“I know that, Madison,” Troy said gently yet decisively. “But if you’re going to beat this asshole at his game, you’re going to have to detach.”
“Detach?” She was on verge of complete hysteria. She heard it, she felt it, but Troy’s energy remained calm. “She’s my sister,” she added.
God, if only there were a way to sink into a fantasy world that would let her believe that her sister’s abduction had been nothing but a bad dream. Then maybe she could detach.
“What happened to letting him have the power, letting him see my agony?” she punched out.
“I’ve slept on it. It could go both ways.” He paused when she cocked her head and narrowed her eyes.
“Maddy?” It was her mother on the other side of the door. “What is going on?”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called past Troy and shortened her gaze to meet his.
“You have to be convincing to fool Constantine,” he said.
“Given how I’m feeling, it’s not hard for him to see my agony. As you can clearly see, I’m losing it.” She flailed her arms toward the hole in the wall.
He was shaking his head. “It not just a matter of letting him witness your agony, as you put it, or knowing he’s getting to you. It’s how he perceives—”
“How can—”
Troy held up a hand to silence her. “You can’t control how he’s viewing your reaction, but you need to do what you can so that he sees your compliance as sincere. Because if he even gets the inkling that you’re leading him on…” He let his words trail off, but the message was clear.
“He’ll kill her.”
-
CHAPTER
38
MADISON THREW ON SOME CLOTHES, caring little about what she was wearing. She had to find a way to hunt Constantine down, get the jump on him somehow, so she could swoop in and save her sister. How was she supposed to wait until eight thirty tonight? She was bound to go mad before then if she didn’t do something.
She picked up the phone from where it had landed on the floor after she’d sent it flying across the room.
“What are you doing?” Troy asked her.
“I’m going downtown. We need to get her, Troy. You…You didn’t hear her. She was crying. She was…” She swallowed roughly. “She was terrified.”
“Of course she was. Did you expect her to be otherwise?”
“He said to bring something that belongs to him…” She had a niggling feeling that she should know what that was, but it was as if the answer was obscured by a fog. “I need to get down to the station. I have to find out what’s happening and get the status on hunting him down, how the surveillance teams are making out.” She brushed past him toward the bedroom door.
“I’ll come with you.” He was quick to step in line with her.
She spun. “No, please stay here.”
“I can help more if I’m down at the station,” he said, making his case. And she agreed. His sister hadn’t taken him off the search for Chelsea so maybe she could finagle her way in through Troy.
“I want to hurry.” She pulled the door handle, at first having forgotten Troy had locked it. She opened it to her mom, dad, and Jim standing in the hall. Her mother stepped back quickly, and Madison imagined that she’d had her ear pressed to the door. “We heard from the man who has Chelsea.”
“Is she okay?” her mother asked.
“I talked to her very briefly.” She wasn’t about to disclose the upset, the tears, the desperation that licked each of her sister’s words.
“Oh, thank god!” her mother exclaimed and slapped her father on the shoulder.
The two of them hugged, blocking the hallway. Madison’s gaze went to Jim, and he was crying. He must have sensed her watching him, and he caught her eye.
“Go get her,” he said.
Madison nodded and made an attempt to move down the hall. Her mother put a hand on her arm to stall her.
“Please be careful.” Her mother yanked Madison back to her and threw her arms around her. The action had been so unexpected and carried such love and warmth that fresh tears filled Madison’s eyes. She pulled back.
“I will be.” Emotions made it difficult to get the words out. She cleared her throat. “Troy’s going to come with me.”
Madison had made it a couple of steps down the hall when her mother called out to her. “Where are you going?”
She turned around to three sets of eyes on her, all of them desperate to find their missing loved one and afraid for Chelsea. She wasn’t going to tell them that Constantine didn’t want the meet until eight thirty that night, but she owed them that much. Look at the torture Constantine had already inflicted by making them wait until the light of a new day. Her parents, Jim, and the girls would just be sitting around the house all day awaiting word.
She came back to them. “This might be hard to hear, but I have to tell you this.”
Madison caught Troy’s eye, and she could tell he was wondering what she was about to say.
She continued. “A meet has been arranged.”
Her mother cried out in joy.
“But—” Madison began, recoiling inwardly as she thought about what she had to say next.
“Madison?” her mother prompted.
“The meet is tonight at eight thirty.”
“Eight thirty!” Jim roared. “What kind of a fu—”
“The girls,” her mother stepped in to stop him from swearing.
Jim continued, speaking just above a whisper. “What kind of a prick is this guy? What’s he doing with her all this time?”
Images assaulted the edge of Madison’s mind, threatening to seep in and bring her down, but she fought hard to will them from taking hold. “She’s going to be okay. All right? We have to believe that.”
Troy nodded, followed by her father, then Jim. Her mother remained motionless, and her eyes were like a storm—not one during its stage of ravaging but in the aftermath. She appeared lost and devastated.
