Cynthia lifted her glass toward Madison.
“Here goes.” Madison toasted and flung back the shot.
She expected the concoction would go down with the texture of a raw egg, but it was smooth. And—she licked her lips—it was tasty. Both her and Cynthia’s eyes lit as they reached for the second one.
“To a waitress with good taste,” Cynthia said. They didn’t bother clinking their glasses this time.
The second one went down smoother than the first.
Madison looked over the empty shot glasses. “I wonder what’s in these.”
Cynthia held up a finger. “To Google.” She giggled as she pulled out her phone. “Where’s another round?”
Stacey must have overheard her as she held up a finger to signify she’d be back with more.
With the motion, Madison realized that for the span of a few hours, she had turned work off. The distraction of a new life entering the world and a drink—or two—with Cynthia was all she needed. Although that kiss from Troy hadn’t hurt. But was it right for her to be having fun while Faye Duncan’s family grieved? While Terry and Annabelle worried?
“I can do one more shot, but then I’ve got to go,” Madison said.
Cynthia’s dark hair fanned the sides of her face as she leaned over her cell phone. The screen cast a green glow on her features. “It’s peach schnapps, Baileys Irish Cream, and grenadine.” She slipped her phone back into her purse. “Why only one more? It’s Friday night. Oh no. Does this have something to do with the case? You need to learn to have fun, Maddy.”
Madison shook her head, determined to focus on work. “I need to find Faye Duncan’s killer before the trail runs completely cold.”
“Despite the fact she was found in the blaring heat of the day, I think this case was at least cool from the start.”
“I can’t understand why anyone would do this to her.”
“You don’t have any suspects?”
Madison shook her head. “Not really. The in-home nurse doesn’t seem like a fit. The great-niece never would have done something like this—or at least I’m not seeing any motivation. The girl—it’s so wrong when you start referring to a twenty-one-year-old as a girl, by the way—her mother volunteers at Peace Liberty Hospital. I haven’t spoken to her yet, but she gives her time to others.” Madison paused for a second. “That’s my next move. I need to talk to her.”
“But not right this second?”
Madison shrugged. “I guess not. But go ahead and say it: The old Maddy would have spoken to her already. The new one is too soft.”
“The new Maddy took all the amazing parts of the old and added more good qualities to her.”
Stacey placed two more shots on the table. “I thought I’d just get one more for each of you this time. Then you let me know if you want more.”
“Actually, can we just get the bill?” Cynthia asked.
“One or two?”
“One.”
“Thank you, Cyn.”
“Don’t mention it.” She raised the fresh shot glass as if she were going to make another toast but didn’t. Instead, she just threw it back.
It didn’t prevent Madison from making one for herself, though.
To solving this case.
-
Chapter 22
THERE WERE WORSE WAYS TO wake up, but a ringing phone had to be near the top of the list. It was Saturday morning, and while Madison usually rose early to walk Hershey before dropping him off at the kennel for the day, the weekends were exempt. She’d lie around and get up only when her mind gave her no other choice. At least that’s how it went when Troy didn’t sleep over. She’d let herself become raptured in the memory of his kiss from last night if it weren’t for the ear-piercing trill of her phone.
“Knight,” she answered with a grumble.
“There’s another body.” It was Winston.
She hated to shift the responsibility, but she wasn’t the only detective. “What about—”
“Everyone else is tied up, Knight. And Sovereign and Stanford are at a fresh crime scene right now. That leaves you and Grant.”
And after how things had turned out at the hospital yesterday, she wasn’t sure how pleased Terry would be to get the call. This also meant the visit to Kimberly Bell would have to wait.
“All right. Where to?” She took down the directions. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
She hung up and Hershey, who had roused from sleep, crawled up the bed. The ten pounds he had been as a puppy was a distant memory to his current weight of fifty-five pounds. At his growth rate, she’d have to upgrade her bed to a king, and soon. She placed her cell on the nightstand and mussed the top of his head. “Hey, buddy.”
Hershey panted, flashing her a doggie smile. Every day was a new adventure, and he was always happy to get started—most times hours before she was. But the compromises had been made. He let her sleep in on the weekends in exchange for regular walks. An easy deal to make—if it was possible to make a deal with a dog.
“I know,” she said, “I’ll walk you tonight.” Then she remembered the gala and could have groaned. But with this new case, maybe she could find a way out of going. Her spirits lifted slightly at the thought.
She buried her face in Hershey’s fur and rested her head against his. God, she had fallen for this dog. He was hers since Christmas, so seven months, and somewhere along the line, he had crossed from being an unexpected gift to family. She had never understood why Terry had given his beagles human names. She also had never understood why some people referred to themselves as a mommy or daddy to their canine companions. But now that she had Hershey, all of these preconceptions had changed. A dog wasn’t simply a pet or a friend. A dog was family.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Hershey walked along the mattress, stretched out, and placed his paws on her thighs, pinning her to the bed. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I’ve gotta go to work.” Saying Momma’s gotta go to work almost slipped out instead. She was certain she’d said it in the past, but didn’t intend to make it a habit.
