“Wish I had better news.” With that, Cynthia disconnected.
Terry looked over at Madison. “You want to keep hanging out and see what happens?”
“Not sure what other choice we have.”
“Okay.” He clasped his hands on his lap and put his head against the rest.
She was quite sure he’d closed his eyes. Terry wasn’t exactly the prize stakeout partner.
A couple hours passed, and her butt was beyond numb. She got out of the car to stretch and wasn’t sure if her back was going to straighten. By two in the afternoon, still no visible activity on the rental property, but she called Cynthia and begged for a favor.
She dropped off the Greek salads and gyros Madison asked for, and Terry dug right in.
“Thank God,” he said. “I was about to die.”
Madison laughed and took small forkfuls to gauge how the food was settling. The smell was intoxicating, so she took that as a positive sign.
The afternoon turned to evening, and she sent a quick message to Troy to let him know she was on a stakeout with Terry and wasn’t sure when she’d be home. He responded with, Just be safe.
The sun sank in the sky, and the clock on the dash read 9:10 PM.
Terry had dozed off at least an hour ago and was snoring. Probably more boredom than anything. Madison was pretty much right there herself.
Headlights caught her attention, and she sat up straighter. The vehicle pulled into the rental house driveway. It was an SUV. A Mercedes? Elliott behind the wheel?
“Terry,” she said. He didn’t stir. “Psst. Terry.” She nudged him.
“Yeah, yeah.” He inclined his chair.
“What’s wrong with you anyway? It’s only after nine, and you’ve been asleep for a bit.”
“Dani’s keeping us up.”
Eight months later… Add sleep to the list of what she’d have to give up. “Well, it’s time to move.” She pointed out the windshield.
Someone got out of the SUV, dressed in black from head to toe, and went in the front door. Madison crept the department car past the rental. Definitely a Mercedes SUV. She said to Terry, “Grab the plate.”
Then she drove down the street and parked several driveways from the rental. She keyed the plate Terry read off to her into the system. “Registered to a Gloria Barker.” She paused there. The name sounded familiar. She shook that aside, unable to place why. “She’s twenty-eight, but look at the address.” She swiveled the laptop as much as she could toward Terry.
“That’s down by the harbor. High-priced condos.”
“Brownstones,” she blurted out. “I should have remembered.” The Mafia used to have a warehouse down by the water. She would have driven past the homes a lot of times. “The bulk of Carson’s pictures were taken of Elliott outside a brownstone.” Her stomach flopped. “And her initials, Terry. GB. Could Gloria Barker be who Carson meant when she wrote the letters in blood?”
“We’re gonna find out,” Terry affirmed.
“You bet we are.” Madison started into a U-turn, and sweat trickled down her back as she remembered the last time she’d intended this maneuver. Today, it was executed without issue.
She parked out front of the rental, blocking the driveway. “It’s time to get some answers. Starting with: who is Gloria Barker, and how does she fit into all this?” She turned the car off and headed down the driveway with Terry behind her.
“Shouldn’t we call for backup? Just in case this turns sideways?”
“Let’s see what we’re dealing with—”
A shot rang out. He ducked around the side of the house.
“That came from inside,” she hissed, crouch-walking to join him.
Another shot was fired and blasted out the front window of the house.
Shit! She hadn’t expected things to go this way. And who was firing on whom? “That backup you mentioned? Now would be a good time.”
Terry was already on his phone. “I request backup to—” He prattled off the address. “Shots fired.” He hung up and said to her, “We’re to hang back and wait for SWAT.”
She wanted to run in there, and she might have in the past, but not now with the baby. She put a hand on her stomach.
“Now’s not the time to be feeling sick.”
“I’m fine.”
He pointed a finger at where her hand rested. “Doesn’t look like it.”
There was nothing but silence now, a deafening bookend to the thunderous reports.
“Did they say how long they’d be?”
“Dispatch knows it’s urgent.”
It would still take them precious time though, and she and Terry were right there, armed and trained to handle the situation. “Maybe we should just—”
“No,” Terry said firmly. “And there’s no way in hell I’m going in there with a partner who’s still on the mend.”
Hell was a swear word to Terry, and he meant business if he pulled it out, but he was right. She was in no condition to go in there and had no right to put her baby at risk.
Terry’s phone rang, and he filled his caller in on the details—two shots fired; he and Madison were on the north exterior side of the building; the occupants were suspected to be a Mary Smith and Jake Elliott, allegedly mother and son; or it was Gloria Barker with Smith, relationship unknown.
The sound of vehicle traffic intensified, and she caught the sight of colored lights reflecting off neighboring buildings. No sirens.
Madison poked her head around the bend, saw the SWAT command vehicle, and watched as the men unloaded. It was Troy’s men, which meant he would be there.
The SWAT team moved up the driveway toward the house. Nick Benson led the way and held up a large bulletproof shield to cover the rest of the men who followed. All of them kept their focus on the house, as one distraction could prove deadly.
