Cincinnati, Ohio,
Monday 21 December, 10.30 A.M.
Hell of a cop you turned out to be. Adam looked away, the barb striking deep.
Trip tapped the table and caught his eye. ‘Stop,’ he mouthed.
Adam’s lips curved, appreciating the intervention. He rubbed his palms over his face. His mouth was so dry and he was starting to ramp up. He’d started visualizing all the liquor stores on his way home, hating himself more with every moment that passed. Weak. You’re goddamn weak.
So don’t be. You don’t need the booze. But he did. He needed—
Trip tossed him a pack of gum, his expression knowing. Adam took a piece, ignoring the smug look that crept over Dale’s face.
‘Always thought so,’ Dale remarked lazily. ‘You thought you were better than the rest of us. Than your daddy. Than Wyatt. But you’re as much a drunk as your daddy is.’
Adam stared at him, genuinely puzzled. Don’t engage. Do not engage. ‘What are you talking about? I never thought I was better.’ Dammit. He’d engaged.
A shrug. ‘MVP of your team, college graduate, detective before you were thirty.’
Adam continued to stare. He’d barely squeaked by in all of his classes. Deacon was the brilliant one. All Adam had been good at back then was hitting a damn ball. ‘So was Wyatt. The detective part anyway.’ But Wyatt had had a four-year head start. Adam had been fast-tracked. His career had continued on the rise until he’d transferred to Personal Crimes. When everything had gone to shit. When Paula was murdered.
Wyatt had stolen his lucky glove to throw him off a baseball game. Adam had already considered that Tiffany and her mother were killed in that manner to distract him. Had Paula been killed for the same reason? Oh my God. Oh my God.
Trip knocked on the table again, this time simply arching an eyebrow.
Right, Adam thought. Stop it. He shot Trip a wry smile, earning him a sober nod as Isenberg returned to the table. Deacon waited at the door, arms crossed over his chest, looking pissed off in general.
‘Mr Hanson,’ Isenberg said formally, ‘we may have some bad news for you. A body was just found behind a dry-cleaner about two miles from the hospital where the shootout took place last night. The victim has no ID, but his clothing and the location of his wounds match those of the shooter we confronted in the hospital parking lot.’
Dale sagged into his chair, stricken. ‘Mike’s dead?’
‘We think so. Did he have any tattoos or scars?’
Dale put his right hand over his heart, as if about to recite the pledge of allegiance. ‘He had a tattoo here. A Celtic cross in flames.’
Wonderful, Adam thought numbly. A killer, a rapist, and a white supremacist to boot.
‘Then yes,’ Isenberg said, ‘the body we recovered is that of your brother. I’m very sorry for your loss.’
Dale just sat there staring at her, hand still on his heart. ‘He can’t be dead.’
‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ Isenberg said politely. ‘We’re done here, so if you’d like, one of my officers can take you either home or to the morgue to do an ID.’ Isenberg extended her hand. ‘Detective Bishop and I will walk you up front and get you a ride.’
Dale took her hand. ‘How did he die?’
‘Probably not from the wounds he received during the shootout at the hospital,’ Isenberg said, ‘but the ME will have to make that determination after the autopsy. Please come with me now.’
Adam wanted to frown, because rushing the next of kin was pretty ruthless, even for when the victim was a murderer. But he trusted Isenberg, so he kept his mouth shut.
Dale shuffled off with Isenberg, out of the room and out of view. Adam and Trip waited, while Deacon stood at the door, watching Isenberg’s progress down the hall. Finally, Deacon entered the room and went straight to the table, pulling a glove on. He picked up the coffee cup that Dale had pushed away and bagged it.
‘We’re going to need DNA for a definitive ID of the body,’ Deacon said. ‘Face is bashed in. A bloody brick was found near the body. Dental records would be of no use. Fingers are gone so no prints.’
‘And the tat?’ Trip asked.
‘Cut right out of his skin. But it was over his heart.’ He tilted his head. ‘Adam?’
Adam blinked up at Deacon, then realized his own hand was over his heart. ‘Like the scar Mallory saw,’ he said quietly. ‘Wyatt had a tattoo, a long time ago. Over his heart. He had it removed when he started the academy.’
‘What was it of?’ Trip asked in a way that said he already knew.
