Kate winced. ‘That’s . . . not promising, hon. Gotta say.’
‘Maybe? That’s just it. That’s what I thought, but tonight he said I thought wrong. So I stepped back and tried to look at it from another direction. I made a few calls and found out he not only volunteers at Mariposa and Delores’s, but he routinely works at Dani’s clinic and does repairs at Father Trace’s shelter. He even assistant coaches a pee wee team that has deaf kids from all over the county. I got that from Faith. Adam spends every free minute helping other people. Plus his actual job.’
‘Huh,’ Kate said again. ‘It’s almost like he’s trying to atone for something.’
‘I thought the same thing.’
‘Did Dani have any insight? They grew up together, right?’
‘Yeah. Dani said she knew he was fighting demons, but she’d never been able to get him to tell her specifics. I even called Deacon.’
‘He’d know better than anyone. They’re besties, right?’
‘Well, if he knows, he’s not saying. Which I can respect. But I don’t think he knew either.’ Meredith suspected she might be the only one who knew the particular nightmare that haunted Adam, the devastating murder of a child that he’d been unable to stop. But even Meredith didn’t know all the details. She only knew that there had been a lot of blood. And that he’d witnessed it happen.
So much blood. He’d said it over and over the night he’d fallen apart in her arms, more than a year ago now. She’d expected him to cry, but he hadn’t shed a single tear.
She wondered if he’d managed to do so since.
She glanced at her bed. They’d ended up there that night. Nothing had ever been the same after that. Not for me.
She’d assumed it hadn’t meant anything to him, but now . . . She gave in to the urge and pressed her fingertips to her lips. That . . . in the kitchen tonight? That was not a pity kiss. She’d had pity kisses before and that was definitely not one.
‘Mer?’ Kate said softly.
Meredith looked up with a jerk. ‘Um . . . sorry. Did you say something?’
‘Just your name. Have the two of you . . . Is there anything you want to tell me?’
Meredith smiled ruefully. ‘Not particularly. But . . .’ She sighed. ‘Yes. Once. A year ago. I thought we had something. But he’s shut me out ever since.’
‘And he’s coming by tonight to let you in?’
And if you want me to leave afterward, I will, he’d said. What the hell did that mean?
‘Maybe. Sounded like it.’
‘Then I’ll ensure Kendra is properly occupied because she doesn’t trust him at all.’
No, Kendra didn’t. ‘Thanks, Kate.’
‘My pleasure.’ She gathered her knitting and shoved it in a bag with kittens printed on the side. ‘Now, we were discussing ice cream earlier.’
‘It’s freezing outside,’ Meredith said. ‘You really want ice cream?’
‘Kenny said she brought you some. Are you holding out on me, Dr Fallon?’
‘Never.’ Meredith gave the dog a final pat, then rose. ‘Let’s go eat ice cream. And gingerbread men. And I think there’s some pumpkin pie left. We can find a movie and open a bottle of red.’
‘Now you’re talking. Come on, Cap.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 11.15 P.M.
He turned onto the street where Andy Gold had rented a basement apartment, pleased that most of the houses were already dark. It was a Saturday night, but this neighborhood was mostly populated with either old people or families with small kids who had bedtimes. There was nobody out to notice – and importantly – to remember him.
He was actually shocked that no one had identified Andy Gold yet. The kid’s picture had been online for hours, clear as day. Gold had a job and went to classes, so somebody was going to know who he was.
He’d planned to have Butch eliminate all trace of Andy Gold, including photos or notes or anything that would lead the cops to Linnea Holmes, but nothing had gone right today. Butch was in Chicago tracking Shane Baird, and this couldn’t wait until he got back.
So I’m going to have to deal with Andy Gold’s belongings myself.
At least he had the cover of darkness. He wouldn’t dream of conducting an op like this in the daylight. He parked on the next street over from Andy’s basement apartment and checked the contents of his backpack.
Glass cutters, a fuse, matches, and two jars of a jellied mix of gasoline and soap powder – easy to make and very flammable. He grabbed the large gas can from the back seat, made sure his ski mask was completely covering his face, and made his way into the shadows, moving from the house nearest his SUV, through the backyard, over the four-foot chain-link fence, and up to the rear of Andy’s house.
Cutting the glass from the window of Andy’s basement apartment, he removed the lids from the jars of homemade napalm and tossed the jars through the window. He then threw one end of the fuse through the window, landing it in the sticky mess and dragging it through until the fuse became submerged. He poured the contents of the gas can on the ground along the back of the house, then lit the fuse and hightailed it out of there.
By the time he reached his car, he could already see the blaze flickering through the basement windows. He’d be safely away before the smoke detectors in the house went off.
Hopefully the residents of the home’s upper floors were light sleepers. They’d still be able to get out in plenty of time to call the fire department and most of their house would be saved. He didn’t need to burn the whole house down, just Andy’s portion of it. By the time the first fire truck arrived, the basement apartment would be no more.
Once he’d left the neighborhood, he pulled into an alleyway, once again changing the plates on the SUV. Just in case one of the neighbors had a security camera. He removed the ski mask and bagged it and the coat he was wearing.
He’d made it to his driveway when his business cell rang with a number that was vaguely familiar. ‘Yeah?’ he barked, pitching his voice lower than normal.
‘You sonofabitch,’ a man snarled.
So it would be one of those calls. He activated the voice-changing app he’d installed on his phone, his voice instantly gravelly and unidentifiable as his own. ‘Who is this?’
‘It’s Voss, and you’re a fucking asshole. I paid you what you asked.’
Voss. He wanted to sigh. The last thing he needed tonight was the pathetic whining of an arrogant prick. ‘Yes, you did. And I’ve honored my end of the agreement.’
‘No, you didn’t because the cops were at my bitch sister-in-law’s house tonight, talking to my wife.’
He blinked, caught unaware. ‘Why would they be talking to your wife at your sister-in-law’s house?’
‘That’s what I’m asking you! And now there are unmarked cars sitting outside my front gate! Cops outside my house!’
‘Okay, calm down. We have not told a soul. Let’s figure this out. Okay?’
‘I’ll drag you down with me. I’ll bury you. I swear it.’
‘Calm down. First, how do you know cops talked to your wife?’
‘Because I have someone watching the bitch’s house. I know when she arrives and when she leaves and I know where my kid is. All the time. My man saw them. One was black and big as a tank. Easily six-six. The other guy was six-two, black hair, wore a black wool coat. They showed badges to my sister-in-law. They stayed for over thirty minutes.’
Voss’s wife had left him, then. It made no difference financially because it wasn’t his wife that Voss was afraid of. It was his potential electorate. That his wife has left him might look bad. Depending on the reason she’d left. But first things first.
‘What would your wife be able to tell them?’ A long silence followed that started to piss him off. ‘Voss? What would your wife know that would be damaging to you?’
‘That my kid saw one of the girls at the house.’ It was a grudging admission.