by Karen Rose
Meredith gaped. “I’m not wearing one of those.”
“Never say never,” Kate rebuked mildly. “I planned on disguising us on the way back to the condo. You and me? Our hair stands out. Let’s make it a little bit harder for the bad guys to figure that you’ve left the building.”
Meredith winced. “You think they’re watching for me to leave?”
Kate gave her a look. “How hard did you hit your head, girl? Have you forgotten that you’re a target?”
Meredith grimaced. “No.”
“Then hush and put on the damn wig. I’ve got blondes and brunettes.”
Meredith sighed. “Blondes have more fun, right? Let me be a blonde.”
The wig wasn’t really so bad. It felt like real hair, not like the cheap Halloween wigs. She turned to ask her grandfather how she looked, but the words never left her mouth because he was staring at her, his eyes wide and suspiciously bright. “What, Papa?”
“You look just like your gran,” he murmured. “I was just surprised.” He drew a breath, shook his head slightly, then focused on Mallory. “You look lovely. As do you, Kate.”
Kate had chosen to be a brunette and Mallory had gone with blonde.
Mallory studied her reflection in Kate’s little mirror. “Nobody’s after me, but I’m wearing one, too. I’ve been wanting to change my look. I think I like it.”
Meredith instantly understood. Mallory had once been a victim of child pornography, her abuse streamed worldwide by pedophiles for years. And it was all still out there because nothing was ever truly deleted from the Internet. She constantly worried that she’d be recognized by a pervert who’d seen her online, because she had been in the past. Looking different might give her the confidence she so desperately needed.
Kate’s expression softened as well. “I think we all look mahvelous. Clarke, you’re gonna have to just be you. I don’t have anything in my bag that wouldn’t draw too much attention to you. Let’s get your noggin checked out, Mer, then you can be you again.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, December 20, 7:20 p.m.
Adam ignored Isenberg’s glare when he got to the briefing room. He’d taken five minutes for himself. Five minutes of respite that he’d desperately needed. He hadn’t known how much until he’d let himself be held. Trip, Deacon, and Scarlett were already seated and Nash Currie sat in the same place they’d left him hours before, still bent over his laptop, typing furiously.
“So glad you could find the time to join us, Detective Kimble,” Isenberg said sarcastically.
Without apology, Adam sat next to Trip and smoothed his tie. He tilted his head in Nash’s direction and Trip nodded, indicating that they’d already met. “Do we have a warrant?” Adam asked Isenberg.
She checked her phone and frowned. “Not yet,” she muttered. “Should be soon.”
“Meredith talked to Penny?” Trip asked. “I just met Adam and the others coming up the elevator,” he told Isenberg when she arched her brows in question. “We were talking about the latest body, but didn’t discuss the Voss girl.”
“Do we have time to see the video of Meredith talking to Penny?” Adam asked.
Isenberg glared at her phone a few seconds more. “Where is Hanson? Bringing in Broderick Voss is why he was brought onto this team.”
“He must still be searching for Linnie,” Deacon said. “We told him we were coming back. Thought he was with us.”
Isenberg dialed her cell, then held it to her ear. “Detective Hanson, this is Lieutenant Isenberg,” she said crisply. “We are planning the Voss operation. Please join us.” Her lips tightened. “I’ve already sent one of my detectives to take over the search. He should be there by now. I said, please join us. As soon as possible.”
Adam bit back a wince and saw Deacon and Scarlett doing the same. Nobody defied Isenberg when she got impatient like this. Hanson wasn’t being very smart.
Ending the call, Isenberg pointed a remote at the flat-screen on the wall. “It seems we have time. I’ve forwarded to the relevant parts.” She hit PLAY and Adam found himself in awe of Meredith’s way of making the child feel comfortable enough to talk, while pushing her to reveal her secrets. Her very painful secrets. Poor Penny.
Adam swallowed a sigh when Penny started to cry. He startled a little when Isenberg fast-forwarded the video a minute or two.
