by Karen Rose
He paused long enough for the silence to become too heavy to bear.
“Then what are you saying?” Adam whispered.
“That it gave me a valve. Gave me a way to deal with my grief. We tried to have a big family, but Essie was only able to carry Merry’s father to term. We lost four others. It was . . . very hard. Harder to watch her grieve. The first three times I cried on my own. Didn’t think she needed to see my grief. But you know? She did. She found me out in the garden one day after we lost the fourth. Weeding and crying. She said it helped, knowing I’d loved them, too. So all those years later, when my son and my daughter-in-law died? I cried without shame. Essie and I both cried. We held each other and grieved.”
He was quiet longer this time, but the back rub continued. Finally he shuddered out another breath. “And when I lost my Essie, I thought my life was over. But I had Merry and Alex and Bailey—all my granddaughters, you see.”
Adam knew that Alex and Bailey weren’t technically his granddaughters—they were Meredith’s cousins on her mother’s side. But that didn’t seem to matter to this man, who seemed to collect family as he went along. Lucky, Adam thought. All these people he’s adopted are so damn lucky.
“So I kept going,” Clarke said after a hard swallow. “But I cried and didn’t care who saw me do it. Didn’t care if it made them uncomfortable. Didn’t care if they thought I was the biggest wuss on the planet. Because the tears were mine. The grief was mine. And Essie would have haunted me forever if I’d sucked it up and been stoic.”
Clarke cleared his throat loudly. “Merry is just like her gran. Fearless, even when she’s so scared inside that she’s about to crack. She deserves a man who’s just as fearless. Someone who’s not afraid to feel. Someone who’s not about to shatter into a million pieces. She’s picked you and I can see why. You are brave and you do work through your shit. You protected her with your own life and I am ten kinds of grateful. But I gotta say, son, right now you’re looking like you’re one breath away from shattering into a million pieces.”
Adam opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
The old man kept rubbing his back, seemingly unperturbed by his silence. “I’ve watched you sit here, getting more and more tense, more contracted into yourself. That’s not so good. Because if you shatter into a million pieces, there won’t be anything left to take care of her when she wakes up. Which she will, but on her own time, because Merry always runs a little late,” he said affectionately. “So what’s it gonna be, son? Are you going to sit here and shatter? Or are you gonna let some of that grief go?”
There was something about the cadence of the man’s voice and that hand on his back . . . Adam stared at Meredith’s face and wanted. He wanted so much to be who she needed. And he was so damn tired. His eyes filled again and this time . . . this time he didn’t clench his jaw. He didn’t tense his body. He blinked and felt the tears fall.
“Four,” he whispered. “I was four.”
The hand on his back faltered for a few beats, then resumed the slow circles on his back. “When you last cried?”
Adam blinked again and more tears fell, landing on his hands, which still gripped the bed rail. “Yes.”
“Then I’d say you were long overdue.” The chair beside him squeaked as Clarke struggled to his feet. “I’ll let you let go in private. This time. But we cry in this family, Adam Kimble. So you better get used to having witnesses.”
It occurred to Adam, as he heard the door open and close, that he’d just been called family. He’d think on that later, because he was alone with Meredith. Who he’d almost lost too many times to count. Who’d fought so fearlessly. And who’d cried in his arms when her heart couldn’t hold any more hurt. Cried for him when he hadn’t been able to do so himself.
But what he kept seeing was her face when she’d honestly thought she’d die. I love you. I’m sorry. Because she’d known what was going to happen would kill him, too.
But she’s alive. “I didn’t fuck it up this time,” he whispered.
This time. And somehow those two words pulled the plug on the dam. This time. Because all the other times? He hadn’t fucked those up, either.