Thirty minutes later, she was at the crime scene with Terry. Surprisingly, he was rather eager to work the case. Maybe it was rough being around Annabelle right now or he just wanted a diversion. Madison wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t about to touch the subject.
Cole Richards was working over the body as Cynthia and Mark were taking pictures and collecting anything that could be evidence.
A woman had found the body when she went out to go grocery shopping. Her background had been checked and had come back clean.
The victim had been propped against the base of a streetlamp in a residential area. The victim, who at first appeared to be a sleeping male vagrant, turned out to be a young woman in her early twenties. She wore a man’s full-length trench coat with tattered sleeves, a hoodie underneath, and pants. The men’s clothing stood out in contrast to the manicured fingernails and expertly applied makeup. She had no ID and no phone on her.
A female street person in male apparel who placed feminine hygiene as a priority? None of it made any sense. This girl didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong in this clothing.
Not that Madison knew too much about nail care, but the victim’s were gels. Madison only knew this because Chelsea had invited her to go to the salon a couple of times. Madison had yet to get anything done at the salon herself, but Chelsea had talked about it on enough occasions. Madison just couldn’t imagine slapping cuffs on a perp if she had white tips or some funky-colored nail polish on. Not to mention the flak she’d get from other officers.
“What do you make of it?” Terry asked.
Madison couldn’t take her eyes off the victim’s nails. There was something familiar about them. She hadn’t yet seen the woman’s face and moved in closer. She’d recognize those eyes anywhere. The lifeless steel marbles looking back at her were
those of Zoe Bell.
-
Chapter 23
MADISON’S HEART WAS RACING. Terry was staring at her, confused. “What’s wrong?”
“Yesterday, after you left I visited Della Carpenter.” Madison paused a beat, trying to catch her breath. “I was looking for Zoe Bell to talk to her about her great-aunt.”
“You mean to see if she killed the woman?”
“Yes.” Madison paced a few feet. “What gets both a woman and her great-niece killed?”
“Whoever did this is close to both of them.”
“What’s the cause of death?” Madison asked Richards, even though she figured he’d give her a half answer.
He looked up from the body, giving her the same look she’d received from him many times before. It communicated exactly what she’d expected. “If one thing, you’re persistent.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“She’s got a large gash in the back of her head, and it lends itself to blunt force trauma,” Richards said. “She was clearly hit with something, but until I get her back to the morgue, I won’t know for sure if it was the cause of death.”
It was the examiner’s disclaimer phrase. In other words, if she ran with the case using the initial cause of death and things changed…well, he wasn’t responsible.
The killer—she was pretty sure they could safely call the perp as much, now—had let Faye die by negligence but had hit Zoe. He or she was escalating.
“What about the time of death?” Terry asked.
“Between midnight and two. You said this was Zoe Bell, Faye Duncan’s great-niece?” Richards asked.
“Yes,” Madison confirmed, her heart breaking just thinking about going back to Della Carpenter. While she had planned on talking to Zoe’s mother at some point, she wished it were under different circumstances.
“What a shame.” Richards stood to his full height and motioned for Milo to load up the body. He directed his assistant to be careful of the hands and feet, even though they were already bagged. He continued. “It’s going to be a busy day. There’s another call a few blocks over.”
Winston had mentioned that Sovereign and Lou had a case of their own. Part of her was curious to see the scene, but she had enough on her own plate. Two bodies. Two murders to solve. And related, at that.
Cynthia was still searching the area surrounding the body for evidence, as was Mark.
“Have you found her clothes?” Madison asked.
Cynthia shook her head. “No. They weren’t under the vagrant’s clothing, either.”
Madison let her gaze travel over the ground. If the girl’s clothing were here, it would be clearly visible. There was no place to conceal it. This led to the next question: where did the vagrant’s clothing come from? It was men’s apparel, so they were possibly looking at another body still to surface.
Sovereign.
Madison pulled out her phone and dialed. Hearing Sovereign’s voice had no effect on her, at least not in comparison to the mix of anger and unresolved emotions she had experienced in the past. Now, there was a hint of anger and unresolved emotion in his tone. About three months back, he had come to her wanting to rekindle what they once had, but Madison had only been able to offer him friendship. And even that was a stretch at times.
“I understand you’re at a crime scene,” Madison said.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Describe your victim.”
“Male. Midfifties or thereabouts. No ID. It’s looking like a vagrant. He was found in an alley next to a Dumpster.”
Madison thought back to the way the trench coat hung on Zoe’s small frame. “How big is he?”
“Say six feet. Two hundred pounds, give or take.”
“Well, I think we found his clothing.” Madison mouthed, Sovereign, to Terry, and he nodded. She moved toward the department car with Terry in tow. “Where are you?” she asked Sovereign.
He rattled off the location as Madison turned the key in the ignition.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Madison and Terry were walking up to Sovereign. They’d beaten Richards to the scene, which wasn’t too much of a shock seeing as he would have had to drop Zoe’s body off at the morgue before coming here.