‘Celtic cross in flames. He said that Mike had taken him out drinking for his eighteenth birthday and when he woke the next morning, he had the tattoo. He didn’t know it was white supremacist until his father saw it and threw a fit. Wyatt didn’t want his application to the academy to be rejected so he had it removed. That’s what he told me, anyway. I only saw the tat once and I never knew it scarred. I never thought about how a tattoo would be removed. I didn’t even consider he’d have a scar. Hell, I was still in high school and he’d gone off to the academy. I never saw him without a shirt on after he’d graduated high school because we weren’t playing ball any longer. He always wore a T-shirt in the precinct locker room.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Wyatt raped Mallory.’ Saying it out loud didn’t make it easier to accept. ‘Wyatt. Holy God.’
Deacon gripped his shoulder. ‘And we’ll make him pay for that, don’t worry.’
‘He was afraid she could ID his scar,’ Trip said. ‘And that you could, as well. That must be why you are both targets.’
Adam felt curiously detached. ‘I didn’t even remember he had one. That was twenty years ago.’
‘Sounds like Wyatt’s spent more time thinking about you than you have him,’ Trip said mildly. ‘All that shit coming out of his father’s mouth was just that – shit. You know this, right?’
‘Yeah. Still stings.’
‘I’ll bet,’ Trip grunted. ‘Did you have anyone in your life who was nice to you?’
Adam drew a breath because Deacon was still gripping his shoulder. ‘Yeah. My mom, when she could be. And Deacon, Dani, and Greg, all of the time.’ He patted Deacon’s hand awkwardly. ‘You can let go now, D. I’m not gonna bolt.’
‘Wasn’t sure,’ Deacon said, dropping his hand. ‘You look like you might.’
‘It’s a lot to take in. And I’m feeling . . . raw,’ he confessed. ‘I can’t believe anyone believed I thought I was superior to anyone. Well, to criminals, sure, but to my family?’
‘You are, you know,’ Deacon said. ‘You could have ended up a mean drunk like your dad, but you’re a nice, recovering drunk.’
Adam laughed, which he knew was Deacon’s intent. ‘You asshole.’
Deacon grinned. ‘Yeah, well, we all have our special gifts. Come on.’
‘Where are we going?’ Adam asked.
‘Upstairs to strategize.’ Deacon held up the bagged coffee cup. ‘I’ll catch up with you in the briefing room after I drop this sample off at the lab.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Monday 21 December, 10.45 A.M.
‘Merry, wake up.’
Diesel’s voice startled Meredith out of the doze she’d fallen into as she’d watched snow falling outside the waiting room window. She blinked awake, finding Diesel grinning.
‘What?’ she asked, touching her mouth, hoping she hadn’t been drooling.
‘You snore.’
‘I do not!’
His eyes twinkled at her. ‘Yes, you do and it’s cute. Ask Adam. He’ll tell you.’
She gave him a glare that held no heat. ‘Did you wake me up to make fun of me?’
‘No. I finally broke into Bethany Row’s personal email.’
‘Just now?’
‘About a half-hour ago.’
‘Why didn’t you wake me up?’
‘Because I wanted to find evidence and you needed to sleep.’
She smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’ He was a sweet man. For the hundredth time she wondered what Dani Novak was waiting for. Diesel clearly was interested, but Dani didn’t seem to be. Which wasn’t important now. ‘What did you find?’
‘Well, several messages from foster parents discussing perks, payments for her looking the other way. Some of the messages come out and say what they’ll pay her or what they’ll do for her because she’s discounted a child’s complaint. I imagine that’s what’s being used in the investigation against her. But I went back farther. She got an email from her bank six months ago saying that ten grand had been wired into her account.’
Meredith stared. ‘Ten thousand dollars? From whom?’
‘This is the interesting part. The email says the account it was wired from is the same account that Broderick Voss was paying into.’
Her eyes widened. ‘That’s amazing.’ Then she realized what they had and she groaned. ‘And of course we can’t talk about it or tell the cops about it because you hacked to learn about it.’
‘Which poisons the tree and makes anything the cops learn inadmissible,’ he said with a disgusted sigh. ‘I like it better when I’m not working with cops. I do what I want with what I find.’
She nodded glumly. ‘The Fourth Amendment’s a pain in the ass.’
Diesel snorted. ‘I’m sure your cop can figure out how to use this info just fine. He can ask the Indy cops for the file on the investigation and this email will pop up. He won’t get into any trouble.’
She smiled. My cop. He is. Mine. Diesel’s expression softened and she tilted her head, studying him. ‘What?’
‘Your face. You look happy.’ He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘You deserve to be.’
Her eyes stung. Again. ‘You keep making me cry.’ She pushed away from the table and was searching the waiting room for a box of tissues when her cell phone rang.
