by Karen Rose
He leaned back, noting the cold sweat on Richard’s forehead, the way his breathing had slowed. Excellent. ‘You might have noted that I said Paul Engel liked young girls. Past tense. He’s dead. He died very painfully. So did Brian Carlyle. Unfortunately, I want your death to appear to be an accident, otherwise the cops will start looking at me for it. If I had my way, I’d be cutting off your fingers and then your toes. Then all the other parts you hold dear. Just like I did to them. While you were sleeping with Miss Motherfucking Bitch, I was busy cutting up your clients and throwing them in the river. I’m sure you’ll be quite relieved to know that Carlyle’s niece is safe and her creepy uncle won’t ever touch her again.’
Richard’s eyes slid closed.
Cade nodded, satisfied. ‘I’ll take that as a yes. Now, hurry up and die. I have places I need to be.’
Two
Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, 16 March, 12.45 P.M.
Dani Novak closed her eyes wearily. Conversations with her aunt and uncle never ended well these days. Who am I kidding? There was no ‘these days’ about it. Conversations with Jim and Tammy Kimble had never ended well. They had ended less well since Jim had lost his insurance benefits along with his police pension. Which was something Jim had a way of blaming on everyone except himself, of course.
‘You said this was an emergency, Uncle Jim.’ She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her voice low because she wasn’t alone in the little exam room. ‘Aunt Tammy needing a refill on her anxiety medication is not an emergency, and I’m not her doctor. Call her actual doctor. I’m with a patient.’
She knew she would be ignored. Trying to reason with her uncle was like spitting into the wind. Her words were always flung back at her, somehow worse on the return trip.
‘Oh yeah,’ Jim said sarcastically. ‘All those patients at that clinic.’ He said clinic like it was a dirty word. To him, it probably was. The Meadow Free Clinic served the lowest economic bracket of the city, the people Jim had always looked down on. ‘You’d rather sew up gangbangers than take care of your actual flesh and blood. Well, I guess your patients get what they pay for. It’s not like you’re going to get anyone else to come to you, seeing as you’re . . . y’know.’
Dani drew a breath, trying not to show that the arrows had found their mark, because they had. Your patients get what they pay for. Which was nothing, in Jim’s mind.
Seeing as you’re . . . y’know. Yes, she knew. Jim hadn’t spared the descriptors since learning that she was HIV positive, and today would be no exception. Whore. Stupid. Dirty.
Believing her ex-fiancé when he’d said he was clean might have been stupid, but she was no whore. Nor was she dirty or even ashamed of her HIV status. She fervently wished that the whole world didn’t know about it, but she’d been outed against her will by one of her brother’s former classmates. How the kid had found out, she didn’t know. She didn’t really want to know. She could only push forward and make the best of the hand she’d been dealt, which included refusing to cower to bigots.
Even when they were her own family. Especially then.
Seeing as you’re . . . y’know. Yes, she did know. She lifted her chin. ‘A good doctor.’
‘Diseased,’ Jim spat. ‘God, I can’t believe how stupid you were. And that you touched people without them knowing. Your aunt can barely hold her head up in church. I thought I raised you better, but I can see—’
She wanted to remind him that she could not transmit the virus to anyone as long as her viral levels were undetectable, which hers had been for years. She wanted to remind him that even if she was detectable, HIV wasn’t transmitted through touch, and that she’d followed every rule and policy put in place by County General Hospital while she’d been an attending physician in the emergency department. But she’d been down that road before and knew it was useless. Her uncle didn’t want to believe facts.
He’s an asshole and abusive. Let it go. ‘Goodbye,’ she interrupted. ‘Call Tammy’s doctor.’ She ended the call and took a few seconds to regroup and force her lips to curve in a smile before turning back to the others in the room.
Tommy and Edna watched her, pity in their old eyes. Dani’s friend Scarlett Bishop was visibly angry, but Scarlett knew the family well. She had worked with Dani’s cousin Adam on the homicide squad for years, and he had gotten it from Jim and Tammy worse than Dani had. God only knew how he had survived growing up in the Kimble house.
