Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 8.50 P.M.
Adam jogged to his Jeep, wishing he had time to squeeze in a trip to Meredith’s house before going to Voss’s. But Trip was meeting him in the parking lot so that they could compare notes and talk strategy before visiting the man who was their best suspect.
Glancing at his phone as he crossed the parking lot, he saw another two dozen voicemails and texts. He was only interested in one at the moment. He’d texted Diesel before he’d gone into the interview room with Colleen Martel, asking if Meredith was okay.
He found Diesel’s reply as he was getting into his Jeep. Better than ok. We’re @ kitchen table. Drinking tea. Coloring.
Adam nearly stumbled. What the fuck? Coloring at her kitchen table? Drinking tea? Those are the things I do with her.
Mechanically he got into his car and buckled his seat belt. His first thought was that he knew Diesel wasn’t making a move on Meredith. Diesel was too hung up on Adam’s cousin Dani. So Adam wasn’t worried about Diesel himself.
He was worried about Meredith. Her . . . intentions. Did she color at the table with every man who visited her home? It was supposed to be special. It was special. For me.
Memories of his two evenings with Meredith Fallon had kept him going when he’d wanted to give up. But he also remembered the hurt in her eyes earlier that day. I want what you can’t – or won’t – give. Had she told Diesel about him? About his . . . issues? His nightmares? His utter and complete failings?
My utter and complete breakdown in her arms? It wasn’t among his proudest moments, that was for damn sure. But she hadn’t made him feel any less . . . of anything. She’d simply held him that night while he’d shaken apart in her arms.
And then, when his panic had passed, when he was spent, she’d kissed him so gently. Like butterfly wings. And that had been it for him. He’d fallen so hard. So damned hard.
Yeah. He’d been hard all right. Hard everywhere. He shuddered, unable to stop himself from reliving that night in his mind. It had been the best night of his godforsaken life. He’d let go with her. Finally just let go. I let myself trust her. She’d promised not to tell.
Then she didn’t, came the calm voice in his mind. She promised.
That promise had been keeping him calm – and sober – for almost a year now. No, she hadn’t told anyone. That wasn’t who Meredith was. She didn’t divulge secrets. Which was why she was in this mess in the first place. If she’d reported the fucker for stalking—
Not her fault, the calm voice broke in. You cannot blame the victim.
A sharp pain in his hands made him realize that he’d been sitting in his cold Jeep, clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. For several minutes, actually. Starting the car, he cranked up the heat and kept scrolling, looking for Meredith’s reply. His heart started galloping a mile a minute when he saw it, sent less than five minutes after Diesel’s text.
I didn’t say anything abt u to D. He’s being annoying. Sorry.
Knew you hadn’t, he texted back. That’s not you. See u later.
A knock on his window startled him. Trip stood outside, stomping his feet, trying to stay warm. Adam unlocked the passenger door and Trip hopped in.
‘Warm,’ Trip said with a little moan. ‘Hate the cold.’
‘Then why do you live here?’ Adam asked, trying to divert his focus.
‘My parents are here.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m the youngest. I was lucky to get a post in my hometown and my folks are getting up there in age, so I stay. For as long as I’m able.’
Adam met his gaze, surprised and touched by the confession. ‘Me too. Mom’s got a bad heart.’ He made a face. ‘So does my dad, but his is just asshole-bad.’ He winced then, wishing he’d kept that truth to himself. ‘What do you know about the bomb?’
‘Three pipe bombs filled with TATP, taped together, simple blasting caps, with a cell phone trigger. The vest’s pockets were stuffed with nails and BBs.’
‘TATP, like the Paris bombers used.’
Trip nodded. ‘The explosion itself would have taken out the front half of the restaurant’s dining room, plus any vehicles parked immediately on the curb outside. Any person within a five-foot radius would have been killed. Anyone within twenty would have been killed or at least critically injured with the shrapnel, no question.’
Adam drew a shaky breath. Meredith and Mallory had been less than five feet away, and at least thirty other diners had been within that twenty-foot radius. ‘Holy God.’
