Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, March 19, 3:05 a.m.
Diesel came awake with a jerk, his eyes flying open. He’d heard a noise. A mewling sound.
No, a sobbing sound. Someone was crying. He glanced at the woman in his arms, relieved to find she was still asleep. She needed her rest. All the literature he’d read said that rest and nutrition would keep her healthy. Would help her keep her levels undetectable, which was Diesel’s highest priority.
Keep her healthy. Keep her happy. Keep her screaming his name when he made her come. Like he’d done twice tonight. And yes, he was damn proud of himself, thank you.
He slipped out from under her body, covering her with the blanket when she curled up into the warm spot he’d left behind. He pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then crept from the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as he could.
And stopped short, because Agent Troy was standing on the other side of his door, his fist raised to knock.
“Sorry,” Troy said softly. “It’s Michael. He’s crying.”
Diesel wasn’t surprised. The kid had put on a brave face—a hardened face—most of yesterday. “I heard. I’ll take care of it. Thanks, man.”
“I’ll make sure you guys aren’t disturbed. You should have privacy.” Troy looked over his shoulder, his eyes sad. “The kid’s breaking my heart, Diesel.”
“I know. Mine, too.”
Troy returned to the chair he’d placed by the front door and Diesel went in search of Michael. He wasn’t in his room, so Diesel went to Joshua’s room. Where, of course, Michael lay on the floor, face buried in a pillow.
Diesel stepped hard onto the floor, to warn the boy that he was coming. Michael stilled, then seemed to sag, but he wouldn’t show his face.
Diesel crouched and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, then a light tap. Michael shook his head, so Diesel repeated the squeeze-tap. Michael turned enough that one eye was revealed. One very red and swollen eye.
“You’re going to wake Joshua,” Diesel signed without voicing. “If he sees you crying, he’s going to worry. Come on. I’ll make us some tea. We can sit in the kitchen.”
Michael rolled to his feet, expression sullen. “I don’t want to talk,” he signed.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to talk. You don’t even have to drink the tea.” Diesel left the room, aware that Michael was following. He pointed to a chair in the kitchen, and Michael flopped into it. Hawkeye crawled under the table and flopped to his belly in a similar motion.
Diesel busied himself making the tea, then placed two cups on the table and poured. “This is Dani’s tea. It’s chocolate mint. I like it.”
They sipped in silence for a few minutes, then Michael glanced at the kitchen doorway. “Troy’s still here?”
“At the front door,” Diesel signed, still not voicing.
Michael raised miserable eyes to Diesel. “He knows about me. What happened to me. Everyone’s going to know. Everyone’s going to know that I couldn’t fight him off.” Two tears rolled down his cheeks. “That I’m weak. Brewer always said that to me. That I’m weak. Skinny.” He swallowed hard. “That I’ll never be a real man.”
Diesel flattened his hands on the table, unable to breathe through the tightness in his chest. Once again he wished that he could snap Brewer’s neck himself. Killing the bastard might have been the only good thing Cade Kaiser had done.
And then he made a decision. Because Brewer’s words took him back. Made him hear almost the same words, but in an older voice. A smoother voice.
A rapist’s voice.
He needed to get this off his chest for Michael’s sake. Because there’s no fucking way on God’s green earth that I’ll let Michael believe he’s weak.
He forced his hands to relax and he began to sign. “Troy doesn’t know what happened to you. Not what Brewer did, anyway. Kate and Decker don’t know, either. They only know that you witnessed Brewer’s murder. Only Officer Cullen, Deacon, and Adam know, because they were with you on Saturday.”
He paused when he heard a soft footstep on the other side of the open doorway. And smelled chocolate shampoo.
Dani was there, making sure that Michael was okay. That I’m okay. Well, Michael’s not okay. And neither am I.
Diesel steeled his spine, hoping that Dani had put her processor back on. He didn’t want to have to say any of this again. Ever. “But,” he said to Michael, this time voicing quietly, “Agent Decker knows about me. What happened to me.”
