‘Probably only if you read the financial pages. He’s the CEO of Buzz Boys. They went public a few years back. He orchestrated the IPO. Thus, the Lamborghini.’
‘Whoa.’ The company’s name he knew. Buzz Boys gathered consumer preference opinions, a necessary service in a city of consumer products manufacturers. ‘So someone connected to Voss is seeing Meredith for counseling. Do you know who?’
‘Nope. Got the photos while I was talking to the mayor. Was going to text you, but you showed up instead. Ball’s in your court, Adam.’ She studied him carefully. ‘Take someone with you when you question him. He’s very influential in this town. He could make allegations against you that were totally false, but could still hurt your career.’
‘What a prince,’ Adam muttered, appreciating that his boss had his back. ‘I’ll take Agent Triplett with me. First I need to question the restaurant’s hostess. Scarlett’s got her in Interview Three. You wanna observe?’
Isenberg cocked a brow. ‘This is the woman whose combat boot is responsible for that bruise on Scarlett’s jaw? I think I will.’
‘Good. In the meantime, do you have an address for Mr Voss? I want to put a car outside his residence. Just in case he gets wind of our impending visit and tries to leave town. He could charter a private jet and slip out of our grip.’
‘He doesn’t need to charter one,’ Isenberg said grimly. ‘He owns one.’
Adam sighed. ‘Of course he does.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 8.15 P.M.
‘Well, shit.’
Meredith looked up from the intricate Moroccan tile design she was coloring to see Diesel scowling at his laptop screen. ‘What?’
‘Voss couldn’t have been in front of the restaurant today. He was speaking to a room full of donors at a thousand-dollar-a-plate fund-raiser.’
‘Well, shit,’ Meredith echoed. ‘What was the fund-raiser’s cause?’
‘Let’s see . . .’ He scrolled down, made a sound of disgust. ‘It was for a state senator’s reelection campaign. There are rumors that Voss plans to run.’
‘Not a shock. He’s a rich and powerful narcissistic sociopath.’
‘Fancy words for “asshole,”’ Diesel muttered.
Meredith put her coloring aside and checked her list. Wendi had called and nagged her until she’d finally promised to write down the names of everyone who’d threatened her. The list was two pages long. Two pages. She’d had no idea there had been so many. ‘Should we mark him off and go to the next one?’
Diesel shook his bald head. ‘No, not yet. Just because he wasn’t there didn’t mean he didn’t have someone else do it.’ He met her eyes over his computer screen. ‘Today had professional hit written all over it. You pissed off the Mafia lately?’
‘Shh,’ Meredith scolded, looking at the door to her basement, where her grandfather napped in the spare bedroom. Declaring himself worn out from the travel, he’d excused himself to rest, but only because Diesel had promised not to leave Meredith’s side. ‘That’s the last thing Papa needs to worry about.’
‘That wasn’t a no,’ Diesel noted astutely. ‘Gimme the list.’
‘No. We’ll work our way down. Half these people are dead or in jail, anyway.’
‘Cheerful thought.’ He wasn’t being sarcastic.
‘What are you doing now?’ she asked to change the subject.
‘Looking for Voss’s bank account.’
Meredith’s eyes popped wide. ‘You can do that?’
‘I’m insulted.’ Now he was being sarcastic. He actually preened at her awe.
‘I don’t want to know how much money he has, when you find it.’
‘Fine.’ His cell phone buzzed with an incoming text. He took a second to type in a reply, then looked up with a surprising twinkle in his eyes.
‘What did you do?’ Meredith demanded warily, then gasped when he held up his phone. Adam had texted: Is she ok?
Diesel’s response was more to the point than he could ever know. Better than ok. We’re @ kitchen table. Drinking tea. Coloring.
That had been what she and Adam had done the last time he’d come to her, seeking comfort after a very difficult day at work. The night Adam had made a point of saying they wouldn’t end up the way they had the first time he’d come to her for comfort – in her bed.
‘Diesel,’ she groaned. He’s going to think that Diesel and I . . . ‘You lied to him.’
‘I did not. We have tea and you’re coloring. I’m just keeping him on his toes. Can’t let him get complacent. Can’t let him think there’s no competition, after all.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘There isn’t. Everyone knows you’re so gone on Dani Novak that you can’t see straight.’ Diesel’s grin abruptly vanished and Meredith wanted to kick her own ass. ‘I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. It’s your business. Yours and Dani’s.’
He dropped his gaze to his keyboard. ‘It’s all right. Go back to your coloring. I’ll tell you when I’m ready for the next name on your list.’
Meredith pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘For a therapist, I am an insensitive asswipe.’ She splashed a few ounces of whiskey into her empty teacup. ‘You want a refill?’
He pushed his glass toward the bottle. ‘Yes,’ he said, his voice like gravel. ‘Please.’
She obliged, then opened a new text window on her own phone. Adam would think she’d betrayed his trust. She needed him to know she hadn’t. For his sake and for mine.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 8.30 P.M.
Adam and Isenberg joined Scarlett and Deacon in the observation room, where they watched Colleen Martel through the one-way glass. The young woman sat handcuffed to the chair, her expression one of grim resignation.
‘Her prints were on the envelope and the money,’ Scarlett said. ‘Two hundred dollars, in unmarked, well-worn twenties.’
‘She say where it came from?’ Adam asked.
Scarlett shook her head. ‘She hasn’t said anything, except “I plead the Fifth.”’
‘She hasn’t asked for a lawyer?’ Isenberg asked.
‘Not even once,’ Deacon answered. ‘Not in the car and not since we’ve been here.’
That was interesting, Adam thought. ‘Has she gone through booking yet?’
‘Not completely,’ Scarlett said, handing him a folder. ‘We haven’t filed the paperwork to get her in the system, but it’s ready. She’s been Mirandized.’
‘We might be able to use that,’ Adam said. ‘She wanted to be taken away through the back. She’s afraid of something. Or someone. Once she’s in the system, she’s visible.’
Isenberg looked pleased. ‘You’re going to let her believe she can wiggle out of this. You think she’s that gullible?’
‘She tried to escape the hotel through a heating duct,’ Adam said dryly. ‘What I think is that she watches way too much television. She would have broken the duct the moment she put her full weight on it.’ He looked at Scarlett’s jaw, where a bruise had started to darken in the pattern of the toe of Colleen’s boot. ‘I think I’ll save you for a Hail Mary,’ he said to Scarlett, because the girl would not respond to her right away. Scarlett had put her hands on Colleen already, both to yank her out of the duct and to cuff her. It could be implied that she’d do it again, even if Scarlett had no intention of doing so. He’d use her for the uber-bad cop if he couldn’t get answers. ‘Deacon, has she seen your eyes?’
‘No.’ Deacon wasn’t wearing his wraparound shades at the moment. ‘You want me to spook her?’
‘It’s your special gift,’ Adam said lightly. He glanced at Isenberg. ‘Any advice?’
‘Don’t fuck it up,’ she said, making him snort a laugh.
‘Thank you, O wise one.’
Scarlett pointed to a box on one of the chairs. ‘Her personal effects. Including her cell phone. She received a call Thursday from an untraceable number. They talked for three minutes. She texted that same number this morning saying “Thanks.”’
Adam retrieved the box. ‘Good to know. Thank you.’ He left the observation room and entered the interview room, followed by Deacon, who’d slid his wraparounds over his eyes. He took the seat across from Colleen and motioned Deacon into the chair next to her.
Within thirty seconds Colleen began to squirm. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong!’