Adam drew a deep breath of the cold air as he left St Agnes’s after his meeting. Normally the bracing air would smack him into alertness, but he was already too alert, his mind racing with all he’d already accomplished that morning. And all he still had to do.
He’d started before leaving the condo, waking his team – Isenberg, Deacon, Scarlett, and Trip – but they’d all agreed to the significance if he was indeed right about the kill styles being duplicated. And they’d also agreed that he wasn’t overreacting, given he’d been the target of the gunman the day before.
Which made him feel better, if he were to admit the truth.
He’d sent them the video of Paula’s murder that he’d kept on his laptop for nearly a year and a half. They’d review, assess, decide, and then they’d meet thirty minutes earlier than they’d told Nash and Wyatt to arrive.
That gave him time to get Meredith safely into the hospital and up to her grandfather’s room and to get to his meeting.
Adam figured with two cops posted at the hospital, it was the safest place for her. One stood guard in the ICU, protecting the two agents who were still unconscious. Nobody knew if they’d seen their assailant’s face, but Isenberg and Zimmerman were taking no chances. The other cop was posted outside Kate’s room, conveniently placed next to Clarke Fallon’s. So Meredith would be covered.
Yes, Adam knew that she hadn’t been the original target, but the second shot at Buon Cibo on Saturday had been aimed at Meredith. Mallory had already been out of sight.
The second shot might have been fired out of rage because Meredith had convinced Andy to drop his gun or maybe out of frustration that his bomb had not detonated. Either way, Adam was going to make sure she was protected so that he could think, goddammit.
Unless one of the cops was bad, which had him second-guessing himself while standing in her grandfather’s hospital room, hesitant to leave her there. She’d clasped his hands in hers and brought their joined hands between her breasts, where something decidedly not soft was nestled. She was armed. Again.
At which point he’d blurted out, ‘How many of those things do you have?’ making her grandfather choke on a laugh, which in turn made Adam blush like a teenaged boy, because he’d meant guns, but his hands were still nestled between her breasts. But Meredith had laughed and he hadn’t cared that he’d looked ridiculous.
Then she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her toes to whisper in his ear, ‘I’m good. Don’t worry about me.’ She’d kissed him on the mouth, which brought a low whistle and the flash of a camera phone from the open doorway because her cousin Bailey had picked that moment to leave Kate’s room to get herself a cup of coffee.
Which meant that the photo of them kissing would be shared with their circle of friends before breakfast. Which didn’t make Adam feel ridiculous at all.
Just happy.
Kate had been feeling well enough to hassle him for a status update, but he’d put her off saying he was in a hurry and by that point he had been. He’d made his AA meeting on time, though, and John had been waiting for him, grouchier than normal, but it had only been six a.m., and John was not a morning person.
The meeting went much as all the others had gone. Adam could never say much. His demons were always someone else’s secrets. It was usually after the meeting when he and John grabbed coffee that Adam could unload some of what haunted his nightmares. And his waking hours. John had always understood. He’d been a cop. He knew the drill.
They walked out together, shivering in the pre-dawn darkness. ‘You got plans for Christmas, Adam?’ John asked as they pulled on gloves and walked toward St Agnes’s parking lot. ‘Because you’re welcome to join my family if you’d like.’
Touched, Adam’s heart squeezed a little. ‘Thank you, but I do have plans. I’ll stop by my folks for a little while, but I’ll be spending most of the day with Meredith.’ They’d discussed it in the car on the way to the hospital that morning. ‘Her cousin’s coming in from Georgia and her other cousin’s making a feast.’
The cooking was apparently Bailey’s forte, but everyone would be pitching in this year. Meredith’s little house would be bursting at the seams, which was how she liked it.
John frowned. ‘Movin’ a little fast, aren’t you?’
‘Not at all. Making up for lost time. I shouldn’t have isolated myself from her all year. It hurt us both.’ He said this gently, because it had been at John’s insistence that Adam had stayed away. ‘At least I should have told her why.’
John huffed out a weary breath. ‘I shouldn’t have given you the advice that I did.’
‘You believed you were doing the right thing. And now I’m going to do the right thing and tell my family what’s been going on with me. My mom’s got a right to know and my cousins – Deacon, Dani, and Greg – they’ve been worried about me. They haven’t deserved my silence.’ He stopped next to his Jeep. ‘So, I’m coming up on a year.’
John gave him a ‘Duh’ look. ‘Yeah, I know. And?’
‘You said we’d re-evaluate at the end of the first year. Just wondering if you wanted to continue being my sponsor.’
John sucked in a breath, his eyes growing abruptly bright. ‘I . . .’ He bit his lower lip and shuddered the breath out. ‘I-I need to tell you. Why—’ His eyes darted to the right, then froze. A second later he was shoving Adam to the ground with all his might. ‘Get d—’
The crack of a rifle split the air. From where he’d been knocked to his ass on the pavement, Adam watched in horror as John jerked backward, his head thudding against the roof of his SUV. Someone screamed. Several people screamed. Adam barely heard them.
‘John!’ Coming up on his knees, Adam grabbed at him, easing him to the pavement between his Jeep and John’s SUV.
John’s black SUV. John was an ex-cop. Could he be . . .
Adam pushed the thought away. No. Not now. Focus. ‘John! John!’
But John wasn’t answering. Because the side of his head . . .
Adam pivoted on his knees and lost the breakfast he’d eaten on the way to the meeting. No. God, no. On his hands and knees, shaking like he had the DTs, Adam hung his head and tried to breathe. John was dead. Just like Andy Gold and Bruiser.
Get a grip. Now.
Adam sucked in air, then shouted to whoever was listening, ‘Someone call 911! And stay the hell down!’
‘I did!’ someone shouted. Sounded like the meeting leader. ‘Is everyone okay?’
Shaken yeses came from all over the parking lot.
Careful not to disturb John’s body, Adam eased over until he sat with his back to his Jeep. He pulled his service weapon from its holster, then took his phone from his pocket. ‘Call Isenberg cell,’ he commanded, because his hands were shaking too hard to hit the buttons on the screen. Almost too hard to hold the fucking phone to his ear.
‘Adam?’ Isenberg said, picking up on the first ring. Sounded like she was in her car.
‘Lynda.’ It was all he could get out. He huffed and huffed, but he couldn’t breathe. Not a panic attack, please. Not now. God, not now.
‘Where are you?’ she asked quietly. Competently. No drama. He was so grateful.
‘St Agnes’s. Parking lot.’
‘Breathe. Tell me what happened.’
‘911’s been called. Sniper.’ He clamped his lips shut and breathed through his nose, trying to slow the cannon fire in his chest. His heart beat so hard it hurt. John. God.
‘Are you hit?’ Isenberg asked, still sounding calm.
‘No. My sp— My friend. He’s dead. Only one shot. Nobody else is hurt.’
‘Hold on. I need to make sure the first responders know the situation. Don’t hang up.’
‘I won’t.’ He clutched the phone in one hand, his gun in the other, his gloves covered in blood and . . . He grimaced. Brain matter. He didn’t dare close his eyes. The gunman was out there and there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t finish the job up close and personal.
So Adam sat and breathed and waited for Isenberg to come back on the line.