He watched Michael’s eyes pop wide. And he heard Dani’s indrawn breath. Good. She can hear me.
“You told Agent Decker?” Michael asked, stunned, and Diesel nodded.
“Not the details,” he added. “Nobody knows the details.”
“You never told?” Michael asked.
“No,” Diesel signed, still voicing quietly. “But I’m going to tell you.” And Dani. Please, God, let me get through this. Just once.
“Why?” Michael asked.
Diesel met the boy’s gaze. “Am I weak?”
“No,” Michael replied quickly. “Never. You’re strong. Nobody can hurt you.”
Oh, no. You’re wrong there. “Am I a man?”
Michael frowned. “Yes.”
“But I wasn’t always a man. I was a little boy, just like Joshua. Then I was a teenager, just like you. I didn’t hit a growth spurt until I was sixteen. Before then, I was skinny. Bony. Not strong.”
“You were a kid.”
“So are you.”
Michael’s mouth opened. Then closed. He folded his hands on the table and sat silently for several seconds. Then he nodded. “Okay. I’m a kid.”
Diesel drew a deep breath, pursed his lips. “I’m thirty-five years old and thinking about the man who hurt me when I was six still makes me throw up.”
Michael grew so sad that Diesel didn’t think he could stand it. “I’m sorry.”
Diesel’s eyes stung. His nose burned. Finally he blinked and swiped at the tears that fell. Then he pointed to his wet face. “Am I weak now?”
Michael shook his head. “No.” He didn’t use his hands, just mouthed the word.
“My dad took off before I was born. I never knew him. My mother was only seventeen when she had me. And her very Catholic family threw her out, so she raised me alone.”
“Was . . .” Michael hesitated. “Was she good?”
“Yes.” And that was true. “She was a good person, kind and gentle. And she tried really hard to be a good mother. For a long time it was just the two of us. She got a scholarship to college—she loved computers—but she had to give it up because she had me. She worked at night and went to community college during the day. She took me with her to her job sometimes. She cleaned office buildings, and when I was really little, I’d help. I don’t think I was actually much help, but my mom always made me feel like I was indispensable.”
“She sounds nice.”
“She was.”
Michael bit at his lip. “Is she dead?”
Diesel nodded sadly. “Yes. She died when I was fourteen. Car accident.”
“Did you go to foster care?”
“For a few months. Then her father took me in. We . . . didn’t get along.”
“He threw her out when she was pregnant,” Michael said. “I hate him and I don’t even know him.”
That made Diesel smile a little, but he couldn’t hold on to it and his shoulders drooped. “My mother hated him, too. So much so that she converted to another religion because her father had used his as an excuse to shame her. She wanted no part of the Catholic church. Anyway, she got her associate’s degree in office management when I was six years old, and went to work as a receptionist in a doctor’s office. She was making pretty decent money and we moved to a nicer apartment. I got a bicycle and a few toys. I went to a better school than the one I would have gone to before we moved. My mother was so grateful to the doctor for giving her a job.”
Michael had grown still, his dread a palpable thing. “It was the doctor.”
Diesel nodded. “It was the doctor,” he echoed, still signing and voicing so that Dani could hear. “He let my mom bring me to work when I didn’t have school. There was a playroom in the back of the office. It had toys, a worktable. And a door that locked.”
Michael’s throat worked as he tried to swallow. “You were Joshua’s age.”
“A year older, yeah. The first time.”
“It hurt,” Michael signed, his hand movements so small that Diesel would have missed them had Michael not chosen to also speak the words.
Diesel wasn’t going to lie to the boy. “I was six. I was small. So yeah. It hurt a lot and I cried and begged him to stop. So he spanked me. Hard. Then he told me not to tell my mother. That it would be our secret. That she wouldn’t like knowing that I’d been bad and he’d had to spank me.”