Dani’s older brother Deacon barely had survived. And her younger brother Greg? I should have gotten him out. I should never have let Jim raise him.
But she’d been too young to fight Jim back then. Young and confused and grieving the loss of her parents. At least Greg didn’t have to live with Jim and Tammy anymore, having moved in with Deacon and his wife, Faith.
And none of that belonged in her mind right now. She needed to focus on the elderly man on her exam table. ‘So where were we?’ she asked Tommy. ‘Oh, right. Pneumonia with a side of gout.’
‘I’m fine.’ Tommy negated his claim with a racking cough. He fell back against the exam table, exhausted. ‘I’m fine, Dr Dani,’ he wheezed. ‘Just fine.’
Dani lifted her brows. ‘Really, Tommy? That’s what you’re going with?’ The older man had already survived two bouts of pneumonia. This was his third.
Edna, his street companion, shook her head. ‘He’s a stubborn fool, Dr D.’
Tommy set his mouth as stubbornly as described. ‘Shut up, Edna. I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine.’ Scarlett Bishop pushed away from the wall in impatience. She had a soft spot for Tommy and Edna, who’d lived on the street for years. But every time she or Dani tried to get them into housing, the pair would return to the street. ‘You promised me that you’d listen to what the doctor said. Tommy, you promised.’
Tommy looked away. ‘Not goin’ to a shelter.’
‘No,’ Dani said softly. ‘You’re going to the hospital, Tommy. You’re really sick. You have pneumonia. Again.’
Edna’s sigh was heavy. ‘The winter was too hard on him. You’ll go to the hospital, Tommy, and that’s that.’
‘Tommy.’ Dani met his eyes, hoping like hell that he saw the truth in hers. ‘If you want to see the summer, you will go to the hospital. Detective Bishop will take you. Won’t you, Detective?’
Scarlett nodded. ‘Absolutely. Please, Tommy. I’ve gotten used to seeing that face of yours. I want to see it – and you – on your stoop this summer.’ She gave the man a sweet smile. ‘Please? For me?’
He sighed. ‘What about Edna? Where will she go tonight? She can’t be alone on the street and somebody could hurt her if she goes to the shelter.’
‘She can go to the hospital with you,’ Dani said. ‘Tell them she’s your wife.’
Edna snorted. ‘I ain’t his wife. I’d’a killed him years ago if I’d married him.’
Dani chuckled. ‘Just say it, Edna. They’ll probably bring in a comfortable chair for you to sleep in and give you a breakfast tray in the morning.’
Edna rolled her eyes. ‘Okay. Just this once.’ She glared at Tommy. ‘Don’t you be gettin’ any ideas, old man.’
‘Wouldn’t think of it.’ Struggling to sit up, Tommy accepted Dani’s gloved hand, grunting his thanks. ‘Fine. I’ll go.’ He wagged a finger at Scarlett. ‘But only for you.’
Scarlett’s smile was relieved. ‘Thank you. Come on. I’ll take you and Edna to County right now.’ She helped Tommy down from the exam table and into the wheelchair he’d been put into the moment he’d walked into the clinic.
Dani gave Edna her cane, then opened the office door. ‘Nurse Jenny? Can you call County and let them know Mr Jenkins is coming in?’ She squeezed Tommy’s hand. ‘Be nice to the hospital nurses, okay? They can make or break you.’
Scarlett took hold of the wheelchair handles and pushed Tommy into the waiting room. And stopped sh
ort.
‘Diesel?’ Scarlett asked. ‘What brings you here?’
Dani sucked in a startled breath. Diesel. He’s here. Oh God. He’s here.
She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, calming her racing heart and schooling her features into the mask she always wore around him. The one that said she didn’t notice him. That she didn’t care. That she didn’t want him.
Because she did care, and she did want him. She really did. But she didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want to give him hope.
Because he did hope. Still. It was common knowledge among their circle of friends that Diesel Kennedy had been head over heels for her for a long, long time. They thought she didn’t see it. But she saw. She’d seen from the very beginning.
