Madison imagined that a pointing finger accompanied the last statement.
“You said you saw my partner in a vision? We believe you.” Terry was playing good cop. He didn’t really believe in such hocus-pocus, did he? What was next? Ghosts?
Madison shot Terry a sideways look. If he noticed her glimpse, he didn’t let on.
“I did,” the crazy woman said. “But first I saw who killed the girl.”
Madison whirled around and gripped the bars. The woman’s eyes went straight to Madison’s hands, and she stepped closer. Madison moved back.
“You saw who killed her?” Madison asked.
“Yes.”
“Who was it? A man or woman?”
“Dark shadows. Evil. Angry.”
“Dark shadows? There was more than one?”
Lord, give me the patience to…
“Just evil, angry.”
All right, so the woman saw “dark shadows” and she supposedly had visions. The statement might not have anything to do with the number of people who had been chasing Zoe or who had killed her.
The woman shook her head and tsked. “Leonard tried to help.”
Leonard? Was that Charlie?
“Who is Leonard?” Madison asked.
“He tried. He failed.”
Leonard was Charlie. He had to be.
“What happened then?” Madison asked.
“There was evil. Then you!”
One more ridiculous outburst like this, and Madison would leave this woman for Terry to handle.
Madison let out a deep exhale. “Yes, you’ve said you saw me numerous times. We want to know if you saw who hurt Leonard and that girl. Did you?”
The woman stared into Madison’s eyes. While she seemed to be trying to communicate something, Madison wasn’t receiving the message.
“Dark shadows. Evil. Angry,” she repeated.
They weren’t getting anywhere with a direct approach. “When you saw the girl come into the alley, what happened…before the dark shadows?”
“She was running. She tripped next to me. I said nothing and stayed real still.”
“And what happened next?”
“The dark shadows. Evil. Angry.”
That was it. Madison was done. She turned to leave.
“You,” the woman called out.
Madison wasn’t sure why she bothered, but she stopped moving and faced the cell again.
“You are going to bring meaning to their deaths.”
Madison managed not to roll her eyes. The woman, however, was being deadly serious. Was she claiming to have seen Madison solve the murders? Regardless, Madison had every intention of doing just that.
-
Chapter 55
TERRY TRAILED BEHIND MADISON, but she wasn’t going to slow down. She was headed back to her desk and was beyond frustrated. Speaking with the crazy woman hadn’t really helped them get any further with the case.
She sat in her chair, and Terry dropped onto his.
“Look at it this way. We have an eyewitness who saw the murders,” Terry said.
“You really think a jury’s going to believe her? She’s a kook.” Madison scoffed. “She saw me in a vision? Seriously?”
“Well, why not? Some people are clairvoyant.”
“Don’t tell me… I thought you were just being nice.”
“What if I do believe in stuff like that? Is that not my right?”
“I never said it—”
Terry held up a hand. “That’s right. It’s a personal choice whether you wish to believe it or not.”
“Fine.” She let her eyes drift to the top of her desk.
Did he really buy into all that? She snuck another glance at him and noticed his resting smile. He was toying with her.
Her mind back on the case, the same question remained, along with a new one. “Why was Zoe in that alley, and who was chasing her?”
There was a pregnant pause.
“I tell you what we have to do is—” She stopped. Her idea was too time-consuming. It would take forever.
“Do what?”
She shook her head. They still had fifty-plus contacts on Zoe’s phone. What they really needed to do was find the man who had argued with Zoe at the club. “It’s not going to happen. I was going to say hunt down everyone in Zoe’s contact list.”
“You mean us?”
“Yes, Terry, not uniformed officers.”
“You don’t ask for much.”
“Sarcasm, Terry? Three people are dead.”
“I’m fully aware. But we need more to justify undertaking that. Didn’t you say before that there had to be another way?”
Terry was right. She nodded. “I just wish I had all the answers,” she admitted.
“You might as well stop wishing for that. You never will.”
“Hey.”
Terry laughed. “Relax. That woman said you were going to solve the murders.”
“I think what she said was I’m going to ‘bring meaning to their deaths.’” Was she really quoting the woman?
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
Madison shrugged her shoulders but already knew she’d thought the same thing about what the woman had meant. In many ways, though, giving meaning to a death was better than simply solving it. Motivations sometimes remained enigmas. If she let herself buy into the baloney the woman was trying to sell, then she had to admit that she liked the prediction.
Terry got up from his chair. “I’m calling it a day, Maddy.”
“What? It’s only”—she checked the time on her phone—“five thirty.”
Oh shit! She had that appointment with Fletcher soon! She should probably cancel… Didn’t a murder investigation trump chitchat and a coffee?
“Exactly why I’m calling it a night. Maybe more answers will come by tomorrow morning,” Terry said.
“Brought to us by the leprechauns?”
Terry angled his head. “Come on, there’s no reason to be like that.”
