Deadly Impulse

by Carolyn Arnold

  “Knight.”

  Her hand was on the doorknob. She didn’t face him when she spoke. “Winston.”

  “I know you have your own opinions about me, but I’m doing my best here.”

  She turned. “Doing your best? McAlexandar used to pull your strings. Now who is?”

  By the way his mouth set in a flat line, she knew she had gone too far. “Unless you have concrete proof this suspect of yours killed those people, let him walk.”

  “Concrete—”

  “Yes, concrete. As in no room for doubt. And one more thing, Knight.” He paused for effect. “Get out of my office.”

  And don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Winston hadn’t said it, but Madison received the implication.

  She stormed out, mumbling, “With pleasure,” and headed to interrogation room one. Enough with the delays and hiccups of this investigation. She’d deal with Troy and Sovereign later. Right now, she had a suspect to question.

  -

  Chapter 45

  WHEN MADISON ENTERED THE INTERROGATION ROOM, Terry stopped jingling the change in his pocket and Ben’s gaze went straight to her.

  “Why did you bring me here?” Fear wormed its way into his tone. “I didn’t kill Zoe.”

  Madison opened the case folder that Terry would have brought in and set on the table. She glanced inside at Ben’s background. He had marked an asterisk beside the fact that Ben owned a blue, four-door Buick Regal. That aligned with Nick Stanley’s testimony. Ben’s home address was within walking distance of Elias’s, too, and that probably explained why they hadn’t seen his vehicle in Elias’s driveway.

  She was going to play this questioning slow. Usually, she went in with cannons firing. Ben hadn’t requested a lawyer, though, and she didn’t want to provoke him to request one. She needed her “concrete proof.”

  “Tell us how you knew Zoe,” Madison said. Terry glanced at her, likely because of her relaxed approach. She was being a tiger cub when she was normally a tigress pouncing on her prey. Winston had forced her hand, or in keeping with the analogy, her paw. She’d have to stalk her target patiently from a distance.

  “My best friend was dating her.” Sarcastic. Blunt.

  “So Elias introduced the two of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You mentioned at the hospital that you had told Elias that Zoe wasn’t who she said she was.”

  “She wasn’t.”

  “And what did you mean by that?” Madison asked.

  Terry jingled the change in his pocket.

  Ben glanced over his shoulder and then clasped his hands on the table. “Just that. Elias is a doctor, and she was money hungry.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I know the type.”

  “See, I think there’s more to it.” There was no avoiding it. She had to sink her teeth into the meat—just a little, get a taste. It was time for the reveal. For the other part of Cynthia’s message, another finding that would have connected Zoe and Faye. “Zoe was pregnant when she died.”

  Silence.

  “So? Doesn’t that prove she was trying to trap him? She’s with a kid, and then he has no choice. Even if he left her, he’d owe child support.”

  “Except I’m not so sure it was Elias’s baby,” she said nonchalantly. She sank back into the chair as if relaxing.

  Ben flailed an arm. “With good reason.”

  She put on a shocked face. “She slept around?”

  Silence.

  Acting never was her strong suit. “Did you have sex with her?”

  Ben shifted, straightening out. He clasped his hands together and cupped them as if easing arthritic pain.

  “I mean, who could blame you? She was a pretty girl.” Madison caught another glance from Terry. This time he was smirking. Was he impressed by her restraint?

  “She was my best friend’s girl.”

  She maintained eye contact with Ben. “Oh, come on, that doesn’t matter these days.”

  “Fine, we did. Once.”

  “Only the once?”

  “Okay, three times, but that’s all.”

  Madison nodded and gave it a few seconds before speaking again. “Have you ever been to Club 69?”

  “That’s a strip club?” He sounded unsure.

  “You know it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you been?” she repeated.

  “No.”

  “So you never saw Zoe perform?”

  “What?” He lunged forward, his hands now grabbing the edge of the table.

  “Zoe. Did you see her perform? She stripped there.”

  “I didn’t. I’d have no way of knowing that.” Ben’s shoulders sagged, and he sat back in his chair.

  “But you said that Zoe wasn’t the woman Elias thought she was.”

  “Because she had sex with me. And she went down on me. And, God, she was hot!”

  She didn’t even have to pretend to be disinterested. “And that’s the only reason?”

  “Yeah.” An exasperated sigh.

  “You seduced your friend’s girl—”

  “She”—he splayed his hands on his chest—“seduced me. Thank you very much.”

  She pulled a photograph of Faye Duncan from the case file and slid it across to Ben. It was one of Faye with Zoe. “What about this woman? Do you recognize her?”

  “No. Is she a relative of Zoe’s or something? It’s not like Zoe and I talked much.”

  He was there the day she and Terry delivered the news of Zoe’s murder to Elias, and she knew they’d brought up Faye Duncan. While he wasn’t shown her picture when they’d first met him, one would figure something would connect. Unless he wasn’t paying any attention to their conversation, he should know it was Zoe’s great-aunt and that she was also murdered.

  “You were at Elias’s house when we told him about Zoe…” God, she wanted to call him out.

