Adam tried to remember. ‘No. I don’t think he did. I took him at his word. Why was he admitted? He should have needed just a few stitches in the ER.’
‘He took two bullets. One in the arm and one in the side. He’ll be okay, but it was much worse than he let on.’ Quincy huffed out a breath. ‘Sorry. Not your fault. You should be able to take the word of a federal agent as truth.’
‘Why did he lie?’
Quincy rolled his eyes. ‘He doesn’t like ambulances.’
‘Holy fuck,’ Adam grumbled. ‘He could have just said so.’
Quincy gave him an oddly knowing look. ‘Would you have admitted a weakness?’ Adam remembered Quincy watching him as he’d turned from Buon Cibo’s bar yesterday. He knows. Or at least suspects. But he couldn’t worry about that now. ‘No.’
‘Didn’t think so. Troy only told me because I found the bullet embedded in the driver’s seat. I matched its trajectory to the first bullet hole put in the windshield.’
‘Which was on my side of the car,’ Adam said quietly.
Quincy nodded. ‘The shooter was aiming for you. It didn’t hit you because Troy swerved.’
‘Because I warned him,’ Adam said grimly.
‘Which was a good thing,’ Quincy insisted. ‘Troy swerved and the bullet hit the windshield at an angle instead of front-on. It was the difference in a moderate wound for Troy and a fatal one for you. Troy seems to think it was worth it.’
Adam shook his head. ‘When he’s recovered, I’m gonna kick his ass. Idiot.’
‘We’re agreed on that. I would have wasted valuable time testing the blood for DNA only to find it belonged to him.’ Quincy paused then. ‘There is another odd thing.’
Adam rubbed his stiff neck. ‘Of course there is. Please go on.’
‘You’ve had a rough day too,’ Quincy said, ‘so sorry to dump this on you, but I think the shooter purposely altered his aim to hit the top of the van. You were right about where he was, by the way. I found where he waited. No cigarette butts or anything actually helpful, but he cleared an area of snow. It looks like he used a tripod for the rifle. He started firing straight and low, and as you passed by his location, Troy sped up. The bullets that hit the side should have hit low.’
‘They all hit high,’ Adam said. ‘I wondered about that too. It was like he wasn’t trying to hit anyone in the back.’
Quincy nodded. ‘That’s my take.’
‘So he – whoever he is – tries to kill Meredith at Buon Cibo, but when he gets the chance today, intentionally misses. Shane was with her today. That’s the difference.’
Scarlett pointed to the body. ‘And we think Bruiser tried to find Shane in Chicago, because he wanted Linnie. Shane can’t tell him where Linnie is if Shane is dead.’
Adam grunted his agreement. ‘And then Linnie shoots him. Ironic.’
‘Bruiser?’ Quincy shrugged. ‘Good a name as any, I guess. Why would his cohorts kill him?’
‘My best guess is because his photo’s all over the Internet,’ Adam said. ‘Chicago PD sent it out as a person of interest. Whoever killed Bruiser is snipping off loose ends.’
‘But how are you a loose end?’ Scarlett pressed. ‘I mean, I can see if they tried to take out Troy, because the van would stop and they could get Shane. Why shoot at you?’
‘If they’d taken out Troy, Adam still would have been armed and dangerous,’ Quincy said, his voice very quiet. ‘Maybe they figured that Troy would stop if Adam was shot.’
‘Troy would have been armed and dangerous,’ Scarlett argued.
‘Troy’s not a sharpshooter,’ Quincy replied, then quirked a lip at Adam’s surprise. ‘I make it a point to know who I’m working with. Their skills and their weaknesses. Adam could have taken out the sniper before he got close enough to take Shane.’
‘And if they’d shot Troy, we might have crashed,’ Adam added. ‘And then no Shane.’
‘How did they know you were coming?’ Scarlett demanded. ‘This was planned.’
Adam shrugged. ‘The Davises were here. Whoever planned this must not have known where we took Shane, but knew we’d be bringing him to the station.’
