“Is Shane really here?” an unsteady voice demanded. “In Cincinnati?”
She sounds so young, Meredith thought sadly.
“He is,” Adam told her. “He came from Chicago as soon as he read the news about Andy’s death. He’s been so worried about you. We all have been. That’s why we came to the shelter. We wanted to protect you from the man who hurt you and killed Tiffany and her mother.”
“I don’t trust you. I trusted the doctor and she told my secrets.”
“She told us none of your secrets, Linnie. She came to us to defend you because at the time we had a BOLO posted on you. She said you’d been coerced.”
A cleared throat. “I was. But now I’m doing what I want.”
“Which is?”
“To kill Wyatt fucking Hanson for what he did to Andy.”
Adam grimaced. “I completely get that goal. I want him to pay, too. He’s killed more people than Andy, though. Did you know he had Broderick Voss killed, too?”
A beat of silence. “Well, I’d be lying if I said that made me sad.”
“I understand. Voss was a fucker, too. My point is that Wyatt fucking Hanson has hurt a lot of people and they deserve their justice, too. I get that you want him dead. I want him to spend the rest of his life in a prison cell, worrying about all the people he betrayed who are waiting to kill him. I want him to be afraid every day for the rest of his miserable life. Killing him’s too quick.”
Linnie said nothing.
Adam sighed. “You called me, Linnie. I know you’re armed because you shot Butch Gilbert. I know what you want to do to Hanson. Tell me what you want for yourself.”
Her laugh was bitter. “Nothing. I have nothing left.”
“Not true. You have Shane and you have us. We want to help you. If you kill Wyatt, you can’t have a life.”
“I don’t have one anyway. Didn’t the good doctor tell you? I’m HIV positive.”
“She didn’t have to tell us, Linnie. You did, when you called to tell us where to find Hanson’s SUV. Because you wanted to do the right thing.”
He pulled up a text screen and sent a quick one to Dani. Can I tell Linnie you are positive, too?
Meredith watched his phone light up with his cousin’s instant response. Yes. Of course. It’s no secret anymore.
Adam rubbed his face, something he seemed to do to give himself time to think. “Listen, Linnie, just because you’re positive, doesn’t mean your life is over. Dr. Dani is positive, too. She just gave me permission to tell you.”
A sharp intake of breath. “What? How?”
“That’s her business, just like your condition is yours. But your life is not over. You can make it a good one. Just . . . tell me where you are. I’ll come get you myself. I promise.”
She was silent longer this time, then spoke quietly. “I’m sitting in Hanson’s living room. His baby is on my lap and I have a gun in my hand. His wife is sitting here, shooting me death glares because she thinks I’m a lying whore.”
Oh God, she’s holding a baby hostage, Meredith thought. This had just gotten worse when she hadn’t thought it could.
Deacon raised a hand to indicate he’d heard, turned on the van’s flashing lights with no siren, and did a quick U-turn.
“We’ll deal with Mrs. Hanson later,” Adam promised. “Right now, we want to protect you. I’ll be there in . . .” He looked at Deacon, who made a sign with his right hand.
“Ten minutes,” Adam finished. “Hold tight. I’m on my way.”
“Hurry,” Linnie said quietly. “Please.”
And then she ended the call. Isenberg called Adam right back. “How old is the baby?”
“About two years old,” Adam told her. “This just got hairier. Requesting additional backup.”
“Already on the way,” Isenberg said. “As am I.”
“Thanks.” Adam ended the call and looked at Meredith. “I’ll have someone take you away from the scene when we get there. Until then, you stay down.”
She frowned at him, not liking this at all, but wary of telling him how to do his job. The man had his pride and she wanted to protect that, too. But dammit, she wanted him alive. “Adam . . .” She sighed. “You’re putting yourself at risk, getting Linnie out yourself.”
“I know. But I gave her my word. And I need to finish this, Meredith. I need to.”
She understood. But still . . . “What if this is a trap? What if Wyatt Hanson shows up?”
His lips curved grimly. “We should be so lucky. I hope he does show up.”
