Below the note was a dotted line and below that, an aborted attempt at a signature. The best Linnea could tell, someone had started to write Mrs.
Well, it seemed a first-grader named Ariel was not doing well in school. A school that contained the letters – ruber. The fragment of the signature was done in a childish printed scrawl. A child trying to forge her parent’s signature perhaps? God only knew that Linnea had done the same when she’d been in trouble at school. But she needn’t have bothered. Her own mother had never cared a whit about Linnea’s schooling. It was free babysitting in her mother’s eyes.
But the ‘signature’ on the page? That was no legit signature for sure.
The big question was, who was Ariel and had she dropped the fragment of the note into the seat pocket of the SUV or had someone else? If it had been Ariel, what the fuck had a first grader been doing in his SUV?
Linnea needed to find out, because this was a clue she could chase down when she left this place. Folding the paper back up, she hid it in the socks she’d been given at the clinic. Then she flushed the toilet so that the nun wouldn’t wonder what she was doing in the bathroom, washed her hands, and went back to the table where a bowl of wonderful-smelling soup had been set at her place, steaming hot, a plate of brown bread next to it.
The first bite brought new tears to her eyes. She cried quietly as she ate, unsurprised when the nun slid a box of tissues onto the table next to her.
‘Can I touch your hair?’ Sister Jeanette asked and Linnea nodded, her tears becoming sobs when the nun simply stroked her hair.
Like Andy used to do.
I’m so sorry, Andy. I’m so damn sorry. I will make this up to you. I promise.
Ten
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 10.05 P.M.
Meredith’s scent still filling his head, Adam met Trip in Candace Voss’s driveway. He was grateful for the cold air tonight, a needed smack in the face to help him to focus on his job and not the kiss that he’d relived over and over as he’d driven across town.
To interview Candace Voss. Because her husband was their best suspect. So focus.
The house at the top of the driveway belonged to Mrs Voss’s sister, with whom she and her daughter had been staying for the past few months. It was a normal-sized house in a normal neighborhood. Nothing fancy. Certainly nothing like the house Candace had called home with Broderick Voss.
‘Did Faith tell you why Mrs Voss left her husband?’ Trip murmured.
Adam had called Deacon’s fiancée on his way over. ‘Infidelity was the only thing the wife told them when she sought Meredith for counseling. The little girl’s name is Penny.’
Trip’s brows shot up. ‘As in money?’
‘As in Penelope. The sister is Dianne Glenn. She’s single and has lived here for ten years. Works for one of the law firms downtown.’
‘Any trouble or reports from either the sister or the wife?’
‘Nope. At this point, I’d be happy knowing why his wife left him. I don’t expect her to spill her guts about any abuse – if it happened – on this first visit.’
‘But,’ Trip said with a frown, ‘if she left him because of infidelity, it means she knows about the infidelity, so it’s unlikely that it’s connected to the blackmail.’
‘Maybe. If he’s contemplating politics, the blackmail might be to keep other people from finding out. Or it could be something darker than garden-variety cheating.’
‘It was enough for the wife to take the child,’ Trip noted.
‘And enough for the husband not to file for joint custody, even. We’re not going to find out anything by standing here, that’s for damn sure. Let’s go.’
Trip followed him up the walk that was only wide enough for them to walk single file. Adam knocked and waited. A porch light came on above them and he could see shadows moving in the hallway through the filmy curtains that covered the slim windows on either side of the front door. Adam held out his badge and beside him, Trip did the same.
The door opened a crack, the chain still attached. ‘Yes?’ a woman asked.
‘I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, ma’am. My name is Detective Kimble. I’m with the Cincinnati Police Department. This is my partner, Special Agent Triplett, with the FBI.’
‘Ma’am,’ Trip said politely.
The eye visible through the crack in the doorway widened. ‘Police? FBI? Why?’
‘We’d like to speak to Mrs Voss. We understand she lives here.’
‘I’m her sister. What do you want with her?’
Adam made his stance as non-threatening as possible. ‘Just to ask her a few questions. I’m happy to give you our badge numbers so that you can check us out before letting us into your home.’
The woman nodded, still wary, but her sudden relief was unmistakable. ‘Yes, please. Do you have a card?’
Adam passed one through the opening and the woman closed the door with an abrupt snap. Adam looked over at Trip. ‘We rattled her,’ he said, and was surprised to see the other man’s forehead bunch in a frown.
‘We or me?’ Trip asked quietly, his jaw going taut.
It was Adam’s turn to frown until he realized what Trip was really asking. Adam blew out a breath. ‘Shit, man. I didn’t mean what you think I meant. It’s not because you’re big or black or a cop or whatever. I meant we. Because we’re here. She opened that door expecting us to be someone else. She was relieved that we were cops.’
Trip visibly relaxed. ‘I wonder if Broderick has sent anyone else over to harass them. He’s stalked the doc, after all. I wouldn’t put it past him.’
‘Yeah. Me, either.’ He studied Trip’s profile. ‘We good?’
‘Yeah.’ Trip’s sigh was brooding and almost bitter. ‘But I do scare people. Sometimes that comes in handy. But sometimes it really sucks.’
Adam hesitated, then decided to speak, since they were apparently sharing. ‘When Isenberg told me that you were my partner, I was happy to hear it. Number one, having you watching my back is one less stress. But mostly . . .’ He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘You’ve always been decent to me. Not all the cops are. Feds either.’ Some had been great, like Deacon and Isenberg and Wyatt. Some had not. The cops who’d served with his dad? They really had not. He deliberately lightened his tone. ‘I mean, a guy takes one mental health break and never hears the end of it.’
Trip huffed. ‘I knew about the leave,’ he said gruffly. ‘But you came back, y’know? And you’re still here. Still on the job. Still doing for others. So that’s the important thing.’
Having spoken their piece, they fell silent, the only sounds the stomping of their feet as they kept warm. Finally, the door opened and Mrs Voss’s sister gestured them in.
‘I’m sorry you had to stand in the cold for so long.’
‘It’s quite all right. The last thing we want is to frighten anyone.’ Adam smiled. ‘Our records show that you are Dianne Glenn. Is that correct?’
The woman looked startled. ‘I have no criminal record.’
‘Property records, ma’am,’ Trip clarified with a smile that seemed to put the woman at ease. ‘That’s all. Is your sister here?’
‘She’s getting dressed.’ Dianne directed them to a sunken living room, decorated in modern, sleek lines. Which equaled fucking uncomfortable in Adam’s experience. ‘Please have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?’
‘Only if it’s no trouble,’ Adam said. Dianne disappeared into the kitchen, while he and Trip chose two chairs that looked sturdy enough to hold them. Trip winced when the chair he’d chosen let out an ominous creak.
‘Did you break it?’ The concerned voice came from a tiny girl who’d slipped down the stairs undetected. Her little face stared at them through the balusters, fascinated.
Trip looked taken aback. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Are you cops?’ the girl asked.
‘Yes,’ Adam told her. ‘Are you Penny?’