He’d already thought of that. ‘I plan to ask the other witnesses when I’m finished with you.’ Except he’d never be finished with her. Not while he drew breath. ‘And then?’
‘And then I drew my gun. We did a standoff for what seemed like forever, but it could only have been a minute. Maybe less. He dropped his gun and told me to run. To get down and run. He started to unzip his coat, but then . . .’ She swallowed again, audibly. ‘The shot came from outside. The window shattered and his head . . . well, you know.’ She stared down at her hands. ‘I was kind of in shock, you know? I just stared at my gun, thinking I hadn’t shot it, wondering what the hell had happened. I hadn’t put the window shattering together with everything else yet.’ Her lips twisted. ‘Luckily, Mallory did. She pulled me down, just in time. The next bullet hit the man sitting behind me. He’ll be all right,’ she added. ‘The EMTs were able to stop the bleeding.’
‘And then?’ he nudged patiently.
‘Then tires squealed.’ She sighed wearily. ‘And then I called you.’
‘I’m glad you did.’ He gave her limp hand a light squeeze. ‘So damn glad, Meredith.’
Another bitter twist of her lips. ‘At least it allowed you to have a head start in getting here. Agent Taylor told me that you and Agent Triplett are the lead investigators on this case.’ She looked pointedly down at their joined hands. ‘I imagine your boss wouldn’t want you holding a witness’s hand like this, Detective Kimble.’
Adam’s heart clenched. She was still calling him “detective”. He wanted – no, needed – to hear her say his name again. ‘I’m sorry, Meredith. I need to explain some things to you.’
She shook her head, sadly now. ‘You don’t owe me any explanations. I want things that you . . . clearly don’t. I’m a big girl. I can deal.’ Pasting a fake smile on her face, she tugged her hand again and this time he let her go.
He needed to tell her everything. If for no other reason than because he didn’t want her to hurt like this. He’d never dreamed she could be hurting like this. Over me. I’m not worth it. And that was the fucking understatement of the century.
‘We need to talk,’ he insisted, keeping his voice to a murmur that no one could overhear. ‘I need to talk. To you. I need to explain.’
Her back went rigid. ‘Am I done? I need to see to Mallory. And I really want to go home.’ Her voice broke. ‘I’d really appreciate if I could be done now, Detective Kimble.’
No. Don’t go. Please do not go. But he swallowed back those words and pushed emotion aside to consider the case. ‘Where was Mallory all the time this was happening?’
She blinked, appearing surprised. ‘Next to me.’
‘In the chair? You said she pulled you down after the first shot was fired.’
Meredith frowned in concentration. ‘I told her to get down. After he pulled the gun.’
‘What did he do then?’
‘Yelled at me. Told me that nobody could move.’ Her head wagged slowly. ‘I can’t remember exactly what he said, but it was something like that.’
‘When did he talk to himself – or somebody else, if that turns out to be the case?’
Her frown deepened. ‘After he pulled the gun. Before I told Mallory to get down. I think. He got distracted when I pushed Mallory down. Pointed the gun at her then back at me. That’s when I pulled my gun from my pocket. I think Mallory went under the table then.’ She pressed fingertips to her temple. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t remember exactly.’
‘I understand.’
She folded her hands in her lap primly. ‘When can I have my gun back?’
‘I don’t know. It’ll be held as evidence, so not anytime soon. Certainly not today.’
‘It’s all right. I have another. Now may I go, Detective?’
‘Yes.’ He came to his feet when she did. ‘Can I call you? Tonight? Please,’ he added when she said nothing. He dropped his voice to a desperate whisper. ‘Please.’
Her shoulders sagged. ‘Okay. Whatever—’ Her voice cracked. ‘Whatever you need.’
She turned and walked away. He let her go, his gut churning with the urge to go after her. He let out a huge sigh, then sent a quick text to his AA sponsor. You home tonite?
His phone buzzed a second later. Yup. What’s up?
Meredith Fallon was what was up. But he wasn’t going to say that. John had discouraged him from seeing her before his year was up. But if she turned him away after he explained to her? Yeah. He’d need his sponsor then. Caught a bad case, he texted instead. May need to talk.
I’m here. Call me. Doesn’t matter how late.
Because John Kasper was a decent man, a retired cop who knew exactly what Adam’s job entailed. Thx, Adam typed, hit SEND, then rejoined Trip, who was watching him.
‘She okay?’ Trip asked.
‘No.’ Meredith Fallon was definitely not okay. For too many reasons.
Trip’s brows lifted, his shiny bald head tilting in question. ‘You okay?’
Adam made his lips move. ‘Of course. What’s our status on the bomb?’
‘On its way to the lab. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s deactivated, but the removal team took all precautions, just in case.’
‘How did you deactivate it?’
‘I didn’t,’ Trip said. ‘I think the victim did.’
Anderson Township, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 4.50 P.M.
Finally. Civilization. Linnea pulled into the parking lot of a seafood restaurant called Clyde’s Place, looking around for his thugs. That she didn’t see them didn’t make her feel better. She was pretty sure that she wouldn’t see them first. She’d realized about five minutes after leaving him in the muddy snow that he probably had a tracker on the SUV, that he’d probably already sicced his enforcers on her. But it hadn’t made sense to abandon the SUV on the side of the road. She’d be on foot and she was too sore to walk very fast or very far. Her chances were better now that she was in civilization. She could hide for a while. Maybe hitch a ride.
To where? She didn’t know yet. Not too far away. She needed proximity to kill him.
Pulling the hood of her coat forward to hide her face, she gingerly got out of the SUV, wincing at the blood she’d left on the seat. Terrific. She’d bled through her jeans. Not a huge surprise as she’d bled off and on all through the night after his right-hand maniac had finished with her. She stared at the bloody seat for a long moment, the assault replaying in her mind. Her own screams. The laughter. His and his thug’s.
He’d watched. He got off on watching.
Stop. She pushed the memory into the box inside her mind and visualized locking it tight. Along with all the other memories she couldn’t seem to delete.
Go to the ER before you bleed to death. It could happen. She’d come close once before.
But she couldn’t go to the ER. He had people inside the hospital too. She wasn’t sure which hospital, or if he had staff in all of them. She couldn’t take the chance.
There was a clinic downtown. She’d used it before, after another brutal time just like last night. The lady doctor had been so kind. She’d asked if Linnea needed help from the police, accepting her quick refusal. The doctor had merely stitched her up, given her a non-narcotic painkiller. Then she’d recommended a series of STD tests, including HIV.
There’d been no judgment in the lady doctor’s oddly colored eyes when Linnea had returned for the test results. No pity. No revulsion or disapproval. Only sympathy and understanding. That had been Linnea’s second time at the clinic.
Which had been six months ago. Linnea hoped the shot of antibiotic she’d been given had taken care of the gonorrhea, because she hadn’t been back for a second shot or to be retested after three months as the nice doctor had recommended.
What difference did it make? The other diagnosis she’d been given was a death sentence, even though the lady doctor had insisted that it no longer was. Except Linnea had no money for medicines. No money for care.