‘Nah. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have sent that text. That was asshole-ish of me.’
Noting Trip’s curious gaze, Adam huffed a chuckle. ‘Yes, it was. So, tell us what you found before Trip grows old and I grow older.’
Diesel grew abruptly grim. ‘Voss is being blackmailed.’
‘By whom?’ Trip asked.
‘Dunno. But it’s a hefty sum. I mean, the bastard can afford it, but still. It has to rankle to pay fifty grand. A month.’
Trip sucked in a surprised breath. ‘Holy shit. A month?’
‘Wow,’ Adam said, blinking. ‘That’s some chunk of change. Where’s it going?’
Diesel turned his laptop so that it faced them. ‘Voss keeps PDFs of his bank statements. This is his computer’s hard drive, not his bank account, but the information is the same.’ He’d highlighted several transactions. ‘Money’s going to an offshore account. Turks and Caicos.’
‘Of course,’ Adam murmured. He didn’t ask how Diesel had gained access to Voss’s hard drive. He did not want to know. ‘When did the payments start?’
‘Six months ago,’ Diesel said.
‘When did Meredith start seeing his kid?’ Trip asked.
‘About three weeks ago,’ Diesel said. ‘I had to ask Faith. Meredith wouldn’t tell me.’
‘Faith did?’ Trip asked, clearly surprised. ‘Isn’t she a therapist too? I thought she’d follow the same rules.’
Adam shrugged, not nearly as surprised. ‘Faith was stalked by a murderer a year ago. It’s how she and Deacon met. I think the experience made her a little more pragmatic about bending the rules.’ He frowned, thinking. ‘Was Meredith the child’s first therapist?’
‘Damn, you boys are smart,’ Diesel drawled. ‘Nope. Merry’s her third therapist.’
Adam scowled at him. ‘Merry?’
Diesel attempted an innocent look, but didn’t come close to pulling it off. The ass was just yanking Adam’s chain. ‘That’s what her gramps calls her.’
‘Yeah,’ Adam said. ‘Whatever. Her third therapist, huh. Where does Mrs Voss fit?’
‘Dunno. Didn’t ask. I mean, hell, do I have to do all your work for you?’
Adam found himself chuckling. ‘I’ll ask Faith myself. Does, uh, does Meredith know about any of this?’
‘No,’ Diesel said flatly. ‘She showed me a photograph of him on her cell phone. She took it when he was getting into his Lamborghini after following her around the grocery store. The photo got his license plate too. Vanity tag. Not like there are a million Lambos out there, but you can prove Voss’s was there.’
She’s smart. Adam had to school his face so that he didn’t smile with grim pride. Grim, because she shouldn’t have had to be smart in that way. That asshole should never have tried to intimidate her. ‘And nobody will know you’ve hacked in?’
‘Nope. Nobody ever knows when I do.’
‘God,’ Trip muttered. ‘Remind me to never piss you off.’
‘You wouldn’t be worth my trouble,’ Diesel said. ‘You don’t break the law.’
‘Pffft.’ Trip looked pretty grim himself. ‘I’m here, talking to you.’ Then he shrugged. ‘At least we know what evidence we need to get legally.’
A muscle twitched in Diesel’s cheek. ‘Innocents suffer because the bad guys have no qualms about breaking the law. Think of me as a middleman. A confidential informant.’
‘A CI who’s an evil genius,’ Trip said, and Diesel seemed to relax.
Adam sorted through the details in his mind. ‘At least we know where to start.’
‘The wife?’ Trip asked.
‘Living with her sister,’ Diesel commented.
Adam remembered the plate of cookies he held. ‘You earned all of these.’
‘Not all of them.’ Trip snatched one of the gingerbread men from the plate. ‘Give him yours if you want to. I’m starving.’
Adam broke the head off his cookie and popped it in his mouth. ‘That’s really good.’ He handed the plate to Diesel. ‘Thanks, man. I owe you one. I mean it.’
