by Becki Willis
Sensing he geared up for a lengthy conversation, Madison saw her chance for a hasty exit. “You’ve been quite a help, and it’s been great talking with you. But I can see you’re busy, and I know how important your work is, so I’ll leave you to it. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Fuller. Have a great day.”
“Oh, well, sure. Safe travels to you. Did you get a card earlier?” He held another out, which Madison took and stuffed into her purse.
“And remember,” he called after her. “You gotta drive for all the other fools on the road, not just yourself.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Rolling back into The Sisters at a quarter past five, Madison was surprised to see the clinic was still open. Glancing at the insurance papers still in the backseat, the ones she kept forgetting to drop off with Doc Menger, Madison whipped into the parking lot and ran them inside.
“Hi, Rachel. I’m glad you’re still here,” she told the receptionist. “Here’re those papers I promised.”
“Great. Give me a minute, and I’ll just make a copy.”
To Madison’s relief, the waiting room was empty, so there was no one to point and whisper behind her back. She hadn’t been out since the wedding, and certainly not since Brash’s sudden burst of stardom.
Today’s trip to Waco didn’t count; strangers couldn’t be nearly as critical as the locals could.
While she waited for Rachel to finish, Madison glanced idly toward the television in the corner. A cable news channel shared images of a flood in western Nebraska and the destruction left behind. Then another image flashed onto the screen, causing her to do a double take.
Her eyes widened as she watched her husband tuck Tony Sanchez into the backseat of his police cruiser, the cuffs clearly visible on Tony’s hands. The voice was off, but the ticker-tape caption said that NFL Hall of Famer Tony Sanchez had been arrested in Texas on charges of manslaughter.
Madison didn’t bother reading the rest. Her eyes homed in on Brash. He carried himself stiffly, his rigid posture a silent testimony to his displeasure. She didn’t need to see the hard lines bracketing his mouth, or his brooding eyes—hidden now by dark glasses—to know he performed a duty forced upon him, one he clearly did not agree with. She noted he wore his official uniform, complete with service weapon, instead of the jeans and western shirt he left home in this morning.
“Isn’t that crazy?” Rachel said, returning to the window and seeing Madison absorbed in the television. “The news crews have been all around town, just like when they were filming your show!”
“Brash arrested Tony Sanchez?” The needless question ripped from Madison.
Rachel eyed her suspiciously. “He’s your husband,” she pointed out. “I figured you, of all people, would know what the chief was doing.”
With a weak shake of her head, she mentioned being out of town all day. She didn’t add that they hadn’t spoken today, both busy with their own tasks, and had exchanged only the briefest of texts. Obviously, Brash’s meetings this morning hadn’t gone as he had hoped.
“About two hours ago,” Rachel went on, “two cruisers came zooming through town, lights and sirens full blast. A big black SUV was behind them, and then another cruiser. The news vans were close behind, and a half dozen Nosy Nellies. According to the news, they arrested your husband’s friend and took him to the River County Jail. That’s just a replay,” she said, nodding to the screen. When a sly smile slid across the younger woman’s face, Madison glanced back to see the infamous shot of Brash now filling the screen.
“I wish they would stop showing that picture!” Madison said, stomping her foot in irritation.
“Why?” Rachel asked with a leer. “You may see it every day, but the rest of America isn’t so lucky. We love it!”
Madison did her best not to snatch the papers from the other woman’s hands.
“I’m sorry they’re giving Chief deCordova so much trouble,” Rachel said. “He’s been a really good chief, and I hate hearing the rumors people are saying about him. I wanted to give that Joel Werner a piece of my mind when he was saying all that in here the other day, but it wasn’t my place. I’m sorry, though, that anyone is listening to him. He’s just out to get the chief’s job.”
Her words made Madison feel better. It even helped settle her nerves, knowing not everyone had taken loss of their senses. “Thank you, Rachel. I’ll pass your message along to the chief. I know he’ll appreciate it.”
“If he’s really wants to show his appreciation,” she joked, “he can sign a copy of that picture and drop it by.”
Madison had a quick comeback. “Not if he wants to stay married.”
Madison drove directly to the police station, where there was an unusual number of cars and activity. Too late, she remembered the television cameras. As she stepped from her car, two microphones thrust into her face.
“Mrs. deCordova! Is it true that you and your new husband received a generous gift from the deceased man, just moments before Tony Sanchez slipped poison into his food?”
“Mrs. deCordova! First of all, congratulations on your recent marriage! How does it feel to be married to America’s newest sex symbol? Is it true your husband just signed deals with Nike and Victor’s Fantasy?”
As ridiculous as both questions were, Madison used a trick she had learned last year, when the media wouldn’t give her a moment’s peace. She lifted her head and looked expectantly in the distance, as if seeing something of particular interest. Out of natural curiosity, the reporters turned in the direction she looked, giving her the perfect opportunity to slip away.
It took little time for them to catch up with her, circling around her like sharks closing in on their prey.
“What is your response to claims your husband colluded with Tony Sanchez to not only get Nigel Barrett out of the picture, but to gain control of his alleged fortune?”
“Is it true you and your husband are beneficiaries of the reclusive millionaire’s estate?”