  “Yeah?” He shoved the photo back to Madison’s side of the table.

  His fingernails had a yellowish tinge. He could be a smoker.

  Madison made a point of brushing her hand against his when she retrieved the photo. His eyes rose to meet hers.

  “Oh…that woman was Zoe’s relative? The one that was also murdered?”

  Ding. Ding. Ding. Tell him what he’s won.

  “Uh-huh.” Being nice and cooperative was killing her. She’d rather tear into his flesh.

  “What was she? Her aunt? Grandma?”

  “Great-aunt.” This guy either sucked at listening or excelled at acting.

  “For the record, where were you this past Saturday in the wee hours from just around midnight to two in the morning?” Madison asked while putting the photograph back in the folder.

  “I would have been at home sleeping. I told you this.”

  “And what do you do at the hospital? You’re not a doctor.” She knew his file said he was on the nursing staff, but she wanted to hear him say it.

  “I’m a nurse.” Based on the way heat scorched his phrase, he must’ve defended his position on a regular basis.

  “So you’re telling me that Zoe cheated on your friend, who is a doctor, for a male nurse?” She poured a little salt in the opened wound. A girl had to have a little fun.

  “I’m telling you, Zoe was easy, but Eli was going to make a wife out of her. It wouldn’t have lasted. I couldn’t let it happen. Even if it meant telling him about Zoe and me.”

  Madison bought his words. “Elias means a lot to you.”

  “He does.”

  “That woman”—Madison pressed a finger to the folder indicating Faye Duncan—“was left in a wheelchair outside Peace Liberty Hospital. That’s where you work.”

  “Now you think I killed her, too? This day keeps getting better. Can I leave?
” Ben stood, but Terry backed him up until his options were to bump into Terry’s chest or sit down again. Ben sat.

  Madison continued. “The wheelchair was stolen from the hospital. You wouldn’t have stood out.”

  “So I killed two people—”

  “I’m thinking three, but all in due time.” She leaned back and crossed her legs.

  “Three?” Ben’s face paled, and he took a few deep breaths. “And you think I took the chair, too.”

  Madison angled her head to the right. “Did you?”

  Terry jingled the change in his pocket again.

  “I didn’t kill anybody. This is police harassment. I want to go home.”

  “You still haven’t provided an alibi for five nights ago. Let’s say from around six o’clock until midnight.” That was the estimated time of death window for Faye.

  “Are you asking now?”

  She remained silent.

  “Last Wednesday? Well, unless you have more against me, you won’t be getting an answer. I know my rights.”

  The urge to pounce on him was almost unbearable—the tigress wanted to act—but Winston’s words drilled into her skull. Concrete proof. She didn’t have it. The fact that Ben was withholding an alibi for the time of Faye’s murder wasn’t enough. His flimsy alibi for the time of Zoe’s murder wasn’t even enough. The system demanded more.

  She stood, fingertips pressed to the table. “Zoe’s baby is being tested for DNA.”

  “I already told you I slept with her, but we used protection.”

  Madison smirked. “You never mentioned that latter part before. It still doesn’t mean the child wasn’t yours. Wouldn’t you want to know?”

  Ben glanced back at Terry before standing. “What good would it do?”

  “You want to know what good it would do?” Madison walked over to Ben and leaned close to him. “It would be a sign of good faith. We’re letting you go—”

  “Only because I didn’t do it and you can’t prove that I did,” he interrupted.

  Madison shrugged. “Then what’s a little fingerprinting and a DNA swab?” If he volunteered his prints, she wouldn’t have to secure a warrant to obtain them from the hospital.

  “You need fingerprints to prove I’m the father?” Ben rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

  -

  Chapter 46

  “WE CONFIRM THAT LITTLE SHIT’S the father of Zoe’s baby and we’re halfway there,” Madison said to Terry on the way back to their desks. He cringed a little at the four-letter word but didn’t comment on it. He must have appreciated how much effort it took to hold herself together with Ben.

  Ben had provided his prints and DNA, and it was just a matter of time before they had their concrete proof. He’d be a paternal match to the baby’s fetus. He’d fit with the forensic evidence left at the crimes—the bloody items from the alley and tie back to one of the cigarettes. It would all make sense. She hadn’t noticed any cuts on him, but they could have been hidden under his shirt.

  He matched the physical description provided by eyewitnesses at Club 69 as arguing with Zoe backstage, too, minus the hair color. He also lined up with the man Nick Stanley saw in the parking lot. His blue Buick Regal would soon be shown in the city’s camera footage, and he’d be trapped in his lies.

  Ben also had a motive. If he’d known Zoe was carrying his child, he could have wanted her to abort it and she could have refused. Then Faye could have admonished Zoe to keep the baby, and Ben found out. He could have gone to speak to her. Faye made him tea, but he wasn’t there to make friends; he was there to confront an older woman who had overstepped her bounds. And they’d know soon enough if his prints were on the wheelchair.

  Madison was confident that by tomorrow morning, when they had all their results and footage in evidence, they’d have everything they needed to lock up the guy for life. If he lied about knowing that Zoe danced at Club 69, it would go a long way in getting them the time they needed to gather all the necessary evidence to hold him accountable for her murder. From there it would be easy to connect him with Charlie.