‘Yeah. Might have gotten a partial print from the bomb’s guts, but it may not be usable. Latent’s working on it.’
Adam knew better than to get his hopes up, but still . . . ‘You’ll let me know?’
Trip looked a little offended. ‘Of course. We’re partners. Anyway, the connection to the cell phone was simple. Three wires, no dead man’s switch.’
‘Thank God for that. Andy would have been dead in the street and the shooter in the SUV would have still had a clear shot at Meredith. What about the cell phone?’
‘It’s a burner.’
‘Of course it is.’ Adam had a sudden thought. ‘What was the number?’
‘For the burner?’ Trip checked his notes. ‘Here.’ He shined his phone’s flashlight on the paper. ‘Midway down, on the left, if you can read my writing. Why?’
Damn. ‘I was hoping it would be the same number that called the restaurant’s hostess, but it’s not.’ He told Trip about Colleen Martel.
‘A two-hundred-buck tip,’ Trip said. ‘Whoever did this expected the phone to be destroyed. No loose ends. Although the hostess is a loose end, as are her cell records.’
‘Maybe he was hoping she’d be killed in the blast. That no one would look at her cell phone. The hostess podium was about fifteen feet from Meredith’s table. What about the TATP? Where did it come from?’
‘Somebody’s basement?’ Trip shrugged. ‘It’s easy enough to make. Just acetone and peroxide, both legal to purchase anywhere. There was a lot of it in those pipes, though. A few grams could blow off a finger. There was close to two pounds in the pipes. It’s highly unstable, so the bomber was taking a risk just working with it. For that reason alone, I’d have to say the bomb maker had experience.’
‘There was no “signature fuse” or anything that would ID the bomb maker?’
‘Nope. The only thing is, TATP is so unstable, only a lunatic would store it for very long. We could track any large purchases of acetone or peroxide. Quincy is figuring out how much of the raw materials the bomb maker would have needed.’
‘Was there a number in the cell phone’s log?’ Adam asked.
‘Yes. Untraceable. Another burner.’ He pointed to his notes. ‘That’s the number.’
Adam nodded in satisfaction. ‘That’s the number that called the hostess.’
Trip’s eyes gleamed. ‘We have a link. The call time in the log is seconds before the John Doe was shot. Obviously the shooter tried to detonate and, when he failed, he shot him.’
‘Then tried to shoot Meredith.’
‘Hostess-girl is really lucky the guy didn’t try to shoot her as he drove by.’
‘Yeah, well, she’s not feeling so lucky right now. I’m exploiting that to get her to do an ID of the man who called her.’
‘This Voss guy?’
‘I hope so. He’s the only lead we have so far. I only know that he’s the CEO of Buzz Boys. Nothing on his personality, other than he’s a sociopathic stalking asshole.’
‘Not a bad place to start. You also know he has a kid under Meredith’s care.’
‘Yes, that’s true. I wonder what he did that he doesn’t want Meredith to know.’
‘If it was criminal, she’d have to tell, right? The safety of the child comes before their privacy or confidentiality.’
‘True again.’ He Googled Broderick Voss and children. Then swore when the search results came back. ‘Fucking hell. He’s got an alibi for the time of the shooting. He was speaking to a whole room of people. Political fund-raiser.’ Adam scrutinized the photo of Voss smiling at the crowd. The man’s suit alone had to have cost two grand. ‘Although, if I was that rich, I certainly wouldn’t want my hands dirty. Just because he has an alibi—’
‘Doesn’t mean he didn’t do it,’ Trip finished.
‘Exactly. He certainly has the money to contract it out.’
Trip had his own phone out, Googling. ‘Looks like his fund-raiser was for some state senator’s reelection fund. Maybe the man has an interest in politics himself?’
Adam nodded. ‘And while politicians can weather most scandals these days, any scandal involving a child is still poison.’ He scrolled through the images served up by the search engine. ‘Here’s a picture of his family last Christmas.’ He turned the phone for Trip to see. ‘Pretty wife, adorable little girl. She looks about four, maybe five in this picture, which is about a year old.’
