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She walked around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. Usually Falco did most of the driving, but with the tragedy at Tori’s school, Kerri needed her vehicle handy in the event she had to leave suddenly. Her chest tightened with the thought. Tori had been far too quiet this morning. The atmosphere in the house reminded her of this time last year after Tori’s father had left. The somber silence and unspoken anger were hard to bear.
This time instead of anger it was fear pulsing in the silence. Kerri did not want her daughter to be afraid. She didn’t want her to be unhappy or sad or hurt. But how could she protect her from all that life had the potential to hurl at her?
She couldn’t. No parent could.
Sadie’s Loft
Sixth Avenue, Twenty-Seventh Street
Birmingham, 2:00 p.m.
Falco pounded on the door again.
Kerri ended her third call to Cross’s number. “Did she tell you what time she would call you today?”
“Nothing specific.” Falco glared at the camera above the door. “Open the damned door, Cross. I know you’re in there. Your ancient Saab is in the alley.”
Kerri scanned the alley below. The Saab was parked beneath the fire escape. Unless Cross had left with a friend, Falco was right. She had to be in there. Avoiding them, most likely. She thought of MasonCross. Strong build. Obviously intelligent and good at his job or he wouldn’t be in charge of the Birmingham district office. Dressed like a general, only in civilian clothes. Fierce attitude. One of those guys who went strictly by the book and thought he should be in charge of any given situation. Supremely uptight and no doubt completely ruthless.
Then she thought of Sadie Cross. A total contradiction to her father. So laid back she was practically in a coma. Thin to the point she could just disappear. Dressed like a street dweller. Capable of anything whether it was legal or not. The one thing the two had in common was obvious intelligence. Unlike her father, Sadie Cross expected nothing of anyone. Her resources were like her, ragged, unkempt, but incredibly smart and capable. That was the strangest part about the woman and her group of misfit resources—they were like this unexpected group of geniuses who had somehow fallen out of accepted society.
Falco pounded on the door again. Kerri jumped at the sound. “If that doesn’t get her attention, she’s either not at home or dead.”
The sound of dead bolts sliding snapped their gazes back to the door. When the door opened, Cross stared first at Falco and then at Devlin with enough irritation to blast them off the landing.
“It lives,” Falco griped.
“What time is it?” Cross asked, her voice rusty.
“Two o’clock,” Kerri said. The woman looked hungover, seriously hungover. Her hair was mussed. Her clothes the same ones she’d been wearing yesterday. Actually, it was difficult to tell about the wardrobe. Ragged jeans and tees were her usual attire. As were the well-worn sneakers.
“I need coffee.” Cross gave them her back and disappeared into her perpetually dimly lit loft.
Since she’d left the door open, Kerri and Falco followed.
“You were supposed to call me,” Falco reminded her.
Her hands shook as she attempted to pour the water from the carafe into the coffee maker. Water splashed on the counter.
“Give me that.” Falco took the carafe from her and finished the job.
While he scooped coffee grounds into the basket, Kerri said, “I met your father this morning.”
Cross’s bloodshot eyes shifted to Kerri. “Aren’t you the lucky one?”
Falco shoved the basket into the machine and started the brewing process. “He took over our case. The DEA is now lead.”
“Surprise, surprise.” Cross reached for her cigarettes and lit up. “That’s what the old man does when it serves his best interests.”
The smell of coffee drifted into the air. Would never be enough to block out the smell of cigarette smoke. Kerri got the distinct impression that Cross was trying to kill herself. In Kerri’s opinion there were far easier ways.
“What was the deal between you and Walsh?” Falco demanded. “No more beating around the bush, Cross. I want the truth. All of it.”
“Give me five minutes, and we’ll talk all you want.” She walked across the room, leaving them staring after her.
She grabbed a black tee from the pile of clothes on a dresser. Scrounged for a pair of jeans and underwear and then disappeared into the bathroom.
Kerri shook her head. “Has she always been this hell bent on killing herself?”
