‘X-Men?’ Faith asked, already liking Dani more than her brother.
‘Of course. Rogue’s my favorite. Absorbing other people’s powers for a little while would be seriously useful. Without draining them to death, of course.’ She made a face. ‘Hippocratic conflict and all that.’
‘Damn ethics,’ Faith said dryly. ‘I was always more of a Black Widow fangirl myself.’
‘With your red hair, I can see why.’ Dani paused, her voice becoming cagey. ‘Or is it perhaps because of her super-skills? You know, all that karate and kung-fu, the acrobatics and super-marksmanship? Or, uh, maybe even the climbing of sheer rocky embankments?’
‘You know your comic book canon. Except for the rocky embankment part, of course. I don’t recall the issue where Black Widow did that. Obviously you’ve talked to Agent Novak.’
‘He texted me the high points and then I called Sheriff Palmer and the EMT who treated you for the detailed version. That was a pretty impressive climb you made.’
Faith shrugged. ‘I do wall climbing at the gym. Did, anyway, back in Miami. The embankment wasn’t all that difficult.’
‘I’ve been considering trying that, but I’m probably too old to learn now.’
‘Nonsense. I didn’t start until a few years ago.’ Right after she’d recovered from Combs slitting her throat. She’d learned to defend herself and escape various situations.
Dani put the glue away. ‘Then I might try after all. What about Black Widow’s other super-skills? Running? Martial Arts? Marksmanship? Classical ballet? Can you do those too?’
‘All of the above, except for being a ballerina. I grew too tall. Did Agent Novak have dark hair with a white streak too?’ Faith asked, needing to deflect attention away from herself.
‘He did. Except he went the other way, letting it all go white. It works for him.’
It really did, Faith thought reluctantly. Everything about Novak’s appearance worked for him. Which didn’t seem quite fair. ‘And what about your younger brother? The one who’s in hot water with the older-than-dirt principal? Does he have the same streak of white?’
Dani laughed. ‘She is older than dirt, but she can still make me shake in my shoes. She never, ever forgets a student or their transgressions. Deacon’s in for it.’ She leaned forward to inspect her work. ‘Not bad, if I do say so myself. You shouldn’t have a scar.’
‘It’s okay if I do,’ Faith said, noting that the other woman had evaded the question about her younger brother. ‘I’ll just have a matched set.’ She pulled her sweater away from her throat and watched Dani’s mismatched eyes flash hot with surprise.
‘That’s quite a souvenir,’ Dani said. ‘Hopefully your attacker won’t find you here.’
But if Novak was right, Combs already had found her, arriving long before she had, lying in wait for his victims.
In Grandmother’s house, no less, Faith thought with a mental eye-roll. Peter Combs was a beast in his own right. He needed no assistance from a fairy tale.
Novak simply couldn’t be right. His theory was ludicrous.
But . . . What if he is right? Then Kimble was right, too. Faith was involved. Culpable. Because if Novak was right, it meant that she’d led the beast here. Which meant that Arianna and Corinne had been abducted, tortured . . . because of me.
‘If he finds me, I’ll be ready. I won’t let him hurt me again.’ Or anyone else.
Dani frowned. ‘I’m all for taking care of yourself, but within reason. If the man who did that to you surfaces, I hope you’ll contact my brother. I know he ruffled your feathers, but Deacon is very good at what he does. And even though he can be a cocky son-of-a-gun, his heart’s bigger than any I’ve ever known. Please, Faith. Don’t take Combs on by yourself.’
Faith leaned back a fraction, startled. ‘You know about Combs? You know who I am?’
‘I know who you used to be. I Googled you before I came in.’
Faith narrowed her eyes. ‘How did you know who I used to be? Did your brother tell you?’
‘No. My cousin called to give me the heads-up that Deacon was bringing you to the ER.’
‘Kimble,’ Faith said darkly.
Without commenting, Dani took Faith’s hands and with gentle efficiency stripped away the bandages the EMT had applied. ‘No need for stitches. Just keep them clean and dry. What about your feet? I heard you climbed that embankment without shoes.’