Diesel could hear Dani’s gasp and her shuddered exhale. It sounded wet. Like she was crying. He’d expected as much. Which was why this was an easier way to tell her. He didn’t think he could stand to see the sorrow in her eyes.
Michael’s sorrow was different. It was more . . . a sorrow of understanding. Not pity or even sympathy.
“He was wrong,” Michael said aloud, his voice breaking.
“Yes, he was. But I didn’t know that then. I was six.” Diesel drew in a breath. “And then seven and then eight. I started to act out in school when I was nine. Got a reputation as a bad kid. Figured I’d earn the rep and I beat up a lot of the other students. I was skinny, but I wasn’t gonna be weak. Even if that meant beating up on kids smaller than me.”
“You were angry,” Michael signed and Diesel knew he was talking about himself as well.
“You’re right. I was very angry,” he said for Dani’s benefit. Her sniffling was audible now. She had to know that he knew she was there.
She had to know this was the only way he was going to be able to tell her.
“I got older. The abuse went on. My mother didn’t know what to do with me.”
“Did she keep working for the doctor?”
“Yes.” Diesel needed a second so he poured himself some more tea. “She married him when I was ten.” It had been the single worst day of his life. He’d had to be dragged into the church by one of his mother’s friends, who scolded him for being so selfish. He’d left the reception to throw up. Much as he’d done when he’d seen the photos in Richard Fischer’s super-secret database.
“Oh God,” Michael signed, his face growing pale.
“Oh God,” Dani whispered on the other side of the doorway. He could hear the slide of her body against the wall as she sank to the floor.
“She admired him,” Diesel went on. “All her friends said how lucky she was to marry a doctor. We moved to a nicer house. His house. And he didn’t need a playroom any longer.”
“He came to your room,” Michael signed numbly.
“Yes, he came to my room. Not every night, and that almost made it worse. I was never sure if he was coming or not. I never slept. I still have trouble sleeping.”
Michael looked at his hands, then back up, ashamed. “I sleep with the light on.”
“I did, too, until I was in the army.” Diesel’s lips quirked up. “They wouldn’t let me.”
“Dani got me a lamp with a night-light.”
“She’s good that way. She helps other people. Sometimes she forgets to help herself, so we’re going to have to remind her, okay?”
Michael nodded. “When did he stop?”
“He stopped the day he ran a red light and hit a car that had the green light. He and my mom were killed instantly. He’d been drinking. The family of the people in the other car sued his estate for damages, so there was nothing left for me.”
“Then your grandfather took you in?”
“Yeah. My grandfather was strict. He’d heard about the trouble I got into at school, all the fights. The poor grades. He was going to fix me or die trying.”
“Did he? Die trying?”
Diesel chuckled ruefully. “No, but he gave it his best effort. He sent me to an all-boy Catholic school. But it wasn’t what you think,” he added when Michael blanched. “There may have been bad priests at the school and the parish, but I never knew any. After the doctor, the priests were like a vacation. I got decent grades. As and Bs without cracking a book. They’d tell me that I could be so successful if I’d just apply myself.”
“I get that, too,” Michael said glumly.
“Well, they were right about me, even though I hate to admit it. I didn’t get serious about school until I’d almost graduated. I was a high school senior.”
“What changed?”
Diesel smiled. “My chemistry teacher changed everything. His name was Father Walter Dyson. At the beginning of the school year, he thought I was a thug. I’d hit my growth spurt the year before and was huge. My grandfather would complain about me going through shoes like sticks of gum, which was fair.”
“Just because you were big didn’t mean you were a thug,” Michael protested.
“It was because I acted up in his class. I wasn’t nice. I didn’t even know why. I was a thug, outside of school. When I got some size, I stomped on some of the kids who’d bullied me when I first moved to my grandfather’s. I’m still not sorry for that. They deserved to be stomped. But I got carried away and made some unfortunate friends. I have no doubt that I would have ended up in jail, because every single one of those guys did—a few of them for murder. Father Dyson saved my life.”
Michael was leaning forward, into the story now. “What did he do?”