‘You should answer that,’ Diesel said. ‘It’s an Indy area code.’
She hurried back to glance at her screen. ‘It’s the detective.’ She hit ACCEPT. ‘Hello? This is Meredith Fallon.’
‘Good morning, Dr Fallon. This is Detective Santos, Indianapolis PD. I was told by my boss to stop avoiding your calls.’
‘Thank you,’ she said with a frown. ‘That’s very polite of you.’
He huffed a laugh. ‘I suppose I deserve that. But I haven’t been totally ignoring you. I had to go hunting through my personal notes, and given I can’t read my own handwriting, that took some time. But I have something for you.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Monday 21 December, 10.50 A.M.
Adam and Trip found Scarlett and Nash waiting in the briefing room. Nash was standing at the whiteboard again, once again staring at the photos of Paula and Tiffany.
Adam joined him there and stood silently for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, Nash,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t want to even wonder if you were involved, but I had to.’
Nash angled him a wry smile. ‘Hey, it’s okay. I might have thought the same in your place.’ He returned his gaze to the photos. ‘Do you think he had Paula killed? Wyatt?’
‘I think it’s possible. And that hurts,’ Adam confessed. ‘So damn much.’
‘I know,’ Nash said. ‘It hurts me and he wasn’t my childhood friend. I just can’t get over it in my head. How he stood next to us and watched her die.’
‘I know. But, looking back, I’m seeing that Wyatt wasn’t really the friend I thought he was. I was only eleven when I met him. I’m remembering a lot of the “pranks” and “teasing” he’d do – stuff that wasn’t funny, but I heard a helluva lot worse from my own father, so it didn’t register.’
‘He also didn’t want you to know,’ Trip said from behind them. ‘Sociopaths are really good at hiding their true nature. Otherwise we’d catch a lot more of them.’
Adam sighed. ‘Yeah, I know that. At least some things make sense. Whoever had been hiding Paula knew some sign language. So does Wyatt.’
Nash shook his head. ‘But years? He held her for years, Adam.’
Adam closed his eyes, unable to look at the photo of Paula’s suffering any longer. ‘I know. We know he was . . . attracted to Mallory at thirteen and was willing to risk being found out to rape her. Paula wasn’t through puberty yet. She was only eleven.’ And he’d kept her for years. ‘He has a little girl, Nash. She’s only seven.’
Nash made a pained noise. ‘God, I hope he hasn’t touched her.’
Adam wanted to be sick, but he gritted his teeth and forced his stomach to settle. ‘Yeah. Hopefully we can save Ariel from what the others went through.’
‘If Wyatt was Paula’s captor, why didn’t she know him the day we watched her die?’
Adam thought back to those few days during which he and Paula had communicated via Skype after she’d reached out to him. ‘Because he always stood off-camera. He said that it was “my show” to run. That he’d coach me through it because it was one of my first big cases in Personal Crimes.’
‘Which was condescending bullshit,’ Nash muttered.
Adam sighed. ‘I see that now. We wondered how she’d figured out how to use the Internet and email without raising the notice of her captor right away. Now I’m wondering if Wyatt did this to mess me up. Apparently, he’s always hated me.’
Nash was quiet a moment. ‘After I came out of my funk? I poked around and found that you paid for her ashes to be buried in a proper grave. Out of your own pocket.’
Adam shrugged, uncomfortable now. ‘I couldn’t stand the thought of her ending up in some unmarked grave. I didn’t know if she had family. Hell, I never even knew her last name. Just . . . for a few days, she was mine to protect.’
Nash’s sigh was sad. ‘I’ve been putting flowers there. First Sunday of the month. Maybe next time we can go together. Get some closure.’
Adam’s throat thickened. ‘I’d like that. Thank you.’ He turned away from the photos, just as Deacon came through the door, bigger than life as usual.
But not impervious to hurt, Adam thought. Just like Meredith wasn’t as impervious as everyone thought either. I hurt them both. I hurt a lot of people by closing myself off. Not gonna do that anymore.
‘How long before the lab gets DNA back on Dale Hanson?’ he asked Deacon.
‘Few hours. They moved it to the top of the priority list. It’s so much nicer now with the high-speed methods. Not like the old days when we had to wait a whole day or more.’
Nash rolled his eyes. ‘I love hearing you young pups talk about the old days. You got no concept about—’ He broke himself off, rolling his eyes again. ‘God, I’m old.’