Goddammit. All those other times . . . His head was suddenly too heavy to hold upright and he lowered it to his hands, clutching the bed rail like it was his lifeline. The tears Clarke Fallon had urged him to shed came freely. Not as sobs, but as quiet weeping for all the people—the kids—he’d been too late to save. He saw them all. And he cried for them. Cried for himself. Cried for the man who’d spent months drunk and alone, for the man who’d worked feverishly to make amends in the almost-year that followed.
He wept until his head ached, until his eyes were sore and raw. Until no more tears came. And it was then that he realized that he no longer held the rail in a white-knuckled grip. His arms now draped over the rail, pillowing his pounding head.
“They weren’t my fault,” he whispered into the quiet. Goddammit. All the faces that haunted his dreams at night . . . He hadn’t failed them. He’d done his job. He’d done everything he could. Every single time.
He closed his eyes, too exhausted to keep them open. Except for believing in Wyatt Hanson. That was my mistake.
“Lots of people did.”
Adam blinked drowsily, frowning at the small whisper that seemed like a dream. But then he felt two gentle fingers in his hair and looked up to see Meredith squinting at him. He exhaled in a quiet rush of relief. He took her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse, so blessedly normal. “Lots of people did what?” he asked.
She touched his face with her unbroken fingers, caressing his stubbled cheek and dabbing at the corners of his eyes, still damp from the deluge. “Believed Wyatt Hanson.”
He stared down at her, emptied of anything but sweet gratitude. “I said that out loud?”
Her nod was slow and shallow. “You said lots of things out loud. All were true.” One side of her mouth lifted. “But none of the things were what I was listening for.”
He kissed her hand, then leaned over the rail to kiss her mouth, just a chaste brush of his lips against hers. “I love you.”
She closed her eyes on a happy little sigh. “That was the thing.”
He laughed softly. “You slept awhile.”
“I was a little sleep deprived. Can I have some water?” He reached for the cup of ice he’d been smoothing against her lips and she grimaced. “Ah, the dreaded ice chips,” she grumbled, but sagged back against her pillow when he placed one on her tongue. “How long before I can go home?”
“Impatient much?”
“Yes. What is today?”
“Tuesday,” he said, and her eyes widened in dismay.
“But Christmas is in three days. I wasn’t done shopping yet.”
He couldn’t have stopped his grin if he’d tried. “I’m still stuck on the fact that you’re alive. We can do a replay of Christmas once you’re able to enjoy it.”
She frowned again. “This still sucks. But I guess being alive is pretty good under the circumstances.” She studied his face. “You haven’t slept, have you?”
He shrugged. “A little.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Full disclosure.”
“Fine. Less than a little.”
“Which means none.”
“I think I should go get your nurse. They need to know you’re awake.”
She started to pull on his hand, then winced. “Stay, please. Another minute.” She glanced down at her bound arm. “That doesn’t look good.”
“It won’t be for a while, but eventually you’ll regain full use. It’ll hurt like a bitch until then, though.”
“It hurts like a bitch right now. You killed him, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Asshole.” She frowned again. “Wait. Was Papa here? Did
he call someone an asshole? Did he call you an asshole?”
“Yes, yes, and no. He called my father one.”
“Well, okay. I guess if he’s up and about and swearing, then he’s feeling better.”
“He’ll be better when he knows you’re awake.”
“And you’ll tell him in a minute. I just . . . I need you a little longer, okay?”
He leaned down to kiss her again. “Yes. That is more than okay.”
She smiled at him. “How is Kate? Oh, and Nash? He was hurt, too? Wasn’t he?”
“Kate is good. Her vision seems to be back to normal. Nash was hurt, yes. Hanson hit him hard, but he was in such a hurry, he didn’t knock him out completely—luckily for Nash. Stone and Marcus O’Bannion stopped to help him after Hanson drove away with you. Stone did first aid and slowed Nash’s bleeding. He’ll have a cool scar, but he’ll be okay.”
“Oh, good. I was so worried about him. He was so worried about protecting me. Because you’d trusted him again.”
“I know. I’ve talked about it with him. He and I are good.”