‘Don’t mention it. I’m one of Meredith’s fans. She does good work for kids.’ A shadow passed over his face. ‘Wish I’d had someone like her when I was a kid.’ He pointed to the stairs. ‘Go put Voss away. Please.’
‘Yeah,’ Adam said gruffly. ‘We will.’
Nine
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 9.20 P.M.
The phone call had come during the last stanza of ‘O Holy Night’, his solo in the Christmas cantata. He’d had his ringer on mute, but he’d felt the vibration in his pocket and had to fight the urge to stop mid-note and answer it. He’d set up an individual ringtone and vibration pattern for Butch, because he only communicated when it was necessary.
He made nice with the hand-shaking and smiling at all the church members for as long as he could before bolting outside in the freezing cold, still wearing his choir robe. He redialed Butch as he walked. ‘What?’ he asked.
‘I couldn’t find Shane Baird.’
The third in Linnea’s little trio. ‘Where did you look?’
‘Started with the dorm address you gave me. The guy at the desk is his friend. Kid gave me lip and pushed the panic button.’
His heart sank. ‘Tell me you weren’t captured on security footage.’
‘Of course not. And even if the kid does talk to the cops, I was wearing my face.’
His facial prosthetics. Without them, Butch looked even more frightening, his face destroyed in the fire that had brought them together, actually. Meth lab fires, unfortunately for Butch, burned hot.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘What happened then?’
‘I left the dorm, but stuck around the campus. Figured Shane’s friend had to leave sometime and he did. Drove his car to a Burger King off campus. I waited till he came out, but he didn’t. A girl did. They must have done a key switch because she drove his junk heap away. I’m following her now. What do you want me to do?’
‘Find out who she is,’ he snapped. ‘Then find her damn car.’
Butch grunted. ‘I knew that part. I meant, how far am I allowed to go?’
‘Do whatever you want. Just don’t leave any loose ends.’ Because he had enough of those right now, thank you very much.
‘Sure, boss. I’ll let you know what I find out. Oh, wait. You still there?’
‘Yes,’ he asked, forcing patience. ‘What else?’
‘Uh, have you seen the Internet since you been in the church?’
‘No. Why?’
‘They got a photo of the Gold kid. Somebody got him on video, real clear, right before his head exploded. It’s all over the news.’
‘Fuck,’ he muttered. It would only be a matter of time before Andy was identified and he didn’t know what the kid had in his apartment that could connect to Linnea. He did not want the cops to find her first. ‘I’ll take care of it. You just bring me Shane Baird.’
Ending the call, he drew a breath and reset his own face, his expression smiling and beatific. He knew this because he practiced in the mirror every single day.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 9.35 P.M.
Adam and Trip silently climbed the stairs to Meredith’s kitchen where Kendra waited by the door, a large brown paper sack in each hand. She studied Trip’s face first, smiling at whatever she saw there. ‘Food,’ she said, handing Trip his bag. ‘Roast beef on Bailey’s homemade bread. There’s a bowl of stew, some cookies, and a slice of pumpkin pie.’ She patted his stomach fondly. ‘It ought to keep you going for an hour. Maybe two.’
Trip grunted his thanks, then pecked her cheek. ‘Thank you. I’ll call you later.’
‘You do that.’ She turned to Adam, her smile disappearing completely. She was all cop, stern to the point of almost-hostile. ‘Your bag’s got the same. I was tempted to put ipecac in your stew, but Bailey reminded me that was not legal.’
Okay, no almost about it. Totally hostile. Adam’s gaze flew across the kitchen to where Bailey and Delores were quietly working. Bailey was kneading a lump of dough with her fists and Delores was decorating gingerbread men, deftly squeezing icing from a bag. Bailey gave him a silent nod, as if affirming she’d stepped in to avert his being poisoned.
‘Thank you?’ Adam said, making it a question, which made Bailey smile.