb-maker.’
‘How long before I can access the crime scene?’
‘At least an hour. The disposal team has to make sure the threat’s eliminated.’
‘I’ll interview witnesses, then. Deacon and Scarlett are on their way to assist.’
‘Get Mallory’s statement first,’ Trip said, his brow creased in worry. ‘She’s . . . fragile. This was her first day out after all that shit that went down last summer.’
When she’d been freed from a monster who’d abused her for six years, forcing her into online child pornography by threatening to abuse her younger sister, Macy. Macy was safe now, living with a loving foster family, but Adam knew that Mallory still lived in fear. ‘What happened today would rattle anyone.’
Trip hesitated. ‘She still has nightmares about a cop who participated in the rapes.’
‘The cop we couldn’t track down,’ Adam said grimly. No one doubted Mallory had been telling them the truth – as she knew it, anyway. She’d said the cop had shown up to investigate her captor, but had raped her in exchange for his silence. They’d investigated, of course, but there hadn’t been any evidence that the police had even been called. No record of a visit. Internal Affairs had gotten involved, but concluded whoever had raped Mallory had been pretending to be a cop. Which had been no comfort to Mallory.
‘She was nervous about leaving the house today, afraid someone would recognize her from the porn. But she wanted to sign up for classes so she forced herself to leave. I just can’t believe this happened today. Poor kid. She’s never going to want to leave again.’
Adam figured that Trip had probably heard about Mallory’s fears from Kendra, who seemed to spend her spare time helping Wendi at Mariposa House. He himself had heard from his cousin Deacon, who’d heard it from his fiancée, Faith, who was Meredith’s partner.
Adam swallowed a sigh because it always seemed to circle back to Meredith, the linchpin of their circle of friends. ‘I’ll get Mallory’s statement so she can get back to Mariposa House. I’m sure that Wendi and Colby are in the hotel by now.’
‘Good.’ Another hesitation. ‘Look, Adam . . . I was there the day she told what had happened to her, when she was in the hospital.’ Because her captor had tried to kill her to silence her. ‘I filmed her statement that day. She was so scared, but she told her story anyway. She was defiant. Full of rage. But today . . . she looked numb. Like nobody was home. Be careful with her. Not that you’d be harsh, but . . . Just be careful with her.’
‘I will.’ Adam took no offense because the big behemoth was clearly concerned. ‘You find out who made that bomb. I hear you’re the bomb wunderkind.’
Trip’s smile was almost shy. ‘Yeah. That’s me.’
‘How’d you get to be that way considering you’re barely out of diapers?’
Trip snorted at that. ‘Damn you guys. You’re not old men. And I’m not that young.’ He faked a preen. ‘I just moisturize.’
‘And then you buff to a shine.’ And on that note, they went their separate ways, Trip back to the lab and Adam to find Mallory Martin.