“I’ll be back,” she assured them, taking some comfort in the words herself. “If you need to reach Troy or me, we have our cell phones.”
And hopefully mine still works.
She pulled it out and touched a button, and the screen lit up. She slipped it back into the pocket she’d taken it from and then proceeded toward the door with Troy right behind her. The other three followed him.
Madison put her coat on and so did Troy. She had her hand on the doorknob when her mother nudged Troy’s arm with her hand. He turned to face her.
“Make sure both my girls come home alive.”
-
CHAPTER
39
MADISON JOGGED INTO THE STATION with Troy, and they headed to the conference room where she knew several officers from different divisions were working on tracking down Constantine.
Outside the door, Troy turned to her. “Go update Winston on your call.”
“If you think that I’m not going in that room because of your sister possibly finding out, you’re dead wrong.” She stared at him defiantly and went in.
She’d follow Andrea’s rules when it came to the stakeouts and surveillance, but surely she was entitled to be informed the moment they found out anything.
Troy came in behind her, but he didn’t say anything or make a move to stop her. Probably because he knew better.
She beelined for Nick. “Do we have any leads on Constantine’s whereabouts yet?” she came out with the question quickly.
Nick’s gaze went past her toward the door.
“You’ll be the first to know once everything’s in place.” It was Winston, and she turned to see that he’d come up behind her.
“This is my sister we’re talking about.”
“And the chief has made it clear that you’re to leave th
e search for Constantine to the rest of us.”
“I don’t understand why I can’t be kept apprised,” she shot back.
“Because you’ll go off half-cocked and mess everything up. Maybe get your sister killed in the process. At the very least, we’d probably end up with two hostages instead of one.”
Her core temperature was rising at the way he was talking to her. “He called me this morning.”
Winston tucked his chin in. “Who?”
“Santa Claus,” she retorted drily. “Who do you think? Constantine. And my sister is still alive.”
“Is this true?” Winston looked past her to Troy, and she resented that. She reported to him, not Troy.
“That’s why we’re here,” Madison said. “I’ve already called ahead, and Cynthia is tracing the call.”
“So everyone knew before me.”
Madison rolled her eyes, caring little about the man’s wounded pride and left the room. Now the plan was to pick up Terry and get to the lab. She’d stand by Cynthia as she traced the call if she had to.
MADISON’S PHONE RANG AS SOON as she stepped off the elevator with Terry. She answered it as quickly as possible. “Knight,” she said as she pushed on the lab door.
No one said anything on the other end of the line.
“Hello?” Her heart sped up, and she pulled her phone and read the caller ID. It was Cynthia. She looked across the lab, and Cynthia was at her desk and lowering her phone.
“I was just calling, but seeing as you’re here…”
Madison put her phone away, but her breathing was still ratcheted from the scare that the call was from Constantine. Even though she kept trying to convince herself that Constantine would hold on to her sister until he had Madison instead, doubts remained. What if he killed Chelsea just to satisfy his sick lust for murder? It would be just the psychotic thing to do—give Madison hope that she could get her sister back, let her talk to her, and then, at just the moment when it would cause Madison the most pain, take Chelsea’s life.
Sweat beaded on Madison’s forehead, and she blinked, willing herself to remain strong. But doing so was becoming a constant struggle.
“Did you…” Madison took a heaving breath, and Terry stepped closer to her, his hands extended as if to brace her from falling. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t say anything but moved back. Cynthia rushed over.
“Were you able to trace the call?” Madison asked, finally feeling some strength return.
Cynthia winced. “I couldn’t. The phone is off.”
“Try what you did with Chelsea’s.”
“I can’t,” her friend said. “I’m sorry. I need a number and log-in information for that.”
Madison nodded. Some moments she felt so adrift in hopelessness.
“I will continue to monitor the phone, and if it comes back on, we’ll be in luck.” A consolation offering that did little to please.
“What about the e-mail?”
“As I told you before, there’s nothing more we can do there, Madison. I have some findings on Yasmine’s murder you’ll want to know about, though. Sam conducted ballistics tests on the bullet.”
“That was fast,” Terry said.
“These two cases are a priority,” Cynthia said curtly. “Came straight from the chief.”
Madison’s heart warmed a bit for the woman she’d been angry with since last night. “What did she find?”
“The bullet was mostly intact so she had a lot to work with.”
“Enough to narrow down a gun type?” Madison asked.
“Even better.” Cynthia paused. “We know the exact gun used.”
“The exact gun?” she asked. Rarely did they get that lucky.
“That’s right. A Ruger nine-millimeter with the serial number scratched off.” Cynthia’s gaze drifted to Terry, and she went silent.
“What is it, Cyn?” Madison could tell by Cynthia’s hesitation that her message was going to be upsetting.
Cynthia met Madison’s gaze. “It was the one used to shoot your grandfather.”
Madison lost her balance and reached for the table. “It…what?”