Faith hated that people could Google her. She hated that this woman, with whom she’d felt so comfortable, knew everything about her. Knew who she used to be. ‘My feet are fine.’
Dani met her eyes again. ‘You don’t like it that I know about Combs and what he said about you when he was on trial.’
‘That I slept with him? No. Would you?’
Dani’s smile was strangely sad. ‘We all have secrets we’d rather keep buried, so no, I wouldn’t. But I wasn’t interested in what the press said. Have you ever gone on the loops?’
‘Which ones?’
‘The online forums where victims can tell their story, get support from each other.’
Faith’s irritation dissipated, curiosity taking its place. ‘I know they’re there, of course, but visiting seemed like an invasion of my clients’ privacy, so I never did. What did you find?’
‘That they talk about you, your clients. I didn’t have to search hard to find some incredible stories of the work you did. Real tear-jerkers. A few discussions about the accusations Combs hurled at you. Your clients supported you. Recommended you to other victims.’
Faith swallowed hard, but the tears came anyway. ‘I didn’t know,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Thank you. God. Just . . . thank you.’
Dani slid a box of tissues across the table. ‘You’re welcome. Look, right now you’re scared. Angry that no one helped you. Maybe even feeling a little sorry for yourself?’
Faith dabbed at her eyes. ‘Yeah. Pretty much all of the above.’
‘I’d say you’re entitled – to a point. But watch the self-pity. It can eat you alive from the inside out. When you’re ready to make a difference again, give me a call.’ She handed Faith her business card. ‘When I’m not on shift here – or in the principal’s office with my little brother – you’ll find me there. We’re always looking for people with your skill set.’
Faith read the card. Dr Danika Novak, MD. And above her name, in a simple bold font, Lorelle E. Meadows Center, The Meadow. ‘What is The Meadow?’
‘A free clinic in Over-the-Rhine. We have two locations, one for men, one for women and kids. We provide basic medical and counseling services. We get a lot of addicts and runaways. A lot of STDs. And sex abuse victims who are reluctant to go to a traditional hospital because they don’t want the police involved. Some are afraid they’ll be thrown out of their home for accusing stepfathers or fathers or mothers’ boyfriends.’ Dani pulled her pager from her pocket, glanced at the screen. ‘I have to go. If you need a general practitioner, I can recommend several.’
‘Thank you. But I thought you’d get to go home now.’
‘Not yet. I’m on call for hearing-impaired patients since I’m the only doctor who signs. I would have been called in even if you hadn’t been here.’ She pointed to the scrubs she’d placed on the table when she came in. ‘The nurse said you were still wearing bloody clothes.’
Faith’s fingers rose to tuck the collar of her sweater more firmly against her throat. ‘I’ll borrow the pants. My sweater is okay.’
Dani’s smile was understanding. ‘I’ll tell Deacon to knock before he comes back in. Take care, Faith. I hope I see you again, and if you decide to come down to The Meadow, let me know. I’ll meet you there and show you around.’
‘I will.’ If I still have a license when Novak is finished with me. ‘Thank you.’
Cincinnati, Ohio, Monday 3 November, 11.05 P.M.
Deacon parked his SUV behind Aunt Tammy’s minivan, swallowing a wince at the sight of the classic Lincoln Continental that was Jim Kimble’s pride
and joy. He’d hoped his uncle wouldn’t be home, but with it being so late, he’d known he would be.
So Deacon had come bearing gifts.
A light was on in Greg’s room upstairs and the television flickered in the darkened living room. Feet in pink fuzzy slippers were visible on the recliner that pointed toward the TV. Deacon tapped lightly on the front door, in case Tammy was asleep. The door opened without a sound and Deacon found himself eye to eye with the reason he’d never sought an assignment in Cincinnati up until now.
Jim Kimble was the only man Deacon had ever met who could look intimidating while wearing a faded flannel robe and pink slippers. Maybe it was his unflinching stare, his square jaw, and the fact that he was built like a six-foot-tall brick. It might have been the fact that he was a tough cop with a reputation for banging heads together to keep the peace.
