Dr. Dani looked over at her with a slight frown. “I’m sorry, you’re sitting on my deaf side. I didn’t hear your question.”
Linnea frowned back. “You have a deaf side?”
Dr. Dani’s frown became a smile. “I do.” She tapped her right ear. “I have a type of hearing aid, but my battery is running low. Are you worried about the neighborhood?”
Linnea shrugged. “A little.”
“It can be dicey after dark, but you’ll be perfectly safe inside. I called ahead and they saved some supper for you.”
Linnea nearly slumped in relief. The clinic had given her a few protein bars and some juice, but they hadn’t been nearly enough to fill her hungry stomach. “Thank you.”
The doctor parallel parked her car expertly, reminding Linnea of Andy. Which made her eyes sting. Not yet. Not here. Not until she was alone. Then she could cry. Until then, she didn’t want anyone to ask questions because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep from spilling her secrets to anyone kind enough to listen. And that would be the end of kindness. She’d be hauled off to jail and they’d throw away the key.
“We’re here,” Dr. Dani announced. “This is a shelter run by St. Ambrose’s. The head nun is a friend. Her name is Sister Jeanette. She’s a retired nurse with a lot of experience with your kind of injury. And your medical condition.”
Linnea stiffened. “You told her I’m positive?”
The doctor frowned. “No. Of course I didn’t. I’m not allowed to tell her that, but I know that she’s had many women come through her shelter who were positive, just like you.” Her frown had faded and she was smiling gently once again. “I should have the results of your viral load tests in a few days. I’ll call Sister Jeanette and she’ll have you call me. I will never tell her anything about your condition without your written consent.”
“Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t thank me. That’s your legal right. I’m merely obeying the law. Once we know what your viral loads are, we can get you the medication you need.”
Linnea nodded, having no intention of taking the medication. She’d sell it as soon as she got it. It was of no use to her now. She was a dead woman walking. “Okay.”
“Good. Now, let’s discuss what to expect. There will be a locked door that we’ll be buzzed into. It’s not a prison. You are there voluntarily. You can leave at any time. But someone will need to buzz you out. Whoever is on duty will do so with no questions asked, but you won’t be allowed to return until the shelter opens its doors again tomorrow at five p.m. We’re only coming in late because I called ahead to get permission. Okay?”
Linnea didn’t like that, but she nodded again. If the door was locked, he couldn’t get in. “Will they make me leave tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure. Policy is that residents don’t stay during the day, but they make exceptions for the ill and injured. So you will probably be allowed to stay tomorrow if you wish. But not if you leave. What else? Oh, they’ll have clothes in your size. I did give that info to Sister Jeanette. They’ll also have a coat for you to keep. I’ll need to take the one you’re wearing back with me.”
Linnea had never expected to be allowed to keep the coat. It was too nice. “I understand. Someone else will need to use it.”
Dr. Dani’s smile was so kind that it almost hurt. “It’s actually my coat,” she said.
Linnea gasped. “I took your coat?”
“No, I loaned you my coat. And it’s all right. I’ll need it back, but I’m okay for now. My car’s heater works really well. I would have been overheated in my coat.”
Linnea’s eyes blurred with sudden tears. She’d thought it odd that the doctor wore only a cardigan. “Th—” She shuddered out a breath, unable to speak her thanks.
“You’re welcome. Now, about the coat you were wearing.”
Linnea squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to dissolve into sobs. She’d already cried too much tonight and she had a headache. But it was so hard not to cry at the memory of the doctor putting her coat in a red biohazard bag because she’d bled on it while sitting on it in the cab.
“It was important to you?” Dr. Dani asked.
Linnea managed a nod. “It . . . it was a gift. From someone who l-loved me.” From Andy. It was the only thing she had left from him since she’d left the switchblade embedded in his arm. Hope he gets gangrene and dies. But not before I can kill him myself.
Which made no sense. I’m so tired.