Troy spoke through a megaphone. “Stiles PD. Put down your weapon and come out with your hands on your head.”
Madison heard the distinct creaking of the front door opening, then Mary Smith appeared.
“Please, please. She’s hurt.”
“She?” Madison turned to Terry, who shook his head, also confused.
“Stay there, ma’am,” Troy commanded. “Drop the weapon and put your hands on your head.”
“Please…there was an accident. She shot herself.” Smith was crying, but there was an insincere edge to her voice.
Had Gloria Barker been the one to arrive in the Mercedes and get shot?
“Gun down,” Troy barked.
“Yes, yes, sorry.”
“Hands on your head,” Troy repeated.
“Please help her.”
Footsteps advanced to the front door. Troy was likely securing the weapon. “Tell us where she is, ma’am.”
Smith directed Troy to the dining room.
“Hurry! She’s bleeding out!” Smith cried. “Why, God?”
Just hearing that woman say God made Madison bristle.
A few minutes later, the all-clear was given, and the paramedics from the waiting ambulance were allowed to go inside.
Troy rounded the corner of the house. “I can’t leave you alone for one minute,” he said to Madison.
She stiffened. “I couldn’t have anticipated this.”
“Trouble follows you wherever you go.”
She angled her head. “Guess you better get out of Dodge, then.”
“You kidding me? Do you think I joined SWAT because I can’t handle trouble?” He held her gaze and was the first to smile. “Trouble can just be another word for excitement, and you give me that in spades.”
Terry put a hand on her shoulder and left her with Troy.
“I should have taken the day off and gotten some rest,” she volunteered.
“You have a hard time doing
what you know you should.”
“I do.” Verbalizing the two words tugged on her heart. She would love to say them to Troy in a different context, and if he wasn’t going to ask… Her heart sped up, and she couldn’t believe she was even considering doing what fired through her mind. She had to be insane. She was a feminist, but she still clung to the old-fashioned tradition that the man should be the one to ask. And here and now really wasn’t the time... “Will you marry me?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, lowered it, peacocked her stance, unapologetic.
He hesitated just long enough to make her want to disappear into the earth.
“Never mind, it was stupid of me to—” She turned to walk away, but he caught her hand on a backswing.
“I’d love to marry you.”
“You…you…” No more words would form.
“Yes, Madison, and I should have answered you when you asked if I was going to propose at Cynthia’s wedding.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
Her stomach clenched. “Why didn’t you?”
“It wasn’t the time or the place. I didn’t want you to think I’d just made the decision impulsively.”
“You get caught up in your emotions and make impulsive decisions? Not a chance I’d think that.” It was the opposite of his character—unless he was pissed off.
“Truth is I was planning it for a few weeks. Been thinking about it for a lot longer than that.”
Troy’s men shuffled down the driveway, and the paramedics loaded up the injured woman. Gloria Barker? Madison hadn’t seen her face.
The ambulance drove off, lights flashing and sirens blaring.
“You still haven’t asked though,” she said timidly, not used to this feeling. “Why? Because of what you said to me earlier about feeling second place?” Her voice caught.
“Yes. I just need to know that we’re in this together—all the time. No more secrets. I know your job’s important to you, and it will always be a priority for you. That’s who you are. It’s one of the things I love about you. I just want to be a priority too.”
“Always.” She fell against his chest. To hell with making a “scene” at a crime scene. Let the neighbors see two cops hugging and— She put her mouth on his, and he cupped her face.
She pulled back and said, “I love you, Troy.”
“I love you.”
“Do you guys have a job to do, or are you going to stand around all night making kissy-face?” Nick had come around the corner and was sticking out his lips.
“Hey, man, we just got engaged,” Troy announced proudly and swung an arm around Madison.
“Congratulations!” Nick sauntered off, and Madison was confident the rest of the team would know before Troy returned to the command vehicle.
“You think right now was the best time to make it public?” she asked.
“I’d shout it through the megaphone,” he said. “Just dare me.” He winked at her, then slapped her on the behind. “I’ll see you at home.” He walked a few steps and turned around. “I will, right?”
“You will.”
At that time, one of Troy’s men came down the driveway with Smith. She’d be taken downtown to make a statement of events, and Madison had her own questions.
Smith noticed Madison, and her eyes widened, then she smiled. And it was there: the spacing between the eyes, the bridge of the nose, the knobby chin. Madison didn’t know who had been shot, but she was quite certain Mary Smith wasn’t who she claimed to be.
Madison trudged toward Smith and grabbed her white hair and yanked.
Smith screeched.
Madison was left holding a wig and the “old lady” had blond hair wound in pins. “Well, hello, Gloria Barker.”
-
Fifty-Four
Nothing in this case was straightforward, but rarely was solving a murder easy. There were still questions that needed answers, but they found out the woman shot in the rental house was Morgan Palmer. Why Palmer had been driving Barker’s Mercedes was unanswered at this point, as was the relationship between the two women. But Madison would guess the two were working together and benefiting from Elliott’s cons.