Trip was nodding. ‘He and the missus had a bunch of those photos made over the years. But nothing’s showing up for this year.’
‘I wish we knew what Meredith knows about this little girl. Otherwise, we’re walking blind into this interview with Voss. On the other hand, we can truthfully say we didn’t get his name from her.’
‘I say we’re ready for round one with Mr Voss,’ Trip said, opening the Jeep’s door. ‘I have the address. I’ll meet you there.’
The low ring of Adam’s cell startled him. The caller ID startled him more. Diesel. A text notification popped up at the same time, also from Diesel. Answer my call.
Shit. The man had just said Meredith was all right. Adam gave Trip a sign to wait and answered. ‘Diesel. What’s wrong?’
‘She’s fine,’ Diesel said quickly, but his voice was off. Half excitement, half dread. ‘I need to see you, stat.’
‘What is it? Tell me, for God’s sake.’
‘No,’ Diesel said firmly. ‘In person.’
‘Okay, but Trip’ll be with me.’
A slight hesitation. ‘Fine. Use your blue-light special and get here fast.’
Kiesler University, Chicago, Illinois,
Saturday 19 December, 8.20 P.M. CST (9.20 P.M. EST)
Shane Baird left the library, immediately shivering against the biting wind coming off Lake Michigan. He’d barely cleared the library door when his cell phone began buzzing like it was having a seizure. Hunching away from the wind, he pulled it out of his pocket and saw an explosion of texts, all from his friend Kyle.
The latest in a string of texts caught his eye.
Dude. Call me. Freaking the fuck out here.
Frowning, Shane jogged back to the library and leaned against the brick wall, out of the wind. Quickly he swiped at his phone screen down to the first of the texts.
Some guy just stopped by. Looking for you. Spidey senses off the Richter scale. Guy was all big and mean looking. Dressed cas but was packing. WTF? Why he looking 4 u? Call me! There were five other texts, all from Kyle, becoming increasingly agitated because Shane hadn’t called.
Shane’s breath froze in his lungs, old memories playing like a shitty movie reel. Hand shaking, he called Kyle’s cell. ‘I just saw your text.’
‘Oh shit,’ Kyle said on a relieved whoosh of breath. ‘I thought you were . . . I dunno. Dead or something. Where the fuck have you been?’
‘In the library basement, studying. No cell bars down there. What happened?’
‘I’ll tell you what happened. That guy scared the motherfuck outta me.’
‘What guy?’ Shane’s voice pitched higher, panicked. Was it a cop? This can’t be happening again. It just couldn’t. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’
‘Okay, fine.’ Kyle loudly sucked in a breath and let it out. ‘Okay,’ he said again. ‘I’m on desk duty tonight. At Lamarr.’ The residential hall where Shane had lived until the beginning of this semester. The hall where they’d met and bonded over video games and a mutual love of nachos and sci-fi. Kyle had been his first friend in Illinois, when he’d been so damn lonely. ‘This guy came in, about an hour ago. He was trying to look, I dunno, young or something. Like he belonged here. As if. He had to have been thirty and looked like he should have been in a boxing ring. He was no college kid, I know that. He smiled and that made him look even scarier. He said he was just visiting a friend and could I give him the dorm number? I said no, but I could call the student and say he was waiting in the lobby. He looked really pissed and for a second . . . Hell, Shane. I thought he was gonna hit me.’
Shane made himself breathe. ‘You said he asked for me? Me specifically?’
‘Yeah. I told him that you didn’t live here anymore. He asked for your address and I told him I didn’t know it. But he didn’t believe me.’ Kyle made a choked sound. ‘He said I was lying, that he knew we were friends. He said he saw us together on Facebook. Dude, who the fuck was that guy?’
‘I don’t know.’ Shane swallowed hard. ‘Swear to God.’