Sovereign and Lou were huddled together, likely comparing their thoughts on the case. Given the way they watched Madison and Terry approach, they didn’t much care for the company.
“Don’t have enough to keep you busy, Knight? You need my case, too?” Sovereign asked. With those two questions, it was clear why it had been so easy to refuse his invitation to get back together. She had outgrown him.
Madison eyed Samantha and Jennifer—not Jenn, Jenny, or any other abbreviation of the name—as they were collecting evidence. The two of them were only dragged out of the lab when there wasn’t any choice. Samantha’s specialty was ballistics. Jennifer’s was serology or bodily fluids.
Madison brushed past Sovereign to the Dumpster. The stench nearly knocked her off her feet and made her step back. She gagged behind a hand. Her eyes watered.
“What? You can’t take a little smell?” Lou was laughing.
“Just because you’ve acclimated to the scene…” It was a scientific fact that after two minutes of exposure to a strong smell, the sinuses no longer registered the odor.
Madison jacked a finger toward Samantha, who was rummaging through litter, likely in search of a potential murder weapon. The flick of Madison’s hand caught her eye, and she stopped moving. “I’m sure Samantha might have something to say about how you reacted when you first showed up.”
“We got here at about the same time, but yeah”—Samantha glanced at Lou—“I thought you were going to puke.”
Lou waved Samantha off. But there was a spark in his eyes as he looked at the investigator. Nothing tangible and it was very brief, but it was unmistakably present. Maybe Madison was just being paranoid. Lou loved Cynthia and would never hurt her or cheat on her. He had pursued her, not the other way around.
Jennifer eased herself over the edge of the Dumpster and lowered herself inside. Despite the fact that she wore protective coveralls, Madison didn’t envy the girl’s position. Who knew what was living in that bin.
The initial bombardment of Madison’s sinuses soon calmed down and the urge to vomit abated. She took in the scene more carefully.
The man was lying on the ground wearing only boxers. His hair was long and he was unshaven. Death had relaxed his jaw, and then rigor had fixed it slightly open. The teeth that showed through were in a state of rot. His fingernails were caked with dirt, the creases in his fingers and knuckles black.
“When we got here, a blue tarp was covering his body. Sort of like he’d curled up to go to sleep and never woke up,” Sovereign said.
“Guess on the cause of death?”
“My guess? Blunt force trauma. Richards will need to confirm, of course.”
“Huh.” Madison glanced at Terry and got the sun in her eyes. She went to pull her sunglasses down, but they weren’t on her head. If they weren’t in the car, that was another pair that was lost.
“What do you mean, huh?” Lou asked, his gaze going to Madison, then Terry, settling on Madison.
Terry responded. “Our victim was a young woman. The cause of death for her appears to be the same.”
“You think our victims are connected?” Lou squinted.
“Well, it appears our victim was wearing your victim’s clothing,” Terry said. “So, probably.”
The way her gut was fluttering and her heart was beating so fast, she had zero doubt about the correlation. How or why they tied together eluded her. Besides the seeming connection between Faye and Zoe, nothing spoke to a serial killer behind all this, yet technically with three bodies, the person they were after was just that.
Still, the evidence in Faye’s case
leaned toward a person without a record, someone who was close to her. With Zoe, it was way too early to make any conclusions, but the fact that great-aunt and niece were killed within a matter of days was suspicious. Had the aunt died trying to protect Zoe? Although, that didn’t necessarily fit with them dying on different days. No, they were separate occurrences, but they had to be related—didn’t they?
“Earth to Madison.” Sovereign was staring right at her.
“What?”
“I asked if you thought our victims were connected.”
She had said as much on the phone before rushing over here. How quickly he forgot.
“Do I normally leave my own crime scene to rush to yours?” She stared back at him until his eyes glazed over. Her message was received. “Was there evidence to indicate this is where he was killed?”
“Besides the seeming obvious?” Sovereign pointed at the body.
She tempered her patience. “If you consider that obvious.” Again, not very thorough.
“You think he was dumped here and posed as a mostly naked homeless person? Come on.”
Nothing could be taken at face value in cases like this. “You’ll have to talk to other vagrants in the area. See if they recognize him and whether they saw anything.”
Sovereign put both hands on his hips. “Are you going to take over this case, too? I guess Lou and I might as well just leave.”
“You never were good at taking direction from a woman.” She stood her ground against him, standing there, shoulders drawn back, posture straight.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I just never liked taking direction from you.” With that, Sovereign turned his back on her, and Jennifer popped up from inside the Dumpster, holding a cell phone pinched between two gloved fingers.
Madison and Terry moved closer. The nauseating stench lapped over Madison again. So much for the sense of smell completely acclimating to the environment…
“Can you tell whose phone it is?” Madison asked Jennifer.
“Let me check. One minute.” Jennifer punched a fingertip to the screen of the phone. “Good news is it’s got juice.” A few seconds later, she said, “The Me contact is Zoe Bell. Is that who—”
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