“You heard me right. But here’s where it gets interesting,” Cynthia went on.
Terry was squinting like he had a headache. “More interesting than that?”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “The gun is missing from the evidence locker.”
“Who signed it out?” Madison asked eagerly.
“McAlexandar. Years ago. But it was signed back in.”
Terry rubbed the back of his neck. “So you’re telling us that, for all intents and purposes, the gun should be in evidence, but it’s not?”
Cynthia nodded.
“Where is it, then?” He was rubbing his neck so furiously now that his flesh sounded like two pieces of sandpaper scraping together.
“That’s the question of the day,” Cynthia said quickly, catching Madison’s eye. “Well, maybe not the question.”
The system wasn’t foolproof, but it was damn near close. And Madison found it hard to believe evidence from a cop killing just went missing, even after the case had long been tried and prosecuted.
Cynthia moved toward her computer. “I’ve also got something you’ll want to see.” She brought up a video on her computer, then clicked some buttons, and the image from her monitor showed on the large TV screen mounted on the wall.
“What are we looking at?” Madison asked.
“That is the lobby of Yasmine’s building at the time the landlord said that he saw McAlexandar.” Cynthia hit “play.”
Oliver came off the elevator and McAlexandar entered the front lobby. The men offered basic greetings to each other and kept moving—McAlexandar to the elevator and Oliver to his mailbox.
Madison turned to her friend, irritated. This told them nothing new. “Okay, so we have it on tape that McAlexandar was there. We already had an eyewitness who said that.”
“Well, this video also tells us when he left.” Cynthia forwarded to five the next morning as per the time stamp in the bottom corner of the screen.
The elevator doors opened, and McAlexandar came out, straightening his tie.
“That’s after…” Madison’s throat felt stitched together.
“After the time-of-death window,” Cynthia finished.
The truth sank in her gut, and it was there on the screen in black-and-white. At the very least, the circumstances seemed to be mounting against McAlexandar. “Is there any sign of Constantine on the feed at any time of day?”
“No.”
“Even in the stairwell?” Madison was grasping here.
“No sign of him in that building.”
Madison spun to face her partner. “Maybe we were naive to think McAlexandar was incapable of pulling the trigger.”
“Maybe.” The one word weighed heavily with Terry’s skepticism. “But this is more than enough to bring him in, even get a warrant to search his residence.”
Madison didn’t move, though. Something about all this seemed too easy, too perfect. She’d been wanting to nail McAlexandar for a long time, and it seemed like he was being handed to her on a silver platter. But why? How did he fit in with everything else? Had McAlexandar refused to work with the new man who was assuming Dimitre’s role and so he was being eliminated? Framing him for murder would draw less attention to the Mafia than murdering him would. And maybe they were premature to assume, based on McAlexandar’s reaction, that Dimitre would be upset by Bates’s murder.
But it was hard to say if McAlexandar was in the loop of what was going on or out of it. It seemed like such a stretch that he was at Yasmine’s at her time of death—on video, no less—arriving and leaving her building. No sign of Constantine, either. He’d have to have been a ghost, but that was still within the realm of possibilit
y as far as Madison was concerned. What he did for a living dictated that he’d be good at being invisible. But she was still having a hard time accepting the former chief as Yasmine’s killer.
“We have to find the man who is trying to usurp Dimitre’s position in the hierarchy,” she blurted out.
Terry raised his eyebrows. “Are you forgetting that a bunch of officers are already assigned to this task?”
“I think we need to go to the source,” Madison continued. “Dimitre is a smart man, and he probably knows who would do this to him.”
“You’re thinking of talking to him?” Cynthia exclaimed.
“Do you really think he’s going to tell you?” Terry asked.
“What does he have to lose? He’s already being stripped of his power, cut off from the outside world.”
“You’re assuming he’s already aware of it,” Terry countered.
“You don’t think he is?” Madison let the question sit there. No one touched it. “The warden passed on a message to Bates, and it seems that it came from Dimitre. And while Bates may have received the message, he didn’t get a chance to do anything with it.”
“Or at least it would seem,” Cynthia interjected.
“Right. So you don’t think Dimitre would find it odd that he never received confirmation that whatever it was he wanted taken care of hadn’t been completed?” Madison posed.
“Who knows what he was or was not told,” Terry said grimly. “We don’t even know what the message was. It was just a number.”
Both Madison and Terry turned to Cynthia, but a thought struck Madison. Constantine wanted something that belonged to him brought to him. He’d tortured Bates, set up cameras…
Cynthia snapped her fingers. “Maddy?”
“Constantine told me to bring what was his along with me tonight when I meet him.” She paused and split glances between Cynthia and Terry. Her mind must have been a mess not to figure it out before now. “It has to be the note on the letterhead.” With her focus fully on Cynthia, she continued. “He’s using my family to get his hands on it. We really need to figure out what is so important about it and why he wants it so much.”
Power Struggle Page 25