by Lisa Harris
They fell into comfortable conversation. Jonas always found himself losing track of time when he was with Madison. She was just so easy to talk to.
A knocking noise pulled his attention away from the story she was telling him.
“Jonas? What’s wrong?”
“I’m probably imagining things, but I thought I heard something.”
He pushed her feet off his lap, then stood up, not sure what he’d just heard. More than likely, he was simply being paranoid. The house was old, and it wasn’t unusual for the pipes to creak and the floors to shift, but tonight . . .
Thump. Thump.
He definitely heard something. “I think someone’s in the house, Madison.”
He grabbed his Glock off the coffee table while she pulled hers out of the end table drawer. He wanted to tell her to stay put, but he knew her well enough to know that wasn’t going to work.
“We’ll do this together,” he said, taking the lead.
Clearing a house with Madison felt like second nature. They read each other’s moves automatically as they started through the first floor. She moved silently behind him as he headed toward the kitchen. A few hours ago, he’d gone through the house and rechecked all the doors and windows, including the basement. He checked the back door for the second time tonight. It was locked.
They started down the hallway, checking bedroom doors as they cleared the house.
Nothing.
All that was left was the basement.
He signaled for her to follow him, opened the door, then started down the narrow wooden staircase. The wood groaned beneath his weight. This was the one part of the house she hadn’t done anything to. For now, the unfinished space was filled with dark shadows.
Something banged, louder this time.
A window at the far end blew open. Wind and rain pelted the small opening.
“You came down here, didn’t you?” she asked.
He grabbed a ladder from the corner so he could shut the window. “It was locked. I checked it myself.”
“Maybe the wind managed to blow it open.”
Maybe, but that didn’t make sense. He quickly climbed the ladder, then pushed the window shut, but not before noticing something new.
“The space is too narrow for someone to go through,” he said, wedging it shut with a small piece of wood from the windowsill. “But it looks like someone tried to open it. The latch has been broken.”
She shivered. “So they came back?”
He climbed down the ladder, wishing he had answers, but he didn’t.
“They know where I live, Jonas. No matter where I go, they can find me. They know where my sister lives, and her family and my father . . . I can’t go through this again.”
He pulled her into his arms, brushing off the feelings that came with her nearness. All that mattered was that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let myself fall apart like this,” she said. “We don’t know it was the same person who shot me.”
He tilted up her chin and stared into her eyes. “Hey. You don’t have to apologize. At all.”
While he wasn’t willing to jump to the conclusion that this was nothing more than a random burglary, he knew they couldn’t take any chances.
“I’m going to arrange for a squad car to keep watch outside tonight. Just in case. Do you think you can sleep?”
She shrugged. “Probably not, but I need to.”
He climbed the stairs behind her. “And I’ll be right here if you need me.”
A minute later he watched her walk down the hall, then grabbed the pillow and blanket she’d left for him on the couch earlier and tried to settle in. But as tired as he felt, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to sleep. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, from the very first time they met, Madison James had captivated him.
When he’d trained her at the shoot house, he’d been amazed at her focus and determination no matter what scenario they played out. And he hadn’t missed the unexpected connection he felt toward her back then. Now he knew she’d been grieving her husband’s death, but then he’d just assumed she was not interested. Still, he’d always wondered what would have happened if circumstances had been different. What he couldn’t have guessed was that now, all these years later, he would manage to see the wall around her heart begin to crumble.
He pulled the blanket up around him and turned on his side. No matter what his heart felt, the priority at the moment wasn’t analyzing his feelings toward the woman down the hall. It was keeping her safe.
TWENTY-THREE
Jonas’s phone rang, jerking him out of a chain of incoherent dreams. He sat up, quickly oriented himself, then grabbed his cell off the coffee table. He checked the caller ID. It was Michaels.
“Morning,” Jonas said, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and stretching. He was surprised he’d slept past six. “What’s going on?”
“Are you still at Madison’s?”
“Yeah. I . . .” He stumbled off the couch and headed to the kitchen, trying to work out the kinks in his back. “I slept on her couch last night and can feel every muscle.”
“That’s what you get for playing hero.” Michaels chuckled.
“Funny.”
“Any more surprises last night?”
“None.” Jonas pulled open cupboards until he found a canister of ground coffee.
“Good. Looks like it was quiet all around then. Listen, I’m sorry to call so early, but I’ve got a possible lead I want the two of you to check out for me personally.”
“Of course. What have you got?”
“You spoke to Barton Wells at the bank after the robbery.”
Jonas grabbed the coffeepot and started filling it with water. “We did.”
“I just got off the phone with his wife. She’s actually an old friend of Glenda’s. She said their house was broken into last night, and she’s convinced it’s connected to the bank heist.”
“Really?” Jonas poured the water into the coffee maker. “Why would she think that?”
“She was pretty upset, and I didn’t get much out of her. I told her that the two of you were in the process of tracking down our fugitives and would come by personally to talk with her husband. I’d go see them myself, but I’m heading out soon to an early morning meeting and will be tied up for most of the day. The police already did their initial investigation last night, so I’ll make sure that they pass on whatever they found.”
