The screen then filled with Shane’s face and Linnea found herself leaning toward it.
Shane cleared his voice awkwardly. ‘Hi, Linnie,’ he said with a frighteningly earnest expression. ‘It’s Shane. I’m here in Cincinnati. I need to see you. I miss you. I want you to stay alive. The police are looking for you – but not to hurt you or put you in a cage. They want to help you. They have been so kind to me and Kyle. Well, you don’t know Kyle yet. He’s my friend from Chicago, who dropped everything to help me get here on Saturday night.’ Shane’s eyes clouded with pain. ‘The men who hurt you, Linnie, they killed Kyle’s girlfriend, Tiffany, and her mother, just because Tiff loaned us her car. They thought they could get her to tell them where I was. They wanted me so they could get to you. I want them to pay for what they did. To you and Tiffany and her mother and Andy, to all the other people they’ve hurt or killed. Detective Kimble is the lead detective on this case. He has been so kind, Linnie. These are good people. So, please, trust them. I know you’re scared, but I need you to trust them. For me?’ His eyes grew bright with tears. ‘Because I have to bury Andy in a few days, Linnie,’ he whispered. ‘I need you by my side when I do it. I can’t do this alone. Please, contact Detective Kimble.’ Shane blinked, sending tears down his face. ‘I promise the police will do everything they can to help you. I promise. And you know I’ve never broken my word to you. So do this for me and for Andy.’
The video ended abruptly. Throughout, Detective Adam Kimble’s name and the CPD switchboard number had scrolled across the screen. The gray-haired lieutenant reappeared on screen, looking straight at the camera. ‘Linnie, if you’re listening, you are not a suspect in these murders. But we do fear you are in danger. Please call us.’ She broke eye contact with the camera, her gaze roaming the gathered reporters. ‘I’ll take questions now.’
‘You can mute it now,’ Linnea said quietly.
Rita did so, staring at the television in shock. ‘It’s not true,’ she whispered, but with none of the conviction she’d held earlier. ‘It can’t be true.’
Linnea stood, the baby still cuddled on her shoulder. With Rita’s phone, she dialed the number at the bottom of the screen. She wanted to do the right thing. For Andy, for Shane, for all the other victims.
And for myself.
Twenty-nine
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Monday 21 December, 11.25 A.M.
By the time he’d almost reached his neighborhood, his panic had faded and he was thinking more clearly. Slowing the SUV, he pulled onto the shoulder to consider his next steps. As a person of interest, they’d have his house under surveillance. But he needed to get into his house, dammit. He was not leaving without his passports or the access codes to his offshore accounts.
Only one account had been set up with an easy-to-remember password, because it was the one he used the most, but the other accounts used longer passwords he’d written in the notebook he kept in his safe. Part of him wished he’d kept the records on his phone, that he hadn’t been so paranoid about hacking. But it didn’t matter anyway. He’d used his alternate identities to open the other accounts, so he needed his other passports.
He needed to get into his house. And out again, otherwise what was the point?
Ah. He had it. Wainwright. He called the man on his cell, hoping he picked up. And that Wainwright had not been watching the news.
‘Hanson, this is a surprise,’ Wainwright said warmly.
‘Oh, geez,’ he said, feigning embarrassment. ‘I should call you more often to shoot the breeze instead of just when I need something.’
‘I hope nothing’s wrong. What do you need, son?’
‘My SUV broke down. I’m only a mile from home, but it would sure be nice not to have to walk in the snow. I’d call Rita, but I’ve got her Christmas present in the back. It’s a new computer, so it wouldn’t be good to leave it in the freezing cold.’
‘I’ll be there in five minutes,’ his neighbor promised. ‘Sit tight.’
‘Thanks. I’ll owe you one.’
‘Nonsense. The missus is out with her quilting group and I’m just puttering around the house alone. Besides, what are neighbors for?’
Indeed. He explained where he was, then ended the call and checked his phone for news. And ground his teeth in frustration and impotent rage. A video had gone viral. Shane, pleading with Linnea to turn herself over to the police.
He rolled his eyes. Oh, for God’s sake. It was even trending on Twitter – under two separate hashtags. At least he wasn’t trending. Yet.
He was still ‘a person of interest.’ They must not have a warrant for his arrest. Yet, anyway. He’d scoff at them from a beach somewhere. For now he had to keep his cool.
Within a few minutes, Wainwright’s truck rolled past him, did a U-turn, and parked behind him. He got out, faking a grateful smile. ‘I’m sorry to get you out in this weather.’
‘No problem!’ Wainwright peered into the SUV. ‘Where’s Rita’s present?’
‘In the back. I’ll show you.’
‘Hey, you’ve got a little company back at your house,’ Wainwright offered cheerily. ‘A car with two guys sitting out in front. Looked like cops, maybe friends of yours?’
Shit. ‘They are. They’re waiting for me to get home so we can go out together. I didn’t think they’d be there already, though. I hope they haven’t been waiting long.’
‘Don’t know when they arrived. I just saw them out there when I came to get you.’
‘Well, as soon as I get this present inside and hidden from Rita, we’ll be on our way.’
‘Excellent.’ The old man grinned. ‘I passed two news vans on my way to get you. I think they want to interview me about my nativity scene. I emailed the local affiliates and newspapers this morning. It’d be better if they came at night to see the lights, but I’m still thrilled!’
News vans? Shit. That Wainwright thought they were here for him would have been naively sweet under other circumstances. They’re here for me. Dammit.
‘Congratulations!’ he said, then popped the hatch and waited until his neighbor leaned into the cargo area. Then he grabbed his tire iron and swung it down on the old man’s head. Wainwright went instantly limp, falling into the SUV. He hefted his body the rest of the way, wincing when his arm twinged. Damn Linnea and her switchblade. Biting his lower lip to manage the pain, he removed the old man’s coat and scarf.
He covered the body with a tarp and closed the hatch, then jogged to Wainwright’s truck. He put the coat on over his own coat and wrapped the scarf around his neck, jumped into the truck’s cab and headed to Wainwright’s garage.
He’d slide right in, under their noses.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Monday 21 December, 11.25 A.M.
‘You ready to blow this joint, Doc?’
Meredith spun around at the sound of Adam’s voice in the doorway of her grandfather’s hospital room. He leaned on the doorframe, his pose casual, but his eyes held such pain. Two steps and a leap and she was in his arms, hers around his neck. Lifting her, he tightened his hold around her back. Her feet dangled, her toes not touching the floor.
But she didn’t care.
He’s alive. And mine. She buried her face against his neck. ‘You’re okay.’
‘Yeah.’ The single syllable was gruff.
She drew a breath, taking him in. Anchoring herself by the feel of his hands on her back, the sound of his harsh breathing in her ear, the smooth skin of his jaw against her temple, his scent that filled her head, all simultaneously grounding her and leaving her lightheaded. ‘You smell so good,’ she whispered in his ear.
He shuddered. ‘I had to shower. After. I was covered in . . . Well, you know.’
‘Yes, I know.’ He’d been a foot away from a man whose head had blown apart. Just as she’d been with Andy. Except the man he’d seen die wasn’t a stranger. He was someone Adam had trusted with his secrets. Turning her head, she kissed his jaw. ‘I meant what I said this morning,’ she whispered in his ear and felt him shudder again, harder this time.