“That’s correct,” Cynthia confirmed.
“And we already believe that Bates was tortured…” Madison paced a few steps. “So I have to wonder if Constantine was after the document.” Now that it had been confirmed that Constantine was back in town, her mind was closed to the possibility that anyone else had killed Bates. “Then, when it seemed obvious that Bates wasn’t giving up its location, he killed him and searched his home.”
“Sounds plausible,” Terry said.
Madison went on. “The house wasn’t ransacked or left in disarray. There was no obvious sign that Constantine had searched the house.” Thoughts streamed through her mind, but she couldn’t quite connect them just yet. She kept talking, hoping they would come together. “But he could’ve cleaned up afterward or just been careful.”
“Why would he do that, though?” Terry asked.
“Because he didn’t want us to know about it,” Madison responded.
“But even so, Terry’s question still applies.” Cynthia adjusted her glasses. “Why hide the fact that he was after something? As you said, the torture alone was indicative of Constantine trying to extract something from Bates.”
“Yeah. Something that could lead us to believe Bates had information that Constantine was after. It didn’t necessarily mean something tangible, and it wouldn’t tell us that what he was searching for had been in the house.” Madison’s thoughts were finally starting to take form as a real theory. “Constantine doesn’t give up. He’s ruthless.”
The look in Cynthia’s eyes became tender, but Madison wasn’t going to let this become about his threat right now. Instead, she desperately clung to making sense of her thoughts, hoping they’d take her to a conclusion.
“I think that Constantine might have known that Bates had what he was looking for in his home. And I strongly believe that was the message on the prison letterhead. Constantine just didn’t know where Bates had put it.” Madison paced a few more steps.
“Constantine looking for a tangible item—the letter—could explain what he did with his time after killing Bates and before rearming the system,” Terry interjected. “But why would Constantine be after the letter at all? It’s just a bunch of numbers.”
“Yeah, numbers that mean something,” Madison pointed out. “We need to figure out what.”
“We’re doing all we can, Maddy,” Cynthia said. “But context also helps. A ten-digit number could be a lot of things.”
“We just need to find the one that pertains to our situation,” Madison shot back. “So why would it matter to Constantine?” She spun back to Cynthia and Terry, and walked in their direction.
“Would you just stay still?” Terry shot out. “You’re making me dizzy.”
“Pacing helps me think,” Madison replied, more irritated that her thoughts weren’t completely gelling than at Terry.
Think, think, think.
“All right, going back to the search for the document… Constantine isn’t one who gives up, but he did. Why?” Madison stared starkly at her colleagues. “Why did he leave at six thirty, pretty close to when Yasmine showed up?”
“Maybe he knew she was coming,” Terry suggested.
Madison pointed her finger at her partner. “Could be. Then we’d need to question how he’d know that.”
Terry shrugged. “Yasmine said she went to Bates’s place most mornings before work. It could just simply be a matter of Constantine knowing his target and his schedule.”
The spark that had ignited in Madison’s chest dampened. Maybe there was nothing more to it than what Terry had said. But there was still a niggling in her gut that told her there was something they were missing. In fact, a lot of somethings.
“Okay, let’s put a pin in that question for now,” Madison began, “and go back to Constantine’s seeming drive to find what Bates had.”
“And we’re only running with the theory it was the note on the prison letterhead. There might have been something else Constantine was after,” Terry said, playing devil’s advocate.
Madison nodded. “Whatever it was, Constantine believed it was in Bates’s house.”
“And you’re also assuming he didn’t get what he was after,” Cynthia said.
“The time that passed between Bates’s murder and the security system being rearmed tells us that much. Constantine would have left just after killing Bates if he had gotten what he was after.”
“Maybe I’m the only one thinking this,” Cynthia said, “but if Constantine didn’t get what he was after, he’s going to do all he can to secure it.” Her face paled. “Threatening you and your loved ones could serve a dual purpose for him. In addition to retaliating for the past, if he calls you out, he could demand the letter in exchange for your family’s safety.”
Madison took a few steps. “But how would he know we have the letter?”
No one spoke. She had posed the question, but Cynthia and Terry seemed to be waiting for her to answer it.
“Unless he was watching…” Madison’s thoughts were coming together as she talked them out.
“You think he had cameras in Bates’s house?” Terry asked incredulously.
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
“They make some of them pretty small these days,” Cynthia contributed.
Madison nodded. “And you’d have had no reason to look for them. If Constantine was as intent on acquiring the note as we’ve theorized he was, then he’d stop at nothing to get ahold of it.”
“I’ll get Mark, and we’ll both head back to Bates’s,” Cynthia said, already on the move. “And if you’re right about this, Constantine would have been accessing the cameras through the Internet. And that could lead us straight to him.”