Scarlett didn’t look convinced. ‘But you could have gone different ways.’
‘They might have more than one gunman, Scar,’ Adam said. ‘They may have had snipers posted on multiple roofs.’
Quincy sighed. ‘And who knows? Maybe the shooter was trying for Troy and is just a bad shot.’
‘But you don’t think so,’ Adam said.
Quincy shook his head. ‘No, I don’t.’
Twenty
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 6.10 P.M.
Candace Voss and Penny looked up from the movie they’d been watching on Candace’s phone when Meredith and Isenberg walked in with the boxes of art supplies.
Penny ignored Isenberg, studying Meredith with wide eyes. ‘You got shot at.’
Meredith stifled her surprise. ‘You heard about that?’
‘I heard my mama and Aunt Dianne talking about it. What’s in the boxes?’
Unsurprised by the little girl’s quick change of topic or curiosity, Meredith replied, ‘Crayons, coloring books and . . .’ She opened one of the boxes. ‘Play-Doh! It’s the twenty-pack. And the Fun Factory. What do you want to play with? Crayons or Play-Doh?’
Penny regarded her owlishly. ‘Why?’
Meredith sat down at the table. ‘Fair question. Why what, specifically?’
‘Why am I here? Mama won’t tell me anything. Like I’m a baby.’
‘You’re six,’ Candace said.
‘And a half,’ Penny insisted. ‘Well?’
Meredith set the cans of Play-Doh on the table. ‘First things first. What color?’
‘Red.’ Penny took the blob of dough from the can and gave it a good, long sniff.
‘I used to do that when I was a kid,’ Meredith told her. ‘But it doesn’t taste good.’
‘I know,’ Penny said. ‘But it says non-toxic. That means it won’t kill you.’
‘You’re right.’ Meredith picked the cream-colored dough. ‘So, to answer your question, we’re here to talk about that night when your father had a party.’
Penny pinched off a hunk and started to roll it into a snake. ‘I don’t wanna talk about that,’ she said sullenly. ‘You can’t make me. The other ladies tried.’
‘You’re right. I can’t make you. I think I saw a rolling pin and cookie cutters in here.’ Meredith emptied the contents of the box onto the table with a clatter. ‘Aha! I was right!’
‘You’re trying to trick me into talking to you,’ Penny grumbled.
‘You’re too smart for me to do that,’ Meredith said, rolling out her dough.
‘Yep,’ Penny said with a hard nod.
That Penny was too smart was the reason it had taken this long to get her to open up. And having two therapists already didn’t help. Penny was wise to Meredith’s moves.
‘These things must be done delicately,’ Meredith murmured as she cut shapes, assembling them into a face as she surreptitiously watched Penny, who was poking her finger into the dough, a frown bending her lips.
‘The witch said that. In that movie.’ Penny’s brow scrunched. ‘The Lizard of Oz.’
‘Wizard, Penny,’ Candace said quietly from the other end of the table. ‘Wizard.’
Penny shrugged. ‘I like lizard better.’
Meredith’s mouth quirked up. ‘So do I. Can I borrow some red?’
‘Why?’ Penny asked.
‘I want to make her hair.’
Grudgingly, Penny gave her some red dough. ‘Your hair is red.’
‘It is indeed.’
‘I like red hair,’ Penny said, then went back to poking holes in her dough.
‘I’m glad. There were times that I didn’t like it and tried to dye it. Didn’t end well.’
Penny looked up. ‘What color?’
‘What color did I dye it? Purple once. Pink once. That worked better.’ She put the red dough through the Fun Factory and used the spaghetti shapes for hair. ‘How’s that?’
Penny gave her an intense look. ‘Not bad. She needs eyes.’
‘True.’ Meredith added green circles for eyes. ‘I think she should also have jewelry.’ Meredith added white dots to the dough girl’s ears. ‘Pearls.’
‘That’s you,’ Penny said, no longer poking her lump of dough.
Meredith smiled, pleased. ‘That’s what I was going for. Should we do you?’