No one. Really, that was the correct answer. The guy had always been around, but at a distance. He had come out to help with search warrants when conditions were questionable. But, what they had in common related to her cold case. He was there along the way.
“Guess you’re not talking.”
“He’s a SWAT leader. He’s helped me out in the past.”
“And that’s all? I had asked who he is to you.”
Madison bobbed her brows. “Are you jealous?”
Terry’s cheeks flamed red.
“He helped out with the Lexan case.”
“It’s all about that dead lawyer, isn’t it? You risked your—”
“But I didn’t die.”
Madison sensed Cynthia shrink back. Enough was enough.
She flung her legs over the side of the stretcher. Her eye contact with a paramedic who tried to stop her was enough to halt their attempts.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Cynthia asked.
“Not sure why I warranted a stretcher anyhow. It’s not a broken leg.” She hopped off, thankful for the ground beneath her feet.
She had things to do and a sprained wrist wasn’t going to stop her. Now they had the Russians on kidnapping and endangerment of a police officer’s life, their business would slow down. Maybe it would give her sufficient time to dig up enough evidence to keep them behind bars for life.
“I’m going to the station.”
“Oh no, you’re not.” Terry stood in front of her. “The brass is hot, do you understand? The sarge received a call from the chief. He wasn’t impressed that the street was closed down and traffic diverted while SWAT rescued your ass.”
“He’s mad because my life was being saved? Seriously, the guy never ceases to amaze me.”
“It wasn’t the mission. It was the reason it happened in the first place. Traffic is routed from here, it congests downtown.”
Cynthia interjected. “Terry, maybe it’s not the best time—”
He shrugged his shoulders to Cynthia’s advice. “I’m just telling you what was said.”
“Back to the station.” She headed toward her car with Terry and Cynthia shadowing her.
“You’re not going to drive,” Terry said. “You haven’t slept and you’re on drugs.”
She dismissed him with a wave of the hand. “You know how many people drive exhausted and doped in this city?”
“No, I’m not allowing it. Give me your keys.”
When she ignored his efforts, and his open hand, he jabbed her shoulder. “You know I’m right.”
“Madison, for once, don’t be so stubborn,” Cynthia begged.
She looked from her friend to Terry. She settled on him. “Fine. Just this time.”
He flexed his hand until she dropped her keys in it.
“Oh, this is just great.” Madison pulled a parking ticket from under her wiper.
“Just have Winston take care of it,” Terry jested.
“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”
-
Chapter 7
TERRY HELD THE CAR DOOR OPEN for Madison and noticed the envelope on the seat. His thoughts went back to what Cynthia had said about Madison looking into stationary that tied back to the cold case. He went to reach for it, but she pushed him out of the way.
“It’s nothing.”
He wasn’t buying it. “If it’s nothing, you could have let me pick it up.”
She glanced from him to the door and got in. “Thanks. I’ve got it from here.”
He walked around to the driver’s side. Something in that letter had brought her here last night. “How long have you been looking into this case?” he asked as he turned the ignition.
“A long time, but you know that.”
“What does the letter say? And don’t play stupid with me.”
MADISON KNEW BY THE WAY he watched her, he wasn’t going to be easily dismissed. He wanted answers.
“It’s a letter from Dimitre.”
“Yes, Petrov, as in the head of the Russian Mafia.” He shifted his position to face her, leaving his one hand on the wheel. “You tied the stationary to a piece that was found in Lexan’s driveway. What lead you here? What’s in the letter?”
“I’ve never told you because I knew we’d end up having a conversation where you’d tell me to back off. I couldn’t do that.” She looked out the front window. “I still can’t. Not until there’s an accounting.”
“What’s in the letter?” he repeated his question a third time.
She noticed his gaze and after everything that had transpired in the last twenty-four hours, he must have thought he deserved an explanation. She handed him the letter.
He read it and then faced out the windshield.
“It doesn’t mean anything.” Madison was left to study his profile now. “I know he did it.”
“Dimitre says he didn’t kill the lawyer. He takes the time to write you this and you still feel that he’s responsible?” He held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “What is wrong with you? Why are you so obsessed?”
“I know he did it.”
“Explain the note.”
“He’s playing with my mind. That’s what he does. And, of course, he didn’t do it directly, he had his men carry it out. I just have to figure out which one pulled the trigger.”
“You never give up, do you?”
“This man was shot in his own driveway at the age of twenty-seven. He was a defense attorney, he hurt people in his life along the way, but who doesn’t? Doesn’t he deserve justice?”
“There’s more to it. This is personal.”
The past, the groundwork that set her being a cop into motion, swirled through her mind. Now wasn’t the time to get into all of it—the reasoning, the confession as to why all of this was so important to her.