From that first moment when he’d walked into her clinic nineteen months ago – all six feet six inches and two hundred seventy-five pounds of solid muscle – she’d known. He’d stopped short, dark brown eyes going wide, skin abruptly paling so that his magnificent tattoos had stood out in stark contrast. He’d staggered backward out of the door that day, never saying a word. But there’d been want in his eyes, want that she’d understood, because she’d wanted him, too, just as suddenly. And so very much.
He was everything she’d ever desired. Big. Built. Bald. Tats covering his skin. She’d wanted to touch them that day. And every day thereafter.
But that was an impossibility.
She’d tried to let him down easily, with as much of the truth as she was able – or willing – to tell. She’d tried the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, except she’d let him believe that she meant her positive status and not that she’d poisoned the only other relationship she’d had. The memory of her final moments with Adrian intruded, leaving her shaken and bitter. She wasn’t going to hurt Diesel the way she’d hurt Adrian. She couldn’t.
So she’d told him a partial truth, citing her status, tried to convince him that any kind of relationship was hopeless. He hadn’t cursed or whined or stomped off. He’d just looked her in the eye and nodded with that quiet reserve he wore so well.
He hadn’t gone on to someone else.
She wished he would. And was perversely glad he hadn’t.
He’d simply gone on doing the same things he always did. He worked for Marcus O’Bannion at the Cincinnati Ledger. Diesel was their IT guy, using his online skills partly to support investigations for their reporting, and partly to dig up extortable dirt on lowlifes who preyed on defenseless women and children. He and Marcus continued to build houses for those in need through the organization Marcus had founded modeled on Habitat for Humanity. He continued to coach kids’ sports. He continued being a good friend to them all, their entire circle of friends.
All except me. Because they both knew that he wanted to be more than friends. And so do I. God help me, so do I.
And because she wanted him so damn badly, because he was such a good person, she’d stepped back, intent on letting him live his life. Without me.
It was for the best.
Lifting her head, she pasted a professional smile on her face and followed Scarlett into the waiting room, turning to her nurse as she passed. ‘Jenny, can you get the room ready for the next patient?’
‘Sure, Dani.’ Jenny’s eyes flicked to the doorway, where Diesel stood with an older woman and two boys, brothers from the look of them. The little one looked warily hopeful. The older one appeared sullen and ready to bolt. ‘Mr Kennedy called about ten minutes ago. Asked if you were on duty today. The older boy is deaf.’
‘Ah. Makes sense.’ Dani nodded, hoping like hell her mask held up. Because Diesel was looking at her longingly, hiding nothing. Everything he felt – and wanted – was right there in his gaze. He was an open book. Hardcover. Each page clean and white.
And I’m a tattered comic book, she thought derisively. With every page encrypted so completely that even the NSA couldn’t make a lick of sense out of a single word.
Shoving all thoughts aside, she focused on the sullen teenager at Diesel’s side. ‘Hi,’ she signed. ‘I’m Dr Dani.’
The teenager nodded stiffly. ‘Michael Rowland,’ he spelled.
‘Your name sign?’ she asked, and signed hers – her right hand in the letter D, following the sweep of the white streak in the front of her otherwise black hair. There since birth, it was her most distinctive feature.
Michael signed his – left hand in an M, right hand kicking up into it.
She smiled at him. ‘So you love soccer.’
‘He does,’ the little boy said, signing simultaneously. ‘Me too. I’m on Coach Diesel’s team.’
She lifted her eyes to Diesel, steeling herself for the now-familiar look in his eyes. ‘Coach Diesel. It’s always a pleasure to see you.’
He nodded once. ‘And you, Dr Dani. This is my assistant coach, Mrs Moody. She’s a retired nurse.’
‘Mrs Moody,’ Dani said with a nod, then leaned down, not needing a fake smile for the little boy. He was a darling. ‘And who are you?’
‘Joshua,’ he said, showing her his name sign. ‘My brother’s head is hurt. It’s bleeding. His shoulder, too.’
‘We’ll get him all fixed up,’ Dani promised, still signing so that Michael could follow the conversation. ‘Just give me a few minutes to talk to your coach, okay?’
Joshua’s expression was sober. ‘He said you’d take care of everything.’