She started laughing. “Well…you do believe in psychics. Who knows what else you believe in? What about fairies? What are your thoughts on those?” Her side was hurting from the laughter between words. She hadn’t laughed like this in too long.
“Night, Maddy.”
“Night.” She watched her partner walk away, wishing she could just head home, too. But she had an appointment to keep, whether she wanted to or not.
MADISON SPOTTED FLETCHER THE SECOND she entered Starbucks. She was in one of two tub chairs positioned kitty-corner with a table between them. She waved and smiled. Madison nodded and gestured to the counter. She’d pick up a caramel cappuccino first and use it to medicate her nerves.
She took a deep breath, her mind racing. Had the chief called this meeting to smooth things out between her and Troy? If so, it was none of her business. Her relationship with Fletcher was to be kept strictly professional. Heck, she couldn’t even think of Fletcher by her first name. Andrea would be what friends and family called her. Madison was neither.
She placed her order, actually wishing for the barista to take her sweet time. No such luck. In fact, her drink was ready at record speed.
Less than two minutes later, she was approaching Fletcher.
“Hi, Madison.” Fletcher smiled. It was a warm expression that had no doubt won many hearts and broken a similar number.
She swallowed, ready to push things away from a personal rapport but nervous, nonetheless. “Good evening, Chief.”
Fletcher shifted in her chair, her slender frame taking up only a small portion of the cushion. “I see you prefer to keep our relationship professional.”
“I do.” Madison took a seat and crossed her leg away from Fletcher.
“I can understand that.”
“Of course. I mean, you’re dating my brother.”
Madison wasn’t about to correct her right now, but that situation may be in the past tense. Really, by her refusing to talk to him and him not pursuing her, it was, in effect, more or less “the talk.” So much for Troy’s promise about them being a couple unless she really did something to piss him off. Apparently, all it took was for her to have a reaction to him keeping important information from her.
Fletcher took a sip of her drink and continued. “I’d feel the same in your place.”
Did the ability to call her out run in the family?
“And how is that?” Madison asked, careful to keep her tone in check. The fact that she cared surprised her. She usually spoke her mind without much thought to such things.
Fletcher set her cup down on the table, then ran her fingers along the leather arm of the chair. “You are a hard-working cop, and you deserve to be where you are. All your accomplishments, well, no one can take them from you, because they’re yours.” She tossed in a docile smile. It was a flash and then gone. “You probably think that if you’re dating the chief’s brother, people will talk and I’ll go easy on you. And even if I don’t—which I have no intention of doing—people will say that I am.”
Madison pressed her lips to her cup. Was the woman a mind reader?
“But what other people think doesn’t really matter,” Fletcher continued. “If I let what others said stop me, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I’d probably still be stuck in some meaningless job working out of a cubicle.”
“A cubicle?” Madison couldn’t imagine Fletcher in such an environment.
Fletcher dismissed her with a wave. “That doesn’t matter. What does is that I rose to the challenge, and, God, I love challenges.” She met Madison’s eyes. “And I know you do, too. I’ve read your file. You’re tenacious and you get the job done. That’s what matters to me.”
“I won’t let anything or anyone stop me from doing what needs to be done, not even Winston. I even stood up to McAlexandar on more than one occasion.” Why was she promoting herself as if she were being interviewed?
Fletcher chuckled. “I’m well aware of both things.”
“How?”
“I said I’ve read your file, Maddy. I mean, Detective Knight.”
Madison took a deep breath. This woman was good—a politician through to her sinew. She had a way of phrasing things that brought you to her side. Just like her brother—if Madison would have given him a chance.
“So it doesn’t bother you that—”
“You are insubordinate at times?” Fletcher interrupted. “It concerns me a little, but you have amazing judgment. Besides, that was then and this is now.”
Madison nodded. She picked up on the silent inference—a woman was now in the position of power. There was a stretch of silence, as if Fletcher somehow knew she had won Madison over, but there were a few more things to get off the table. The fact that she’d even considered testing the woman on this subject was crazy.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Forget crazy. Her question was careless. But Fletcher’s response would give Madison a good gauge on the new chief. “What do you think about Patrick McAlexandar?”
“Are you and I talking as professionals or as friends?”
“Friends.” It came out naturally, surprising Madison more than Fletcher.
“Then I’d have to say the man is a piece of shit.” Fletcher held eye contact. “And I’m happy to say that I—a woman—” she smirked “—took his place. A nice slap in the face to a man like him if you ask me.”
Madison laughed. “If we were drinking wine, I’d toast to that.”
Fletcher picked up her cup and nudged it toward Madison’s. Madison tapped hers against Fletcher’s.
“Next time, though, we do this with a glass of merlot,” Fletcher said before taking a sip.
Madison nodded, smiling. Andrea was all right.
“Well, I hate to be running off, but the hubby’s waiting at home.” She threw in a subtle eye roll as she got to her feet.
Madison smiled. “You have him trained well.”
Andrea grabbed her purse from the floor and slipped its strap over her shoulder. “Just for the record, Troy didn’t send me. I’m older than he is. I send myself.”
