‘I know. But you can’t reach it like this.’
Deacon’s laugh was choked and gruff. ‘I think if this had happened yesterday I wouldn’t have understood. Not as much. It was the girl, right? Watching her die?’
‘Yes. I saw her in my mind all the time. Except when I was completely drunk. It was the only way I could get any sleep at all.’
‘I get it. I do. And your dad didn’t help. The man’s a functional drunk. Always has been. Hell of an example to set for your kid.’
Adam didn’t know what to say, so he just hung on. How long had it been since he’d hugged anyone in his family like this? ‘I was wrong. I shut you out and I’m sorry.’
‘I wish you’d told me. I would’ve helped. Somehow. I would have.’
‘I know. John said—’ Adam stopped with a frown.
Deacon stepped back far enough that they could see each other’s faces. Deacon’s bicolored eyes were rimmed in red. ‘John?’
‘My sponsor. The guy, you know, out there. He said it would be easier to be proud of myself if I got to a year first.’
‘He thought it was a good idea for you to isolate yourself? From your family?’
‘Yeah. I guess.’
‘No.’ Deacon shook his head. ‘No. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. I’ve not been to AA, but even I know you need support.’
Adam knew it too. Now. He’d kind of known it months ago, but John had seemed so sure. And John had been sober. He’d mastered his demons.
John, who drove a black SUV. John, who’d been ready to confess . . . something. He needed to sort through all of that. Figure it out. But this, this talk with Deacon, came first.
‘I didn’t want to need it,’ he said honestly. And maybe that had made John’s advice easier to accept, even if down deep he’d known it was wrong.
‘Which is why I wanna kick your ass.’ Deacon gripped Adam’s face in two big hands, met his eyes squarely. ‘I can still love you and support you and want to kick your fucking ass. You understand this, right?’
Adam’s lips twitched. ‘Yes. I understand.’
‘Good, because we’re not done with this. But we have a scene to clean up and a body to process. Isenberg and I will take care of notifying his next of kin.’
Adam’s heart sank. ‘Noreen. John’s wife. She’s a good person.’
‘Most of the people we tell are.’ Deacon let him go, giving him a small shove. ‘You don’t keep shit from me anymore. You got that?’
Adam nodded. ‘Yes. I got that.’
‘And you keep your ass alive.’
‘I will.’
‘Good. As long as we’re clear. Let’s go.’
Feeling lighter than he had in years, Adam followed.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Monday 21 December, 7.20 A.M.
‘Merry, stop,’ Diesel barked. ‘Please. Your pacing is making me fucking nuts.’
Meredith abruptly halted mid-pace, turning to look at Diesel, who’d returned to visit her grandfather shortly before Adam’s call. She’d cried a little more after they’d hung up, then, fueled by a surge of energy that burned her nerve endings, she’d started to pace.
Diesel truly appeared ready to come out of his own skin. The big man was pale and jumpy, just as he’d been the night before when he’d spent several hours with Clarke in the ER. Just as he’d been every time she’d seen him in a hospital.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked him.
‘He’s obviously not,’ Clarke snapped. ‘And neither are you. If they’d just let me go the hell home this poor guy wouldn’t have to feel obligated to sit in this goddamn hospital with me. And you wouldn’t be stuck here with me, either, pacing like a caged panther.’
‘I’m not obligated!’ Diesel objected. He looked annoyed and maybe hurt.
‘You don’t wanna be here,’ Clarke insisted. ‘Do you?’
‘Hell no,’ Diesel said with a shudder. ‘I hate hospitals.’
Meredith had noticed that in the past. Hell, everyone with eyes had noticed that in the past. Any time one of them was hospitalized, Diesel would come and visit and be a friend. But every time he looked like he was about to throw up.
Which is exactly how Meredith felt. The thought of Adam, vulnerable to a bullet that could come from anywhere . . . She’d taken an anti-anxiety pill, but her anxiety levels were still off the charts. You need to refocus. Think about someone else’s misery for a little while.
Plus, she found herself genuinely curious. ‘Then why do you stay?’ Meredith asked.
Diesel rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I figure the more I do this, the easier it’ll be. Like do-it-yourself exposure therapy.’
Meredith smiled at him. ‘Somebody’s been reading.’ Why he’d want to conquer this particular phobia wasn’t hard to parse. Dani worked in a clinic. Diesel wanted Dani.
His blush was visible, even in the dim light. ‘Yeah,’ he mumbled. ‘Stupid fear.’
‘So you’re really just using me,’ Clarke said teasingly.
Diesel’s slow grin returned. ‘Yep. I figure getting used to all the white’ – he gestured to the white walls, white bedding – ‘while babysitting an old guy is the least threatening way.’ He ducked the tissue box that came sailing at his head. ‘Hey. You’re not supposed to make any sudden movements. That’s what makes you nonthreatening.’
Clarke grimaced in pain. ‘You’re right. That wasn’t smart. Damn fucking asshole shooter. What’d he hit me with anyway?’
‘Probably the butt of his gun,’ Diesel said. ‘Or a rock.’
And at the mention of guns, Meredith’s anxiety returned. She drew a deep breath, trying to control the rapid beating of her heart. ‘Not sure anything else would make a dent in that head of yours, Papa,’ she said, but it sounded forced.
She took two paces forward, then stopped herself, fists clenched at her sides. Because all she could see was Adam, hurt. Bleeding. Stop it!
‘Merry,’ Clarke said gently. ‘Worrying about Adam isn’t helping any of us. What else can you do?’
‘I can show you how to knit,’ Diesel offered, holding up his knitting bag.
Meredith snorted. The bag said, You got two eyes, I got two needles. Do NOT fuck with me. ‘Where did you get that?’
Diesel grinned. ‘From Decker. He had them made special. He got one for Kate and one for me.’ He checked his wristwatch, a big clunky thing that looked like it had been through a war. Maybe it had. ‘Decker’s on his flight now. He didn’t sound so good when I talked to him this morning.’
‘He’ll feel better when he sees Kate,’ Meredith said. ‘She’s feeling better, but not happy about not being allowed to knit. Eye strain hurts her head.’ She turned to Clarke. ‘I don’t have anything to do. I’ve colored every picture in the book that Mrs Zimmerman gave me’ – with bold, angry strokes that were not her best work – ‘and I can’t run.’ Because her own head was still tender. ‘I’m ready to find a waiting room and do some yoga.’
‘Then go do that,’ Clarke said. ‘Because you’re driving both of us crazy.’
‘That bus’s already pulled into Crazytown Station,’ Meredith muttered.
‘Well,’ Diesel drawled, ‘good morning to you too, Dr Insensitive.’
‘She’d be yelling at us if we used the term “crazytown,”’ Clarke agreed.
Meredith glared at them. ‘I’m afraid to go near any of my clients. I can’t go home. I’m stuck here until Isenberg frees up someone to come get me. And Adam’s . . .’
‘Alive,’ Clarke said. ‘He’s alive, Merry.’
‘But he might not have been!’ She blew out an angry breath. ‘I can’t help him. I’m stuck here. I get that. I do. But I need to do something useful, for God’s sake.’
‘Then figure it the fuck out,’ Clarke told her, clearly having lost his patience. He sighed, then patted the bed next to him. ‘Come here, Merry. Let’s figure it out together.’
‘No,’ Meredith said, pouting now. ‘I don’t like you.’ But she sat next to him anyway, laying her head on his shoulder. ‘I hate feeling so helpless, Papa.’
‘I know, baby,’ her grandfather murmured, stroking her hair.