“You be all quiet now, but you know the truth’s going to come out.” Terry merged into traffic.
She faced the window and watched the buildings of downtown become blurred hues of gray and black. She glanced down at the envelope she held in her hand.
She had faced death in the last twenty-four hours and had come out the other end. She didn’t need to tell anyone anything until she wanted to—even if it meant continuing to keep the full truth from Terry.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU talking about?” asked the man on the other end of the line.
He could barely keep his hands still. His pinkie ring kept clinking against the phone. Just talking to this man sent fear running through him—and he feared so few.
His grip on the phone tightened as if by doing so it would soothe his soul. But he was responsible for things that, if they ever required an accounting, he would be done for. His career, his financial portfolio, his wife—all of it would come crashing down more severely than a high-rise in a high magnitude earthquake. There wouldn’t be any survivors, least of all him. While he had no intention of ever paying for his sins, if he did, he would ensure he wasn’t alone to face the consequences. But this man, the one he spoke to now, he would never be able to grasp onto him, he would always fall just out of reach.
“It’s just how I told you.”
“My men are in custody.”
“Yes.” He swore he could feel his blood pressure rise.
There was a drawn-out silence. What was he thinking? Could he even surmise how this man’s brain worked?
“You take care of your end and I’ll take care of mine. Do you understand?”
He nodded as if the man could see him. “Yes.” The word croaked out.
The line went dead.
He held onto the phone, clutching it as if he had the courage to verbalize his rejection. He realized the futility. If he wanted out, that time had long come and gone. He would be tethered to this man’s bidding for his l
ife, or find it had been cut short.
He dialed another number, knowing this person would help him keep his promise.
When he returned the receiver to the cradle, reluctantly breaking his grip on it, his eyes came to rest on his hands. They were stained with blood and no amount of scrubbing would ever clean them.
-
Chapter 8
THE STATION WAS EMPTY WHEN Madison got in. Ranson let out a squeal of happiness at seeing her, ran around the front desk, and hugged her.
“I would have been there, but you know how it is.” She pointed toward her post. “Glad you’re okay.” Her smile faded as she ran to catch the incoming phone call.
“Thanks.” Madison headed toward the interrogation rooms.
“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Terry yanked on her arm.
“We brought them in and I’m going to talk to them.”
“Oh no, you’re not. You’re in enough shit for the stunt you pulled.” Terry’s language was enough to stall her forward progress, but the look in his eyes only cemented the fact he would tase her if she disregarded him.
She crossed her arms but grimaced when her injured wrist made contact. She dropped them to her sides. “This is my case. Those men were going to kill me.”
“And they would have succeeded if we didn’t show up.”
They stood, scanning each other’s eyes, communicating without words.
All of the images from before, the ones that ran through her mind when she thought she was going to die, spun as a carousel. “But I didn’t, Terry.”
He let out a puff of air and shook his head. “You just don’t get it, do you?” He raised his arms in the air. “Fine, you want to go rushing in there, you want to commit career suicide, that is, if you haven’t already, go ahead. Why would I stop you? Why the hell would I care?” He stormed off in the direction of the front doors of the station.
Emotion seized the back of her jaw. Tears seeped into the corners of her eyes. She felt so alone at this moment. It was like she was back at the warehouse about to die. The recollections of everything was clear. The smells, the sights, the sounds, and the thoughts she had experienced. She would forgive, forget, and heal. She would give of herself.
She pinched her eyes shut, and the action squeezed a few rogue tears to her cheeks. She wiped them with her fingertips.
“Maddy? It’s you. Thank God.” Toby Sovereign put his hands on her arms. His eyes fell to take in her bandaged hand.
Did she sense remorse there? Did he feel sympathy for her? Pity? She didn’t need it.
“Please get your hands off me.”
He dropped his arms. “You’re okay, right? I mean you’re going to be okay?”
“And what would it matter to you?” She blinked back more tears that threatened to escape. It must be the medication she was on, or the lack of sleep.
“You’re kidding, right? We’re back to this?”
“Yes, we are.”
“I know you love me. I saw it in your eyes the day I asked you to deny it.”
“I almost died today.” She bit her cheek and she could no longer look him in the eye. “You didn’t even bother showing up to help, or to see how I was.”
“Oh please, don’t do this.”
A sarcastic grin flashed across her lips and disappeared quickly. “Don’t do this? That’s rich, Sovereign.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It seems we’re back to surnames.”
“That’s how cops refer to other cops. That’s all we are. That’s all we ever will be.” She dared to look at him when she spoke. She swore agony registered in his darkened eyes and that his energy projected a barrier.
“Let’s talk about this.”
“We are. We have. It’s over. Accept it. I have.” She choked on the last two words as they came out. They pained her so much to say. She wished she could deny her feelings, tamp them down into a dark recess where they would never see the light of day. That way she’d never hurt, she’d never have the urge to cry, tears would never form so they could never fall.