But it was more likely because Jim had been the only man who’d ever forced Deacon’s father to back down, which he’d accomplished by sending Arnie Cavendish flying through a plate-glass window with a single punch. Arnie had had it coming, that was for damn certain. But Deacon had been afraid of Jim for years thereafter. His uncle had never raised a hand to him, but the threat was always there.
Jim still had the power, with a single arched brow, to make Deacon feel like an inadequate, scrawny teenager. He was giving him the look right now.
Without saying a word, Deacon lifted the bags he’d brought. Skyline coneys in one hand and Graeter’s ice cream in the other. The chili dogs were a Cincinnati staple and the ice cream was his aunt’s favorite.
Jim looked the offering over, then stepped back, motioning Deacon inside with a jerk of his head. Deacon followed him into the kitchen, held up two fingers, then watched as Jim took two plates from the cupboard and set them on the table.
In silence Deacon put two chili dogs on each plate, then held the pint of ice cream out for his uncle to check that it was sugar-free before putting it in the freezer.
‘At least you’re not trying to kill her anymore,’ Jim grunted.
Deacon barely kept from rolling his eyes. Tammy’s doctor had limited her sugar intake, but the barb was aimed at his and Greg’s fight that afternoon. ‘I wasn’t trying to kill her earlier today, either. I lost my temper. I’m sorry.’
Jim sat at the table and downed a coney in three bites. ‘You eating?’
‘No. I can’t stay. I have a witness getting worked on in the ER and I have to go collect her. I just came by to check on Tammy and talk to Greg.’
Jim shook his head, lips hard and thin. ‘That boy is killin’ her. Breaking her heart.’
‘I know.’ Deacon picked up one of the plates to take up to Greg. ‘He’ll have to stay here tomorrow until his meeting with the principal. I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere else to put him.’
‘That house of yours almost done?’
‘Almost. End of the week, just like I promised. We’ll move Greg’s stuff on the weekend.’
‘See that you do.’
Gritting his teeth, Deacon walked away from his uncle and went up the stairs, flicking the switch outside Greg’s room. If Greg wasn’t wearing his hearing aids, he wouldn’t hear a knock.
There was no answer, so Deacon tried the door, surprised when it was unlocked. Greg was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, throwing a basketball a few feet into the air and catching it. He looked at the coneys, then back up at Deacon.
‘You plugged in?’ Deacon asked, touching his own ear.
With a long-suffering sigh, Greg put his aids in his ears and turned them on. ‘What?’
‘Food?’ Deacon asked with only a little sarcasm. He put the plate on Greg’s nightstand and walked to the window and stared out, his hands deep in his pockets, trying to think of what to say. Behind him he heard the rattle of the coneys’ wrapping paper.
‘Why do you do that?’ Greg asked, his mouth full.
Deacon looked over his shoulder. ‘Why do I do what?’
‘Stand at the window and stare out. You always stand there. Since I was a kid.’
Deacon sat on the corner of the bed so that Greg could see his face. ‘That was my window, over there, across the way.’ He thumbed at the window behind him. ‘You know that.’
He and Dani had lived in the house next door until Arnie Cavendish had died in a bar brawl. Then Deacon, his mother and sister had moved into this house with Tammy and Jim and Adam until Bruce Novak had come into their lives. Bruce had been good to his mother and had adopted him and Dani so that they didn’t have to say ‘Cavendish’ out loud ever again.
‘This was my room for two years,’ Deacon added. ‘I shared it with Adam. But I always missed my old room. It had glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.’ The new tenants had taken them down and thrown them away. It had been another reminder that he and Dani and his mother were homeless, dependent on the good will of others. Specifically Uncle Jim.
The fact that Jim owned the house next door had made Deacon angry then. Jim still made him angry more than two decades later, but not for the same reasons. Now he understood that Jim and Tammy had not been rich and needed the rent income from the house to pay its mortgage. He understood that they had never planned to be landlords, that they’d only bought the house so that his mother could have a decent place to live because she was pregnant with Deacon, and Arnie had insisted he could only afford subsidized housing. Deacon knew that after Arnie’s death, his mother couldn’t afford the rent on her salary alone, so Jim had had no choice but to rent it out to strangers.
