‘And you were helpless.’
‘I just stood there. And watched. And then I started hoping he’d just . . . finish so she wouldn’t suffer anymore. Which made me feel like a monster,’ he confessed, ‘wishing for the death of a child so that I didn’t have to hear her suffering.’
Meredith’s sigh was shaky. ‘Adam . . . You can’t feel guilty about hoping that. She was suffering. Whoever killed her wanted to hurt you too. Maybe not you specifically, but whichever cop had the bad fortune to be her lifeline. He could have dragged her away. He could have cut the connection. He didn’t. He was playing with you, like a cat with a mouse.’
He stilled against her. ‘But why? What would he have gained?’
‘That’s a damn good question, don’t you think? Whoever killed her wanted her to pay for trying to get help. But he also wanted to send CPD a message.’
‘Don’t fuck with me,’ he murmured. ‘Well, he didn’t have to worry about CPD. We never did find out where she’d been held. Where she died.’
‘You never found her body?’
A laugh broke free, bitter and cold. ‘Yeah. I found her.’
Again she shifted to see his face. ‘Where?’ She wanted to look away, to avoid the misery in his eyes, but couldn’t make herself do so.
‘Trunk of my car,’ he whispered.
New horror filled her and she framed his face with trembling hands. ‘He left her for you to find?’
He nodded. ‘We’d gotten a tip that someone might be being held against their will in this house out in the country. On a farm.’
‘You thought you’d found her.’
‘Yes, but it wasn’t the same place. We checked the place from top to bottom, but it was a false tip. When we got back to the car, the trunk had been forced open.’
‘She was there?’
He nodded. Cleared his throat, but could say nothing.
‘And?’ Meredith prodded gently. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’
He nodded again. Closed his eyes, then opened them, latching onto her like she was his lifeline. ‘He’d . . . burned her,’ he whispered.
‘How do you mean?’ she asked so very quietly.
He looked away. ‘Gasoline. She was . . . unidentifiable.’
She couldn’t control her flinch. ‘Then how did you know it was her?’
‘She had a bunny, a stuffed toy. It was the only toy she had. That she’d ever remembered having. It had been placed on her. Or what was left of her.’
‘Oh my God. You still see her, don’t you? How could you not?’
‘Yeah,’ he said grimly. ‘I had to get rid of the car. That’s when I got the Jeep. But I’d still see her, every time I went to sleep. I’d wake up screaming. Unless I got drunk first. That was the only way I could get any sleep.’
She lifted her hand to his cheek, cupped it. ‘I understand. I really do.’
Nodding, he sighed heavily. ‘I really hope you do. But I have to tell you the rest.’
So this would be it, she thought. They were finally getting to the part for which he’d been making amends all over town. She settled herself against his side once more and prayed again that she’d say the right things.
Sixteen
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 9.25 A.M.
Linnea finished the oatmeal and eggs served by Sister Angela. This nun didn’t have Sister Jeanette’s kind smile. In fact, her face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl.
‘More toast?’ Sister Angela asked, hovering over the toaster.
‘No, ma’am.’ She was full, like she hadn’t been in so long. She’d always lied to Andy when he’d brought her food from Pies & Fries, telling him she wasn’t hungry because she knew he was going hungry to feed her. ‘But thank you.’
They were alone in the shelter. There were masses being said in the church upstairs, the loud blast of the organ shaking the ceiling above her head from time to time. Linnea had been spared attendance when she begged off, citing her own battered appearance. The bruises from Friday night had bloomed, covering half her face in a dark purple that could never be covered by any makeup known to man. Or God, for that matter.
Sister Angela sat at the table. ‘What are your plans today, Denise?’
Denise. ‘I need to make a phone call. But not from here.’
Sister Angela nodded soberly. ‘You don’t want to be traced here. I know where you can make the call. Would you like me to take you?’
Linnea’s mouth fell open in shock. ‘You would do that?’
A small smile bent the nun’s severe mouth. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
Her gaze dropped to the bowl she’d all but licked clean. ‘I’m not a nice person.’
The nun’s hand, gnarled and twisted with arthritis, came to rest atop hers. ‘We kind of deal in second chances here,’ she said. ‘Would you like to be a nice person, Denise?’
Linnea nodded. She knew it would never happen, that she’d never have the kind of respectability she’d always craved, but if she was gonna die soon – and she knew she was – she wanted to go out doing something good. ‘That’s why I have to make the phone call.’
‘All right. I know where there’s a pay phone.’ The nun dug into her pocket, then dropped two quarters on the table. ‘Although I think calls to 911 are free,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to walk with you?’
Yes. Please. But Linnea shook her head. ‘I’m . . . grateful. I am. But if I’m seen, anyone around me could be hurt. And I don’t want you to get hurt, ma’am.’
Sister Angela’s eyes softened. ‘Those are the words of a nice person, Denise.’
Huh. ‘Maybe you’re right. If I had more time—’ She cut herself off. Dammit.
The nun frowned. ‘What do you mean, more time? You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you.’
And that’s not much time. But Linnea made herself smile. ‘You’re right. I do.’ She slid the quarters off the table and put them in her own pocket, feeling the scrap of paper already there. ‘Is there a library nearby? I need to use the computer.’ Because she needed to find the ‘–ruber Academy’ and little Ariel’s teacher, Miss Abernathy.
It was possible that Ariel’s paper had been left in the SUV’s door pocket by a child belonging to someone other than him or his thug. But it was also possible that the kid could lead Linnea to his true identity and his address.
‘There’s a library a few blocks away. You’ll need to show your ID to use a computer.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘Because Denise isn’t your real name,’ the nun said softly, with no accusation.
Linnea shook her head sadly. She could give the woman this much. ‘No, ma’am.’
‘Will you tell me what it is?’
‘Yes. When I’ve done what I need to do.’ Somebody needed to know. Linnea wanted someone to remember her name. Maybe someone could get word to Shane.
She started to stand, but Sister Angela grabbed her wrist. ‘Will you come back?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll try, anyway.’
Frowning, the nun took out her cell phone and, grasping a stylus in her twisted hand, poked madly at the screen. ‘It’s Sunday. Library doesn’t open until one o’clock.’
‘If I leave to make a phone call, can I come back inside until the library opens?’
‘Yes,’ Sister Angela said. ‘And I will walk with you. I’ll give you privacy to make your call, but you don’t have to walk alone.’
Linnea opened her mouth to say thank you, but no words would come.
The nun just patted her hand. ‘You’re welcome.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 9.35 A.M.
Meredith was trembling in Adam’s arms, her gaze still full of shock, horror, and sorrow. Adam pulled her close, wishing the ugliness in him had never touched her. It was bad enough that he had to remember Paula – her murder and finding her charred body. Now Meredith would have the pictures in her head too.
He sighed. ‘A few weeks after I found her body, I asked Isenberg to take me back, to reinstate me to Homicide, and she did. That’s when the drinking began to get really bad.’