“He sat me down one day and asked me why I hated him so much. I didn’t know what to say. He said he’d talked to my other teachers and they said that I didn’t make trouble in their classes. And then he asked for my forgiveness. He didn’t know what he’d done, but he was sorry for it. No one had ever asked for my forgiveness before. He said that he didn’t want my future to be messed up because I got a bad grade in his class or I got expelled for ‘thuggery.’” Diesel finger-spelled the word. “I’d never heard the word before or since.” He smiled at the memory. “I didn’t know how to react, but I was . . . hyper inside. I was always hyper inside when I was in his class. Nobody else’s. But Father Dyson was pretty smart. He could read chemical formulas and people. He stood up and took off his white lab coat, balled it up, and put it in a drawer, out of sight. Immediately, I calmed down.”
“The white coat?” Michael asked. “Why?”
“The doctor wore a white coat when he’d . . .” Diesel filled his lungs and held the breath for a few seconds, hoping to quiet his racing heart. He wished he could knit and sign at the same time. His hands were itching for his knitting needles. “When he raped me.”
Michael flinched. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Dani echoed from her hiding place. “I get it now.”
He’d figured she would. He sighed loudly. “So after that, Father Dyson never wore a lab coat when he was teaching class. He asked the sister school for their girls to make us smocks for when we did labs. The girls made it a class project. Dyson made it a party and we all gathered together to help. The girls made similar smocks for their own chemistry class, so no one knew that he’d done it for me.”
“Wow,” Michael voiced softly. “That was nice.”
“It was. And I got an A in chemistry.”
“Did you go to college?”
Diesel nodded. “I went to college after the army, yes.”
“Why did you join the army?”
“Because I’d waited too long to get serious about school and my grades weren’t awful, but not good enough for scholarships. I joined the army to get money to go to college. Ended up meeting Marcus O’Bannion on my very first day in boot camp.”
“And you became friends.”
“We did. And then I met Stone, and when Marcus came home after his tours, I came to work for him at the Ledger. My grandfather had died by then, and my mother was an only child, so I didn’t have a family. The O’Bannions sucked me into theirs. And I love them.”
Michael smiled. “I’m glad.” He looked away, his cheeks pinking up at his show of emotion. Or maybe at Diesel’s. It didn’t matter. Diesel was going to make sure this boy had a family, no matter what happened between himself and Dani. He was going to make sure this boy knew that somebody loved him. “What did you go to college for?” Michael asked, changing the subject.
“Majored in computer science and physics. Minored in religious studies, because Father Dyson had. And I worked construction to keep my body strong, because I never wanted to be weak again.”
Michael looked thoughtful. “Can you teach me? To have muscles?”
“We can work out. You might not be as tall as me, or as big, but we can make your body its strongest, whatever that is. Don’t measure yourself against other people, Michael. Just be the best you that you can be. Be kind and take care of the people around you. That’s what being a real man is.”
Michael gave a quick nod, but the flicker in his eyes said that he’d understood the words. “What happened to Father Dyson?”
“He retired. My grandfather had died while I was in Iraq, so I came home for his funeral and found out that he’d left the house to me. I sold it to Father Dyson for a song.” He paused. “You know that idiom—‘for a song’?” Because he’d learned from Greg that English idioms didn’t always translate when signed.
“It means for cheap.”
“Close enough. Anyway, Father Dyson lives there now, and he has the most amazing vegetable garden in the summer. I’ve always wanted a garden like that.”
Michael’s gaze became intense. “Did Father Dyson coach little kids in soccer?”
Diesel’s mouth curved. God, the kid was quick. “He coached the Pee Wee leagues. Still does.”
“You’re trying to be like him. Mentoring kids like Greg. And me. And Joshua.”
Diesel nodded. “All but the priest thing. I like Dani too much to take a vow of chastity.”
Michael laughed, a real laugh. Then he sobered. “Did you ever tell Father Dyson why the white coats bothered you?”