What made Deacon angry was that Jim had never taken the time to explain the situation to a scrawny, scared little boy so that he knew he wasn’t unwanted or a burden. In Jim’s mind, Deacon should have been satisfied that he had a roof over his head and food in his belly. Explanations had been unnecessary.
Greg laughed derisively. ‘Glow-in-the-dark stars. You were such a nerd.’
‘I still am. Look, I don’t have much time. I wanted to apologize to you. Not for confronting you about the suspension, but for the way I did it. I never should have let myself get so angry.’
Greg’s eyes, one blue and one brown just like Dani’s, briefly widened in surprise. But he shrugged. ‘Whatever, D. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Yeah, it does. I was tempted to use my fists on you today. I’m sorry for that too.’
A shocked flicker, covered by a sneer and another shrug. ‘I would have hit you back.’
‘Which is my point. If you’d hit me back, where do you think we would have ended up?’
‘You in the hospital,’ Greg said cockily. ‘I would have handed you your ass.’
Deacon shook his head. ‘Not now,’ he said seriously. ‘Maybe in a year or two, when you’re fully grown. Right now, I’m bigger than you are and my fists are bigger than yours and I’ve been trained in how to use them. I would have done more damage to you than you could have done to me. That would have been wrong. And I never would have been able to take it back.’
‘You want me to say I’m sorry too, for yelling at you? Fuck that.’
Deacon winced. ‘Yelling is a shitty way for us to start off together. Plus, it’s a waste of energy on my end when you can just turn off the hearing aids and let me tire myself out.’
Greg grinned. ‘I thought your veins were going to pop right out of your neck.’
Deacon’s chuckle was rueful. ‘So did I.’ He sobered. ‘We upset Aunt Tammy.’
Greg’s grin disappeared like mist, his expression going as stony as Jim’s had been.
Deacon sighed. I should have never agreed to let Jim raise you, he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Greg had enough issues with respect without Deacon giving him additional ammunition against their uncle. Jim had allowed Tammy to take Greg in and raise him as her own. He’d made sure Greg was fed and clothed and schooled, that he’d had braces and hearing aids . . .
The man deserved some respect for that, if nothing else.
Deacon wanted to believe that he could hav
e been a better guardian for Greg. He might be now, but as an eighteen-year-old with an infant? It wasn’t going to happen. He’d made an attempt to take custody, but Jim had told him in no uncertain terms that he’d squash Deacon in court. Like a bug had been his exact phrasing.
‘I didn’t mean to make her upset,’ Greg said.
‘I know,’ Deacon murmured, feeling a little hope for the boy. ‘Did you tell Tammy that?’
Again the sneer. ‘No. Why should I?’
‘Because she loves you and always has. Because you don’t have to be a tough guy around her. Because it’s the right thing to do. Why did you get into this fight at school, Greg?’
Greg rolled his eyes. ‘Now you ask me?’
‘Yeah, because it occurred to me as I was driving away that I hadn’t. I just yelled. So why?’
Greg looked away again. ‘They had it coming. Damn bullies pissed me off.’
Deacon frowned. ‘They bullied you?’
Greg’s chin went up and he visibly braced himself before meeting Deacon’s eyes. ‘Yes.’
There was something there, Deacon thought, troubled. His brother was clearly lying. ‘Why didn’t you tell a teacher? Why take it into your own hands?’
‘Like the teachers would do jackshit,’ Greg muttered. ‘I can take care of myself.’
‘And that worked out well,’ Deacon said mildly. ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for your appointment with Miss Pohl. Be ready. I have to go now. You should use tomorrow to start packing your things. Saturday is moving day.’ He went to the door, stopped with his hand on the knob, then turned to meet Greg’s eyes again. ‘I wouldn’t have hit you today. I won’t hit you in the future. You have my word. I want you to know that you’re safe with me.’
Greg unexpectedly launched himself off the bed and walked over to the window, looking out much as Deacon had done. ‘Fine,’ he said, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Deacon felt a spurt of fear. ‘Greg, what’s going on here? Is somebody hitting you?’
‘No. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me. Thanks for the coneys.’ Greg pulled his hearing aids out and tossed them on the bed. ‘I’m tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.’