Deacon assessed him seriously. ‘Maybe. But remember we need to hear from the old guys sometimes.’
Adam knew his cousin wasn’t talking about the older detective’s methods, but the dressing-down Nash had given them earlier. He was proven right by Deacon’s next words.
‘Trip, can you drop Adam off at the hospital when we’re done here? I think he needs some time to process.’
Trip’s brows arched. ‘With Meredith?’
Deacon shrugged. ‘Adam might need therapy.’
‘So that’s what you old guys are callin’ it now?’ Trip drawled. ‘Therapy?’
‘I’m not old,’ Deacon protested. ‘You’re just young.’
Nash chuckled. ‘That’s what happens when you call someone old, Novak. There’s always someone younger to come along and pay the insult forward. And “therapy” is a fine word for it, Agent Triplett. Adam could use it.’
Adam actually felt his cheeks heating. ‘Shut up. I’m not going to the hospital for Meredith yet. We are going to find Wyatt Hanson.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I need to.’
‘I know you do,’ Deacon said earnestly. ‘I get that. But you are his target, Adam. By putting yourself out there, you’re putting the rest of us in danger.’
Adam frowned, unimpressed. ‘You’re resorting to guilt, D? What the hell?’
Scarlett looked up from her phone, her expression a little guarded, making him wonder what else had happened, but she simply agreed. ‘It was pretty lame, Deacon.’
Adam gave her a grateful nod, before refocusing on Deacon. ‘Besides, it’s not your call. Until Isenberg decides otherwise, I’m lead on this case and I’m not going to hide.’
‘Isenberg,’ Isenberg said as she came through the door, ‘has decided otherwise. I’m taking the lead.’
Adam turned his frown in Isenberg’s direction. ‘Why?’
‘Because this case just became a big fucking deal, that’s why,’ she said cordially, as if they were discussing a sale on chicken at Kroger. ‘You do not want to be lead anymore. Hell, I don’t want to be lead. I’m doing you a favor, Detective.’ Then she shocked him by laying her hand on his arm and giving it a squeeze. ‘And because,’ she added in a murmur, ‘you were shot at this morning by someone you trusted and haven’t fully processed it.’
Adam wanted to be annoyed, but couldn’t find it in him. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You will be,’ she said, gently confident, completely disarming him. ‘Let’s all sit down. I have information you don’t. Let me tell you all and you will be begging me to take this off your hands.’
‘You might have told him this privately,’ Nash said in a loud whisper.
Isenberg rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t have time for niceties, Detective Currie, and my people are tough enough not to need them.’ But she gave Adam a look of apology before continuing. ‘I briefed the brass on what you all have put together this morning. Let’s just say that the idea that we have a rogue cop out there running prostitution rings and killing innocent people did not go over well. The media haven’t sunk their teeth into the story yet, but it’s a matter of time. Especially since the video Shane made for Linnie went viral.’
‘What video?’ Deacon, Nash, and Trip asked all together. Scarlett was oddly silent.
Adam blew out a breath. ‘Oh, the video. I’d forgotten all about it.’
‘Well, you have had a busy morning, Detective,’ Isenberg said, her eyes filled with I-told-you-so. ‘Tell them now.’
‘It was Meredith’s idea, actually. We were talking about losing Linnie’s trust and how she’d never approach us now, but she might trust Shane. I asked Colby and Wendi to supervise a video of him asking Linnie to come to us, since they’re with Mallory in the same hotel as Shane and Kyle. I figured I’d ask the Ledger to upload it to their website. But then John . . .’ He shrugged. ‘I lost the thread in everything that happened next.’
Scarlett blinked at him. ‘You did all that before your AA meeting?’
He had been productive, come to think of it. ‘Everything but talking to Marcus. I didn’t think he’d be awake at five thirty in the morning.’
‘He wasn’t,’ Scarlett said. Which she’d know because she and the newspaper owner were a couple. ‘But you could have asked me.’
Yes, he could have. And should have. Because he recognized the odd expression in her eyes, now. He’d hurt her too. ‘I’d planned to after my AA meeting this morning. Honest, Scar. As it turned out, though, Wendi and Parrish Colby were already awake. Mallory wasn’t sleeping. Neither were Shane and Kyle. They were all having a Star Wars marathon.’ He glanced at Isenberg. ‘How did it go viral? I never got to ask the Ledger for help.’
‘Diesel Kennedy took care of uploading it to the Ledger homepage,’ Isenberg said, then one side of her mouth lifted in a smirk. ‘He actually cleared it with me first.’