“Great. We’ll go by and see what we can find out.”
“I appreciate it.”
Jonas set his phone on the counter, added coffee grounds to the filter, then flipped the machine on. Except for the gurgling of the machine, the house was quiet. Maybe last night’s break-in had been nothing more than a coincidence. Madison was under a lot of pressure to find out not only who’d shot her husband but who had shot her as well. Was it possible she’d made a mistake, thinking something was missing in trying to find an answer? Or was that what he wanted to believe? That the break-in had simply been a random robbery and not something personal aimed at her.
“Please tell me you’re making it extra strong.”
He looked up as Madison walked into the kitchen in her stocking feet and caught her sleepy smile. Her hair was mussed, and there was a crease from her pillow across her cheek.
“Good morning to you as well.” Jonas laughed. “I am making it extra strong, and you’re just in time. It should be ready in a couple minutes.”
“Perfect.”
“Should I ask how you slept?”
She leaned against the counter. “Pretty good once I actually fell asleep, though I had a hard time slowing my mind down. What about you? I know that couch isn’t very comfortable.”
“Trust me. I’ve slept on far worse.”
She rolled her eyes. “That didn’t exactly answer my question.”
“I slept fine.” He opened a couple more cupboards looking for mugs,
then pulled out two. “Really.”
“At least everything was quiet last night.”
“Thankfully, yes.” He set the mugs next to the coffee maker, momentarily at a loss for what he wanted to say next. “I’ve been thinking over everything last night. I can’t help but wonder if we jumped to conclusions and it really was just a random break-in.”
He caught her sullen expression and knew he’d upset her.
“I’m not doubting your instincts,” he rushed on, “but we don’t have enough evidence to solidly link it to Luke’s murder, or to whoever shot you.”
“No, you’re right.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “I’m just looking so hard for closure that sometimes my vision gets cloudy.”
The coffee machine beeped as he moved in front of her. “I don’t believe that. You’re the most focused person I know.”
She smiled. “I wish that were true, but I’m struggling to push aside my emotions and just see this as a break-in. Someone was in my house, and that leaves me feeling out of control.”
“What you’re feeling makes sense.” He shook his head.
“I don’t want us to jump to any conclusions. The last time someone broke in, they left a black rose. Just like they’ve done every year at Luke’s grave. Why not this time? Not only that, the lock on the basement window was broken. Why?”
“I don’t know.”
He knew what she was thinking. Someone had wanted her to know who was behind the previous break-in. So if they’d found her new house and broken in—if they wanted to unnerve her—why not make it clear who was behind the incident?
“We’re going to have to look for answers later,” he said, pouring some coffee into a mug and sliding it in front of her. “Michaels just called. He wants us to go talk to Bart Wells again.”
“The guy running for mayor?”
“One and the same. Apparently you weren’t the only one robbed yesterday, and Wells’s wife believes it’s connected somehow to the bank heist.”
Madison pulled open the fridge and grabbed the creamer, taking a second to pour a bit into her mug. “It seems odd she would think that, right?”
“That’s what we need to go and find out. How much time do you need?”
Madison glanced down at the T-shirt and cotton pants she’d slept in and pushed back a strand of hair. “If you’ll put my coffee in a to-go cup, fifteen minutes?”
“It’s a deal.”
Jonas let out a low whistle forty-five minutes later as he drove through Upper Queen Anne neighborhood, known for its expensive residential homes, historic businesses, and cafés. He couldn’t help but notice the gorgeous views of downtown, the Space Needle, and Elliott Bay these houses afforded their occupants.
“I read recently that Bart’s net worth is close to thirty-five million,” Jonas said, following the GPS through the neighborhood.
“I’ve just been scanning a profile of him, and you’re right,” Madison said, looking up from her phone. “It says that most of his money came from his wife, but he has his own business as well. Something in real estate.”
“I’m still trying to work out how this case is connected to the robbery. You have to admit, it would be a pretty strange coincidence.”
She shrugged. “Here’s something else that’s interesting,” Madison said as Jonas took another turn. “The mayoral election is coming up in two months, and it’s pretty much a race between Bart and the incumbent mayor.”
“Do you have a theory?” he asked.
“Maybe our fugitives saw the contents of Bart’s safe-deposit box and thought they could get more out of him. It’s not a secret he lives in a multimillion-dollar house and has a bank account to match.”
“It still doesn’t add up to me.” Jonas parked along the curb in front of the house, then turned off the engine. “I can’t imagine robbing a bank, then taking the time to pay a house call on one of the hostages just because he’s rich. That’s way too big of a risk.”
“Except here’s what changed,” she said, after they’d both stepped out of the car. “We know we thwarted their exit plan because we found their go bag. Now their options are limited. We have their names and every law enforcement has seen their photo. They’re desperate to get out of the city without getting caught, but unless they can find a way to disguise themselves or come up with new passports, they’re trapped.”