‘Well, he knows you. I told him that I wasn’t allowed to give any information on a student and I hit the panic button under the desk. He got all mad then and I thought I was dead, right there. Seriously. I managed to tell him that the campus cops were on the way. He gave me a really long look and told me to be smart. That’s all.’
‘What does that mean?’ Shane could hear his own panic.
‘I think he meant for me not to tell the campus cops what went down.’
‘Did you?’
‘Hell yeah, man. He got caught on the security camera, clear as day. Any lip reader would know he asked for you. I’m just giving you heads up that the campus cops are going to try to find you. Are you . . .’ Kyle hesitated. ‘Are you in trouble, Shane?’
‘No! I . . . I have no idea who he was or what he wants. I’ve never had the cops after me. Ever. I study and work and go to class. My social life is playing D&D with you. Jesus.’
But he had had the cops after him once. Not him exactly. He’d been a person of interest because his friend back then had been a wanted man. He’d lied for Jason then and he’d do it again. Even though Jason Coltrain had changed his name to Andy Gold and hadn’t returned any of his texts, emails, or calls in over a year.
So much for solidarity, he thought sadly. He understood why Andy had cut him off. He hadn’t agreed with Andy, but he’d understood. Of the three of them, Shane had the best opportunity for the life they’d all dreamed of while they survived foster care. Andy didn’t want his own past hurting Shane, which had sounded ridiculous then.
Now? If someone dark and scary was looking for Shane . . . Andy, what have you done?
‘Shane?’ Kyle prompted. ‘You still there?’
‘Yeah,’ Shane croaked. ‘Give me a sec. Gotta check something.’ He opened a browser and typed in Cincinnati. He hadn’t gotten to the double-n before a number of hits popped up. Shooting in Cincinnati. Bomb attack prevented in Cincinnati.
Oh God. Andy. What the fuck have you done? Heart beating like a cannon, he clicked on the first link – an article in the Cincinnati Ledger.
The photo of a shot-out window made his thudding heart stutter. The photo of the victim’s face made his knees go weak. He slid down the wall, barely registering the feeling of cold concrete on his ass. ‘Oh no,’ he moaned quietly. ‘Oh God.’
‘Shane?’ Kyle demanded. ‘What is it?’
‘There was a shooting today. In Cincinnati.’
‘I know,’ Kyle said slowly. ‘I thought you’d have seen it by now. It’s been all over the news all day.’
‘I was studying all day. Turned my phone off. What . . . What happened?’
‘Why?’
‘Just tell me, okay?’
‘Okay, okay. Chill. Well, the way I heard it, some dude walked into a restaurant and pulled a gun on some lady. She’s some psychologist or something. Works with kids. She was packing too, and pulled her gun. She’d gotten him to drop his gun, but then somebody shot the guy from outside in the street. Blew his head off.’
Shane’s breathing was choppy and he started to see little black dots swimming in his vision. He tried to talk but he couldn’t form the words.
‘Shane?’ Kyle asked, even more slowly. ‘Did you know that guy or something?’
‘Yeah. Yeah.’ It was all Shane could get out. He could only stare at the photo that looked like a still pulled from a video. Unidentified victim, the caption read. But Shane knew him. It was Andy. ‘What . . . What else did the news say?’ Because he couldn’t see the words anymore. They were all a blur.
‘Um, okay. Let me look it up.’ A few seconds of silence was followed by Kyle clearing his throat. ‘Okay. This says that witnesses say the victim didn’t want to be there. That he said something like “He’ll kill her.”’
Bile burned in Shane’s throat and he rolled to his knees, throwing up. He could hear Kyle’s panicked voice. ‘Shane? Shane?’
Shane huffed hard, trying to get his brain to work. He spat, then rolled back to sit, closing his eyes. ‘I need to get to Cincinnati. Now.’
‘But . . . midterms.’
Like that mattered anymore? ‘I . . . I have to get to Cincinnati. Now.’
‘Okay, dude. Just . . . settle down, okay? Let me think a minute.’
Shane tried to stand, but his rubbery legs said no way and he slid back down to the concrete. ‘I need a car.’
