‘Yes. I spoke with them a half hour ago.’ Right before he’d gone in to wake Meredith. ‘Why? What’s going on?’
‘We got an anonymous 911 at nine forty-seven this morning from a young woman telling us where to find the SUV used in the shooting.’
Adam stood up straighter. ‘Where? Was it there?’
‘Not anymore. We got surveillance footage from the restaurant where the SUV had been parked, near 275 and Beechmont. We saw a young woman get out, search for something, then lock up the SUV and set off on foot. Not ten minutes later, a big guy came to pick it up. He had a different woman with him. That woman walked away and he got in the SUV, but cleaned the seat first, which is consistent with the 911 caller who told us to use gloves, that the person who ditched the SUV was HIV positive and had bled on the seat.’
‘Linnie,’ Adam breathed. ‘At least we know she’s alive. As of nine forty-seven, at least.’ But bleeding. And positive. He wanted to sigh, then realized Deacon had gone silent. ‘What?’
‘You didn’t demand to know why we didn’t call you already.’
‘You let me sleep. I appreciate it. If you’d needed me, you would have called.’
Another pause. ‘Okay,’ Deacon said warily. ‘Good to know.’
Adam sighed. That Deacon was shocked at being thanked spoke volumes about how badly Adam had fucked things up between them. He never should have put it off so long. But he’d wanted that year. Wanted to prove to himself that he’d changed before he’d told anyone else. Because he’d been so damn ashamed. And, if he was honest, afraid of what his cousin would say when the truth was finally told. ‘I need to talk to you at some point. Not on the phone. But I’m sorry, Deacon. I’m sorry I was a dick. I’m sorry I hurt you. Please know that.’
‘It’s okay.’ There was warmth in his cousin’s tone. And caring. ‘Are you back now, Adam?’ His voice cracked. ‘Because we’ve missed the hell out of you.’
Adam cleared his throat harshly. ‘Yeah. I think I finally am.’ He changed the subject before they both started bawling. ‘Were you able to trace the 911 call?’
‘Yeah,’ Deacon said, back to business. He’d asked no questions and, for the most part, had taken everything Adam had dished out in those early months. Without knowing about the drinking or the quitting drinking.
I’m a lucky asshole. I don’t deserve him.
‘We traced it to a pay phone downtown,’ Deacon went on. ‘We dusted, took all the coins, still processing the prints. The exterior of the machine was wiped down. So far nothing off the coins is popping up in AFIS.’
‘Were you able to get a photo of the girl’s face? Either the one who dropped off the SUV or picked it up?’
‘The drop-off girl, yes. Partial, anyway.’
‘Is it Linnie?’
Deacon made an uncertain noise. ‘Maybe? If so, she’s a lot thinner now than she was in the photo Shane gave you. I’ve sent the footage to the lab to see if they can clean it up. We’ve got uniforms canvassing up and down Beechmont, looking for where she went after she dropped off the van.’
‘What about the guy who picked it up and the woman with him? Was she Linnie?’
‘No. The woman with him was at least four inches taller. We didn’t get their faces because they had scarves wrapped around them. Only their eyes showed. But, the man? He had the same body type as the guy who went looking for Shane Baird last night at the Kiesler dorm. Your pals in Chicago sent the university’s video along with their crime scene photos. He has the right height, weight, and stride.’
Excitement prickled up Adam’s spine. Things were connecting. ‘Let’s have Shane listen to the 911 call. He might be able to recognize Linnie’s voice.’
‘Good idea. I’ll have it set up for him when you get him down here.’
‘Thanks. What do we know about Voss?’
‘Nothing yet. You knew that Isenberg borrowed Hanson from Narcotics, right?’
‘Yeah,’ Adam said, ‘he got there when we were talking to the Chicago detectives. Isenberg was going to have him investigate the college hookers and Voss’s drug source.’
‘Well, Hanson’s been knocking on Voss’s door, but Voss isn’t answering. We’re going to go for a warrant, but we need more info. Hate to drag Mer down here, but we need her.’ Deacon made a disgusted sound. ‘I hate that we’re putting such a burden on a six-year-old’s shoulders. If Mer can’t get anything more from Penny Voss, we got nothing.’
Adam sighed. ‘My confidential informant found something.’
‘Oh?’ The single syllable was rife with meaning. ‘Like?’
‘Voss may be being blackmailed, for fifty grand a month. That’s all I know.’
‘Then tell Diesel to dig deeper,’ Deacon said dryly.
Adam had to laugh. ‘I will. Listen, I need to make another call or two and then we’ll be leaving here. I’ll text you when Troy and I get to the parking garage at the station. We’ll bypass the lobby and bring everyone directly up in the elevator.’
‘I’ll meet you in the station’s parking garage, then.’
‘Thanks, man.’ It was always good to have another set of eyes and another gun. He ended the call, then called Trip and brought him up to speed, including the photo Chicago PD had sent of the big bruiser who’d likely killed Tiffany and her mother.
‘I’m at Mariposa House,’ Trip told him, ‘talking to the girls to see who knew Mallory and Meredith were going to be at Buon Cibo yesterday.’
‘Thanks. Pass around Andy’s photo too. And Linnea’s. Hell, show them Bruiser’s photo too. Chicago said they’d put out a BOLO so you can pull up the bulletin to show them. Maybe one of the girls will recognize them.’
He ended the call to Trip and checked his messages. And sighed. He’d gotten fifteen texts from his sponsor. Who he was supposed to have called last night. He hit redial and braced himself for the explosion. John’s texts had grown steadily more worried. He’d even gone by Adam’s apartment to check on him. Poor guy hadn’t slept all night.
‘So you actually live?’ John barked without a greeting.
‘Yeah,’ Adam said. ‘I’m sorry, John. I got busy.’
‘You could have sent a goddamn text. I was pulling my fucking hair out, worrying about you, asshole.’
‘You don’t have any hair to spare,’ Adam told him.
John sputtered. ‘You do not get to make jokes. Not after I’ve been worrying all night long. What the fuck happened?’
‘I got pulled into a case. It got complicated.’
John’s sigh sounded exasperated. ‘I know. I’ve been, uh, reading the updates.’
‘And listening to BOLOs on your scanner?’
‘Maybe,’ John groused, because of course he did. He’d been a career cop. A man like him did not simply retire and fish all day. ‘I heard enough to know there were multiple triggers for you in this case.’ He sighed again, exhausted this time. ‘You still good?’
‘Yep. Still on the wagon and still on track for my shiny gold coin.’
‘Yeah, well, I read that Meredith Fallon is involved, that she was the target at the restaurant downtown yesterday. She’s the biggest trigger you got, boy.’
And wasn’t that the truth? ‘I know. I, um, told her. Everything.’
A shocked silence. ‘You did? When?’
Adam frowned because John didn’t sound as supportive as he’d expected. ‘This morning, when we got a break.’
‘You’re with her? Right now?’
‘Yes.’ Adam snapped it out, then turned around to lean on the bulletproof glass. His eyes searched the interior of the condo, looking for Meredith, but she hadn’t left the bedroom yet. ‘Look, John, I know what you’re going to say. Just . . . don’t. I can’t right now.’
‘That’s why it’s bad for you to be around her right now. Dammit, Adam. You’re at a vulnerable point. Too many triggers without adding wuv-twoo-wuv into the mix.’
That John was a Princess Bride fan had always boggled Adam’s mind. And then the movie got shoved to the side, his mind now boggling at the gorgeous redhead leaving the bedroom, looking professional and . . . mine. ‘Look, I’m heading out to the office, so I gotta go. I’ll try to text you with updates. And I promise I’ll hit a meeting.’
‘When?’