“She cried a lot,” Isenberg said flatly, but Adam had known her long enough to know that the acerbic attitude disguised a burdened heart. A glance at Trip showed that the younger man was figuring that out for himself. She hit PLAY to resume normal speed.
Just in time to see Penny positively identify both Jolee and Linnie as having been in Broderick Voss’s home.
Isenberg ended the video. “The DA’s got this file. He’s tracking down the judge on call to sign the warrant.”
“Good,” Adam said, pushing back from the table. He went to the whiteboard and moved Bruiser’s photo into the deceased column next to his victims. “Just because Penny didn’t see him at her house doesn’t mean he’s not involved with Voss.”
“Do we have a name yet?” Isenberg asked.
“No,” Adam told her. “But we can say that his prints match those that Chicago PD found on Tiffany Curtis’s clothing. Nothing pops in AFIS.”
“Which,” Scarlett said, “is hard to friggin’ believe. How can a guy this violent go through life without getting caught for something?”
“Good question,” Deacon muttered.
Adam’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he checked the incoming text. “It’s from Quincy. He says the bullet he found at tonight’s scene is a ballistics match to both the one that killed Andy Gold and those pulled from the van this afternoon.”
“Which matches one found at the scene of a thirty-year-old robbery,” Isenberg said. “Have you made any progress on tracking that weapon’s ownership, Agent Triplett?”
“No, ma’am. That far back, some of the records aren’t online. Zimmerman put several clerks on it. They’re searching.”
“Keep me posted.” She ran her gaze down the list on the whiteboard. “What else?”
“I’ve got something,” Nash called from the end of the table.
They all turned to stare at him, like they’d forgotten he was here, Adam thought.
“A guy could get a complex,” Nash complained. “Nobody even asked me.”
“Just tell us,” Adam said with an exasperated laugh. Nash had always been able to make him laugh when they’d been on Personal Crimes. Until Paula was murdered in front of them all. It had broken Adam and Nash, just in different ways. And it had damaged Hanson, who’d eventually just focused on keeping them from melting down on the job.
Now they’d all taken a few steps back. At least Adam was happy where he was. He hoped Hanson and Nash were, too.
“I found Jolee Cusack’s car,” Nash said. “She did drive it out to Beechmont yesterday, to take the big gorilla to pick up the SUV used in the shooting at Buon Cibo. She parked it in the empty lot of a dry cleaning business a block from Clyde’s Place. She drove it back to her apartment and parked out front. I found it on the college’s security cams. She drove away at ten this morning. Hasn’t been back since.”
“Do you know where she drove to?” Trip asked.
“No, but I know where the car is now.” Nash turned his laptop around so that they could see the map on his screen. “In a used-car lot off Route 4, up in Fairfield.”
“Which is nowhere near the university or Beechmont Avenue,” Deacon said.
“Nor the ski slopes in Vermont.” Isenberg picked up her phone and tapped out a text. “I’m having CSU pick it up and bring it in. Thank you, Detective Currie.”
“You’re gonna need a bigger truck,” Nash deadpanned. “Because there’s more. The other two license plates that Mrs. Voss photographed the night they
left her husband’s home? Those cars are there, too. Not the same plates. All the plates have been changed out. But all three vehicles are in that same used-car lot.”
“How did you track them if the plates have been changed?” Isenberg asked, clearly—if not reluctantly—impressed.
“Got the VINs from the registration. They’re all new cars. I can track them through the manufacturer.”
“That is fucking awesome,” Scarlett declared. “I like your friend, Adam.”
Nash chuckled. “That’s all I have. I’d like to go with you to Broderick Voss’s place, as soon as you have the warrant. Like Hanson, bringing Voss in is why I’m here, too.”
Isenberg’s phone buzzed on the table. She checked and waved them toward the door. “And there you are, folks. You have a warrant.” She pulled a set of keys from her pocket. “Mrs. Voss gave me these. The silver one is for the front door. I’ve got six units standing ready to back you up. Go get the sonofabitch.”