“Seconded,” Scarlett declared. “I want to take that sonofabitch down.”
“Thirded,” Deacon chimed in.
Adam took her chin and tugged her face up for a hard kiss. “You stay down. Got it?”
Meredith nodded. “Understood.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Monday, December 21, 11:40 a.m.
Wainwright had a handgun, he remembered as he pulled the man’s truck into his garage and closed the door behind him. He knew this because Wainwright had a permit for the gun, which he’d looked up when he moved in next to the man.
He wished Wainwright had a rifle, but he didn’t. The gun would have to be enough. There were two cops outside his house, just as Wainwright had said. He wouldn’t shoot them if he could help it, mainly because it would tip his hand, and he wanted to cross over to his own property through the backyard and slip in the back door to get what he needed.
So far, so good, though. No one had come to check out Wainwright’s return so soon after leaving. The cops outside weren’t very competent. They really deserved anything that he had to dish out.
The news media had been even worse. They were setting up in front of his house. They were going to talk about him. Like they knew anything. But they’d ignored him as he’d driven into Wainwright’s garage. As long as he left the same way, he’d be fine.
He found the gun in Wainwright’s nightstand drawer, a little surprised it wasn’t in a gun safe. But that made things far easier, so he wasn’t complaining. In the bedroom closet was enough ammo to survive an apocalypse.
He filled his pockets—or, more accurately, Wainwright’s pockets. The old man’s coat was a snug fit, but it would keep him warm until he got to his final destination. Which he still hadn’t decided on, but it would be somewhere warm and sunny where nobody cared if the girl in your bed was a little young.
Fucking prudes. This whole country was packed with fucking prudes.
Armed and ready to slip next door into his own house like a goddamn thief, he moved to Wainwright’s backyard, staying easily hidden behind the eight-foot-tall temporary barn the old man had erected for the animals for his ridiculous nativity scene. Slipping into his own yard was an easy thing. A vault over a standard chain-link fence and he found himself grateful that Rita had nagged him to build the rose trellises that spanned the width of the fence on their property. He was invisible to anyone sitting out front.
It was perfect. Until he paused to check on the cops watching his house.
Goddammit to hell. A van was rolling to a stop, the side door already sliding open. And of course it was Adam Kimble who jumped out the second the van stopped. Fucking Kimble, riding in to save the day like the fucking Lone Ranger.
Hate roared through him like a speeding train and for a moment all he could hear was the pounding of his pulse in his head. He’d pulled the gun from his pocket and aimed before the intention had fully registered in his mind.
Stop. Focus. Focus. If you kill him now, you will never make it out of here alive. Right now, that’s more important than revenge or even satisfaction.
The front passenger door opened and Scarlett Bishop got out. They were here. At my house. His house that contained his bank codes and passports.
He had to get them. But he had to get away. He wasn’t sure
how to do both.
Heart pounding, he mentally flipped through his options as Deacon Novak got out of the driver’s side of the van and he and Kimble approached the two cops in the unmarked car. Who then pointed to Wainwright’s house. Dammit. They’d noticed his arrival after all. They’d merely been biding their time, waiting for backup.
In the next ten seconds, two more cruisers rushed up his quiet street, lights flashing, but no sirens. Novak directed them to park across Wainwright’s driveway.
SUVs—three from CPD and two black unmarked—pulled up behind the van and Kimble directed the two unmarked to park in his driveway, blocking his own garage.
And that fast he was trapped. No way out. At least not the way he’d come. He cast a look over his shoulder, frowning at the woods at the back of his property that had always been a comforting buffer between his home and the rest of the world. That had given him an illusion of safety, that no one could sneak up on him.
Fat lot of good that does me now. Because, conversely, he couldn’t sneak away. At the rear of the property was a thirty-foot drop to Columbia Parkway. He could try it, but there was a good chance he’d break something when he hit.
He couldn’t go backward and he couldn’t go forward, but he could go sideways. To the right and he’d be seen by the cops surrounding Wainwright’s house. But to the left was the cul-de-sac, six houses down. If he stuck to the backyards, he could get around the cul-de-sac and behind the houses on the other side of the street and find a car to steal.