‘I know. I said give me a minute.’ There were a series of quick dings in the background. ‘All right. This is what I need you to do. Go into the library, go to the john, and wash your face. Stay out of sight for thirty minutes. Then come back out and I’ll be waiting for you at the curb.’
‘But . . .’ Shane was overwhelmed. ‘You have midterms too.’
‘Not till Tuesday. I can drive you down tonight and be back in plenty of time.’
‘Your car is a piece of crap, Kyle. We’d never make it out of Illinois. I appreciate you offering, but . . .’
‘I’m borrowing Tiff’s car. I was texting her. She says if you puke in her car that I can never borrow it again, so make sure you’re done with the puking, okay?’
Shane chuffed a stunned laugh, able to see Kyle’s girlfriend saying exactly that. He shook his head, putting the logistics of travel aside to focus on what was more important. ‘If that guy’s looking for me and he knows we’re friends? That puts you in danger too.’
‘All the more reason for me to leave town for a few days,’ Kyle said seriously. ‘Now get your ass out of sight for thirty minutes. Tiff is meeting me at Burger King and we’re doing the car switch there.’
‘Thank you, Kyle. I mean it.’
‘Thirty, dude. Be ready.’
Shane ended the call and forced his body to rise, locking his knees so that he remained upright. And then he did exactly what Kyle had told him to do.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 9.20 P.M.
Adam had to park across the street and several driveways down from Meredith’s house when he arrived because there were already five vehicles parked in her driveway and on her curb. His and Trip’s vehicles made seven. He got out of his Jeep, scanning the street, immediately seeing the two unmarked cars providing surveillance.
‘Meredith got a party goin’ on or something?’ Trip asked.
Adam shrugged. ‘It was pretty inevitable that the crowd would gather here.’ Meredith Fallon inspired loyalty in everyone who knew her. Including me.
Trip eyed the cars in the driveway as they approached, a slight smile tipping his lips up. ‘Kendra’s here. That’s her Toyota.’
‘And Diesel’s truck and Bailey’s minivan,’ Adam added, glad Meredith’s cousin had come to support her too. And then he had to smile. ‘And Delores’s car.’ It was a hunk of junk, but Delores insisted she could get a few more miles out of it. All of Delores’s money went into her animal shelter. ‘That means Angel is here.’ Because the giant hound accompanied Delores everywhere she went.
Trip’s smile became a happy grin. ‘I love that dog. I’ve been thinking of getting one.’
‘Drinking the canine rescue Kool-Aid,’ Adam said, shaking his head, because just about everyone in their circle of friends had adopted a dog or cat from Delores’s shelter. At Trip’s arched eyebrow, Adam chuckled. ‘Me too. But not a puppy. I’ve watched Deacon throw away too many shoes training his.’
Trip stopped at the car parked at the top of the driveway. ‘Whose car is that?’
‘Probably her grandfather. Deacon says he’s okay, so I’m not worried.’
Trip gave him a pointed stare. ‘What’s this with Diesel asking us to come?’
‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. I called him again on the way out here and he was stubborn. He can be a little paranoid,’ Adam allowed. The guy was his friend, but Adam wasn’t blind to his faults.
‘And a lot rogue,’ Trip added with a frown. ‘He’s hacked something. You know it as well as I do.’
‘Figured it. And?’
‘And it’s illegal for him to do it. It’s illegal for us to know about.’
‘I know. I also know that somebody tried to kill Meredith today.’
‘And you’re willing to break the rules to protect her?’
I’d break every rule in every goddamn book in the world to keep her safe. He returned Trip’s pointed stare. The man didn’t have too many nightmares to live with. Yet. ‘I know there have been times – when things went to hell – that I wished for inside info before walking into a disaster.’
‘So if Diesel has ill-gotten information, you’ll look at it,’ Trip pressed.
Adam let out a breath that temporarily fogged the air between them. ‘And if I say yes? Will you report me?’
Trip hesitated a long moment. ‘No. I just needed to know how things are.’
