Crime & Passion

by Chantel Rhondeau

  “Donovan tends to do what he pleases, not caring much what anyone thinks.”

  “So Donovan Andrews is the only person in town who calls you Maddie?”

  It was said lightly, almost too casually. Madeline could have smacked herself. She knew Donovan already worried because he punched Frank Johnson before the man’s murder. Now Stone thought this provided a link that Donovan wrote the message.

  She clasped her hands in her lap. “You know Donovan didn’t do this. I don’t understand why you’re asking about him.”

  “Does anyone else call you Maddie?” he persisted.

  She sighed. “No.”

  He nodded, as though he expected that answer all along. “That’s all I need from you right now. You’ve been a great help. I know it must have taken courage to come here, given the threat left by the killer.” Stone stood up and motioned his hand to the doorway. “I’ll have officers check on you often until we catch the person responsible for this. We take your safety very seriously.”

  “Wait a minute!” Madeline stood up, clenching her hands into fists. “I know you’re trying to turn this against Donovan. He’s been taking care of me all day. He’s making my apartment more secure as we speak. How could you think he had anything to do with this?”

  Stone shook his head. “I can’t discuss the details of this case. Thanks for your time.”

  Madeline put her hands on her hips, refusing to leave until Stone listened to her. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if someone tried to frame Donovan?”

  Stone walked to the doorway. “That’s a good theory.”

  She could tell he wasn’t even considering the idea. She needed to be more convincing. “Think about it. The police uniform, the baton, writing Maddie on the wall. Lots of people heard me tell Donovan off for calling me that. Why would he be so stupid to do things in a way that pointed him out as the culprit?”

  “We’ll take everything you said into consideration.” Stone opened the door.

  Madeline had the sinking feeling that Stone had a reason to suspect Donovan before asking her about the picture. She’d only provided the piece of the puzzle that confirmed his suspicions.

  “Look,” she said quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear her. “Maybe the killer put Maddie on the wall thinking people call me that. It would be a reasonable assumption. Maybe he wants you to suspect my friends.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind during the investigation, Miss Scott.” Stone looked into the main room of the station. “Ah, Andrews, there you are. Miss Scott’s ready to leave. I understand you’re taking her home?”

  Donovan stepped into Madeline’s view. “Yes, sir.”

  Stone glanced from Donovan to Madeline and back. “Since I know you’re with her, I hold you personally responsible for her safety.”

  Madeline widened her eyes as she looked at Stone. Was that a subtle warning to Donovan that if he hurt her, Stone would know it was him? She couldn’t believe it. He really did think Donovan murdered Frank.

  “You can count on me, sir,” Donovan replied, not seeming to realize the implied threat in his Chief’s words. “I’ll be back in a few hours for my shift.”

  “Good. New evidence came up that I’d like to speak with you about.” Stone turned his attention to Madeline. “I hope I can trust you not to say a word to anyone about our discussion. There are certain procedures I need to follow in a delicate case like this.”

  Madeline nodded and dropped her gaze to the ground. There was no way she’d let Donovan walk into this blind. She didn’t care what their procedure was. If Stone didn’t want her talking to Donovan, he should have been craftier about hiding his suspicions.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said in mimic of his prior comment, meaning it just as much as he had.

  She followed Donovan through the station to the parking lot. He opened the car door for her and narrowed his eyes.

  “Something’s wrong. What happened in there?”

  Madeline slid in and fastened her seat belt. “Take me home. We have to talk.”

  ***

  Donovan sat at Madeline’s dining table, watching her make roast beef sandwiches. She hadn’t said anything further about what happened at the station, and Donovan worried she was upset about something else. Maybe she’d had time to think about what happened between them earlier, how close he’d come to kissing her.

  Don’t be so self-centered, Andrews. She has a million reasons to be upset, none of which have anything to do with how you feel about her.

  Madeline placed a plate in front of him and sat in the chair next to his. She stared out the window, absently eating her sandwich, still not speaking.