Scarlett looked surprised to hear that. ‘Wow. Diesel’s getting downright civilized. Asking permission and everything. I think that scares me.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Isenberg said dryly. ‘I don’t think he’ll be making it a habit. Anyway, the video went viral. Shane said very complimentary things about you, Adam. He told Linnie to trust you, that you wouldn’t hurt her. That you’re trying to help her. He begged her to come to him, so that they could bury Andy together.’
‘No wonder it went viral,’ Deacon murmured. ‘That’s a heartstring tugger.’
‘Indeed,’ Isenberg said briskly. ‘I asked Diesel to put your name, Adam, and the precinct’s switchboard number on the video. So far we’ve gotten a shitload of calls, but none from Linnie. It’s only been an hour though. And as far as we know she doesn’t have a phone, so she’ll have to see it via another medium. Which won’t be a problem, because the story’s been picked up by every major news outlet in the world.’
Adam stared at her. ‘In the world?’
‘You heard me. A fucking mess is what it is, but that can’t be helped. It can’t even be contained. We can only try to herd the media in the direction we want them to go.’
‘Which is?’ Nash asked.
She grimaced. ‘Fifteen minutes ago, it was to spin this as a cop suffering from PTSD after too many years on Personal Crimes and ICAC. The mention of cops working Internet crimes against children always makes good press.’
‘Except that’s not true,’ Adam said quietly. ‘Especially since he may have been responsible for Paula’s murder.’
Isenberg’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘I told them that. They . . . scoffed.’ She drew a breath and regained her composure. ‘Initially, anyway. I was able to convince them otherwise. But this is exactly why you do not want to be lead on this case anymore, Adam. That a cop’s involved in something this huge? It’s going to be a political nightmare. I won’t let you get dragged into it.’
He was unconvinced. ‘And I appreciate that. But I want to bring him down.’
Her expression softened. ‘I know,’ she said as if they were the only two in the room. ‘But you can’t. Not anymore. You’re personally involved. If you don’t get him, people will say you protected him because of your friendship and that cops all stick together. If you do get him, it’ll be portrayed as a vendetta, bad blood between you, bad history because your fathers were complicit in hiding a felony. Either way, it will kill your career.’
Adam knew she was right. He knew it. But goddamn it. He needed to see the look in Wyatt’s eyes when he realized he was totally screwed with no options left.
She hadn’t said another word, just watching him. Waiting for his reply.
Say something. Say anything. Tell her to go to hell. But he couldn’t do that. She was trying to save him. Risking herself in the process. Because that was what good bosses did.
Trip spoke into the silence. ‘You said that was the spin fifteen minutes ago. What’s it now?’
‘Right now the department’s official position is the truth,’ Isenberg said, but she was still watching Adam. ‘Thanks to Meredith Fallon.’
Adam’s eyes popped wide, then narrowed. ‘Meredith? What’s she done? If she’s left that hospital, I’ll—’
‘Be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future if you continue to speak,’ Isenberg said, lips twitching. ‘Relax. She’s fine. She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.’
‘Then how?’ Adam asked.
Isenberg shrugged. ‘Your shrink’s been busy. She just got us the missing piece of the puzzle – how Wyatt connects to Andy, Linnie, and Shane.’
‘Go, Merry,’ Scarlett said with a grin. ‘And?’
‘She knew the killer had to cross paths with Linnie at some point because he’d hired her for the college prostitution ring.’
Trip nodded. ‘Because Penny Voss saw her at one of her father’s parties. But we’re pretty sure Linnie was coerced. How did Wyatt manage that? What did he have on Linnie?’
Adam could suddenly see the path Meredith’s mind must have taken. Linnie had loved Andy, enough to escape with him when he ran from Indianapolis and changed his name. ‘The cover-up of the foster father’s murder,’ he said quietly. ‘Resurrecting the case could have sent Andy to prison and he’d killed for her. Linnie wasn’t going to let him suffer for saving her.’
Isenberg nodded sadly. ‘That seems to be the right answer. Meredith found out that Linnie’s caseworker – the one who was about to move her to a different home because Linnie had reported her rape – has recently been fired because she did the same thing to another girl who ended up committing suicide. The caseworker is under investigation for taking bribes and involuntary manslaughter. Meredith called the detective leading the investigation. He didn’t answer her at first, not until I called his CO and requested their cooperation.’
‘And?’ Scarlett asked. ‘What did she find out?’