Madison nodded. She was happy that Andrea had clarified that, but then wondered why she had asked her for coffee in the first place. Was it just to make friends? Still, to hear that Troy hadn’t sent her… Maybe it was time for her to put aside her pride.
She dialed the kennel and arranged for Hershey to spend the night.
-
Chapter 56
HER HEART WAS POUNDING AS she pulled into Troy’s driveway behind his Ford Expedition, unsure if she had the willpower to follow through on why she came here.
His house was a Craftsman-style bungalow with olive-green siding and thick wooden columns supporting a front overhang. A picture window accented each side of the entry, and two dormers projected from the roof above those. A double-wide, stamped concrete path cut through the front lawn and led to the door.
She stood there mustering the strength to push the doorbell. Such a simple action had become an arduous task. She wasn’t the type who came crawling back with her tail between her legs. In fact, she avoided such situations at all costs. She’d rather cry in private than have it show outwardly that her pride had been hurt. But in this case, it was quite possible that she had responded unfairly. She only hoped that he would forgive her. She’d find out how honest he was when he said it would take a lot for him to end their relationship.
Just do it, Maddy.
She pressed the button. The chimes sounded, and they were loud. So much for secretly hoping he wouldn’t hear. She’d have no excuse for, and no way of, slinking off undetected.
Footfalls approached the door.
One deep breath. She could handle this. Maybe if she repeated it—
“Madison?” He looked around her, to his lawn, to his drive, to her Mazda. Finally, his green eyes met hers, cool as slate. “What are you doing here?”
“I…” It was hard for her to verbalize the apology, as if by doing so she was admitting to wrongdoing, but wasn’t she here to do precisely that?
Troy gripped the top of the door with one hand while the other held on to the frame. With his positioning, he was barring her entrance.
Fine. If he wants to do this in front of his neighbors, then so be it.
She coaxed her heartbeat to slow down.
She peered into his eyes. Was that what this was? Love?
“I’d like to talk. May I come in?” she asked.
He didn’t say a word as he moved to the side. Once inside, he closed the door. The arm that had extended to shut the door was so close to her, she could feel its heat, and it seemed to stay there longer than necessary. A dull ache formed in her chest when he resumed his distance.
He crossed his arms. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her, and she didn’t blame him.
The house was silent, not even the hum of a fan or air conditioner or a rushing dishwasher. Nothing.
“I shouldn’t have left you at the charity event the other night.” Her voice sounded so small. Maybe she should have remained in her comfort zone. She was content being single, wasn’t she? Why complicate things with a relationship? But she knew the answer. She wasn’t just content with him in her life. No, she was happy.
She cleared her throat and then continued. “I’m sorry that I left, and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you when you wanted to the other day.”
Damn! Her eyes burned with tears. She couldn’t allow them to fall. She had exposed herself enough by simply coming here. She didn’t need to cry, as well. God, he’d think she was
weak.
He stood there, his body rigid, peering into her eyes. He must have really bought into the eyes being the window to the soul crap because he executed the investigation—if one wanted to call it that—expertly.
Wasn’t he going to say anything? Maybe she had made a mistake coming here and booking Hershey overnight had been presumptuous.
She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
His strong hand landed on her shoulder and pulled her back toward him, spinning her around to face him. She came to stop against his chest. He seemed to tower over her, but it must have been due to her feeling so vulnerable. She placed a hand on his torso. Was she being too forward? Maybe he was just going to say his piece.
God, his eyes were so hard to read. They were more like a mirror right now, her face reflecting back at her. He delicately traced the cut on her face with the pad of his thumb. Still, he remained silent.
She removed her hand from him, but he took it and kissed her fingertips. Her heart fluttered. Did this mean she was for—
The thought disappeared as he nibbled on the tips of her fingers and drew her closer to him. Their bodies pressed together, and he put a hand behind her head and trailed kisses from the delicate point on her neck beneath the earlobe to the base.
Her eyes rolled back, but she still fought to resist.
“Does this…mean…I’m forgiven?” The question was fragmented by her choppy breath.
He stopped kissing her and pulled back. His eyes narrowed with arousal. His jaw locked and set. His gaze traced over her, starting with her eyes, then lingering on her lips.
He captured her mouth with his, and she let herself go.
THE SEX HAD BEEN HOT, passionate, and on the border of love and lust. It had ended fifteen minutes ago, and her heart still beat rapidly, her body still glistened with sweat.
They were in his bed, about twenty feet down the hall from where it had all started, where she had spoken her apology, where she had laid bare a vulnerability she had buried for years.
She rolled onto her side to face him. He was on his back, and she studied the contours of his body, his sharp, angular facial features. His prominent nose and the dusting of freckles across its bridge. His nest of brown hair that rested against the pillow. His chiseled chest. Strong biceps and shoulder muscles bulging, as if straining to break free of his skin. She reached out and put her fingertips against the one closest to her.
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