Understanding lit his eyes. ‘Good girl.’
‘Had to tell him twice,’ she grumbled. ‘I wasn’t obvious enough the first time.’ The moment that Adam finally had understood might have been comical under other circumstances. She cast a look at the living room. ‘I might give him a hand.’
‘How?’
‘I was going to ask Diesel for help.’
‘Finally!’ Diesel bellowed from around the corner. He appeared in the doorway, the mug of tea she’d given him looking like a child’s cup in his huge hand. He’d tucked his laptop under his arm, his expression even more eager than it had been over the new game.
‘I thought you were playing,’ Meredith said.
‘I was. I was going to give you time to drink your tea before offering my assistance.’
Meredith chuckled. ‘Sit with us, Diesel.’
He did, casting a quick look at the fridge that made her cheeks heat. He’d seen them too. ‘I liked them,’ he said simply. ‘Especially the waterfall picture. Who colored them?’
‘Maybe we can color some,’ she said, dodging the question. ‘It calms me.’
‘Huh,’ was all he said. ‘I like lions and tigers myself. I can probably download a few to color, if you’ve got the colored pencils. It calms me too.’ He flexed his big hands. ‘Kate’s even teaching me to knit.’ Opening his laptop, he arched one brow. ‘I’m ready to investigate anybody who’s bothered you. Names, please.’
Meredith was still staring at him open-mouthed. ‘You knit? Really?’
Clarke’s lips twitched. ‘Your stereotypes are showing, Merry.’
She closed her mouth with a snap. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry, Diesel, that was wrong of me.’ She eyed his laptop. ‘This can’t be traced to you or me, right?’
Diesel snorted. ‘Give me some credit, Merry. I’ve poked around in other people’s servers for Marcus for years and haven’t gotten caught. Not because of anything I did, anyway.’
Her grandfather looked curious, so Meredith explained. ‘Diesel works for Marcus O’Bannion, who owns the Ledger.’
‘The newspaper.’ Clarke nodded. ‘I subscribe. Read it online every day. Good stuff. Never seen your byline, though, Diesel.’
‘I stay in the background,’ Diesel said uncomfortably. ‘I’m IT.’
‘Diesel is too modest,’ Meredith said, giving the big man’s hand a pat. ‘The Ledger . . . well, let’s just say they creatively investigate people who should have been punished but who’ve slipped through the legal system. They expose them on the front page. Diesel digs for the dirt. Sometimes he doesn’t get permission before he starts digging.’
Clarke’s eyes widened in open admiration. ‘You’re a hacker?’
Diesel’s cheeks reddened. It was really kind of cute.
‘A very good one,’ Meredith confirmed, ‘or so I’m led to believe. I need this to be discreet, Diesel. And I need you to forget anything you see. No telling Marcus or Scarlett.’
‘Who’s Scarlett?’ Clarke asked.
‘Detective Scarlett Bishop. You met her last time you visited. Tall cop with long, dark hair. She’s partnered with Deacon Novak, the FBI guy.’
Clarke nodded. ‘The one with the really cool eyes?’
‘That’s him,’ Diesel said. ‘Scarlett’s cozied up with my boss, so I see her a lot. And I keep a lot of secrets from her, because she’s a fuckin’ cop and I don’t want to go to jail. And no, Merry, I won’t tell you which secrets and I’ll deny I said it if she asks.’
Meredith had opened her mouth to ask exactly that. ‘Nobody tells me anything,’ she muttered instead, making Diesel chuckle.
‘You don’t want to know. I don’t snoop on anyone who doesn’t deserve it, but you’re so squeaky clean, you’d feel guilty about not telling the cops.’
‘What about me?’ Clarke asked. ‘Aren’t you worried that I’ll tell the cops?’
Diesel shook his head. ‘You want Meredith safe. I don’t see you turning me in.’
Clarke nodded. ‘You’re right. I won’t. In fact, I’ll buy you a bottle of twenty-five-year Lagavulin,’ he said, but Diesel shook his head.
‘You don’t have to do that. I don’t like bullies. Homicidal bullies are even worse.’
Meredith tapped the table, getting both men’s attention. ‘This can’t show up in the Ledger or in a police report. I’m protecting the privacy of a six-year-old girl.’
Diesel grew abruptly grim. ‘Got it. The little girl is safe?’
‘Yes. She and her mother are living with the mother’s sister, and her father is angry. Having his wife leave him was bad enough, but having his daughter taken made him look very bad in front of his company. He’s the type who does not like looking bad.’
‘I know that type,’ Diesel muttered.
There was a raw vulnerability in his words that made Meredith’s counseling radar ping, but he’d never spoken to her about such things, so she let it go. ‘There’s been no involvement by the police or social services, so this isn’t a matter of record – public or otherwise.’
‘Should there be police involvement?’ Diesel asked.
Meredith sighed. ‘My gut says yes. The little girl hasn’t told me anything yet, though. She’s still too scared, and I’ve only been seeing her for a few weeks. But I know the father’s type, and I don’t think he’s going to allow her sessions to continue. One way or the other. So far, he’s just hovering in the periphery of my life. He shows up at the running track and the grocery store. Even at church. He just smiles and looks surprised, like, wow, what a coincidence that we’re in the same place at the same time, again.’
Clarke abruptly pushed away from the table, his chair nearly upending. He marched to the sink and tapped the bowl of his pipe against his hand, emptying the residue.
‘Papa?’ Meredith murmured.
He hunched forward, one hand gripping the edge of the sink. ‘I’m just . . .’
‘Angry as fucking hell,’ Diesel supplied tightly. ‘If this guy is responsible for what happened today, he needs to be . . .’ He shook his head. ‘To be willing to kill you is bad enough. To be willing to kill dozens of other people? Evisceration is too good for him.’
Clarke’s shoulders heaved once, his chuckle bitter. ‘I agree. He could have . . . I would have lost you,’ he whispered.
Meredith went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her cheek against his back. ‘But you didn’t. I’m here. I’m sure Detective Kimble will make checking the surveillance tapes a priority. We can help him out a little, though, or Diesel can.’
Clarke nodded. ‘Then get him started.’
They returned to the table. ‘His name is Broderick Voss,’ Meredith said.
‘Where do I know that name from?’ Diesel typed it into a search engine. Then his eyes widened. ‘Holy shit, Meredith. He’s the CEO of Buzz Boys. They’re all over the finance pages. They went public a few years ago. Voss went from being a struggling nerd to uber rich.’
Meredith sighed. ‘Everybody thinks only drug addicts or street thugs hurt their families. Nobody wants to believe guys who work in major corporations can too.’
‘What do you want to know, specifically?’ Diesel asked.
‘Where was he this afternoon? Does he drive a black SUV? Does he have a military background? Has he ever worked with explosives? Does he own any guns? Specifically, a rifle like the one used to shoot . . .’ She drew a deep breath. ‘The young man today.’
Her grandfather’s face visibly paled. ‘And almost you.’
‘But he missed. I don’t want to give him another opportunity, do you?’
‘No.’ Clarke’s big hand drew into a fist. ‘No, I don’t.’
Distract him. Now. ‘Papa, I’m kind of hungry,’ she lied. ‘Can you make me some soup? I have packets of chicken noodle in the pantry.’
‘Yeah. I can do that.’ Jaw taut, he got up and got busy.
‘You’re a pretty good liar,’ Diesel murmured. ‘I’ll remember that.’