“That’s because of me. He’s . . .” She had to look away. “Protective.”
“Why?” Adam asked, then hooked a finger under her chin, turning her face back to his when she didn’t answer. “Why?” he asked again, his voice going deep and soft.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out because she never had any when it came to telling that part of her story. She was saved from the effort by the ringing of his cell phone—an eerie flute tune that was vaguely familiar.
“It’s Deacon,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to take this outside on the balcony because I get a shitty signal in here.” He hesitated, then took her mouth in a hard, fast kiss that left her stunned and breathless. He rose from the bed and walked toward the door, but backward so that he continued to face her. “It’ll be better if you go with us, so get dressed. I’ll wait.”
She heard him say hello to Deacon as he closed the bedroom door. Carefully she touched her lips and let out the breath she’d been holding. “Wow.” Then she laughed, remembering where she’d heard Deacon’s ringtone. It was the theme song for an old Clint Eastwood spaghetti western. Perfect for Deacon, who marched to his own drummer. Kind of a rogue superhero. At least Faith thought so, which was exactly as it should be.
Meredith wondered if she had a ringtone in Adam’s phone, and if so, what was it?
Twenty minutes. Get dressed. She went into the bedroom she’d been assigned to get some clean clothes, only to find a cup on the nightstand. Hot cocoa, she realized.
She touched the cup. Cold cocoa, actually. The cup had been sitting for at least an hour, a candy cane placed on the saucer. Her grandfather’s offering. He’d been making her hot cocoa with a candy cane every year at Christmastime since she was small.
That he’d left it here in her empty bedroom was a message, for sure. Busted. No wonder he’d given Adam the cold shoulder. But it was totally worth it. And her grandfather would come around. He just needed to see what she saw. Adam’s heart.
Shaking herself into action, she collected a clean outfit from the bag Kate had packed for her and wished she had her phone, but she’d surrendered it to Adam and Trip last night, just as Shane and Kyle had been required to do. There was a landline on the nightstand, but nobody had told her it was okay to use it.
She needed her art supplies if she was to work with Penny. She opened the door to the rest of the condo and stuck her head out. “Agent Troy?”
“Dr. Fallon,” Troy said warmly, ambling up to the crack in the door. “How are you?”
“Okay. And you?” He looked wonderful, actually. Healthier. He’d looked spent and sad and haggard when she’d met him last summer, but today he had a spring to his step and a light in his eyes. She frowned slightly. “You look different. Did you change something?”
Troy ran a self-conscious hand over his smooth head. Which was now quite bald when his hair had been thinning before. “Took a page out of Trip’s book.”
Meredith smiled at him. “I like it. You look like Jean-Luc Picard.”
Troy rolled his eyes. “If I had a nickel for everyone who’s said that.”
“You should be happy. Patrick Stewart’s like . . . still really hot. I think he has a painting aging in his attic.”
Troy chuckled. “I think you’re right. So thank you. What can I do for you?”
“I need to make a few calls. Can I use the phone over there?”
“Can I ask who you’re calling?”
“First, Voss’s wife. Soon-to-be ex-wife, I hope. Adam wants me to talk to her daughter, see if she can tell us any more about what her father was doing. If she can bring her to the station, I’ll need my art supplies, so I was going to call my assistant. Actually, I need to call her first, because I don’t know Mrs. Voss’s phone number. It’s in my files.”
“Tell you what,” Troy said. “I’ll make the calls for you on my cell while you get ready to go. Adam says we’re waiting for you. And my cell is secure. If I run into any trouble with either Voss or your assistant, I’ll knock on the door and let you know.”
“Okay. My assistant’s name is Corinne Longstreet. And her cell’s . . .” Meredith blew out a breath. “I have no idea. It’s in my phone. But Faith will know. Can you call her first?”
“Of course. Do you want something you can eat on the way downtown?”
Meredith sniffed the air. “What did everybody else get? Because it smells good.”
“Grilled cheese and tomato soup.” He smiled sadly. “Comfort food for the boys.”