-
CHAPTER
17
MADISON HAD LEFT THE LAB with light steps and hope in her heart. She finally had a good feeling about this case and that brought some relief. But until they had Constantine in custody, the threat against her and her family was still a very real one. It took a bit of convincing for Terry to let her leave his sight to go meet her sister at Starbucks.
The fact that the case potentially had a solid lead helped Madison set aside her hunger for other updates from Cynthia for the time being. If the camera thing panned out, the rest of the evidence would be a beautiful surplus.
She parked her Mazda at the curb out front of the coffee shop and looked inside. Chelsea was at a table by the window, and it made Madison cringe. Scanning the area, she saw no sign of a patrol car, and fear began to rise in her chest. Why had she chosen a public place? She originally had thought the crowds would protect them, but now she wasn’t sure.
She hurried out of her vehicle, locking her car with the key fob on the move. She heard the reassuring honk that came after pressing the button twice before pulling on the door to Starbucks.
Madison stepped inside and enjoyed the blast of heat that rushed over her and caused her cool cheeks to tingle. She was instantly searching for another place to sit. She caught a break and spotted two available chairs next to the fireplace. There was a coffee table between them and two other identical but occupied seats across from them, but the location took them away from the windows and into the heart of the coffee shop.
She went over to her sister. “Do you mind if we sit there?” She tilted her head in the direction of the seats.
Chelsea’s eyes were a storm of irritation and inconvenience when they met Madison’s. She wasn’t sure if it was just because Chelsea had her purse set out on the table, her phone next to it, and a coffee cup already in hand or if its source was the surveillance that had been outside her house.
Speaking of surveillance, where were the officers now?
“Fine.” Madison took a seat across from her sister, her senses at high alert as she searched Starbucks and outside the window to the city
streets for any sign of Constantine.
“What’s going on?” Chelsea asked. Her serious tone left no room for avoidance, but that was all right because Madison had come here to lay everything out. But now that she was face-to-face with her sister, admitting that she’d brought the attention of a Mafia hit man upon them wasn’t going to be an easy task.
Madison eyed the counter and considered delaying the inevitable by placing a drink order, but the thought of a cappuccino or a coffee sitting in her empty stomach soured it.
“Madison?” Chelsea prompted.
“Where are the officers who were watching over you?”
“Don’t sidestep my question with one of your own.” Chelsea’s gaze was intent and ablaze.
“It’s important, Chels.”
“What can I say? I don’t like being followed and watched even if it is by Stiles’s finest.” The last part came out sounding sardonic, but Madison sensed it had more to do with her sister feeling her privacy was being violated than disrespect for the force.
“You gave them the slip?” Madison asked.
“I might have.”
Madison felt a deep sense of pride toward her sister at this moment and struggled to keep a straight face. Madison had essentially done the same thing by not bringing backup with her, but she had a feeling Terry was out there somewhere anyway.
“What is so funny?”
Obviously, she wasn’t hiding her amusement very well.
“What’s wrong with you?” Chelsea’s seriousness sobered Madison back to reality.
“It’s just…I don’t blame you.” Madison bit her bottom lip. “You remember the Russian Mafia hit man?” Madison asked quietly as a man and woman walked by their table.
“The one who almost killed you?” Her breathing became small, choppy breaths. “It’s kind of hard to forget him.”
“Well—” Madison swallowed “—he’s back.”
Chelsea’s face dropped, her shoulders sagged, and her complexion paled. “You’ve got to get into protection! I can’t lose you. What are you even doing here? We should have met somewhere private.” She was in full-blown panic mode now.
Madison was going to admit to thinking the same thing, but it was too late. Maybe she didn’t choose a public place for the crowds, but rather to make a statement that she wasn’t going to let Constantine control her life.
She eyed the seats that were still available next to the fireplace. In fact, the people that had been seated across from them had left. She pointed toward them. “Can we please move over there?”
Chelsea followed the direction of Madison’s finger. “Fine.” Chelsea started collecting her things but knocked over her cup in the process. The lid came off, and her drink spilled across the table.
“Crap!” Chelsea picked up her phone, sparing it from the hot liquid headed its way, and then set the cup upright.
People were looking over at them.
“Here, don’t worry about it.” Madison put her hand on her sister’s, staying her from reaching for the napkins. Chelsea’s hand was quaking beneath hers, and it instantly suffused Madison with grief. If she’d just left the Mafia alone months ago—maybe even from the beginning—her family wouldn’t be in danger.
“Ooh.” Chelsea was wiping her phone on her jeans, even though Madison didn’t think it had gotten any coffee on it. “I can’t have something happen to my phone. If the girls or Jim ever need to reach me…”
“I know, and I’ve got this,” Madison said, inferring the mess from the spilled drink. “You go over there.”
Chelsea nodded, her body visibly trembling.
“Everything will be all right.” Normally it was a blanket reassurance, but seeing the state her sister was in, Madison intended to ensure its fulfillment.