The five million in his password-accessible account would have to be enough for now and he’d have to buy himself another ID before he got over the border.
Shouldn’t have been so greedy. I could have been on my way to Canada by now.
But he’d never been one to dwell on should-haves. He narrowed his eyes and plotted the best way to circle the cul-de-sac.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Monday, December 21, 12:05 p.m.
Adam wanted to groan when he saw the media setting up in front of Hanson’s house, but he wasn’t surprised. He was actually more surprised that there weren’t more reporters, especially since Isenberg’s press conference confirming Hanson’s involvement. “We need them gone,” he said. “The last thing we need is one of them spooking Linnie into shooting that baby.”
“I’ll deal with them,” Scarlett said. She’d gained some experience with dealing with reporters, now that she and Ledger-owner Marcus O’Bannion were together. She set a perimeter and directed the crews from two networks to retreat behind it while Adam and Deacon talked to the cops who’d been watching Hanson’s house from an unmarked car.
Backup arrived in the form of three CPD SUVs, four cruisers, and two unmarked FBI SUVs. Deacon directed two of the cruisers to park across Wyatt’s neighbor’s driveway, because the cops out front had seen the neighbor’s truck leave and return within a ten-minute time period with a “different-looking” driver. One of the cops thought he was taller, the other said broader. Either way, the cops were convinced that a different man had returned to the neighbor’s house.
Which meant that if it was Wyatt, he’d be able to fire on them at will as long as they moved about the property. They needed cover, so Adam directed the three CPD SUVs to park in a line in Wyatt’s driveway, fender to bumper. The cops who’d occupied the SUVs took cover on the passenger side of the vehicles.
He, Deacon, and Scarlett regrouped, using one of the SUVs as cover, just as another black SUV pulled in behind the first two in Hanson’s driveway, Trip behind the wheel, Nash riding shotgun. “We were headed to check out Mike Barber’s garages,” Nash said, “but Isenberg called us back.”
“Good. For now, get out and down,” Adam said, quickly bringing them up to speed when they were shielded by the SUV. “Deacon, you and Trip and the two other Feds check out the neighbor’s house. Make sure we have clearance to go in after Hanson if he’s the one in there. I don’t want him to slide on any procedural errors on our part. Scarlett and I will approach Linnie, and, as soon as the child and Linnie are safe, you move in on the neighbor’s house.” He met Nash’s eyes. “I need to get Meredith somewhere safe. Everyone on Isenberg’s team is either in the hospital or here. She’ll be safest back in the hospital and I don’t trust any of these other cops to take her. I don’t know any of them.”
“But you trust me?” Nash asked quietly.
Adam nodded. “Yes,” he said and meant it. “I do.”
Emotion flickered in Nash’s eyes. “Thank you. I’ll contact you when she’s safe.”
Deacon waited until Nash had crossed the street. “You’re sure?” he murmured.
Adam nodded. “Yes. Plus, I’m sure that I can’t have her here and focus at the same time. My gut is telling me that Hanson is around, or will be. I need her somewhere else, because he’d hurt her to get to me. I need you all here, because when I get the kid and Linnie, I’m leaving, too.”
“For what it’s worth,” Trip said, “Isenberg said the same thing. I was to stay, Nash was to take Meredith, and you were to leave as soon as the hostage situation was resolved.”
“That’s worth a lot,” Adam said. “Thanks.”
Then, garbed in complete tactical gear, he and Scarlett walked up the driveway, bending at the waist so that the SUVs hid them from view of the neighbor’s windows. Once on the porch, Adam knocked on the door. “This is Detective Kimble. Please open the door.”
It swung open, revealing Linnie holding Mikey on one bony hip. In her opposite hand, she held the gun with which she’d shot Butch Gilbert yesterday. She looked terrified.
Behind her stood Rita Hanson, hands covering her mouth in numb horror.
“Linnie, I’m Detective Kimble. This is my partner Detective Bishop. You called me.”