  He polished off his own food in the awkward silence, wondering how to bring up whatever bothered her. “Thanks for lunch. That hit the spot.”

  Madeline nodded while she chewed. Donovan watched, mesmerized by the movements of her mouth.

  Get a grip, man. She might be trying to figure out how to tell you to get lost.

  Her tongue darted to the corner of her lip to lick away a small blob of mayonnaise. He looked away, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.

  “Do you like the lock I put on the door?” he finally asked in an effort to take his mind off her clever tongue. He wondered what else it might be capable of doing. He cleared his throat. Think about the door lock. “It’s the kind they use in hotels instead of a chain lock. It’s hard to break through.”

  “Thanks. I really do appreciate it.”

  He pointed to the rod he cut for the window frame. “And with this in place, no one can get in the windows. I put them everywhere.”

  She sighed. “I usually listen to the ocean while eating or lying in bed. Guess I can’t do that for a while, huh? Not until they catch the killer.”

  He tried not to envision her lying in bed. He wondered if she wore a nightgown or slept nude. Poles for the windows. Come on, man, focus.

  “I’ll cut them down a little tomorrow. At least enough to crack the window open and let the sound in.”

  “None of that really matters.” Madeline rested her fingertips lightly against his forearm. “I have to tell you what happened today. Chief Stone told me not to talk about it. I think he meant especially to you, but you have a right to know.”

  Donovan shifted his arm to take her hand in his, trying to hide the thrill of alarm that shot through his gut at her words. “It’s okay, Maddie. I won’t let on to Stone that you said anything, if that’s what you want.”

  “I don’t care what you tell him.” Her lips tightened into a thin line and she met his eyes, a small crease between her eyebrows. “I think they suspect you of being the killer.”

  “Me?” He tried to pull away from her, shocked Stone already reached that conclusion.

  Madeline gripped his fingers tightly and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Donovan. It’s all my fault.”

  “Your fault? You didn’t make me punch Frank Johnson that night. I brought this on myself.”

  “I don’t think they know about that.” Madeline shook her head and blinked rapidly. “It’s the stupid Maddie thing. Why did you have to call me that when I told you not to?”

  Donovan felt as though someone socked him in the stomach. The bloody message said Maddie, not Madeline. It hadn’t struck him as odd at the time. “Why do they think it was me?”

  “Well, Chief Stone knew I didn’t like to be called that and he asked who called me that anyway.” She shrugged. “You’re the only one. I think he wants to use that against you.”

  His mind raced through the possible scenarios. He knew Chief Stone didn’t really like him, but it wasn’t likely he’d arrest Donovan based on such weak evidence. He’d need something more concrete to tie Donovan to the crime before he’d make a move. Even if he really thought Donovan was capable of murder, he wouldn’t want to admit to the whole town he had a killer on his force who fooled him for the last twelve years.

  He wondered if it would push Stone over the edge if Stephanie J
ohnson told him about the fight Donovan had with Frank. That might be enough to earn Donovan a suspension from the force.

  Madeline held her head in her hands, looking down at her plate. “I’m so sorry. I tried to talk him out of it. I suggested someone might be trying to frame you, but he didn’t really listen to me.”

  “Frame me? You think that’s what’s going on?” Donovan shook his head. “It’s more likely this was a coincidence. The killer saw your name in the paper, thanks to that rat, Brandon Feldman. I’m sure the killer assumed people call you Maddie, like I did.”

  Madeline looked up at him, her brown eyes shining with emotion. “Of course, you’re right. I had all these theories in my head, trying to find some way to convince your chief he was wrong. You’ve been so nice to me, and I wanted to protect you. But he—”

  “Don’t worry about Stone.” Donovan stood from the table and carried their plates to the sink. “If he doesn’t know about my fight with Frank, I’ll be able to talk some sense into him. Things will be fine.”

  She trailed next to him as he walked to the front door, twisting her hands together. “I hope you can.”