She watched her sister walk across the shop and then quickly soaked up the drink with a wad of napkins. She tossed them into a garbage container on her way to join Chelsea. Madison extended the cup and what was left of the drink to her sister.
“I don’t want it anymore,” Chelsea said coolly.
Madison sat beside her sister and reached out for her arm. Chelsea withdrew and turned to face her.
“He’s going to kill you this time.” A lone tear fell down her cheek, and she swiped it away. “I have a horrible feeling.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Madison said.
“Nothing’s going to—” Chelsea charged out but stopped talking when a bunch of people looked over at her. She continued, speaking more quietly. “How do you know that? You can’t predict the future.”
“Neither can you.” The response came quickly.
Chelsea was shaking her head and rubbing her arms. “You still haven’t told me why the police are watching my house.”
Madison leaned in close to her sister, and as she did so, she chastised herself again for picking a public place. There were too many ears around, even if they were just passing by. She hated that she was second-guessing herself. Not having a grasp on her emotions from one minute to the next was frustrating. She’d have a sense of complete control—an illusion, of course, but she was convinced she had a hold on it, nonetheless—and then she’d feel like a helpless victim.
She spoke only loud enough for Chelsea to hear. “I received a note from him that threatened me and the people I love.”
“The girls…” Chelsea’s eyes pooled with tears, and she snapped a hand over her mouth.
“I’ve got officers watching them. And posted outside Jim’s work. In fact, the whole department is focused on finding Constantine.”
“You should have killed that bastard when you had the chance.” Chelsea’s unshed tears had turned into icy resolve. “He’s not going to tell me how I live my life.”
Madison nodded, an unexpected sense of understanding blossoming between them. “I feel the same way.”
Chelsea met Madison’s gaze. “But the girls… You… Jim…”
“We’re doing all we can to keep them safe,” Madison said. “I promise.”
“What about Mom and Dad? Are they safe?”
“I think so, yes.”
“You think so?” Chelsea exclaimed.
“I don’t know how Constantine would even know they are in Florida. And he’s here in Stiles, not there.”
Stiles was in the northeast, and it would take a few days’ drive or a short flight to reach them. And what would be his motivation? Madison was here. Many of her loved ones were here already, too.
“You have to get surveillance on them, though, just to be sure.”
Madison nodded. “That’s already in place.”
“What did Mom say when you called her and told her all this?”
Madison glanced away to the fire on the hearth and wished to escape into a trance in the blue lick of the flames.
“You haven’t called them, have you.” A statement, not an inquiry. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“Come on, Chels,” she appealed. “You know what my relationship is like with her.”
“You’re going to let that stand in the way of this?”
Madison shook her head. Her mother’s biggest issue with her was her choice of career. “That is this. Don’t you see that? If I weren’t a cop, I wouldn’t be in this position. None of you would be.”
“She still deserves to know what’s going on.”
As Madison dipped into her sister’s gaze and absorbed her words, she had to admit that Chelsea was right. And it was probably best that her mother find out why the cops were hanging outside their house from Madison and not the local police. “Can you call—”
“Nope. No way.” Chelsea was shaking her head.
“Just explain—”
“I’m not doing that. This is your responsibility.” Her sister crossed her arms, her body language rigid.
/> Madison bit her bottom lip, wishing all of this were a bad dream.
“Just be honest with her,” Chelsea began. “Tell her why the cops are watching over her and Dad. She was the daughter of a cop. She understands that sometimes the hazards of the job hits home.”
All too well…
But Madison couldn’t bring herself to speak.
“She loves you and knows you’re making a difference. Much more than you give her credit for.” Chelsea watched her, irritation not far from the surface of her expression.
“Sure.” Madison hitched her shoulders. All she could envision was a fight of epic proportions. Every time she talked to her mother, the woman steered the conversation back to Madison’s career as the source of Madison’s downfall. It was why she wasn’t married to the perfect man with two-point-five kids and living in a house with a picket fence.
“She’ll want to hear this from you,” Chelsea pressed.
Madison’s heart hammered. “So she can say, ‘I told you so.’ You know what she’s like. She hates that I’m a cop, and now her daughters are being threatened, her granddaughters…”
“Not your fault,” Chelsea punched out.
Madison wished that she could believe her sister’s words, but they fell on deaf ears. She was responsible. If only she’d left the Mafia alone… She stood and pulled out her phone.
Her sister looked up at her. “Who are you calling?”
“I’m getting an officer to follow you home.”
Chelsea held eye contact with her and must have read Madison’s stance on this: negotiating wasn’t an option.
-
CHAPTER
18
MADISON LEFT STARBUCKS AND STEPPED out onto the sidewalk. She had the feeling someone was watching her, and it was making her skin crawl. She glanced over her right shoulder, then her left. No one seemed to be paying her any attention, except for the man she had backed into when she had spun around.
The man scowled and held up a hand. “Watch where you’re going!”
Power Struggle Page 13