“There’s new talk of reopening the RefGate investigation. Are you at all concerned that your husband could be implicated in wrongdoing?”
“Mrs. deCordova! Is it true the Texas Rangers have been called in to take over, in light of Chief deCordova’s alleged involvement in the case?”
Overwhelmed with the swarming reporters, Madison batted at them like they were flies. She was grateful to see the officer rushing forward to take her arm. Together, they pushed through the offending crowd.
“Give the woman some room, for Heaven’s sake!” the officer barked.
Hearing the decidedly feminine voice, Madison jerked her gaze to the woman beside her. Even in khaki uniform, severe ponytail, and no makeup, Misty Abraham was a stunning woman. The officer wasn’t as tall as she but had curves in places Maddy could only envy.
“Sorry about that. Chief asked us to keep a lookout for you and prevent that from happening.” The blonde officer swept Madison into the police station before pausing for a proper greeting. “I’m Misty Abraham. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. deCordova.”
Madison searched the deputy’s face for the slightest trace of a smirk. She seemed completely sincere, affording Madison due reverence as the chief’s wife. If she harbored any resentment or jealousy toward her, the officer kept the emotions well hidden behind an impenetrable layer of professionalism and respect.
Madison offered her hand for a welcoming shake, trusting that the woman was sincere. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. And please. Call me Madison.”
Misty took her hand but challenged the offer. “Do the other deputies call you that?”
“Well… no,” she admitted.
“It’s hard enough, being the only female on an all-male roster,” Misty said, doing a half-roll of the eyes. “Don’t get me in trouble with the guys my very first day!”
In spite of herself, Madison felt a surge of relief. She hated thinking Brash had kept this from her. “I wondered about that. I didn’t realize you were starting so soon.”
“I wasn’t scheduled to start for another two weeks, but given the recent buzz of activity,” she hesitated slightly over the word buzz, “they thought the team might need an extra hand.”
“I hope Brash warned you. It’s not always this crazy around here.”
Inside the station, it was relatively quiet, especially in comparison to the media circus outside. Someone bumped around in a back room, making an occasional noise loud enough to override the clatter of the police scanner. Vina was gone for the day, but Wayne Arrington took her place behind the front counter, clicking away on his computer while fielding a steady flow of phone calls. Madison glimpsed someone in the hallway and heard another voice coming from the deputy’s den, the name given to the communal office shared by both deputies. With the arrival of Misty Abraham, that number was now three.
“He hasn’t had time to do anything more than swear me in and show me to my desk,” Misty confessed. “It’s been that kind of day.”
“Speaking of my husband… is he here?”
“He isn’t back from Riverton yet, but he called in and said he’s on his way. I’ll let him know you’re in his office, if you decide to wait.” To her credit, the officer didn’t pretend to have control of whether Madison stayed or not. “By the way, congratulations on your wedding. I hear it was lovely.”
“Thank you. We thought so!” Madison beamed. “Well,” she backtracked, the smile faltering, “up until one of our guests died.”
Misty’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Sort of gives new meaning to a killer party, huh?”
Madison couldn’t help but snicker. After an emotional week, a stressful day, dismay over Tony’s arrest, and now the unexpected arrival of Brash’s ex-girlfriend, she needed an outlet for her frayed nerves. The comment struck her as funny, deepening the snicker into a giggle. Misty responded with a snort of amusement that sounded more like a braying mule, and not at all feminine. That such a beautiful woman had such an ugly laugh was even more amusing. (And somehow gratifying, if she were being completely honest with herself.) Madison’s giggle turned to a chuckle. Soon, even that turned into all-out laughter.
By the time Brash entered the station via the back entrance, the two women were in full hilarity. Tears streaked down Maddy’s face, and Misty tried holding her coarse guffaw back with her hand, to no avail. The sound howled through her fingers like a strong wind.
“This is a surprise,” Brash remarked dryly. He wasn’t sure the women had even heard him come in, and he certainly hadn’t expected them to be waiting here together, laughing like two old friends. He was tired and hungry, and angered by the day’s turn of events. And, to be honest, he was now a bit unsettled to come in and see the easy camaraderie between his new wife and his old girlfriend.
Not that he and Misty Abraham had ever been seriously involved. Finding Misty easy to be with, they had gone out several times over the course of a year. She understood the demands of the job, and the two of them had quite a bit in common, but when working around both their schedules became challenging, Brash decided the relationship simply wasn’t worth the effort.
At the sound of his voice, both women turned toward him in surprise.
They were quite the contrast. Maddy was tall and slender, a study in understated curves and elegant sophistication. Her dark-chestnut hair was cut in a fashionable bob that accentuated her long, graceful neck and brought out the deep set of her hazel eyes. Dressed in tasteful but modest attire, she not only demanded a man’s attention, she demanded his respect.
Misty wasn’t quite as tall, but where Maddy was lean and lithe, the blonde had generous curves. Those curves molded into her uniform, swelling in all the best places. With her fresh, pert face, her long blonde hair, and her big, brooding eyes—blue, he thought he remembered—she demanded not only a man’s attention, but also a healthy portion of his libido.