Dani’s eyes shot up to Diesel’s in question. ‘Well, I’ll do my best. Why don’t you sit over there with Mrs Moody and your brother? I’ll be back in a sec.’
Diesel leaned into Scarlett and murmured something that Dani didn’t catch. She reached behind her ear to hike the volume on her processor, wincing when the sounds flooded in. She’d been born deaf in her right ear and wore a hearing device that diverted all the sound into her left ear. Usually having it at a low setting was fine for one on one, but if someone was whispering, she needed to turn it up.
‘. . . need CPS,’ Diesel was saying, and Dani’s heart sank.
‘I’ll call Adam to come in,’ Scarlett said, nodding her understanding. ‘He signs too. We’ll get a statement.’
‘I’ll call him,’ Dani said, her smile tight because she was annoyed, actually. Had I known parental abuse was an issue, I would have called Adam myself.
Scarlett gave her a nod. ‘Thanks, Dani.’
Joshua’s curious stare had locked on Tommy in the wheelchair. ‘What happened to you?’ he asked the old man, his small hands unmoving at his sides.
Michael nudged his brother and gave his head a hard shake. ‘Not polite,’ he signed. ‘Apologize.’
So Michael can speech-read, Dani thought. Just a little, perhaps, but that’s enough for me to be on guard. Good to know.
Joshua obediently apologized, and Tommy patted his head, telling him that it was good that he was willing to admit when he was wrong. Tommy glanced ruefully at Dani as he said the words, and she knew that was all the apology she’d get from the old charmer.
‘See you soon, Tommy, Edna. Coach Diesel? Let’s talk.’
Cleveland, Ohio
Saturday, 16 March, 12.55 P.M.
Grant Masterson cursed under his breath as he searched the stack of paperwork for a copy of his client’s 1099. He’d just had it in his hands. Dammit.
He paused to close his eyes and take a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He was exhausted. The last time he’d slept? He opened his eyes to glance over at the cot he brought into his office every year at the beginning of tax season. Whenever it was, it was too long ago.
Maybe he’d take a quick—
‘Grant?’
His gaze swung to his open door, where his assistant stood, looking nervous. Grant swallowed what would have been a nasty reply. ‘Yes, MaryBeth?’ he asked, as civilly as he could. MaryBeth had been working the same hours he had, and
the dark circles under her eyes confirmed it.
I need to hire more people.
‘There’s a woman who says she needs to see you.’ She held up her hand when he started to repeat his instructions that he not be disturbed. ‘Her name is Tracy Simon. She says it’s urgent.’
Grant felt the blood drain from his face. No. Please, no. Tracy was his brother’s partner on the force. No good came of visits from police officers to the next of kin.
Let him be alive. Please.
He stood, his legs like rubber. ‘Send her in, please.’
MaryBeth gave him a concerned look, but knew better than to ask him if he was all right. Or maybe she was simply tired of his reply of fine whenever she did.
She didn’t ask much anymore, he thought numbly. Not since January, more than a year ago.
My God. Had it been that long since . . . He shook his head hard. He still couldn’t think his sister’s name without a sharp stab of pain. He sent up a silent prayer. Please don’t let me lose Wesley, too.
Except those prayers hadn’t been answered with his sister, so why would God start listening now?
Tracy Simon entered his office and quietly closed the door. She was normally a cheerful woman, but today she looked grim.
Grant choked out his question before she could begin. ‘Is he alive?’
She swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know.’
Grant sank into his chair. ‘What does that mean?’ he whispered.
She sat in the client chair. ‘Wesley’s been taking a lot of weekends off lately. For some of them he’s used his vacation time, others he’s taken sick leave. A lot of sick leave, Grant.’
Grant shook his head, confused. ‘Is he sick? He hasn’t said a word.’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. All I know is that he took vacation days this time. When I saw him last Friday morning, he said he’d be back Thursday morning. He never showed up for our shift. For the last three days I’ve called his cell and his home phone and got no answer. He’s going to be put on suspension, although I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before now. I’d hoped you’d know what was going on, but it doesn’t look like you do.’