He coughed and rubbed his jaw. “So, you can look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me?”
“Is that what it’s going to take for you to leave me alone?” She knew the question struck him with force. Heartache glinted across his irises.
“I love you, Maddy. I always have. I know that now.”
She blinked hard. “You know that now? But not back when we were engaged?”
“Oh please, don’t go through all of this again.”
She held up her good hand. “Let me finish. You know you love me now. What does that even mean? That you’ve had your fill of one-night stands and now you’re ready to make a home for yourself? What makes you think I’ve been sitting around waiting for you to come back? I’ve got my life together.”
“I know.”
“I’m not finished.” Her heart longed to speak the truth out loud, to let him know how badly he had hurt her. But she could never let him witness that level of vulnerability—even if she suspected he knew, she wouldn’t confirm it.
“Do you love me?” he repeated his question.
She closed her eyes and then opened them to meet with his. “Yes.”
Toby moved in close to her. She stepped back.
“Why do I sense a but?”
The conflicting thoughts came at dogged speed. She had promised to open herself up more, but this situation with Toby, it didn’t seem right. Despite her feelings, their time as a couple had passed.
“But that’s not enough.”
“Love isn’t enough?”
“No, it’s not.” She put more space between them. “You told me to tell you that I don’t love you and to look into your eyes when I said it?”
His jaw tightened, and she swore his eyes actually misted over.
“Look into my eyes.” She waited for her heart to calm its racing. “I love you, but we’re not good for each other.”
“Meaning I’m not good for you?”
Madison didn’t think it was necessary to reinforce what she had already said. He would have to accept her stand on this.
He cleared his throat and swallowed deeply. “All right. I guess I can understand. I made a mistake. And you can’t forgive me.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
She knew she was already breaking one of her promises to herself, the one that she was to forgive, forget, and heal. But her future wasn’t in her past, it was ahead of her—wherever that path might lead her.
“Guess that makes the two of us.” He stood there for a little longer, in silence, peering into her eyes. “What about friends? Can we at least—”
“Let me think about it.” She walked away, her heart pounding from the verbal confession. She loved Toby Sovereign, but he wasn’t good for her. They say step one to overcoming anything is to admit to the issue. She hoped it proved to be the case with him.
-
Chapter 9
MADISON WENT INTO THE OBSERVATION room and looked in on Sergey in one interrogation room, and Anatolli in another.
Anatolli picked at his teeth and didn’t seem to care if anyone saw him do it.
Sergey glared at the mirror as if he sensed her standing on the other side. His eyes held such murderous hatred, they cut through the glass like a diamond.
Strength left her legs and she buckled slightly. She reached out for the ledge of the pane and caught her balance. She was exhausted, but she had to see this through. There wasn’t any time for sleep and why the hell wasn’t someone in there questioning them?
“What are you doing here?” Sergeant Winston came up behind her, holding a steaming cup, likely filled with brew from the bullpen. He balanced his arm on his ever-growing paunch.
“Why isn’t anyone in there? I’m not afrai
d of go—”
“In my office, Knight.” He blew on his coffee but didn’t take a draw. “Now.”
“This is my case. You can’t take it from me.” She headed toward Sergey’s room. Her hand touched the door handle when the sergeant’s voice took on more urgency.
“You’re only going one place. My office. Now.” He held eye contact with her, his gaze driving home the point.
She didn’t say one word as she brushed past him and, in the process, bumped his elbow, sloshing coffee over the edge of the mug.
“Shit!”
If it had been any other time, Madison would have found pleasure in the situation. Right now, all she could think about was getting into those interrogation rooms.
She trailed him. “They tried to kill me. I don’t know what you’re not—”
“And I don’t understand what you’re not getting.” Winston spun and jabbed a pointed finger in the air toward her. His face was bright red from his raised blood pressure. “I can’t have one of my top detectives running rogue and carrying out vigilante justice.”
They entered his office. She slammed the door shut behind them, then let out a huff of air, and remained standing.
Winston shuffled behind his desk and its mounds of paperwork. He placed the mug on his desk with a thump. More coffee splashed over the edges. “You go down there without thought as to the consequences. You—don’t even think of interrupting me.”
“But it’s not like—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Knight. You shot a man.”
“He had a gun held to my head.”
“You don’t get it, do you? You shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”
“It was during my personal time.”
“Yet in official capacity? Listen, Knight, you can’t have it both ways.”
She had the feeling she wasn’t going to like the direction of this conversation.
“I’m going to have to ask you to take a few—”
“Boss—”
“It’s not up for debate. As mentioned before, there will be an IA investigation. Until that’s cleared up, you’ll be on modified duty.”
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