Adam’s mouth thinned and she cursed herself for thinking even that was sexy. ‘He put his hands on you.’ He all but growled the words.
Her temper bubbled. ‘He was cleaning brains off my hands. He made sure I was all right, because I was a mess. His behavior was fine. Whatever your problem is, stop it.’
His swallow was audible. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, his tone low and . . . intimate, shivering over her skin. ‘I’ve been half out of my mind, worrying about you, but I have to stay professional or Isenberg will take me off the case. I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘Are you all right? I should have asked that first.’
She started to say that she was all right, then opened her eyes and saw his gaze fixed on her face. The lie slid away. ‘No.’ Her voice broke. ‘I’m not. I’m not all right,’ she whispered. ‘I saw a boy die today, and I’m not all right.’
Four
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 4.45 P.M.
Adam needed to touch her, so damn bad. Needed to pull her into his arms and hold her until her trembling subsided. She was pale and . . . There was brain matter in her hair. He didn’t think she knew because she’d have tried to wash it out.
He let himself grip her elbow and tugged her back down to sit in the folding chair the hotel had provided. Crouching in front of her, he damned Isenberg and her warning to perdition and pulled off one of his latex gloves. Meredith’s slender hand was icy cold and smelled of antiseptic. He gripped it hard and looked up into her face.
‘Tell me what happened, Meredith.’
She shuddered. ‘We’d just sat down, Mallory and me. We were looking at the menu and then . . . all of a sudden he was there. Staring at me.’ She closed her eyes, any remaining color draining from her face, leaving her ashen.
He squeezed her hand again. ‘Meredith,’ he said sharply. ‘Open your eyes. That’s good,’ he said, more softly when she obeyed.
‘You have glitter in your hair,’ she murmured.
Wonderful. ‘It’s from the star on top of the tree at Mariposa House.’
Her eyes flickered, her mouth turning down in a frown. ‘You put up the tree?’
‘Diesel and I.’ He started to loosen his grip on her hand, but she grasped at him.
‘Let me hold on,’ she whispered. ‘For just a little while longer. Then you can let go.’
‘Whatever you need,’ he said quietly.
She huffed, bitterness flickering across her face so quickly he would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring. She started to speak, but stopped herself, giving her head a slight shake. ‘Fine. All right. It’s okay. I’m okay.’ She tried to tug her hand free, but he was the one who held on this time. He wasn’t ready to let her go. Nowhere close to ready.
He frowned at her. ‘No, it’s not okay. What were you going to say? No, tell me,’ he insisted when she looked away. ‘Look at me, Meredith.’
She met his eyes and he wanted to flinch at the raw misery he saw in hers, but he didn’t allow himself to respond. He didn’t deserve to flinch.
She cries, Wendi had said. If you don’t want her, let her go.
I did this, he thought, feeling as miserable as Meredith appeared. I put that pain in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but that was exactly what he’d done.
‘Whatever I need,’ she murmured. ‘Right. You can’t give me what I need. Or won’t. I don’t know which. And it doesn’t matter. Not right now, anyway.’ She tugged her hand again, swallowing when he still didn’t let go. ‘Please, Adam,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘I can’t do this here. I can’t fall apart. Not in front of all these people. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. It wasn’t fair to either of us and . . . and you have a job to do. So just let me go.’
‘I can’t,’ he whispered back. ‘Don’t ask me to. Not yet. Please.’
Her eyes were glistening now and she turned her head, blinking to send tears down her cheeks. ‘Fine,’ she said, shuddering out a sigh. But her hand went limp in his and he knew the moment he loosened his grip, she’d pull away. Emotionally, she already had.
She cleared her throat, straightened her spine, and schooled her features into the calm mask everyone else seemed to believe was her natural zen expression.
But Adam knew better. He knew what she looked like when she let go. When she lost control. When she screamed his name. He shuddered out a breath of his own.
He could not be thinking about that right now. ‘Later,’ he murmured. ‘We can talk about this later. I promise. For now, I need to get your statement. You said he was suddenly there, standing at your table, staring at you.’
She nodded, stoic now. ‘I wanted to run. Just instinct, I suppose. I had my gun in my pocket, so I unsnapped the holster.’
Her gun had been taken into evidence. ‘Do you always carry?’
Another nod. ‘For a few years now. I’ve had some parents threaten me after their children revealed abuse. A few have become violent.’
Adam had to choke back his rage. Not now. ‘I’ll need their names. All of them.’
Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. ‘I can give you names of the people who’ve specifically threatened me, but they’re already on record. I’ve filed official complaints on all of them with the police.’
He frowned at her. ‘Specifically? What about unspecific threats?’
She lifted a slender shoulder. ‘They don’t exist.’
His eyes narrowed, immediately understanding the nuance. ‘They don’t actually exist or you’re not going to tell me who they are?’
‘Legally, the first one. Pragmatically, the second.’
He closed his eyes briefly, pulling his temper back into control. ‘Why not?’ he asked when he thought he could speak without snapping.
‘If I identify the parents, I identify my clients. I can’t do that. Not if they haven’t made a threat specific to their child or to me.’ Her voice was level. Kind, even. He imagined she used that voice on the children she counseled, but it grated on him.
He managed to keep his own tone professional. ‘But you carry a gun.’
Another half shrug. ‘I’m careful, Detective.’
Detective. Shit. ‘Has anyone given you reason to believe you need a gun, even if there was no explicit threat?’
‘Yes.’
His temper broke free. ‘Dammit, Meredith. Somebody nearly blew up a restaurant on a crowded street. Do you know how many people could have died?’
Her chin lifted. ‘I am quite aware. I will cooperate to the best of my ability.’
‘But you won’t tell me who you’re afraid of. For God’s sake, Meredith.’
She swallowed hard. ‘I will not breach the privacy of my clients. They are children, Detective Kimble. Children who’ve been traumatized. The ones who’ve come to me through the courts are on record. Anyone who has specifically said, “I’m going to make you pay, bitch,” has been reported to the police. By me. The ones that just happen to be running around the high school track at the same time I do every morning at five a.m., or just happen to be shopping for veggies at my neighborhood Kroger on Saturday mornings, or just happen to catch my eye across the crowd after Sunday mass at St Germaine’s for the past three weeks . . . Those I can’t tell you about.’
‘And they’re the reason you carry a gun.’
She nodded once, her lips pursed tight. ‘So. I unsnapped my holster and when he pulled his gun I tried to talk him down first. His hand was shaking.’
He’d get those names later. Now she was holding herself together by a fragile thread. ‘The first cop on scene said that other diners reported the man talking to himself.’
‘I don’t think he was,’ she said, her brow furrowing again. ‘I don’t know if it’s even possible now’ – a hard swallow – ‘what with his head and all, but you might check for an earbud. He was being coerced. I’m sure of it. He kept saying he was sorry and that “He’ll kill her.”’ Her eyes sharpened. ‘Everyone has video on their phones now. Maybe someone caught him talking.’