She’d have to get another knife as soon as she got out of the shelter. Or maybe even a gun. Something especially deadly because she might not get more than one chance to kill him. She needed to make the most of the opportunity. But she could think about that later.
The doctor bit her lip thoughtfully. “Tell you what. I’m going to submit your coat to the police along with the rape kit, the clothes you . . . appropriated from the hotel, and the clothes you brought in the plastic bag.”
The clothes she’d bled on. “I understand,” she whispered.
“But if they don’t need the coat as evidence, I’ll see if we can get it cleaned for you.”
Linnea’s eyes spilled over. “Why? Why would you do that for me?”
“Because I understand the sentimental value it has for you. My brother has a coat that our stepfather gave him, right before our stepfather and mother died in a car accident. Deacon has other coats, but that one is really important to him.” She sighed. “And because someone needs to be kind to you, Denise.”
Denise. Linnea kept having to remind herself that was her name now. For as long as she stayed alive. “I . . . never expected any of this. I would have been happy to have a safe place to sleep.”
“You should expect more,” Dr. Dani said simply. “Let’s go. I need to get back to the clinic. My dinner break is nearly over.”
She’d . . . Linnea shook her head numbly. The doctor had given up her dinner break, too. For me. She had the sudden need to do something . . . honorable. To pay the woman back for her kindness.
I need to use a phone. I need to tell the police about the SUV. She could do that much.
She followed Dr. Dani from the car to an old building with a heavy wooden door. It pulled open with a small creak and Linnea found herself . . .
Oh God. A church. Linnea scuttled backward, unwilling to move another step. Dr. Dani turned to search her face, the woman’s own expression questioning. “We need to walk through the sanctuary to get to the shelter. It’s downstairs. That’s where they’ll buzz us in.” She tugged Linnea farther inside, then pulled the heavy door closed with a thud that had her flinching.
“I can’t be in a church.” Not after the things she’d done.
“Of course you can.” The doctor’s voice was, once again, too kind.
“No.” She could feel herself begin to hyperventilate. “I’ve done too much.”
“You’ve survived. Come with me. You can come up with other options besides a shelter beneath a church once you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
Linnea reluctantly followed until they came to another set of doors. On this door the doctor knocked, then stood back, pointing to the peephole. “So Jeanette will know it’s us,” she explained.
A few seconds later Linnea heard a beep and the door opened to a hallway lit with wall sconces that flickered like natural candlelight, but they were all electric. A sweet-faced older lady with a white blouse and a black skirt stood there, a smile of welcome on her face.
“Dr. Dani,” the woman said, hugging the doctor after closing the door behind them. Linnea heard the lock quietly click. She was trapped. She looked side to side, all around, panic building until the doctor touched her back for the briefest of moments.
“Denise,” she said. “You’re safe here. Remember? You can leave at any time.”
Denise. Yeah. She wished she’d at least gotte
n a fake ID with an “L” name. She was going to give herself away by forgetting her own damn name. Wordlessly Linnea nodded.
“This is Sister Jeanette,” the doctor continued. “She’s one of the good guys. She’s got a bed for you to sleep in tonight.”
“And a warm coat,” the sister added with a smile.
Linnea removed the doctor’s coat and gave it back to her. “I didn’t bleed on it,” she whispered, hoping the old nun had bad hearing.
Dr. Dani’s lips quirked up. “I know. I’m the one who bandaged you all up. I’m an expert bandage-upper.” Quickly she searched the pockets. “There’s something here for you. I found it in your other coat but forgot to tell you that I put it in this pocket. Ah, here it is.” A small white square of paper lay on her palm.
That’s mine? Linnea stared, having trouble remembering where she’d gotten it. Oh. Right. Now she remembered. The piece of paper she’d found in the SUV when she’d been searching for cash. She took it from the doctor’s outstretched hand. “Thank you.”
“If you’ll follow me,” the nun said, “I’ll warm up your supper and then you can shower and go to sleep.”
Dr. Dani gave her arm another one of those feather-light touches. “You have my number at the clinic now. Call if you have any issues. Even if I’m not there, I’ll get the message.”