“What about the person he stopped to help?”
“That was Hanson’s neighbor, Mr. Wainwright. He’ll live, although he had a bad head injury. He’s been awake enough to tell us that Hanson called him, said his SUV was giving him trouble. Wainwright drove his truck to help him and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in the back of Hanson’s SUV with a bloody head and a killer headache. It was his bloody handprints on the SUV’s window that got Nash’s attention. Hanson had taken Wainwright’s truck and drove it into the man’s garage, thinking he’d fooled the cops sitting watch outside.”
“Why did he go to Wainwright’s house?”
“So that he could cross over their shared fence to get to his own house. Trip found footprints in the snow in their backyards and a safe in Hanson’s study. He and Quincy are working on getting it open. Hopefully we’ll find out why Hanson felt getting into his house was worth the risk.”
“How did he get from Wainwright’s house all the way to where Nash got hurt?”
“He cut through backyards. Trip said he tracked Hanson’s footprints in the snow.” He stroked her two uninjured fingers. “On the up side, Mallory is well, as is Agent Troy.”
“Oh, good. Does Troy have someone to take care of him? Kate was going to, but she got hurt, too.”
“He does. Faith’s uncle invited Troy to stay with them. Troy and Dr. O’Bannion both have ulcers and Dr. O’Bannion’s husband cooks food for him all the time, so Troy can recover and not starve. The two Feds who were driving your van that night at the hospital were upgraded to stable condition and both look like they’ll pull through.”
“Oh, good. I was so worried about them.”
“I know, but they’ll be fine.” There was more that had been discovered, but he didn’t think she was ready for any of that.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re holding out on me.”
He sighed. “Quincy tracked the past route taken by the SUV left at the hospital’s scene.”
“The one that belonged to Wyatt’s uncle Mike. And?”
“The SUV went out east, off Nine Mile Road, down by the river. Trip and Deacon checked it out and found six young women buried there. One of them was Jolee.”
Meredith’s expression darkened. “The woman who offered Penny Voss drugs.”
“Yes. Also, Linnie told Scarlett that she was taken to that same area. That’s where she stabbed Wyatt in the arm—it was how she got away from him Saturday afternoon. He’d planned to kill her there. We’re searching the area for more bodies because a lot of past prostitutes have gone missing. That may have been their burial ground. The ones Wyatt had something to do with, that is.”
Pain flickered in her eyes. “How is Linnie?” she asked.
“I don’t really know. Dani’s been with her since she was taken from Wyatt’s house. There was no harm done to Mikey and I don’t think Linnie will be charged. Scarlett says that Linnie, Shane, and Mallory have hit it off. The three of them went ice skating down at Fountain Square last night. Not far from Buon Cibo.”
Her lips curved. “Making good memories to cover the bad. I approve.”
“Thought you might. Kyle and his parents left for Chicago as soon as we gave them the all clear. Shane’s planning to return soon, probably after Christmas, after they bury Andy. The university said they’d work with Shane to make up his missed tests. He wants Linnie to go with him. I’ve been e-mailing with the Chicago homicide detectives we worked with on this case to see if there’s a shelter for Linnie. They’re looking into it.”
“That’s wonderful. I hope I’ll get to say good-bye to Shane and meet Linnie.”
“You should. Shane’s been here a few times, hoping you’ve woken up.”
“He’s a good guy. What about Hanson’s wife and kids?”
“Rita Hanson’s being held in custody until they make sure she really wasn’t involved, but at this point it doesn’t seem like she was.”
“Who has the children?”
“Social services. Wyatt’s dad is their only living relative, but he won’t get those kids ever. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure that doesn’t happen.” His jaw clenched just thinking about those beautiful children in the hands of a morally bankrupt man like Dale Hanson. “Rita doesn’t have any job skills, but the folks in her church have already set up a fund to help her and the kids.”
She closed her eyes, looking weary. “How many people did Wyatt hurt or kill?”