“Nope. And he never asked. He may have guessed, but we’ve never talked about it. He just made sure no one wore white coats when I was around. He’s a good man.”
Michael’s eyes grew shiny. “I’m glad you had him,” he signed.
“I’m glad I had him, too,” Diesel said.
“Me, too,” Dani murmured from the other side of the doorway.
Diesel stood up and gathered the tea things. When his back was to Michael, he said, “We’re wrapping up, Dani. If you don’t want him to know you were sitting there, you should go now.”
“I will. I’ll wait for you in our room.”
Our room. Hearing the words was more of a relief than he’d expected. He’d known Dani wouldn’t blame him for what happened to him as a child, but he must have been afraid that she’d back away from him.
But she hadn’t. Our room.
He turned back to Michael. “I’m going back to bed. Should I text Meredith and ask her to come for a session tomorrow? I mean today. After we’ve all slept.”
“Yes, please. And Coach?”
“Yes, Michael?”
The boy’s swallow was audible. “Thank you. For telling me. I know you didn’t have to.”
He met Michael’s gaze head-on. “Do you think worse of me, knowing that my mother’s husband raped me?”
“No.”
“Good. Your story is nobody’s business but yours, Michael. If you never want anyone to know, that’s your decision. But the people who love you—the ones who really matter—won’t think worse of you. I never told Marcus, but he guessed. And he’s still my best friend.”
Michael’s nod was shaky. “I still hate my mother.”
“For what it’s worth? I hate her, too, and I’m not sorry for it.”
Another shaky nod. “Good night, Coach.”
Diesel pulled the boy in for a hard hug, then let him go. “Good night, Michael. Oh, I ordered an inflatable mattress for you. You can use it for as long as you need to sleep next to Joshua’s bed. That way you’re not on the hard floor. It’ll be delivered sometime after noon, and whoever’s guarding the front door will open the box.”
And when he returned to the bedroom, Dani waited, her face tearstained. Slowly he approached, lowering himself to sit next to her on the bed.
“You’re an amazing man, Elvis Kennedy,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “I am so very proud of you right now.”
“Ditto, Dr. Novak,” he replied lightly, when he really wanted to say three other little words. Maybe on a different night when they weren’t so emotionally raw.
“I’m serious. What you did for Michael . . . I know it wasn’t easy, but for you to trust him with that was . . . Well, I’m proud of you.”
Diesel craved her praise, but wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it. “I couldn’t let him think that he was weak. Or that he was alone.”
She drew a deep breath, then wiped her eyes. “I swore I wasn’t going to cry any more.”
“Don’t. Don’t cry for me.”
“I’m not—not right now anyway. And I will if I want to. But these . . .” She swiped under her eyes again. “These are because you have a beautiful heart. I want to meet Father Dyson even more now. He sounds a lot like my stepfather, Bruce.”
“We’ll invite him out when this is over.”
She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “What are we going to do, Diesel? We can’t hide here forever. We have lives. The boys need a home.”
“I know, and you’re right. But first we’re going to sleep. Tomorrow we’re going to gather everything we know about Cade Kaiser and find him. And make sure he never sees the light of day as a free man ever again.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, March 19, 2:20 p.m.
“I’m sorry, Dani,” Deacon said soberly. “Still no word on Evelyn Keys.”
Dani gripped the phone a little tighter. She’d put off calling Deacon for a few hours after she’d woken, hoping he’d call her and tell her that Kaiser had been taken into custody while they slept. But she’d finally given in and dialed his number.
“No demands from Kaiser?” she asked, trying not to let her desperation leak into her voice, because though Joshua was far enough away not to hear her words, the child was adept at listening for tone. Which probably had come from years of living with an abusive mother. “He’s not asking for safe passage out of the country or money or anything?”
“No. Nothing.” Deacon’s voice grew muffled. “Be there in a minute.”
Dani could hear the slamming of a car door in the background. “Where are you?”