Meredith smiled back at him, just as sadly. “You’re a nice man, Agent Troy. Yes, a grilled cheese would be amazing. I’ll take a rain check on the soup. I’ll be ready in ten.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, December 20, 3:00 p.m.
“Hey, D,” Adam said, stepping onto the balcony and closing the sliding glass door. He shivered, his suit coat no protection from the cold. At least the wind was being blocked by the bulletproof glass that ran the perimeter of the balcony. “What do you have?”
“Several things. When are you coming in?”
“As soon as Meredith is ready. She’s setting up a session with Penny Voss and her mother in one of the interview rooms. She said she’d be ready in a few minutes. We’re bringing Kyle Davis in to meet up with his parents. They’re taking him home.”
“Does Chicago PD know Kyle’s coming back?”
“Yes. I spoke with them a half hour ago.” Right before he’d gone in to wake Meredith. “Why? What’s going on?”
“We got an anonymous 911 at nine forty-seven this morning from a young woman telling us where to find the SUV used in the shooting.”
Adam stood up straighter. “Where? Was it there?”
“Not anymore. We got surveillance footage from the restaurant where the SUV had been parked, near 275 and Beechmont. We saw a young woman get out, search for something, then lock up the SUV and set off on foot. Not ten minutes later, a big guy came to pick it up. He had a different woman with him. That woman walked away and he got in the SUV, but cleaned the seat first, which is consistent with the 911 caller who told us to use gloves, that the person who ditched the SUV was HIV positive and had bled on the seat.”
“Linnie,” Adam breathed. “At least we know she’s alive. As of nine forty-seven, at least.” But bleeding. And positive. He wanted to sigh, then realized Deacon had gone silent. “What?”
“You didn’t demand to know why we didn’t call you already.”
“You let me sleep. I appreciate it. If you’d needed me, you would have called.”
Another pause. “Okay,” Deacon said warily. “Good to know.”
Adam sighed. That Deacon was shocked at being thanked spoke volumes about how badly Adam had fucked things up between them. He never should have put it off so long. But he’d wanted that year. Wanted to prove to himself that he’d changed before he’d told anyone else. Because he’d been so damn ashamed. And, if he was honest, afraid of what his cousin would say when the truth was finally told. “I need to talk to you at some point. Not on the phone. But I’m sorry, Deacon. I’m sorry I was a dick. I’m sorry I hurt you. Please know that.”
“It’s okay.” There was warmth in his cousin’s tone. And caring. “Are you back now, Adam?” His voice cracked. “Because we’ve missed the hell out of you.”
Adam cleared his throat harshly. “Yeah. I think I finally am.” He changed the subject before they both started bawling. “Were you able to trace the 911 call?”
“Yeah,” Deacon said, back to business. He’d asked no questions and, for the most part, had taken everything Adam had dished out in those early months. Without knowing about the drinking or the quitting drinking.
I’m a lucky asshole. I don’t deserve him.
“We traced it to a pay phone downtown,” Deacon went on. “We dusted, took all the coins??
?still processing the prints. The exterior of the machine was wiped down. So far nothing off the coins is popping up in AFIS.”
“Were you able to get a photo of the girl’s face? Either the one who dropped off the SUV or who picked it up?”
“The drop-off girl, yes. Partial, anyway.”
“Is it Linnie?”
Deacon made an uncertain noise. “Maybe? If so, she’s a lot thinner now than she was in the photo Shane gave you. I’ve sent the footage to the lab to see if they can clean it up. We’ve got uniforms canvassing up and down Beechmont, looking for where she went after she dropped off the SUV.”
“What about the guy who picked it up and the woman with him? Was she Linnie?”
“No. The woman with him was at least four inches taller. We didn’t get their faces because they had scarves wrapped around them. Only their eyes showed. But the man? He had the same body type as the guy who went looking for Shane Baird last night at the Kiesler dorm. Your pals in Chicago sent the university’s video along with their crime scene photos. He has the right height, weight, and stride.”