‘Well, she found out that the detective had been quite busy all morning working with the prosecutor who handled Sandra Walton’s case. She’s the foster mother currently in jail for her husband’s murder.’
‘The murder Andy Gold actually committed,’ Trip said.
Isenberg nodded. ‘Mrs Walton’s defense attorney requested a new trial. She’d seen the photo of Andy Gold on the news yesterday, and argued it showed he was violent. And if that didn’t fly, the defense attorney also offered that Mrs Walton would provide evidence against Ms Row, the caseworker, in exchange for a reduced sentence. The detectives spent the morning pulling together everything they had on the foster mother, the caseworker, and Linnie Holmes. Turns out one of the detectives fielded a request from a Cincinnati Narcotics detective six months ago.’
Adam closed his eyes. ‘Wyatt Hanson.’
‘Yes. Six months ago, Linnie was caught shoplifting with two other people. Apparently, she’d fallen in with them when they’d shoplifted before and they’d watch out for each other and watch for cops or store security. The other two were known small-time dealers, but with connections to bigger fish that Narcotics had been hoping to bring down.’
‘Narcotics thought Linnie also had connections,’ Scarlett said. ‘But she didn’t.’
Isenberg shrugged. ‘We don’t know if she did or didn’t have connections. Hanson was called in to question them because he’d been trying to catch the bigger fish. I don’t know if he believed she was connected or not, but he knew Linnie was hiding something.’
‘Something he could exploit,’ Adam murmured and Isenberg nodded.
‘Hanson ran her prints and came up with a match to those lifted from stolen items pawned outside of Indianapolis. That’s when Hanson called Indianapolis PD, asking about Linnie’s past. The Indy detective sent Hanson his file on Linnie, which contained the report on the stolen items and the complaint she filed against Mrs Walton, the foster mother who beat her with a frying pan. It also had the card of her caseworker, the one under investigation.’
‘Did Hanson contact her too?’ Nash asked.
Isenberg frowned at him. ‘Be patient, Detective Currie. The Indy detective sent me his file and a copy of the caseworker’s cell phone log.’ She slid a piece of paper, covered in phone numbers, to the middle of the table. Three entries, all the same phone number, were circled.
Adam sucked in a breath. ‘The same number that called the hostess at Buon Cibo.’
‘And,’ Trip added, ‘the number that called the bomb’s cell phone trigger.’
Isenberg’s grin was wolfish. ‘And after the second call, Ms Row received an automated email from her bank account stating ten thousand dollars had been deposited. It’s circumstantial now, but Indy PD is sending us her bank statements so that we can include them with Broderick Voss’s, whenever we receive them.’
‘Wyatt paid her for the dirt on Linnie, Andy, and Shane.’ Adam was torn between fury at the caseworker and awe at Meredith for putting this together in the few hours since he’d left her that morning. ‘He found out that Andy had been arrested for murder.’
Isenberg sighed. ‘And probably threatened to tell the Cincinnati cops so that Andy would be extradited. Linnie couldn’t let Andy pay for committing murder for her. So she did what Wyatt demanded.’
Trip was shaking his head. ‘But why? Why go to all the trouble of setting Linnie up this way? There are, unfortunately, plenty of young women on the street who would’ve willingly worked for him. Why Linnie?’
‘Why Mallory?’ Adam asked rigidly. ‘Why Paula?’
‘Because he can,’ Nash murmured. ‘He gets off on the power. The thrill of manipulation. Who knows how many other victims he’s manipulated?’
‘It’s all but killed Linnie,’ Deacon said, jaw tight. ‘Dani was so upset that everything went south at the shelter yesterday. She said she ran tests on the blood samples she took from Linnie and her viral loads are frighteningly high. Her condition has gone untreated. She said that Linnie hadn’t eaten in a few days when she saw her at the clinic. She’ll never bring her loads down if she’s malnourished.’
‘I hope she contacts us,’ Scarlett said on a sigh. ‘But while we’re waiting, we need to find the sonofabitch who caused all of this.’
‘Wyatt Hanson,’ Adam gritted out, the sudden surge of fury a sucker punch to his gut. A clear picture of what he’d do when he found him slammed into his mind and it was not pretty. Isenberg was right. He was in no mental shape to hunt for Wyatt because if he found him, he’d strangle him with his bare hands.
He closed his eyes. ‘I think I do need a short break. A few hours, maybe. I’d like to go to the condo with Meredith. Any volunteers to guard my ass on the way?’
He opened his eyes in time to see Deacon close his, uttering a prayer of sincere thanks. ‘Took you long enough, you fucker.’