‘I’ll protect you from fallout,’ Adam promised. ‘It’ll be on me.’
Trip’s face hardened. ‘If I walk into this with you, I’m doing it on my own and I’ll take my own damn consequences. You guys treat me like “the kid.” I’m not. You got me?’
‘I do,’ Adam said levelly, because Trip’s point was fair. ‘You get that everyone here will know we’ve talked to Diesel. Everyone will know why we’re here. Kendra will know why.’
‘I figured that out myself,’ Trip said, as if Adam were the kid. ‘It changes nothing.’
Adam nodded once, respect swelling. ‘Got it.’
Trip gestured to the door. ‘Then lead on.’
Meredith met them at the door, her eyes wary as she studied them both. ‘Gentlemen, please come in. Pardon the noise, it’s a little crowded in here.’
The sheer life of the house hit Adam squarely in the face as soon as he crossed over the threshold. Amazing scents came from the kitchen. Gingerbread maybe. Conversations were being shouted over the television where a video game battle raged between Bailey’s husband, Ryan Beardsley, and an older man with a bald head and a tat peeking out of his collar. Bailey’s daughter, Hope, sat in the older man’s lap, but her presence wasn’t impacting the old guy’s performance at all, because he was clearly winning.
Adam remembered what Deacon had told him. ‘The grandfather is some video game developer,’ he murmured, and Trip’s brows shot up.
‘And Diesel isn’t here playing with him? He must have something really good.’
‘Papa,’ Meredith called over the din. ‘Can you pause it?’ The noise immediately quieted, then silenced as the conversations halted.
Ryan Beardsley gave them both a wave, then tugged on his daughter’s ponytail. ‘Hope, come sit with me. Let Papa meet Aunt Meredith’s friends.’
Hope slid off the older man’s lap, but remained standing next to him as she gave Adam and Trip a narrow-eyed perusal. ‘Did you catch him yet?’ she asked. ‘The man who tried to kill Aunt Meredith?’
‘Not yet.’ Adam answered her question as gravely as she’d asked it. ‘We’re working on it, very hard.’
‘Good,’ Hope said with a frown. ‘This was a bad day.’
‘Yes,’ Adam agreed. ‘But it could have been far worse. Your aunt is okay, right?’
‘Yes,’ Meredith said dryly. ‘She is fine and she is standing right here. Hope, can you go to the kitchen and check on the cookies? We should be able to ice them soon.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Hope said glumly. ‘You just want to get rid of me.’
Bailey appeared in the doorway. ‘I wonder why that is? Come on, kiddo. Let’s see if we can figure out how to decorate gingerbread men with tattoos for Papa and Diesel.’
‘And gingerbread girls with tats,’ Hope said, leaning up to kiss the old man’s cheek. ‘Because I’m getting one as soon as I’m eighteen.’
The old man rose as Hope walked away. ‘You will do no such thing, young lady.’ He chuckled when Hope made a face before joining her mother in the kitchen. ‘So you’re the cops on Merry’s case. Good. I’m her grandfather, Clarke Fallon.’
Merry. Yes, that fit Meredith to a T. ‘I’m Detective Kimble.’ Adam shook the old man’s hand and found himself biting back a wince. There was clearly a warning there.
‘Special Agent Triplett.’ Trip shook hands as well. ‘When did you arrive, sir?’
The old man didn’t even blink. ‘My itinerary,’ he said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘Thank you for asking.’
He didn’t sound sarcastic. He actually sounded approving. Trip reviewed the page and handed it back to him. ‘Thank you, sir. We needed to check. Your arriving on the same day as an attempt is made on your granddaughter’s life is . . . coincidental.’
‘Providential,’ Ryan corrected and Adam remembered the man had been a chaplain.
Meredith smiled indulgently up at her grandfather. ‘A gift.’
Adam tore his eyes away from her face. ‘Where—’ He had to clear his throat, because he wanted her to look at him like that. So damn badly. ‘Where is Diesel?’
‘Basement,’ Meredith said, pointing. ‘It got too crowded up here.’