  “I’m surprised you let him go,” Terry said.

  “It wasn’t my choice.”

  “Winston?”

  “Yep. He gave me a lecture about butting into Sovereign’s case, but is it my fault he can’t take care of his own?”

  Terry’s eyes flicked to something behind her.

  She spun around to come face-to-face with Sovereign. “I take it you heard?” she asked.

  “I did.” He was expressionless. Nothing to indicate hurt feelings or anger. Just total indifference.

  “Why did you go crying to the sarge?”

  “I didn’t go crying to anyone. I’m doing my job, Mad—Knight. You should do yours.” He brushed past her, but she couldn’t let this go. She grabbed his arm and torqued him around.

  “We have three bodies among us. This isn’t about our past. This is about finding justice.”

  “Save the speech.” He shrugged her off him and resumed walking.

  Terry put his hand on her forearm. “Let it go.”

  “Argh. He makes me so angry.” She held out her hands. “I’m shaking.”

  “Just let it go,” Terry repeated.

  Madison watched Sovereign walk away, wondering what she ever saw in the man. And to think she had recently agreed to resume a friendship with him. Ridiculous.

  “We’ve gotta go.” She took a few steps before noticing Terry wasn’t falling in line with her. “Are you coming?”

  “Actually, I’m calling it a day. It’s already seven.”

  She halted. “Annabelle?”

  “You got it. Until that baby comes…”

  Madison waved him off. “You don’t have to explain it to me. Just promise me something: first thing tomorrow morning we go to that soup kitchen. We’ve got to do what we can to tie Ben Dixon to that back alley.”

  Terry consented with a nod and left through the doors before she did.

  They’d have time to use up in the morning anyhow. Cynthia would be working through the footage from the city’s video and Samantha would be running the comparisons on the DNA and fingerprints.

  “Madison?”

  She closed her eyes. It was Troy.

  “It’s not a good time,” she said. With Sovereign just storming off and being forced to release Ben, discussing Troy’s relation to the police chief—right now—wasn’t going to go well.

  “I think it’s the perfect time.” He came around in front of her, his piercing green eyes wielding less power than they had in the past.

  “Then you’re not hearing me.” She moved to sidestep him, and he slid his hand along her side, catching her arm at the crook of her elbow.

  She stopped. The place where his hand touched her flesh burned. The smell of his cologne was oaky. Familiar.

  “I’m not going to chase after you. Nor will I make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  She mustered the strength to free her arm from his hold. “Then let me go.”

  And he did.

  As she walked toward the front doors, he held true to his word. He didn’t chase after her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and her tears until she reached the privacy of her car.

  HOW COULD SHE BE SO SELFISH? It was all too easy for her to turn her back on their relationship. Maybe he was better off without her. She was the most challenging, hardheaded woman… And God, he didn’t want it any other way.

  He wasn’t generally one to brood over issues of the heart. He was cool and calm—in every situation. It’s why he excelled at being a SWAT leader. The position required logic and the ability to fend off emotional influences, the skill to read a situation and act. There wasn’t time for hesitation or self-doubt. He wished these attributes crossed over to his dealings with Madison.

  She
probably thought him cold, but inside, he seethed with furnace-like intensity. He had to make her see that they belonged together.

  Stupid? Illogical? Possessive?

  Maybe all three. But the heart wants what the heart wants. He just wished it wasn’t Madison his heart wanted. God, she made him so angry. She threw him off-balance.

  But it was for this very reason he didn’t want to let her go. She had a way of stoking his flame—and that made him feel alive.

  Damn it all to hell.

  He’d witnessed her prior relationships disintegrate. He should have known better than to ever pursue her. But now it was too late. He was in too deep.

  -

  Chapter 47

  THE SOUP KITCHEN WAS OPEN and serving an assortment of carbs, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Stepping through the door, the stench of body odor overpowered the food. It was nauseating and had Madison longing to retreat outdoors. But that wasn’t an option. Regardless of whether Sovereign was doing his job or not, she had her own things to check out. And if he felt she was stepping on his toes before, just wait until he found out about their visit here.

  But this wasn’t about him. It was about finding closure for three murders.

  For eight in the morning, the place sure was busy with people lined up out the door for a meal. It was a heartrending sight to see this many in need.

  The place was painted a bright yellow and Madison questioned the choice. Yellow could soothe and uplift, but it could also stir up tempers. Either way, she never gravitated toward that part of the color wheel.

  Three women and two men distributed food from behind a counter and onto the trays in front of them. Ladles went in. Ladles came out. Home fries, bacon, scrambled eggs, French toast. Tables were filled to capacity with people scarfing down their breakfasts as if they were late for a job. Of course, that was a possibility for some of them. The majority, based on the way they were dressed—tattered clothing, sneakers with flapping soles—had no job to be late for. The street was their home and living there a full-time occupation.

  Madison caught the eye of one woman who was seated at a table talking to herself. Then wildfire sparked in her gaze, and she pointed a finger at Madison.