‘Yeah, well, when I learn, I learn. You won’t have to tell me again.’
‘I hope not, Detective.’ Isenberg stood, her signal for them to leave. ‘Deacon, Scarlett, take Adam to pick up Meredith and make sure they get to the condo safely, then I want you two to go to Wyatt’s house. He’s not there. My counterpart in Narcotics personally checked out the house this morning when Wyatt didn’t show up for his meeting with me. He didn’t go inside, because we didn’t have a warrant then, but he used a thermal imaging camera. There were no living people in the house at that time. I put a surveillance team on the house as soon as he didn’t show for our meeting this morning and he hasn’t been home. His wife came home a while ago, but so far no Wyatt. Search the house, question the wife, turn the place upside down.’
‘Do we have a warrant now?’ Deacon asked.
‘You do. For anything and everything. If you find a safe, do what you have to do to open it. Trip, you and Nash go to Mike’s garage in Fairfield. It’s near the used car place, and – luckily for us – has not been burned down. Find everything you can. Go. Be careful.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Monday 21 December, 11.20 A.M.
‘I thought you were going to call my husband in “a minute”,’ Rita said stiffly. ‘It’s already been over an hour.’
Linnea hadn’t yet contacted him, because every time she thought of facing him she wanted to puke. He’s a cop. But she was not going to give voice to her insecurities, so she shook her head instead.
‘He’d know my voice. Either he wouldn’t come at all, or he’d take me out with a rifle before I could pull the trigger.’
Rita’s chin lifted. ‘My husband is a police officer.’
‘Yeah. I know.’ And Linnea still reeled from the shock. Shifting the toddler to her other shoulder, she continued her gentle swaying. He’d fallen asleep an hour ago, but that wouldn’t last forever. She was going to have to make a move soon.
Several short bursts of vibration startled her, followed by another volley of buzzes. Someone was texting Rita’s cellphone. A lot. Maybe it’s him. Maybe he knows I’m here.
Good. Let him come. Although it was likely he’d send his police friends instead. They’d take her into custody because she really wouldn’t hurt the little boy. They’d never believe her story. About one of their own? Never. And then I won’t be able to kill him.
Carefully holding the child and the gun, she slipped Rita’s cellphone from the pocket of her coat and glanced at the screen.
Rita. Call me! What’s going on? CALL ME!
Followed by: RITA, r u ok? CALL ME! Wyatt’s on the news! Channel 12!
Linnea’s pulse rocketed. ‘Please turn on the TV. Channel twelve.’ She motioned with the gun when Rita didn’t move. ‘I said “please,” Mrs Hanson.’
Rita reached for the remote in a way that raised Linnea’s hackles.
‘Don’t think about throwing that at me,’ Linnea said calmly when Mrs Hanson’s arm reared back. ‘I don’t want to harm your son, but like I said before – I have nothing to lose.’
Rita blinked, sending tears down her face. ‘You’re vile.’
‘Yeah, well, you’re right about that. The television, Mrs Hanson. Please.’
Rita switched it on and found the news station. And gasped.
Linnea’s eyes widened.
The headline box at the bottom of the screen said: CPD Detective wanted for questioning in string of recent murders. The rest of the screen was filled with a photo of Wyatt Hanson. It was the same photo that sat on the family bookshelf.
It must be his department photo, she thought numbly. Then the reality of the words sank in. ‘Turn it up,’ Linnea demanded. ‘Now!’ she added when Rita didn’t move.
Rita fumbled with the remote, her hands shaking. ‘It’s a lie. It’s a lie.’
‘Turn it up,’ Linnea repeated, enunciating each word. ‘I’m losing patience.’
The remote was now shaking as Rita gripped it hard but she managed to turn up the volume. The photo of Hanson halved in size and moved to one side of the screen, the other side taken up by a podium, behind which stood a woman in her early fifties with short gray hair. She wore the same uniform that Wyatt wore in the photo. The caption beneath her name identified her as Lieutenant Isenberg.
‘It is with great regret,’ Isenberg said, the click-click-clicking of cameras in the background, ‘that we tell you that we are currently searching for one of CPD’s own detectives, Detective Wyatt Hanson of the Narcotics division, as a person of interest in the series of slayings that began on Saturday with the murder of Andy Gold.’
The photo of Hanson moved to the far corner of the screen and Andy’s face appeared where Wyatt’s had been.
Linnea’s chest tightened. ‘Andy,’ she whispered.