Crime Scene was combing the rental house and the harbor-front condo owned by Gloria Barker for any forensic evidence tying her to Carson’s murder. A picture Cynthia sent over confirmed that it was the same building Elliott had been captured in front of in Carson’s photos. In the meantime, Madison was at the station with Terry, getting ready to question Gloria Barker.
Madison had finally remembered where she’d seen the name Barker. It had been in Carson’s files. A Maria Barker was defrauded by Jake Elliott ten years ago. A deeper look showed that she had a daughter, Gloria, who was eighteen at the time. As for why she’d latched on to Jake Elliott, that answer wasn’t going to come from a file, but Madison had her suspicions that Gloria had tracked Jake down and blackmailed him in exchange for her silence.
“How did you know that Mary Smith was actually Gloria Barker?” Terry asked. “And does anyone go by their real name anymore?”
“It was in her eyes. And that smile. Why smile at me after someone just got shot? It was because she was feeling cocky, like she got away with everything. What happened to Palmer wasn’t an accident, and I intend to prove that.”
“You sure you want to stay? I can handle the interrogation.”
“Troy understands I want to see this through. Besides, there’s no way I’m leaving now.”
“You sure about that?”
“Why?” She angled her head. “You trying to get rid of me?”
“I might have heard something…” Terry grinned.
“Ah, of course you did.” Cops had loose lips.
“You and Troy are going to tie the knot? I heard it from Nick. Guy gossips worse than a girl, louder than a girl.”
Madison wound up and punched him in the shoulder.
“Hey.” Terry laughed and rubbed where she’d impacted him.
“That one’s been a long time coming,” she teased.
“Where’s the ring?” Terry exaggerated a search of her wedding finger.
“He didn’t have the ring at the crime scene.”
“You’re telling me that man acted on a whim, in the moment? Huh, never would have pegged him the type.”
“He’s been wanting to ask for a while; it was just the right time.” Terry didn’t need to know that she’d been the one to pop the question.
“Well, I’m happy for both of you. And it’s about time.”
She made like she was going to hit him again but started laughing.
“Congratulations,” he added.
“Thank you.” She leaned in and hugged Terry, then pulled back. “Okay, okay, now we’ve got that mushy stuff out of the way, let’s get in there.” She pointed through the two-way mirror into the interrogation room where Gloria Barker was seated at a table.
“Gloria Barker.” Madison sat across from her.
“So what? You know my name? Congratulations.”
The sweet, old lady act was gone like her wig. In its place were long blond locks released from the pins.
Madison made a display of looking inside a folder full of papers.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Madison ignored her claim and said, “You graduated True Talent with a diploma in theatrical makeup.” Madison flicked a finger toward Barker’s face to indicate the wrinkles and crow’s feet around the eyes. “Almost had me fooled.”
She shrugged.
“Tell us what really happened tonight.”
Terry walked to the back of the room behind Madison, facing Barker, and proceeded to jangle the change in his pocket.
“You know what happened. I already gave my statement. Shannon—”
“Nope,” Madison c
ut in. “Try again.”
Barker scowled. “Morgan tripped and fell, and the gun went off.”
“Nope.”
“What the—” She stopped, her gaze going past Madison, likely to a corrective look on Terry’s face.
“To start with, the gun was fired twice. Once into the front window and once into Ms. Palmer. Her injuries were inconsistent with being self-inflicted. It’s probably a good time to get talking because I guarantee you as soon as Morgan’s out of surgery she’ll be talking.” Something that would never happen, not that Gloria would know that, because on the way to the station Madison got the call that Morgan Palmer had died before reaching the hospital.
“She’s just going to tell you what I did.”
Terry jingled his change louder, and Barker glanced at him again. Her obvious irritation had no impact on Terry as he carried on.
“She won’t get that chance. She’s dead, and I’d like to know why you killed her,” Madison tossed out now.
“She’s—” Her chin quivered and tears formed in her eyes.
Madison wagged a finger at her. “Man, you’re good. Tears on command. You might have had a future in acting.”
Barker’s chin quivered. “I didn’t kill her. I told you—”
“You’re not too broken up that she’s dead. Not really.” Madison leaned across the table. “Am I right?”
“She tripped! She brought this on herself. What was she doing carrying a gun anyway?”
“I think it was your gun, and I think you called her to your house. Why she had your car I don’t fully understand, but I’m sure we’ll get to that.”
Barker held out her hands. “Test them for GSR if you want.”
Madison smiled. “We’ll find it, and you’ll have justification for its presence. You answered the door with the gun, so you’d have deniability. It’s the other pertinents working against you—angle of entry and—”
Barker scowled.
“Why don’t you just tell me what really happened tonight?”
Barker clamped her mouth shut.
“Fine, you don’t want to talk about that. What about your mother’s bankruptcy ten years ago?”
“What about it? It has nothing to do with me.”
What We Bury Page 27