As a group—minus Hanson, who really should have been there by now, Adam thought with an inner frown—they headed for the briefing room door, spilling into the open office area. Which was empty.
Disappointment was his first reaction. Kate must have taken Meredith back to the safe house because the women, the dog, and the grandfather were gone.
Isenberg hesitated, then drew Adam aside, making him frown. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his gut suddenly unsettled.
“Remember when I mentioned entanglements? And that I’d boot you off this case?”
He gritted his teeth. She was going to bust his chops because he took five fucking minutes for himself? But, he told himself, he’d known the risk. “Yes, ma’am.”
She sighed. “Meredith apparently hit her head on the van’s floor this afternoon.”
His gut went from unsettled to twisted in a heartbeat. “She said she was fine.”
“She may have thought she was. She may still be. Kate said she has a bump on her head. She’s taking her to the ER to get it checked out as a precaution.” Isenberg looked him square in the eye. “Can you do your job, Detective?”
He closed his eyes briefly. He trusted Kate. Jerking a nod, he met Isenberg’s gaze. “You’ll text me as soon as you know anything?”
Approval filled her eyes. “Of course.”
“All right. I’ll text Hanson to meet us at Voss’s. If you see him, send him our way.”
“Oh, I will,” Isenberg declared. “Don’t you worry about that.”
Adam nudged his worry over Meredith to the side. Not completely out of his mind, because that wasn’t possible. But far enough away that he could focus on his job.
“Wouldn’t wanna be Hanson,” Nash murmured as they got into the elevator.
“Truth,” Adam agreed. “I hope he’s okay. It’s not like him not to at least check in.”
“Well, if he’s not bleeding out somewhere,” Nash said dryly, “he will be once your lieutenant uses that sharp tongue of hers on him. Not that I’d blame her in the least.”
Adam opened his mouth to defend his boss, then saw the genuine admiration in Nash’s eyes. “Me, either,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-one
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, December 20, 8:15 p.m.
“Shit,” Adam muttered, because Voss was not answering his intercom and both the front and back gates were closed and locked.
Adam hoped Voss was actually inside. The four cops who’d been watching the front and the back gates swore no one had gone in or out since they’d established surveillance the evening before, but Voss was smart. He couldn’t have built a successful business otherwise. He was also a sick, perverted asshole and Adam wanted to see him broken and humiliated and afraid, much like his victims had been.
“There’s a keypad,” Trip said. “I can call Mrs. Voss and ask her for the code.”
“Do you have her number?” Nash asked. “I can look it up if you don’t.”
“I do,” Trip told him. “Her sister gave me all of their phone numbers when I checked their security alarm system last night.”
Adam exhaled. Calling Candace Voss was much more logical than the images flitting through Adam’s mind—specifically those of him crashing one of the department vehicles through the gates and shoving Voss’s fucking head through a fucking wall. Because Voss had stalked Meredith and had maybe tried to have her killed yesterday and quite possibly tried to have them all killed that afternoon. Now Meredith was hurt and Adam wanted Voss to hurt much worse.
Shit. I’m losing it. And I can’t do that. He needed a few minutes to chill. And maybe to eat something. That usually helped. “That sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice far calmer and saner than he felt. “I need to get something from my car.”
Both Trip and Nash gave him sympathetic nods because he’d told them about Meredith. “Go,” Trip said. “I’ll let you know when we have the codes.”
Grateful, Adam headed back to the car he’d signed out of the department fleet, feeling a bit too vulnerable to drive his own vehicle after being shot at. If he was a target, for whatever reason, a department car lent a small measure of anonymity.
He slid behind the wheel and found one of the protein bars Deacon had shoved in his coat pocket, telling him that Faith made sure he never left the house without them. It was thick and stuck in his throat, but ultimately it was fuel and that was what he needed.
Fuel and sleep. Damn, I’m tired. The amazing sex at the condo had renewed him, but the few hours’ sleep that had followed were not enough, especially since he’d had a sleepless night the night before. And most of the nights before that for the past year. Falling asleep had been so much easier with the booze, and a sudden craving hit him, his mouth going dry. I just want to be able to sleep again.