“Thank you,” Linnea said once again. “I won’t forget you, as long as I live.” So, like, for another week. Max.
“Sister Jeanette, it’s always a pleasure,” Dr. Dani said to the nun and then she was gone, buzzed through the locked door, back into the sanctuary.
“Come with me,” the nun said. “I’ll show you to the kitchen.” She started walking, her step heavy. “Our priest is Father Bishop. He’s a very kind man and a trained therapist, if you’re needing to talk with anyone.”
Linnea found herself truly smiling for the first time in days. “Father Bishop?”
“He likes to be called Father Trace, his first name, but I like to tease him,” the nun confided. “It’s about all the fun I get these days.”
She opened another door, this one to a large, industrial-style kitchen with gleaming stainless steel fixtures, appliances, and countertops. The table was old, but homey looking. “Sit, child. I’ll bring your plate to you. I hope you like chicken.”
“I’d like anything, ma’am,” Linnea said truthfully. “I’m very hungry.”
The nun paused. “How long since you’ve had a normal meal?”
Since before she’d been grabbed from Jolee’s apartment Thursday night. She’d fled to Jolee’s after Andy had seen her with him at that motel and had accused her of sleeping with him. That Andy had died believing she’d willingly sold herself was a dull blade in her heart. “Two days. I think. The doctor gave me two protein bars and some juice.”
“That’ll keep you from keeling over, but it’s not a proper meal,” the sister said, clucking her tongue.
“Can . . . can I use your bathroom?”
The nun pointed to a door just beyond the kitchen. “In there.”
“Thank you.” Linnea shut the door behind her and searched the walls and ceilings for cameras. Because she still trusted no one. Not even Dr. Dani or the sweet-faced nun. But there were no cameras visible and Linnea sat on the toilet seat and unfolded the little square of paper. For a long moment she stared at it, unsure of what she was looking at.
It was actually just a fragment, the edges ragged. It was kind of rectangular in shape, but had obviously been part of a larger piece of paper. Linnea squinted at the print. It was smudged in places, like it had gotten wet. With drops.
Tears? Maybe. But she could still read the words.
concerned about Ariel’s performance
s acted out, disturbing the class when
arent-teacher conference so that we c
iel—both with the math skills and wi
note below, detach it, and return it to
tter.
ery sincerely yours,
iss Abernathy
irst grade
ruber Academy
Below the note was a dotted line and below that, an aborted attempt at a signature. The best Linnea could tell, someone had started to write Mrs.
Well, it seemed a first-grader named Ariel was not doing well in school. A school that contained the letters “r-u-b-e-r.” The fragment of the signature was done in a childish printed scrawl. A child trying to forge her parent’s signature, perhaps? God only knew, Linnea had done the same when she’d been in trouble at school. But she needn’t have bothered. Her own mother had never cared a whit about Linnea’s schooling. It was free babysitting in her mother’s eyes.
But the “signature” on the page? That was no legit signature for sure.
The big question was, who was Ariel and had she dropped the fragment of the note into the seat pocket of the SUV or had someone else? If it had been Ariel, what the fuck had a first grader been doing in his SUV?
Linnea needed to find out, because this was a clue she could chase down when she left this place. Folding the paper back up, she hid it in her sock. Then she flushed the toilet, so the nun wouldn’t wonder what she was doing in the bathroom, washed her hands, and went back to the table where a bowl of wonderful-smelling soup had been set at her place, steaming hot, a plate of brown bread next to it.
The first bite brought new tears to her eyes. She cried quietly as she ate, unsurprised when the nun slid a box of tissues onto the table next to her.
“Can I touch your hair?” Sister Jeanette asked and Linnea nodded, her tears becoming sobs when the nun simply stroked her hair.
Like Andy used to do.
I’m so sorry, Andy. I’m so damn sorry. I will make this up to you. I promise.
Chapter Ten
Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, December 19, 10:05 p.m.