  Madeline looked scared and alone. It touched Donovan that she seemed genuinely concerned about him. He was even more pleased she didn’t automatically assume the worst and believe he’d try to harm her.

  He gathered her in his arms and hugged her quickly. The sweet scent of her light perfume danced in the air, igniting his senses. Donovan released her and stepped back. She didn’t want a fling with a player. Although a woman’s opinion had never really mattered to him before, Donovan didn’t want Maddie to see him as that type of man anymore.

  Perhaps that should scare him more than it did. Donovan usually couldn’t handle being with the same person for a prolonged period—bothered by his date’s gossiping tendencies or bored when they didn’t express an interest in anything he liked. There was always something wrong with the women he’d been with in the past.

  Madeline made him feel different. All day, he’d longed to see her again. Making her apartment secure became the most important thing in the world. He cared for her, he realized, and the thought didn’t make him want to run away as it usually did.

  “Be careful while I’m gone, Maddie.”

  She nodded and the brown hair in her ponytail bobbed up and down. “Don’t worry about that.” She picked up the can of pepper spray he placed by the door. “If anyone gets in, I’ll blast them.”

  He smiled and flipped the steel bar off the knob on the new lock. “Make sure you latch this when I leave and don’t let anyone in the apartment.”

  “Chief Stone said the cops will come by to check on me a few times. I won’t let anyone in but them.”

  Panic laced down Donovan’s spine and he gripped her shoulders. “You thought it might have been a police officer on the beach. Don’t let anyone in.”

  Madeline’s eyes widened. “You’re right. I don’t know where my head is. I’ll keep them outside.”

  “Open the door, but leave the lock engaged. You can talk to them without putting yourself in danger.” He let his hands fall from her shoulders, satisfied he’d impressed the possible danger on her enough. He didn’t want her terrified, just cautious. “I trust the guys. They’re all good men. Better safe than sorry, I always say.”

  “Also, you don’t know your new partner all that well.”

  Donovan raised his eyebrows, surprised. “You bring up a good point.”

  If it really was a police officer on the beach that day, Eric was the most likely suspect. Then again, Donovan couldn’t believe he would be capable of killing someone.

  He shook his head. Madeline’s conspiracy theories were getting to him. Eric was an officer sworn to uphold the law. He wouldn’t murder anyone. Donovan was almost certain of it.

  Madeline kissed his cheek lightly. “Thanks for taking care of me today. Will I see you again soon?”

  The warmth on his cheek from her soft lips distracted him. Who cared whether Eric Sanders was capable of murder? Nothing mattered when Madeline was near...and she wanted to see him again soon. That sounded promising.

  “I’ll give you a call to check on you later tonight. Would you like me to come over in the morning?” He struggled to keep his voice casual. “I could go with you when you walk the dogs. What time do you leave in the morning?”

  Madeline’s posture relaxed slightly. “That would make me feel much better. I leave at seven.”

  “I’ll be here by six forty-five,” he promised.

  Donovan walked out the door, waiting to hear her engage the locks before striding to the elevator. He felt like barriers between him and Madeline had weakened today.

  Then again, he couldn’t feel too happy. It sounded like Chief Stone was on a witch hunt, and he thought Donovan led the coven.

  Chapter Seven

  An hour later, Donovan sat in Kenneth Stone’s office, waiting for the Chief to walk in the door and tell him his fate. While getting ready for work, he’d had plenty of time to worry.

  What if Maddie was wrong? If Stephanie Johnson came forward about the confrontation, he was in a world of trouble. Maybe he should have told the truth from the beginning. Too late for that now.

  “Hey, Donovan.” Eric Sanders poked his head around the doorframe. “Can I have the keys to the police cruiser? I left my notepad in the glove box.”

  “I’m not sure it’s locked.” Donovan fished the keys from his pants pocket. “You work all day?”

  Eric nodded. “Pretty spooky at that crime scene, huh? Who’d want to hurt a dog? The world’s gone crazy.”