But one look at Maddy’s smiling face, one hint of her sweet laughter floating on the air, and the day’s burdens lifted from Brash’s shoulders. The second woman all but faded from his vision. All he saw was his wife.
“Maddy.” The low murmur was somewhere between a command and a plea. His eyes held hers as she crossed the room and allowed him to fold her into his arms.
For a long moment, Brash simply held her, rocking her gently in his embrace. It was the balm they both needed, the soothing antidote to a prickly day. The warmth they sought from a cold, bitter world. Snippets of their vows echoed through both their minds.
As an afterthought, Brash remembered there were other people in the room, namely his new deputy. Without relinquishing his hold on his wife, he opened his eyes and nodded to the other woman.
“Officer Abraham,” he acknowledged. He thought he saw a flash of regret in her eyes as she studied their embrace, but it made no difference. Brash had no regrets.
Madison pulled away to politely include her, their arms still linked. “Misty and I were getting better acquainted,” she explained to her husband. “Apparently, she picked a fine day to join the force.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he apologized, his voice weary. “It’s been a heck of a day. Sweetheart, will you excuse us for just a minute while I give Officer Abraham her orders for the evening? I won’t be long.”
“Will you be able to leave soon?” she asked hopefully.
Brash looked around the station, noting the relative calm. “Yeah, one way or another.”
“Then I’ll go on home and start dinner. You do what you need to do here.”
“Are you sure?”
“You look like you could use a nice, warm meal.”
He dipped his head to murmur against her cheek. “Never mind the meal. All I need is my wife.”
“I’ll fix us a bite anyway,” she promised, her hand lingering on his chest. She was new to this wife of the chief gig, unsure of protocol when it came to public displays of affection.
Brash had no such qualms. He scooped her face into his hands and gave her a very thorough kiss, unconcerned with what anyone else thought. “I’ll see you at home, Mrs. de.”
Releasing her, he stepped back and called into the hallway. “Schimanski! Walk my wife to the car. You have my permission to shoot any reporter who intrudes in her personal space.”
The younger officer appeared with a grin on his face. “Yes, sir!” he said.
“On second thought, I want you to follow her home. Make sure no one harasses her before she gets safely inside.”
“I’ll be fine, Brash. Unfortunately, this isn’t my first brush with reporters.”
“All the same, let Schimanski clear the way for you. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Madison smiled at the female officer who stood waiting patiently for her orders. “It was nice to meet you, Officer Abraham.”
“You, too, Mrs. de.” Her blue eyes twinkled, letting Madison know she had heard the deep rumble of Brash’s words.
If she heard those, she had probably heard the ones before them, too. Like a blushing new bride, Madison couldn’t help the flush that lightly stained her cheeks.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Girl, what kind of mess did you get yourself tangled up in this time?” Granny Bert demanded, plopping down without ceremony at Madison’s breakfast table.
Madison delivered coffee to her grandmother, served with a frown. “You make it sound like I go looking for all this trouble,” she sulked as she slid into her own seat.
“You either look for it, or it looks for you,” the older woman reasoned. “What in tarnation is all this hoopla about this time? There are reporters camped out by your gate again. Danged near ran over one of them with the Buick when he tried slipping in alongside me. Of course,” she added, hiding her smirk behind the coffee cup, “I was trying to teach him a lesson.”
“Seems like last year, doesn’t it?” Madison’s sigh was resigned. “But with all the Home Again hoopla, the mood was different. Sure, any story was a good story, but at least, they seemed to be roo
ting for us, not against us. This time, it’s all so… so vindictive. They’re looking for dirt, and the muddier, the better.” She propped her elbows upon the table and cradled her cheeks with her hands. “Some honeymoon this has turned out to be.”
Granny Bert leaned in with a worried look on her face. “All the stress hasn’t affected Brash’s performance, has it?” she asked in a confidential tone.
When she realized her grandmother’s meaning, Madison was mortified. “Of course not!” she snapped. Not that she wanted to discuss her sex life with her grandmother!
“Good. That’s good.” The older woman sat back in obvious relief, reaching out to pat her granddaughter’s arm. “Wanda won’t be so glad to hear it,” she admitted, “but Sybil will be.”
Madison stared at her grandmother in horror. “Your friends are betting on our sex life?”
“Just a friendly little wager.” Her shrug said it was of no importance. “The loser buys margaritas the next time we go to Montelongo’s. Wanda figured all the stress of being a sudden sex symbol and accused of colluding with a murderer might be too much for a man to handle, but you’ll be happy to know, Sybil had full confidence in him.”
“No, I am not happy about any of this!” She enunciated her displeasure. “Please tell me that you did not engage in this… this degrading and humiliating farce of a bet!”
“No, child. That would just be crass.” Her grandmother’s look was reproachful.
“And it’s not crass for your friends?” Madison challenged. “Two old women, speculating on how successful my honeymoon will be?”
“Watch who you’re calling old,” Granny Bert warned. “And before you climb too high up on your soap box, remember that both are single and lonely, and sometimes, the only thrills they get are the vicarious ones. You may have found your handsome prince to live out forever with, but spare a little mercy for those less fortunate, mind you.”