A plan he did not intend to share with her ferociously formidable friend while he stood on a sixteen-foot ladder, adjusting the Christmas tree topper that had already covered his hands with glitter.
The girls who’d made the star had been quite liberal with the glitter. He wiped his hand on the seat of his jeans, wishing they’d been a little more liberal with the glue.
‘A second ago it was a smidge to the right,’ he grumbled.
‘That’s because a second ago it was too far to the left,’ Wendi told him sharply, and Adam wondered if she was simply giving him a hard time.
His suspicions were confirmed by twin snorts from the two men preparing the trimming for the fifteen-foot Christmas tree that dominated the living room of the old house that now sheltered twenty young women in various stages of recovery and renewal. Stone O’Bannion was stringing popcorn and Diesel Kennedy was sorting through boxes of antique ornaments that had been discovered in the attic.
Both men worked for the Ledger, the local newspaper. A year ago, Adam would have sneered at the thought that he’d be in the same room with reporters unless he was arresting them, but it had been a crazy year and now he counted these two men among his closest friends. They’d worked together for months, swinging hammers, sanding, painting, and polishing until this old house had been transformed from a spooky old mansion harboring the memories of past victims of abuse into a shiny, warm, welcoming haven.
Adam had thrown himself into the work because it was necessary and important, because he’d needed the distraction of physical labor, but mostly he’d done it for Meredith. Because she and Wendi had devoted their lives to the residents of Mariposa House – girls and young women who weren’t ready to be streamed into foster care. Victims of brutal sexual abuse or rescued from the sex trade, the girls ranged in age from nine to eighteen, but most were in their teens. This place was a halfway house, every aspect engineered to transition the residents back into society.
He could see Meredith’s touch in every corner of the house. It was as homey as her own. He wanted to give her her dream, even if he couldn’t give her anything else. Not yet.
He jolted back to attention at the lazy amusement in Stone’s voice. ‘The star itself is fine, Kimble,’ he said. ‘The real problem is the tree. It would look better moved by the window. What do you think, Wendi? Don’t you want him to drag the tree over there?’
‘No,’ Adam answered firmly before Wendi could get that thought into her head.
‘No,’ Wendi said at the same time, distinctly unamused.
Stone laughed. ‘Oh, come on. It’ll be perfect! Think how it’ll catch the light.’
‘Shut up, O’Bannion.’ But Adam’s words were all for show. Stone was laughing and it looked good on him. The guy had nearly died from gunshot wounds back in the summer and still hadn’t fully regained his health or stamina. His balance was unsteady at times, which was one of the reasons that Adam was on top of the ladder and not Stone.
Diesel lifted his eyes to Adam’s perch. ‘I think you should have listened to me before climbing the ladder to fix what ain’t broken,’ he said, raising one dark brow in challenge. He’d been the one to originally mount the tree-topper.
‘It was crooked,’ Adam insisted.
‘Of course it was,’ Diesel said. ‘It’s crooked because it was handmade by kids. It’s okay that it’s crooked. Not everything has to be perfect.’ He eyed Wendi cautiously. ‘If you want a perfect star, go buy one from the store.’
With his extensive body art, shiny bald head, and pierced ear, Diesel Kennedy looked like a sinister Mr Clean. At six-six, he towered over them, scary-looking as hell. Until he smiled. Then the small children he coached in the pee wee leagues would run to hug him. He was a good guy wrapped up in a thug’s skin.
Wendi sighed. ‘Not using it would hurt the younger girls’ feelings. If you’d just—’
‘It’s fine, Wen. Leave it alone.’
The growl came from behind him and Adam looked over his shoulder to where FBI Special Agent Parrish Colby sat on the floor cross-legged, fighting to untangle a string of lights. The lights were definitely winning. The bulldog of a man seemed the least likely match for the pixie-like Wendi, but they’d been a bona fide couple since summer.
‘You’re not even looking at the star,’ Wendi protested.
Wearing a red Santa cap and tangled up in the lights, Colby looked like a disgruntled, pugilistic elf who’d gotten into way too many fights with the other elves. The man looked up at Wendi with an exasperated eye roll. ‘It’s fine,’ he repeated. ‘The fucking star is fine.’
‘Parrish,’ Wendi scolded. ‘Language.’
‘They’re not here,’ Colby shot back, referring to the girls.
It was true. Through a miracle of planning, all the girls who lived at Mariposa House were somewhere else for the day, leaving the house empty so that Wendi could decorate and wrap presents. She’d recruited volunteers, both to chaperone the girls and to decorate.
Adam’s cousin, Deacon, had been roped into chaperoning with his fiancée, Faith. Better them than me. Setting up the tree and hanging lights was far more his speed. And it allowed him to help out at a time when Meredith would definitely not be here.
Staff and the other volunteers had taken some of the girls holiday shopping. Those who weren’t ready to face strangers had gone to a craft class, making holiday gifts.
And their oldest resident, Mallory Martin, was registering for GED classes. He also knew that Meredith had taken her there, because Special Agent Deacon Novak, his partner on the Major Case Enforcement Squad, had told him so.
Deacon hadn’t shared this in an official capacity, however. He’d shared it as Adam’s first cousin and oldest friend, having heard it from his fiancée. Deacon was engaged to Dr Faith Corcoran, who was Meredith’s friend and fellow therapist in the pediatric and adolescent psychology practice that Meredith had started from scratch.
They were all intertwined, Adam’s friends and family. It made things awkward at times, everyone knowing everyone else’s business.
Well, not everything. There were things Adam kept even from Deacon, because . . . I don’t want him to know. Because I’m ashamed.
Secrets aside, the one thing that had united them all was the need to provide safe haven for the girls who lived here at Mariposa House. Guiding them in building a life was their ultimate goal, so the GED class was a huge personal milestone for Mallory.
And for me. Because he, Deacon, and the rest of the Major Case Enforcement Squad had taken down the vile piece of shit who’d assaulted Mallory and many others. It had been a rare win and he savored it.
For once, Adam hadn’t been too late. He hadn’t failed. And kids were alive who might not otherwise be. He’d held onto that truth in the months since. Sometimes he held on harder, like at three a.m. when the ones he hadn’t saved haunted his nightmares and he woke drenched in sweat, his heart racing and his throat burning from his screams.
And needing a fucking drink so damn bad he thought he might die from it.
The remembered need from early that morning became urgent and present, hitting him so hard that his vision went momentarily wavy and his body trembled. He clutched the edge of the ladder, the sharp press of the metal against his skin providing just enough pain to disrupt the sudden craving that he’d nearly allowed to ruin his life.
He closed his eyes, willing his thoughts to detour away from the well-worn path lined by the faces of every victim he’d ever failed. Forced himself to see instead the faces of the victims he’d saved. There weren’t as many of those. But they existed. They lived.
So no. You do not need a drink. You might want one. But you don’t need one.
He drew a breath and focused on the clean pine scent of the tree he and Diesel had set up in this house. This house that was safe haven for the victims that had been rescued.