‘Door’s through the kitchen,’ Clarke said. ‘I’ll show you down.’
‘Adam knows the way,’ Meredith said quietly.
Adam couldn’t stop himself. His gaze flew back to her face, remembering the last time he’d been in her house. It had been pouring down rain and he’d stood out in the street, getting soaking wet as he fought with himself on whether or not he should go inside. She’d spied him standing there, beckoned him in. Her face had been resigned that evening. Like she knew he needed her, but that she couldn’t trust him not to hurt her.
Because the first time he’d been here, he’d left her sleeping in her bed without a word. No note. No goodbye. No thank you. Because I’m a coward. Time to change that.
‘Yes. I had gotten caught in a rain storm,’ Adam said, watching her grandfather from the corner of his eye. The old man knew. Adam wasn’t sure how much he knew, but he knew enough, because Clarke Fallon’s eyes narrowed. ‘I was dripping all over her carpet, so I changed downstairs. I know the way. Agent Triplett?’
The kitchen was filled to bursting with three women, a child, an enormous dog, trays of baked gingerbread men, and something bubbling in a pot on the stove that smelled like heaven. Adam’s stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since the power bar Deacon had given him.
Behind him, Trip groaned. ‘Damn, that smells good. I could eat an entire cow.’
Bailey was pulling another tray of cookies from the oven, Delores was peeling potatoes at the sink, and Kendra chilled at the kitchen table, looking more relaxed than Adam had ever seen her. He knew the feeling. He’d found peace at Meredith’s table too.
‘No, Angel,’ Hope scolded the dog, who was nosing the plate in her hands. Adam couldn’t blame the dog because there were three un-iced gingerbread men on the plate. ‘They’re for the detectives.’ She crossed the kitchen with her offering. ‘They’re warm.’ Her eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘But naked. Sorry.’
Trip couldn’t control his laugh this time, and it came snorting out. ‘Naked cookies? Miss Kendra told you to say that, didn’t she?’
Kendra grinned up at Trip. ‘Not gonna lie.’
Bailey just shook her head. ‘Hope,’ she said, exasperated.
Hope waggled her brows. ‘I’m going to get punished later, but it was worth it. One is for Mr Diesel, okay?’
Adam took the plate. ‘I’ll make sure he gets it,’ he promised with a smile. ‘Thanks.’
Hope gave him a long, long look, her smile fading. ‘Please find the shooter soon.’
‘I’ll do my very best,’ Adam promised again, far more gravely, because she looked so worried and because she’d said the shooter – a term no nine-year-old should ever know.
‘Have you guys eaten?’ Delores asked them.
‘No,’ Trip said before Adam could get out a word.
‘But we can’t stay,’ Adam said, wishing it weren’t so.
Delores waved them toward the stairs with a smile. ‘Then I’ll fix you both a plate to take with you.’
Thanking her, they went down the stairs that Adam remembered so damn well. The wall was paneled in light wood, giving the narrow stairwell a much larger feel. It opened to a great room, paneled the same way. There was a comfortable sofa and two loveseats arranged like a smile, all facing the giant flat screen on the wall. This was where Meredith and her girlfriends watched movies once a month. It was cozy. Welcoming. Just like her.
‘Finally,’ Diesel said, looking up from his laptop, sitting behind a desk in the far corner of the room. ‘Took you long enough to get here. Hurry up. I smell food upstairs.’
Adam crossed the room. ‘What did you find out?’
Diesel lifted a dark brow. ‘You have a chance to view footage of the school track, church, and grocery store?’
‘Yes,’ Adam said. ‘I know who I’m looking for. Obviously, you do too.’
‘She could tell me,’ Diesel said quietly, responding more to Adam’s arch tone than his words. ‘I’m not a cop.’
Adam sighed. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right.’
‘Nah. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have sent that text. That was asshole-ish of me.’
Noting Trip’s curious gaze, Adam huffed a chuckle. ‘Yes, it was. So, tell us what you found before Trip grows old and I grow older.’