Excitement prickled up Adam’s spine. Things were connecting. “Let’s have Shane listen to the 911 call. He might be able to recognize Linnie’s voice.”
“Good idea. I’ll have it set up for him when you get him down here.”
“Thanks. What do we know about Voss?”
“Nothing yet. You knew that Isenberg borrowed Hanson from Narcotics, right?”
“Yeah,” Adam said, “he got there when we were talking to the Chicago detectives. Isenberg was going to have him investigate the college hookers and Voss’s drug source.”
“Well, Hanson’s been knocking on Voss’s door, but Voss isn’t answering. We’re going to go for a warrant, but we need more info. Hate to drag Mer down here, but we need her.” Deacon made a disgusted sound. “I hate that we’re putting such a burden on a six-year-old’s shoulders. If Mer can’t get anything more from Penny Voss, we got nothing.”
Adam sighed. “My confidential informant found something.”
“Oh?” The single syllable was rife with meaning. “Like?”
“Voss may be being blackmailed, for fifty grand a month. That’s all I know.”
“Then tell Diesel to dig deeper,” Deacon said dryly.
Adam had to laugh. “I will. Listen, I need to make another call or two and then we’ll be leaving here. I’ll text you when Troy and I get to the parking garage at the station. We’ll bypass the lobby and bring everyone directly up in the elevator.”
“I’ll meet you in the station’s parking garage then.”
“Thanks, man.” It was always good to have another set of eyes and another gun. He ended the call, then called Trip and brought him up to speed, including the photo Chicago PD had sent of the big bruiser who’d likely killed Tiffany and her mother.
“I’m at Mariposa House,” Trip told him, “talking to the girls to see who knew Mallory and Meredith were going to be at Buon Cibo yesterday.”
“Thanks. Pass around Andy’s photo, too. And Linnea’s. Hell, show them Bruiser’s photo, too. Chicago said they’d put out a BOLO, so you can pull up the bulletin to show them. Maybe one of the girls will recognize them.”
He ended the call to Trip and checked his messages. And sighed. He’d gotten fifteen texts from his sponsor. Who he was supposed to have called last night. He hit REDIAL and braced himself for the explosion. John’s texts had grown steadily more worried. He’d even gone by Adam’s apartment to check on him. Poor guy hadn’t slept all night.
“So you actually live?” John barked without a greeting.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “I’m sorry, John. I got busy.”
“You could have sent a goddamn text. I was pulling my fucking hair out, worrying about you, asshole.”
“You don’t have any hair to spare,” Adam told him.
John sputtered. “You do not get to make jokes. Not after I’ve been worrying all night long. What the fuck happened?”
“I got pulled into a case. It got complicated.”
John’s sigh sounded exasperated. “I know. I’ve been, uh, reading the updates.”
“And listening to BOLOs on your scanner?”
“Maybe,” John groused, because of course he had. He’d been a career cop. A man like him did not simply retire and fish all day. “I heard enough to know there were multiple triggers for you in this case.” He sighed again, exhausted this time. “You still good?”
“Yep. Still on the wagon and still on track for my shiny bronze chip.”
“Yeah, well, I read that Meredith Fallon is involved, that she was the target at the restaurant downtown yesterday. She’s the biggest trigger you got, boy.”
And wasn’t that the truth? “I know. I, um, told her. Everything.”
A shocked silence. “You did? When?”
Adam frowned because John didn’t sound as supportive as he’d expected. “This morning, when we got a break.”
“You’re with her? Right now?”
“Yes.” Adam snapped it out, then turned around to lean on the bulletproof glass. His eyes searched the interior of the condo, looking for Meredith, but she hadn’t left the bedroom yet. “Look, John, I know what you’re going to say. Just . . . don’t. I can’t right now.”
“That’s why it’s bad for you to be around her right now. Dammit, Adam. You’re at a vulnerable point. Too many triggers without adding ‘wuv, twoo wuv’ into the mix.”