Which was a dirty lie. One that he’d often told himself during the months he’d crawled into the bottle. Just enough to sleep. But the sleep had never been restful. He’d woken up sick and even more tired. He didn’t need booze. He just needed peace.
Which he’d felt in Meredith’s arms. Soon, he told himself. Soon, he’d fall asleep in her arms and sleep all night. Until then, he had a warrant to serve. A vile snake to arrest.
A snake who threatened what’s mine. His chest tightened with a combination of fear and rage that stole his breath. Because Meredith was hurting. In the hospital. Without me. Because someone—either Voss or someone connected to him—wanted them dead.
And he needed to put that rage away right now or he really would end up shoving Voss’s head through a wall. Then the bastard would get his lawyers to sue and somehow the snake would slither free. So cool your jets, Kimble. Stay calm.
At least he knew Meredith was feeling well enough to text. He read the message she’d sent him. Isenberg told me that u know about the ER. Don’t want u to worry. I’m fine. They’re prepping me for a CT scan so they can be sure. JUST A PRECAUTION. Followed by three emojis—a heart, a smiley, and a kiss.
Jesus. He made himself breathe. A precaution. Just a precaution.
His pulse was almost back to normal when Hanson’s car pulled up behind him with a squeal of brakes. Hanson jumped out and approached so aggressively that Adam got out of his car to see what was wrong.
“Your boss is a fucking piece of work,” Hanson spat. “Calling me on the phone and summoning me like a fucking kid to the principal’s office.”
Adam did not have the time nor the patience for Hanson’s tantrum. “She can be brusque at times, but she’s a damn good cop and an even better boss. More importantly, she was right. Get over yourself, Wyatt,” he snapped. “We’re here to do a goddamn job.” And the sooner Adam finished it, the sooner he could be with Meredith.
Hanson was visibly taken aback. “Who the fuck shitted in your Wheaties?”
Adam pushed the rage back down. He was angry with Voss, not Wyatt Hanson. He really need
ed to get ahold of himself. “Look, Wyatt, I’m sorry. I’m worried right now and . . .” He shook his head. Focus on the job. “I need your help on this. We need to be smart because Voss is a rich sonofabitch with slippery lawyers. This has to be textbook. Neither of us can go in there angry and make a mistake.”
Hanson’s expression softened. “What’s wrong? Is it your mom again?”
“No.” Although he owed his mother a phone call, just so she could hear his voice and know he was okay. “It’s Meredith. Dr. Fallon, I mean.” He told him about the ER visit. “I know she’s okay, but I’m worried.”
“I understand. I’d feel the same way in your shoes.” His brow furrowed. “She didn’t go alone, did she?”
“No. Kate’s got her. Her grandfather and Mallory went with her.” He smiled ruefully. “Meredith always has an entourage. I’d probably be in the way.”
Hanson’s eyes glinted with humor. “I doubt that very much,” he said kindly.
The air between them was suddenly calmed and cleared. “What happened?” Adam asked. “Where were you all this time?”
Hanson huffed out a breath that hung between them for a second or two. “I thought I’d seen her. The girl, I mean. But your LT picked that moment to call and give me a ration of shit, and I lost her. Did we get an ID on the victim? Bruiser?”
“Not yet.” Adam frowned. “Where was Linnie when you lost her?”
“Outside Music Hall. They’d just let out one of the Nutcracker performances and there were people everywhere, taking pictures and shit.” Hanson shook his head. “The crowd spilled into Washington Park and that’s where I lost her, because your boss called and demanded I return. I looked down at my phone for the caller ID and that’s when she disappeared. I told the search team where to keep looking, but by then she was long gone.”
Adam sighed. “That whole area is congested this time of year.” The gentrification of Over-the-Rhine had brought in dozens of restaurants and bars. This time of year they were hopping with revelers and holiday work parties.