Meredith’s scent still filling his head, Adam met Trip in Candace Voss’s driveway. He was grateful for the cold air tonight, a needed smack in the face to help him focus on his job and not the kiss that he’d relived over and over as he’d driven across town.
To interview Candace Voss. Because her husband was their best suspect. So focus.
The house at the top of the driveway belonged to Mrs. Voss’s sister, with whom she and her daughter had been staying for the past few months. It was a normal-sized house in a normal neighborhood. Nothing fancy. Certainly nothing like the house Candace had called home with Broderick Voss.
“Did Faith tell you why Mrs. Voss left her husband?” Trip murmured.
Adam had called Deacon’s fiancée on his way over. “Infidelity was the only thing the wife told them when she sought Meredith for counseling. The little girl’s name is Penny.”
Trip’s brows shot up. “As in money?”
“As in Penelope. The sister is Dianne Glenn. She’s single and has lived here for ten years. Works for one of the law firms downtown.”
“Any trouble or reports from either the sister or the wife?”
“Nope. At this point, I’d be happy knowing why his wife left him. I don’t expect her to spill her guts about any abuse—if it happened—on this first visit.”
“But,” Trip said with a frown, “if she left him because of infidelity, it means she knows about the infidelity, so it’s unlikely that it’s connected to the blackmail.”
“Maybe. If he’s contemplating politics, the blackmail might be to keep other people from finding out. Or it could be something darker than garden-variety cheating.”
“It was enough for the wife to take the child,” Trip noted.
“And enough for the husband not to file for joint custody, even. We’re not going to find out anything by standing here, that’s for damn sure. Let’s go.”
Trip followed him up the walk that was only wide enough for them to walk single file. Adam
knocked and waited. A porch light came on above them and he could see shadows moving in the hallway through the filmy curtains that covered the slim windows on either side of the front door. Adam held out his badge and, beside him, Trip did the same.
The door opened a crack, the chain still attached. “Yes?” a woman asked.
“I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, ma’am. My name is Detective Kimble. I’m with the Cincinnati Police Department. This is my partner, Special Agent Triplett, with the FBI.”
“Ma’am,” Trip said politely.
The eye visible through the crack in the doorway widened. “Police? FBI? Why?”
“We’d like to speak to Mrs. Voss. We understand she lives here.”
“I’m her sister. What do you want with her?”
Adam made his stance as nonthreatening as possible. “Just to ask her a few questions. I’m happy to give you our badge numbers so that you can check us out before letting us into your home.”
The woman nodded, still wary, but her sudden relief was unmistakable. “Yes, please. Do you have a card?”
Adam passed one through the opening and the woman closed the door with an abrupt snap. Adam looked over at Trip. “We rattled her,” he said and was surprised to see the other man’s forehead bunch in a frown.
“We or me?” Trip asked quietly, his jaw going taut.
It was Adam’s turn to frown until he realized what Trip was really asking. Adam blew out a breath. “Shit, man. I didn’t mean what you think I meant. It’s not because you’re big or black or a cop or whatever. I meant we. Because we’re here. She opened that door expecting us to be someone else. She was relieved that we were cops.”
Trip visibly relaxed. “I wonder if Broderick has sent anyone else over to harass them. He’s stalked the doc, after all. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Yeah. Me, either.” He studied Trip’s profile. “We good?”
“Yeah.” Trip’s sigh was brooding and almost bitter. “But I do scare people. Sometimes that comes in handy. But sometimes it really sucks.”
Adam hesitated, then decided to speak, since they were apparently sharing. “When Isenberg told me that you were my partner, I was happy to hear it. Number one, having you watching my back is one less stress. But mostly . . .” He shrugged uncomfortably. “You’ve always been decent to me. Not all the cops are. Feds, either.” Some had been great, like Deacon and Isenberg and Wyatt. Some had not. The cops who’d served with his dad? They really had not. He deliberately lightened his tone. “I mean, a guy takes one mental health break and never hears the end of it.”