“I know,” Linnea said, her nostrils flaring with every strained breath she took. “You said I’m not a suspect, but you brought a SWAT team.”
He’d considered warning her in advance, but hadn’t wanted to escalate the situation with her holding a toddler at gunpoint. Nor had he wanted to give Rita Hanson any information in the event she was in any way involved.
“Not because of you,” Adam assured her. “We’re worried that Hanson will return.”
Rita made a strangled sound. “Adam? Why are you doing this?”
He tilted his head to the right, looking around Linnie to a devastated Rita. “I’m sorry, Rita. I know this is hard for you to believe. It’s been hard for me, too.” At least he hoped it was hard for her. He hoped she hadn’t been in on it. He hoped Wyatt had worked alone. “But the evidence points strongly to Wyatt’s guilt in this. He’s done some terrible things. Many of them to Linnie.”
“No.” Rita shook her head desperately. “It’s not true.”
“It is,” Adam said firmly. “Once we’ve got Linnie and Mikey safe, Detective Bishop will escort you to your room to collect a few things.”
“Why?” Rita shook her head again, wildly this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“We’re putting you into protective custody, ma’am,” Scarlett told her, then gave Linnie a kind look. “I’ll take the baby now.”
Linnie’s chin came up, her arms clutching the toddler a little more tightly. “Where is Shane? I want to talk to him.”
“He’s in protective custody,” Adam told her, “because his life has been threatened twice now. But we can call him and let you talk to him. FaceTime, even. As soon as we get you to a safe place.”
Linnie nodded. “Please.”
“Rita,” Scarlett barked. “Freeze.”
Adam tensed, because Rita had crept close enough to grab the baby.
“She has my baby!” Rita screamed. “She’s going to hurt him.”
Mikey reached for his mother and Linnie’s grip on the baby tightened even further, but the gun in her hand stayed pointed at the floor. Mikey squirmed, whimpering,
and Linnie began to sway in response, murmuring, “It’s okay,” into his ear.
Scarlett had her hand on her pistol, but hadn’t drawn. “Not if you don’t blow this situation up, Mrs. Hanson,” she said harshly. “Which will happen if you try that again. Now, walk into the living room and lie facedown on the floor.”
“But . . . but . . .” Rita spluttered. “She’s the criminal here!”
“She hasn’t killed anyone,” Adam said calmly. “Unlike your husband, I’m sorry to say. Now do as Detective Bishop asks. We want everyone here to stay safe, too.”
“I’ll have your job, Adam. I promise you,” Rita vowed darkly, but complied. “And if my baby is hurt—one hair on his head—I’ll hunt you down myself.”
Linnie’s rocking had quieted the baby, who still whimpered, but no longer tried to jump from her arms. “Detective Bishop,” Linnie said, as if she’d ignored all of Rita’s rant. “Are you related to the priest? The one whose church is above the shelter?”
“He’s my uncle,” Scarlett said. “He’s been worried about you. So have the sisters.”
“They wouldn’t let you in,” Linnie said, sounding small and young. “I saw Sister Jeanette blocking your path. Right before Butch . . . Yeah. Right before he died.”
Scarlett nodded. “She protected you. And for the record, we were there because we needed your help identifying your attacker. And we were afraid for you.”
“So you always bring a SWAT team for one skinny girl?” Linnie asked sarcastically.
“When a mass killer is involved, then yes. He wants to kill you and we want to stop that from happening.” Adam moved his hand toward his pocket. “I’m just going for my phone,” he said. Pulling it from his pocket he dialed Parrish Colby’s untraceable cell. “Parrish? Can you put Shane on a FaceTime call? I want him to talk to Linnie. This minute.”
“I’ll have him call back on FaceTime,” Parrish promised.
Ten seconds later Adam’s phone buzzed with the incoming call. Shane’s face filled the screen, his expression full of fear. “Linnie?”
“She’s here,” Adam said, then turned the phone so that Linnie could see. It required her to come a few steps closer, steps Adam was certain she was unaware she’d taken.