He hesitated, then sighed. “You’ll read about it online soon enough. A young man was killed last night outside a convenience store in Miamitown.”
Dani closed her eyes. “How old?”
“Eighteen. He’d bought some baby formula, diapers, a bottle of Advil, rubbing alcohol, Epsom salts, and antibiotic cream. He was found this morning when the shift changed.”
She felt a frisson of relief, followed by immediate guilt. “Evelyn and Jimmy are still alive, then.” But a young man was dead.
“I think we can assume that,” Deacon said. “And we’re hoping that the antibiotic cream is because our bullets did some damage to Kaiser’s leg.”
“I hope it goes gangrenous and falls off,” Dani said viciously, then reined her anger in when Joshua looked up from the picture he was coloring at the kitchen table. His little face had grown abruptly tense, and she made herself smile. “It’s okay, Joshua. I’m not mad at you or Michael. Just the bad guy who started the fire at our house.”
Joshua nodded warily, then pushed the coloring book aside. “I wanna go outside and play. This is boring.”
Dani knew the feeling. “I need to go, Deacon. Will you update me later, please? Even if it’s to tell me there’s no change. We’re going a little stir-crazy here.”
“I’ll try,” Deacon said and she could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “We’ve been a little busy, though.”
Guilt reared its head again because Deacon had been burning the candle from both ends between this case and the hours he’d spent at the hospital. “I’m sorry. Go, do what you need to do. We’re fine.”
“Thanks, Dani. Talk to you later.”
She ended the call and sat at the table with Joshua. “I want to go outside, too. But we can’t. Not until the bad guy is caught.”
Joshua’s lower lip trembled. “I wanna go home.”
Me, too, baby. Me, too. But Joshua wasn’t going home, not ever again. “Sweetie,” she started, then sighed. “Your mom’s not coming back, Joshua. She’s dead. So you can’t go home.”
He blinked up at her, his expression very serious. “I meant our house, Dani. With Hawkeye and Coach and Michael.”
“Oh.” She pulled him onto her lap and hugged him hard. “That we can do. Just not today. Wanna see a movie?”
“No.” His lip came out and his voice grew cross. “Tired of movies. I wanna play.”
Dani was spared a response by the appearance of Meredith and Maria, the interpreter who’d helped during Michael’s exam that first day in the clinic. Meredith appeared serene. Maria looked shaken.
Dani was well aware that the interpreter’s expression was a more honest representation of her true feelings. The serene face was Meredith’s way of dealing with the harsh realities of her job.
Michael’s session must have been brutal, and no wonder, after the conversation he and Diesel had had the night before. Dani was still raw from hearing it. She’d lain awake for hours, her good ear on the steady thumping of Diesel’s heart. Diesel, on the other hand, had slept like a baby, waking up bright-eyed and refreshed. Maybe sharing his story the night before had brought him some peace. Or maybe it was that they were finally together as he’d hoped for so long. Either way, she was glad one of them had slept.
“Is Michael okay?” Joshua asked in a tremulous voice, reminding them once again how intuitive—and adult—this child had been forced to become.
Meredith ruffled his hair. “He will be. Give him a little space for now. I, for one, could use a cup of tea. Maria, can I get you something?”
Maria looked up from her phone, distracted. “What? Oh. No, thank you. I need . . .” She faltered, frowning at her phone again. “Dani, can I talk to you for a moment? Privately?”
Dani shared a quick look with Meredith, noting that her friend looked bewildered. “I’ll be right back,” she told Joshua, kissing him on the cheek, then settling him back in his own chair.
She led Maria to the entertainment room, which sat empty. Michael was still in the condo’s office, where they’d had his session, and Diesel was working in the bedroom they shared.
“It’s Andrew McNab,” Maria said as soon as Dani had closed the door.
The dread that had been sitting heavy in Dani’s gut immediately grew to fill her chest, making it hard to breathe. “The interpreter who helped when Michael went to the police station. What about him?”
