People were so much chattier at Christmas. Took for-fucking-ever to get out of the church and into the parking lot. But he had been especially good that morning, he had to admit. The choir behind him hadn’t been that bad either. A few of the members had been a little off-key, but on the whole, they worked well together.
‘Daddy, look!’ Ariel cried, tugging at the hem of his suit coat.
‘Whatcha got, Princess?’ He slipped his left hand into his pocket, then hefted her up to his hip using his uninjured right arm. It would keep the other parishioners from trying to shake his hand and maybe help him get out of there faster.
‘I made this for you in children’s church. It’s a design.’
‘I can see that.’ Giant loops and whorls and big gobs of glue dotted the red construction paper, cut into the shape of a bell.
‘Smell it!’ she commanded.
He complied dutifully. ‘It smells like Christmas.’ Because she’d sprinkled cinnamon and nutmeg on the glue. It did smell good, if you could sniff past the glue. But it was a terrible mess. He already had cinnamon all over his suit. ‘Thank you. I love it.’
Ariel beamed and smacked a kiss on his cheek. ‘Good.’
‘Let’s go to the car and get it warm for Mommy and Mikey.’ He carried her out, put her in her booster seat because she was tiny for her age, and slid behind the wheel. Cranking up the heat, he checked his cell phone for any recent developments.
Like that a bone-skinny hooker had been found dead in a gutter, having frozen to death overnight. I could only be so lucky. But there was no mention of a dead Linnea, or a live one for that matter. He swiped through a few more news stories and . . .
‘Oh my God,’ he muttered. His blood ran cold and it had nothing to do with the outside temps.
‘What’s wrong, Daddy?’ Ariel asked with concern.
‘Oh, nothing, honey,’ he managed. ‘Just one of the Bengals players got hurt.’
‘Goddammit,’ she said with a hard nod, but he was too absorbed in what he was looking at to scold her for swearing.
Butch’s face looked up at him from the phone screen. Butch, who’d stayed under the radar for years. It was a slightly grainy photo, taken from a camera overhead. A security camera. It was a bulletin out of Chicago PD, a BOLO for the man wanted for the murder of two Chicago women late the night before.
Goddammit, Butch, he thought viciously. Because now Butch had an ex date too. He was past due, in fact. He’d signed his own death warrant the moment he’d allowed his face to be photographed, even with the facial prosthetics. It’s not like he’d ever be seen without them, so that was his face. If he went without the prosthetics he was instantly memorable.
He brought up a text screen and typed one out to Mike, double-time, before Rita got in the car and asked what he was doing. Need you to do a job for me.
The reply was instant. OK. What?
Will let u know when I know. Be ready.
Mike sent him a thumbs-up emoticon. And just in time. The back passenger door opened, letting in a gust of frigid air. Rita buckled Mikey into his car seat and hurried to buckle herself in.
‘Mercy, it’s cold,’ she shivered. ‘Oh, the heater’s going. Thank you, dear.’
‘No problem, sweetheart.’ He pasted on a smile. ‘Let’s go home.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 1.45 P.M.
Lucky kids, Linnea thought, searching the Gruber Academy’s Facebook page on the public library’s computer. Each grade’s teacher had posted photos of their students doing fun, creative activities.
None of these kids looked hungry or afraid. She’d bet none of them had addicts for mothers and their fathers probably treated them like princesses.
Except that one of the kids – Ariel – had a father who was a killer. Among his other sins. Ariel, featured in several of the first grade pictures, was almost certainly his daughter. They had the same blue eyes. Linnea remembered his eyes with a shudder.
She wondered about the woman who’d married him, who’d given him children.
Could Ariel’s mother know? If so, how did she live with herself? Unfortunately, none of the kids had last names on the school’s Facebook page, so Linnea was no closer to knowing the name of the girl’s father.
But tomorrow would be a special day at the Gruber Academy, their holiday pageant scheduled for early afternoon. Ariel’s class would be reindeer. There were photos of earnest-faced little kids making their own costumes with antlers and red noses.
One of Ariel’s parents was sure to come to see her on stage, playing reindeer games with the other kids. And if Ariel’s daddy brought her to school? Could she kill a man in front of his daughter? He killed Andy in front of me.
But Linnea wasn’t like him. She couldn’t make the child suffer for what the father had done. She would kill him, though. She’d promised Andy revenge. She owed it to him. She owed it to herself. Hell, I owe it to the whole damn world.
She memorized the address of the school and found it on a map, then closed the browser on the library’s computer. Then she went back out into the cold.
She needed a weapon – a gun this time, because she didn’t want to get close enough to him again to use a knife. She was pretty sure she knew where to buy one. Working the streets had taught her a thing or two, after all.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 2.45 P.M.
‘Meredith. Meredith, wake up, honey.’
Coming slowly awake, Meredith breathed in the most delicious scent she could imagine. Adam. He sat next to her, smelling better than any man had a right to smell. And calling her honey. She liked that. She liked everything he’d done to her. With her. For her.
She hadn’t liked everything he’d told her, necessarily, because telling her had hurt him, but he’d trusted her with his secrets. That was everything.
‘Why?’ she asked without opening her eyes.
‘Because I have to go into work.’
Blinking hard, she squinted against the bedside light he’d turned on. The rest of the room was still dark, courtesy of the heavy drapes, but she could see that he was dressed in the suit he’d taken from her house . . . How many hours ago?
‘What time is it?’ she murmured.
‘Almost three.’
She blinked again. ‘Morning or afternoon?’
He laughed. ‘Afternoon. I need to go in.’ He ran a hand up her arm to caress her cheek. ‘I should have let you sleep, but I didn’t want you to wake up and find me gone.’
Again. The word he’d left unspoken hovered between them until she dashed it away with a shy smile. ‘I appreciate it.’ Her smile faded as it all rushed back at her – the shooting, poor Andy, poor Tiffany, both dead. Kyle and Shane, grieving. And Adam. My God. Adam. The things he’d seen. That he’d pulled himself back from the edge was testament to his strength. It was a wonder he hadn’t fallen completely, irreparably apart. ‘Has anything new happened?’
‘Not sure. I’m going in for a briefing and to take Kyle to meet his parents. They’re supposed to arrive from Michigan in the next hour or so. Shane wanted to see them too.’
Swallowing a yawn, Meredith sat up. Which was a mistake because her head pounded, like it always did when her sleep cycle got altered. She pushed the pain aside, making herself smile. ‘I need to set up time to talk to Penny Voss, get the details of what she saw. Should I have them come to the precinct or here?’
‘Not here. Tell Mrs Voss we’ll send someone to bring her and Penny downtown. I can have Agent Troy bring you to meet them later.’
‘Kate’s gone?’
‘Yeah, gone home to sleep, then she was going to Mariposa House with Cap. She thought letting the girls pet him might calm the tension.’
Meredith sighed. ‘Wendi said the girls were afraid. I wish I could have been there to help get everyone settled, but I’d just make them targets too.’
‘Wendi’s got it all under control.’ He frowned, lifting her chin to study her face. ‘You’ve got a headache. I can see it in your eyes.’
That he could see what she was normally able to hide should not make her as happy as it did. ‘Not too bad. Nothing some ibuprofen and a double espresso can’t cure.’