Jonas locked the car behind them. So maybe robbing the house of a high-profile figure did fit into that equation somehow. “I guess you’re right.”
“By the way, I’ve decided to forget the high-rise,” Madison said, changing the subject as they started up the stone sidewalk. “I think this is where I would live if I had a few million dollars lying around. Not only do you have the incredible views but a large yard as well.”
“Which requires upkeep and money.”
Madison shrugged. “I figure if I can afford the house, I can afford a gardener. And for that matter, a maid.”
“For the price of this house, I’d buy myself a few hundred acres in the foothills with views of the mountains, then I’d retire and spend my days fishing, horseback riding, and maybe some cross-country skiing in the winter.”
“You’re definitely not a city boy at heart, huh?”
Jonas chuckled. “No, I’m not.”
“What about the bait and tackle shop idea you told me about?”
He noticed the teasing sparkle in her eyes. Her memory was good. “Maybe I’ll run one a few months a year and relax the rest,” he said, knocking on the large wooden door of the Wellses’ home.
Trudy opened it a moment later.
“Morning, Mrs. Wells,” Jonas said, holding up his badge. “We spoke briefly with you at the bank the other day. Our boss, Chief Deputy Carl Michaels, asked us to stop by and follow up about a robbery last night.”
“Thank you so much for coming.” Mrs. Wells ushered them into the large entryway. “Bart isn’t happy I called you. He just wants to put all of this behind him, but I insisted we talk to Carl.” She pressed her hand against her heart. “This has been such a nightmare. My husband has a possible concussion, but he refuses to go to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Wells,” Madison said.
Trudy took in a shuddering breath. “I don’t care about the money they took, but that doesn’t make it less upsetting.”
“So you believe that whoever’s responsible for robbing the bank also robbed you last night?” Madison asked.
“Bart told me that the man who confronted him in the bank had a tattoo on his arm and wrist. One of the intruders here had a tattoo in the same place. I couldn’t tell you what it was, but I saw it as he ran out. And if you think about it, it makes sense. If they knew who Bart was, they could have easily looked him up, believing they could get more money than just the contents of our lockbox.”
“We aren’t ruling out any possibilities,” Jonas said, “which is why we would like to speak to your husband.”
As if on cue, Bart strode into the room. He’d shed the suit he had on at the bank and now wore khakis and a loose, button-down shirt. “I’m sorry my wife bothered you, folks.” He put his arm around Trudy’s shoulders as he spoke. “The police are sending out their crime scene unit today, but the people who attacked me wore gloves, so I’m pretty sure they aren’t going to find anything here.”
“What about security footage?” Madison asked. “Do you have a system in place?”
He nodded. “Unfortunately, they managed to take it out before the robbery, so that’s a dead end too.”
Jonas frowned at the similarities in the heists. If their fugitives were involved, they would have had far less time to plan the break-in, but they had already proven they had the skills required to take out a security system and get in and out of a place without leaving any traces of evidence behind.
“Being involved in two robberies so close together is unfortunate,” Madison said. “Why don’t you tell us what happened before we jump to an
y conclusions either way.”
Bart tugged on the bottom of his shirt and removed his other arm from around his wife. “I was working in my office when someone knocked on the front door. I went to answer it, expecting a friend of mine who was supposed to stop by last night. Instead, it was a couple thugs dressed in black, wearing masks and carrying weapons. They told me to get my wallet, along with any cash I might have. They followed me back to my office and asked if there was a safe, but before I answered, Trudy walked in. They got spooked and ended up fleeing through the back door.”
Jonas processed the information in his head. Why would they get spooked if they were armed? Bart’s wife was about five four and couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds.
He turned back to Trudy. “Do you have any idea why they ran?”
“I’m assuming they’d already gotten what they wanted. They brushed past me and were gone. I hardly had a chance to get a good look at them.”
“Trudy said some money was taken,” Madison said to Bart.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “My wallet, which had a couple hundred dollars in it. A handful of credit cards that I’ve already turned off. Hardly worth all the effort.”
“And the cut on your head?” Jonas asked. “Where did that come from?”
Bart lifted his hand to the wound. “I tried to shut the door when I realized it wasn’t my friend. But they forced their way in and pistol-whipped me when I tried to stop them.”
Madison glanced at Jonas. “So no matter who it was, we can add assault charges as well.”
Bart glanced at his wife. “I’m certain that it wasn’t the same people. I tried to tell Trudy that, but she’s convinced they saw an opportunity and jumped at it.” He took his wife’s hand in his.
“Why don’t you think it could be them?” Jonas asked.
Bart shook his head. “I saw the suspects’ photos on the news. Granted, I didn’t see faces either time, but the two who broke in last night definitely seemed shorter and heavier.”
“What about the tattoo?” Jonas asked. “You said the man in the bank had one on his arm. A compass.”
Bart nodded. “Trudy was right about that. One of the guys last night did have an arm tattoo, but it was different. More of a pattern than a picture of something. And definitely not a compass.”