Diesel grew abruptly grim. ‘Voss is being blackmailed.’
‘By whom?’ Trip asked.
‘Dunno. But it’s a hefty sum. I mean, the bastard can afford it, but still. It has to rankle to pay fifty grand. A month.’
Trip sucked in a surprised breath. ‘Holy shit. A month?’
‘Wow,’ Adam said, blinking. ‘That’s some chunk of change. Where’s it going?’
Diesel turned his laptop so that it faced them. ‘Voss keeps PDFs of his bank statements. This is his computer’s hard drive, not his bank account, but the information is the same.’ He’d highlighted several transactions. ‘Money’s going to an offshore account. Turks and Caicos.’
‘Of course,’ Adam murmured. He didn’t ask how Diesel had gained access to Voss’s hard drive. He did not want to know. ‘When did the payments start?’
‘Six months ago,’ Diesel said.
‘When did Meredith start seeing his kid?’ Trip asked.
‘About three weeks ago,’ Diesel said. ‘I had to ask Faith. Meredith wouldn’t tell me.’
‘Faith did?’ Trip asked, clearly surprised. ‘Isn’t she a therapist too? I thought she’d follow the same rules.’
Adam shrugged, not nearly as surprised. ‘Faith was stalked by a murderer a year ago. It’s how she and Deacon met. I think the experience made her a little more pragmatic about bending the rules.’ He frowned, thinking. ‘Was Meredith the child’s first therapist?’
‘Damn, you boys are smart,’ Diesel drawled. ‘Nope. Merry’s her third therapist.’
Adam scowled at him. ‘Merry?’
Diesel attempted an innocent look, but didn’t come close to pulling it off. The ass was just yanking Adam’s chain. ‘That’s what her gramps calls her.’
‘Yeah,’ Adam said. ‘Whatever. Her third therapist, huh. Where does Mrs Voss fit?’
‘Dunno. Didn’t ask. I mean, hell, do I have to do all your work for you?’
Adam found himself chuckling. ‘I’ll ask Faith myself. Does, uh, does Meredith know about any of this?’
‘No,’ Diesel said flatly. ‘She showed me a photograph of him on her cell phone. She took it when he was getting into his Lamborghini after following her around the grocery store. The photo got his license plate too. Vanity tag. Not like there are a million Lambos out there, but you can prove Voss’s was there.’
She’s smart. Adam had to school his face so that he didn’t smile with grim pride. Grim, because she shouldn’t have had to be smart in that way. That asshole should never have tried to intimidate her. ‘And nobody will know you’ve hacked in?’
‘Nope. Nobody ever knows when I do.’
‘God,’ Trip muttered. ‘Remind me to never piss you off.’
‘You wouldn’t be worth my trouble,’ Diesel said. ‘You don’t break the law.’
‘Pffft.’ Trip looked pretty grim himself. ‘I’m here, talking to you.’ Then he shrugged. ‘At least we know what evidence we need to get legally.’
A muscle twitched in Diesel’s cheek. ‘Innocents suffer because the bad guys have no qualms about breaking the law. Think of me as a middleman. A confidential informant.’
‘A CI who’s an evil genius,’ Trip said, and Diesel seemed to relax.
Adam sorted through the details in his mind. ‘At least we know where to start.’
‘The wife?’ Trip asked.
‘Living with her sister,’ Diesel commented.
Adam remembered the plate of cookies he held. ‘You earned all of these.’
‘Not all of them.’ Trip snatched one of the gingerbread men from the plate. ‘Give him yours if you want to. I’m starving.’
Adam broke the head off his cookie and popped it in his mouth. ‘That’s really good.’ He handed the plate to Diesel. ‘Thanks, man. I owe you one. I mean it.’
‘Don’t mention it. I’m one of Meredith’s fans. She does good work for kids.’ A shadow passed over his face. ‘Wish I’d had someone like her when I was a kid.’ He pointed to the stairs. ‘Go put Voss away. Please.’
‘Yeah,’ Adam said gruffly. ‘We will.’