This Adam knew off the top of his head, because he’d been thinking about each one. “Altogether, seventeen fatalities between Wyatt, Mike, and Butch. Andy, the family who owned the house where he lived, Tiffany and her mother, Broderick Voss, Jolee Cusack and the other five young women we still have to ID, Butch Gilbert, Mike Barber, and John Kasper. Five are still in the hospital—the Feds outside the hospital that night, Hanson’s neighbor, Nash, and you.”
“So many.” Two tears streaked down Meredith’s face, and Adam brushed them away.
“Too many. And that’s enough for now.” He kissed the inside of her wrist. “I’m going to get the nurse, then I’m going to tell a waiting room full of people that you’re awake. Expect a constant parade of people, two at a time, for as long as your nurses allow.”
“As long as you’re one of them.”
He smiled as he backed away from the bed. “Try to keep me away.”
“Adam?” Hand on the doorknob, he turned to her, once again filled with nothing but sweet gratitude. “I love you, too.”
This time when his eyes stung, he didn’t fight it. “I’ll be back soon.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, December 22, 11:00 a.m.
Meredith had her eyes closed when a familiar scent filled the room. Hoping she wasn’t dreaming, she opened her eyes to see her cousin Alex standing next to her bed, studying the various monitors, because she was a former ER nurse and knew what she was looking for. Her husband, Daniel, stood behind her in that quiet way he had and suddenly Meredith was choked up. “You’re here.”
Alex turned a blinding smile her way. “So are you. We’re really happy to know this.”
“We were worried,” Daniel said gruffly. “You’re not supposed to be the one who gets hurt, Mer. So don’t do that anymore.”
“I’ll do my very best,” she promised.
“You’d better do better than that,” Alex said tartly. “At least your vitals look good. You, not so much. What were you thinking?”
“That I wanted to stay alive?” Meredith replied dryly.
“And you did.” Daniel gave her a proud nod, then frowned at his wife. “Sit down. You’ve been on your feet too much today already.”
Alex rolled her eyes, but took the seat Adam had vacated. “I can’t chase two kids any other way.” She
winked at Meredith. “We were going to save this for Christmas, but Mr. GBI-Guy here let the cat out of the bag this morning in front of your crowd, so everyone knows.”
Meredith had already figured it out. “Muffin in the oven?”
“Yep. Due in July.” Alex beamed, as she had through both of her other pregnancies. She was one of those women who looked good while pregnant.
Meredith wondered if she’d ever get to find out how she herself looked in the same state or if Adam even wanted kids. But that was a discussion for a different day.
“We’re going to need a godmother and it’s way past your turn,” Daniel said.
Meredith just blinked away the tears when they came. Bailey and Daniel’s sister were godmothers to Tommy and Mary Katherine, respectively. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
Alex’s eyes grew bright as well. “Pregnancy hormones,” she said, taking several of the tissues from the box next to Meredith’s bed. She wiped her own eyes, then Meredith’s. “You’re going to need someone to help you with stuff like this when you get home. Eating, drinking, answering the phone. If you were anyone else, I’d be worried, but you’ve got an army out in the waiting room.”
“A very relieved army,” Daniel added. “And a very relieved detective.”
Meredith’s cheeks heated and she didn’t care. “Did you meet him?”
“We did,” Alex confirmed. “I hugged him hard and thanked him for saving your life.”
“She mug-hugged him,” Daniel corrected. “Nearly broke the poor guy’s ribs. And bawled all over his shoulder while thanking him.”
“You liked him, too,” Alex sniffed. “When I thanked him, he said you’d saved him first. I thought Daniel was going to shed some tears himself.”
“He said that?” Meredith’s lips curved. “That’s so sweet.”
Daniel said, “Your friends said the same. Apparently there’d been some doubt.”
Meredith tried to shrug, but the small movement hurt. “Just a little. I knew whatever doubts they had would be short-lived. So where are the kids?”