‘It’s not true,’ Rita insisted.
Linnea felt the stirrings of pity for the woman. ‘I’m sorry, but it is.’
‘Since Mr Gold’s murder,’ Isenberg went on, ‘we’ve seen at least ten more murders, here and in Chicago. These deaths are related.’
‘Ten more?’ Linnea murmured, stunned. Who? How?
‘A family of four died in a house fire Saturday night – a fire that was the work of an arsonist. Mr Gold lived in the house’s basement apartment. We assume the arsonist meant to destroy evidence that linked Mr Gold to another person of interest, Linnea Holmes. But,’ the lieutenant added quickly, ‘Miss Holmes is not a suspect. I repeat: she is not a suspect. We believe she has valuable information on the killers’ motives. I say “killers” in the plural because we know of two other men who were involved. Mr Butch Gilbert was killed Sunday afternoon and Mr Mike Barber was killed around midnight last night.’
‘Mike?’ Rita whispered, her face growing deathly pale.
Photographs of the two men popped up on the screen. Linnea’s stomach roiled at the sight of the men who’d raped her. Both were dead. Good, she thought fiercely. Then she looked at the baby sleeping on her shoulder. Mikey. From the look on Rita’s face, she realized the baby must have been named after the man who’d been killed at midnight.
‘As I said, there have been ten deaths related to this case. Retired police officer John Kasper became the most recent victim this morning. Two murders were committed in Chicago on Saturday night. Tiffany Curtis and her mother were killed because Tiffany had loaned her car to a friend of Andy Gold and Linnea Holmes.’
‘Shane,’ Linnea breathed.
‘Mr Shane Baird was hunted by Butch Gilbert, who apparently killed the two women in his efforts to ascertain Shane Baird’s whereabouts. We are not certain why he was in pursuit of Mr Baird, but we do know that Mr Baird had left for Cincinnati after hearing about Mr Gold’s death. He has told us he came to try and find Miss Holmes. In his effort to locate her, he recorded a video this morning, imploring Linnea to contact the police for her own protection, since we have reason to believe that Detective Hanson is still a threat to her. Since its upload to the Ledger’s website, the video has been seen over a million times, broadcasted online and over TV airwaves all over the world. We’d like to show the video in the event Linnea is watching this broadcast now.’
The screen then filled with Shane’s face and Linnea found herself leaning toward it.
Shane cleared his voice awkwardly. ‘Hi, Linnie,’ he said with a frighteningly earnest expression. ‘It’s Shane. I’m here in Cincinnati. I need to see you. I miss you. I want you to stay alive. The police are looking for you – but not to hurt you or put you in a cage. They want to help you. They have been so kind to me and Kyle. Well, you don’t know Kyle yet. He’s my friend from Chicago, who dropped everything to help me get here on Saturday night.’ Shane’s eyes clouded with pain. ‘The men who hurt you, Linnie, they killed Kyle’s girlfriend, Tiffany, and her mother, just because Tiff loaned us her car. They thought they could get her to tell them where I was. They wanted me so they could get to you. I want them to pay for what they did. To you and Tiffany and her mother and Andy, to all the other people they’ve hurt or killed. Detective Kimble is the lead detective on this case. He has been so kind, Linnie. These are good people. So, please, trust them. I know you’re scared, but I need you to trust them. For me?’ His eyes grew bright with tears. ‘Because I have to bury Andy in a few days, Linnie,’ he whispered. ‘I need you by my side when I do it. I can’t do this alone. Please, contact Detective Kimble.’ Shane blinked, sending tears down his face. ‘I promise the police will do everything they can to help you. I promise. And you know I’ve never broken my word to you. So do this for me and for Andy.’
The video ended abruptly. Throughout, Detective Adam Kimble’s name and the CPD switchboard number had scrolled across the screen. The gray-haired lieutenant reappeared on screen, looking straight at the camera. ‘Linnie, if you’re listening, you are not a suspect in these murders. But we do fear you are in danger. Please call us.’ She broke eye contact with the camera, her gaze roaming the gathered reporters. ‘I’ll take questions now.’
‘You can mute it now,’ Linnea said quietly.
Rita did so, staring at the television in shock. ‘It’s not true,’ she whispered, but with none of the conviction she’d held earlier. ‘It can’t be true.’
Linnea stood, the baby still cuddled on her shoulder. With Rita’s phone, she dialed the number at the bottom of the screen. She wanted to do the right thing. For Andy, for Shane, for all the other victims.
And for myself.