  Donovan stared at Eric, trying to decide if the young man was capable of murder. Scratch that. Of course he was capable. Everyone was. Still, he didn’t think Eric would do it in cold blood.

  “Guess Chief’s going to have us all working solo for a little while,” Donovan said. “At least until we catch this sicko.” He jiggled the keys and stretched them toward Eric.

  “Yeah, he said something about that.” Eric grabbed the keychain and looked over his shoulder out the open door. He leaned closer to Donovan. “I don’t know why,” he whispered, “but Chief asked me to look in the car for your cell phone. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “My cell?” Donovan kept his own voice low. He didn’t know what the Chief would want with his phone. “I lost it last week.”

  Eric breathed a little sigh. “Good to know, partner. Things have been tense around here since Madeline Scott left. I don’t know what Chief’s thinking, but something’s not right.”

  “He thinks I did it.”

  “No shit?” Eric shook his head. “But you really were sick in the bathroom…weren’t you?” His voice shook uncertainly on the last few words.

  Donovan rolled his eyes. The rookie could believe whatever he wanted to. “Go check the car like you were told. I’ll talk to Stone.”

  Eric clenched the keys in his hand and walked to the door. “Good luck, Andrews.”

  Donovan didn’t have to wait long wondering why Stone wanted his phone. Almost as soon as Eric left, Chief Stone entered and took a seat behind his desk.

  “Did Madeline Scott tell you what we talked about this morning?”

  Donovan stood and clasped his hands behind his back. Somehow, he felt more secure on his feet. Maybe it came from receiving one too many beatings while growing up, but Donovan liked to have a ready exit for any confrontation.

  “She did, sir,” he answered. “She thinks you suspect me. She’s wrong, isn’t she?” Donovan had felt more confident about that before speaking to Eric. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  Stone sighed. “I didn’t realize she’d jump to that conclusion when I questioned her, and I couldn’t get her off that tangent. Do you think she’ll tell anyone else?”

  Donovan narrowed his eyes. Chief hadn’t exactly given a ringing endorsement in favor of Donovan’s innocence. “She didn’t want me walking into an ambush. I can’t believe you actually suspect me based
on a nickname. Don’t you think that’s a bit weak?”

  “Actually, I do. When Lindsey first mentioned something about the name, we all thought that was crazy talk—another one of your castoff women trying to get even with you.”

  Donovan didn’t miss the grimace Stone made when he said that. He shouldn’t have dated the Chief’s daughter. Making Suzie Stone one of his ‘castoff women’ was one of the worst choices Donovan had made.

  “Lindsey hates me,” Donovan agreed. “I might not be the best date in the world, but I’d never kill anyone. I’m not a violent man.”

  Stone pulled a folder off his desk, and Donovan read his own name on the tab. “I’d like to think that, Andrews, but it’s not true. You’ve hurt a lot of people.”

  Donovan’s mouth dried out. “What do you mean? There’ve been complaints from our resident abusers, but nothing ever stuck.”

  “Because you had Henry for a partner, and he backed up your side of the story.” Stone shook his head. “I’m not talking about the complaints from my town. This is your record from Los Angeles.”

  Donovan’s legs buckled beneath him, and he sat abruptly in the chair. “What do you know about LA?”

  Stone slid the folder across the desk. “See for yourself. It’s all here. Your old Captain did you a solid when he transferred you here. Sang your praises, and I never worried when your file didn’t arrive.”

  Donovan opened the folder with shaking hands. He shifted through the papers, noting the numerous complaints against him from men in LA. As he made his way down the pile a picture arrested his attention, and Donovan didn’t look any further. The dead boy’s hazel eyes had haunted his dreams the last twelve years. Now they stared at him, accusing once more.

  He shut the file and fought back tears, trying not to remember that awful day. “It was a good shot. Everyone said so. I had to shoot that kid.”

  “I’m not disputing that. I already knew about the shooting.” Stone took the folder back, putting it under the other papers on his desk. “It’s the other stuff in your record I never heard about. You made quite a name for yourself, beating up men who abused their children.”