“He didn’t show up for work this morning and would never miss work without calling in for a substitute. He interprets in an elementary school. He’d never leave the child without support. The agency switchboard said he’d been called to the police station on Sunday to interpret for a deaf man who’d been arrested. Our office manager called the police. They haven’t made any arrests in the deaf community for weeks.”
Dani hit Deacon’s speed dial. “This is important,” she said before her brother could say a word. She handed the phone to Maria. “My brother, Agent Novak. Tell him what you told me.”
A light knock on the door startled her. She’d put on her processor that morning without Diesel having to remind her and small sounds from behind her had been driving her crazy all day. The door opened and Diesel stuck his head in.
“You okay?” he mouthed.
Dani motioned him in so that he could hear what Maria was telling Deacon. Diesel’s shoulders sagged. “Kaiser?” he murmured.
Dani shrugged. “I don’t know.” But she did. And so did Diesel.
He rubbed his hand over his head, a gesture that was becoming increasingly familiar. “He needed to confirm that Michael was an eyewitness. Needed to know if he’d given the cops that sketch.”
“We can’t tell Michael,” Dani whispered. “Not yet. He feels guilty enough about Stone and Decker getting hurt.”
Diesel nodded. “He’s fragile right now. I heard Meredith come out of the office. She’s wearing her face.” He grimaced. “You know what I mean.”
Dani knew what he meant. She’d seen it, too. The mask of serenity.
“Oh,” Maria said, sinking into one of the soft chairs in front of the huge TV. “I never even thought about that. Th-thank you. I will. Good-bye.” She handed the phone to Dani. “He’s sending a team to investigate,” she said quietly. “I’m not supposed to leave by myself. He’s assigning me an escort. He says I may be in danger because I’ve been interpreting Michael’s therapy sessions.” She looked up, her eyes full of fear. “I have kids. What about my kids?”
“Where are they?” Dani asked, then texted the children’s school information to Deacon. “He’ll take care of it.”
The three of them left the TV room, only to be met by the sound of Joshua’s sobs. Dani ran for the kitchen and stopped short. Joshua sat at the table, his head on his crossed arms, crying like his heart was broken.
Something had actually broken, though. Remnants of a colorful plate lay on the kitchen floor in pieces. Meredith sat with Joshua, rubbing his back. “Michael came out of the office,” she said quietly. “Started to make himself a sandwich. Joshua got up to hug him, but Michael pushed him away. The two of them signed something I didn’t understand. Then Michael threw the plate on the floor. He’s out there.” She pointed to the sliding glass doors.
Michael stood on the terrace, his back to them, but his shoulders were shaking. He was crying, too.
Dani let out a breath, trying to stay calm when she also wanted to cry. “Joshua, honey, what happened?”
“He pushed me down. Michael pushed me.”
Dani crouched beside his chair, ignoring the broken plate. They all were wearing shoes and the mess could wait. “Are you hurt?”
Joshua shook his head, then lifted it, the picture of misery. “But he never pushes me. Never. He’s never mad at me. But he is now.”
Dani brushed the tears from his cheeks, biting back the urge to make excuses for Michael. Not until she understood the facts. “That wasn’t okay of him to push you. That’s not ever okay. What did you say to him?” she asked gently.
“I asked if he’d play with me.” More tears fell. “That’s when he pushed me. Said he didn’t have time to play with a baby.”
Dani glanced to the terrace, then at Meredith. “What happened then?”
“He looked shocked,” Meredith said, still rubbing Joshua’s back. “Then he ran.”
Diesel squeezed Dani’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Tell him I’m sorry,” Joshua cried. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, baby,” Dani crooned. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Michael’s just had a hard few days, okay? We all have.” She wiped at his tears, somehow managing to keep her own at bay. Diesel was out on the terrace, his big arms around Michael, rocking them both where they stood.
Dani made a decision. She stood up and squared her shoulders. “We need to get out of here, even if it’s just for a little while.”
Meredith nodded once. “I think that’s a very good idea.”