“He fell asleep on the sofa downstairs. He didn’t see any of our conversation.”

“Good. I’ll bring him up and put him to bed.”

Meredith brushed Dani’s hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “And you? Will you be all right?”

Dani scoffed quietly. “I’m always all right.”

Lie, lie, lie. She wasn’t all right. Not at all.

Meredith’s sober look said that she knew Dani was lying. “My door is always open to you. You know that.”

Dani looked away. “I know. Thank you.”

“I’m going home now. Call me if you need me. Call me if Diesel needs me.”

Dani sucked in a breath and met her friend’s clear green eyes. And saw perfect understanding there. Understanding and truth and sorrow as Meredith’s serene mask slipped away for the briefest of moments.

“He’s a good, good man,” Meredith whispered, then leaned in close. “Don’t hurt him. Please.”

Pain radiated through Dani’s chest. Her friend hadn’t bought her clueless act. Meredith knew that Dani had been aware of Diesel’s feelings all this time. And Meredith expected her to do . . . what? The right thing? The wrong thing?

Clearly, the thing that would hurt him. Because Meredith knew people. She knows me.

Dani came to her feet. “I’m going to see to Joshua. I’ll catch you later.”

Chapter Twelve

Indian Hill, Ohio
Sunday, March 17, 11:05 a.m.

Grant slunk down behind the steering wheel as a bright blue Mini Cooper pulled into the driveway of Richard Fischer’s gated Indian Hill home. He was glad it was too early for the trees to have leaves, because he could just see the huge, sprawling house from where he sat. The garage alone must have held six cars.

A tall, curvy blonde hopped out of the Mini Cooper and tapped a code into the security panel mounted on the big iron gates. Getting back into her car, she drove through the gates, but they didn’t close behind her.

Not giving himself time to second-guess, he followed her through the gate, but stopped just inside while she continued up to the house. The driveway curved, so she couldn’t see that he’d driven in after her.

He inched his car up the drive until she was once again in view. She’d gotten out of the car and was stalking up to the front door. She rang the bell, then waited, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping.

Grant got out of his car and, after hesitating a moment, slowly approached the woman, who was now banging on the front door with both fists and screaming for Richard to “Open up, you fucking asshole!”

Either Richard wasn’t home or he was deliberately not answering the door. Given the woman’s wrath, Grant wasn’t sure he’d have answered the door, either.