That John was a Princess Bride fan had always boggled Adam’s mind. And then the movie got shoved to the side, his mind now boggling at the gorgeous redhead leaving the bedroom, looking professional and . . . mine. “Look, I’m heading out to the office, so I gotta go. I’ll try to text you with updates. And I promise I’ll hit a meeting.”
“When?”
“As soon as I get a break in this case or tomorrow morning, whichever comes first.”
“Fine. Let me know when and where. I’ll meet you there.”
For the second time in ten minutes, Adam was all choked up. “Thanks, John.”
“You’re welcome, kid. Just . . . focus on staying sober, okay? Even if that means handing this case off to someone else. This is difficult shit.”
“Don’t I know it.” Adam ended the call, drew a breath. And—froze. Because on the air was a scent that hadn’t been there thirty seconds before. Pipe smoke. Slowly, he turned and walked the length of the L-shaped balcony. Clarke Fallon sat on a lounge chair, bundled up in a coat, hat, scarf, and gloves, calmly puffing on his pipe. Sonofabitch. The man had been eavesdropping and wanted Adam to know it.
Adam rewound his conversations and groaned inwardly. Lots of personal shit had come out of his mouth. Wagons, bronze chips, and meetings. Shit. “You should have told me you were out here. It wasn’t your business.”
Fallon returned his gaze levelly. “I considered revealing myself. Then I thought about the fact that Merry didn’t sleep in her bed last night. So I made you my business.”
Adam’s cheeks went hot, despite the blustery cold. “She’s a grown woman. Sir.”
Fallon shrugged. “I’m her grandfather. I’m allowed. So . . . Bronze chips and meetings? Staying on wagons? You told her about AA?”
Adam’s teeth clenched. “Not your business. Sir.”
“But you did.”
Adam closed his eyes. Goddammit. “Yes. I did.”
“Good. You’re the one who colored all the pictures, I take it.”
Adam’s eyes flew open. “Yes. How do you know that?”
“Because I saw them. She kept them all.”
“You snooped?”
“Not entirely. She had half a dozen stuck to her fridge door. She put them in a drawer with the others when people started coming into her house.”
“Diesel saw them.” That’s how he knew to rib
me about it yesterday.
“He did. We liked them, for what it’s worth. Especially the painting.” He puffed on the pipe for a minute that felt like a day. “Look, Adam. She thinks you’re worth waiting for. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, especially now that I know what your story is. Or part of it, anyway.”
“Big of you,” Adam said sarcastically.
Fallon laughed. “I know.” He stood up, emptying his pipe into a little wooden box, which went into his coat pocket. “That was your sponsor? That last call?”
Adam gritted his teeth. “It was. He’s a good guy. Retired cop.”
“Good. I imagine he can relate to everything you’ve seen.” He crossed his arms over his burly chest. “I’ll be honest, a recovering alcoholic isn’t who I would have chosen for my Merry. But it’s not my choice. Just . . . don’t hurt her. Any more than you already have.”
Adam winced, because that dig was completely deserved. “I’ll do my best. I know she’s not impervious to hurt, not like everyone thinks she is. She’s got everyone fooled.”
“But not you.”
“Well, I knew there was something going on, but I didn’t expect what she’s revealed to me. And that’s all I’m going to say.”
Fallon nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s talk later. I want to know you.” Adam must have looked horrified because Fallon laughed again. “You don’t have to look so worried, son. I’m not a bad man. I just love Meredith. If you do, too, or come to over time, and you treat her right? We’ll be the best of friends.”
“Okay.” Adam turned to look into the condo and saw Meredith accepting a wrapped sandwich from Agent Troy. Which made Adam smile for no good reason.
“This might actually be okay,” Fallon murmured. “If what I see on your face is real.”
Adam just nodded. “Time to go.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, December 20, 3:40 p.m.
The back of the van was arranged like a military transport plane, with jump seats along each wall that faced one another. Meredith, her grandfather, Shane, and Kyle resembled paratroopers ready to jump because Agent Troy had brought them bulky bulletproof vests.