“Detective Knight, come in.”
She heard Connor, and her voice held a cheery disposition, but she had yet to see her face. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make a run for it. This woman would use her charm to infiltrate Madison’s deepest thoughts, and before she knew it, she’d be crying like some lunatic while making claims that she had “mommy issues.”
Connor swiveled around. “Please have a seat.”
She was a mother figure. Panic whelmed inside of Madison.
Tabitha Connor was a woman in her mid-sixties. Her eyes were a bright green, her facial features were soft and the smile she offered pinched the skin around her eyes and balled her blushed cheeks. Her makeup was modestly applied. It provided smooth coverage but didn’t wear like a mask—an issue for some women her age. Her lips were a pale pink and glistened with gloss. Her gray hair was swept into a tight chignon. She wore a black pantsuit paired with a beige blouse and had left her jacket buttons undone.
Madison slipped onto the couch across from her.
Connor leaned forward and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Madison had never felt more awkward in her life. She surmised what the lady was probably thinking already, especially with Madison’s ever-drifting eyes. She would smell her nerves and prey on them. Madison forced her gaze to settle on the woman.
“Why don’t we start with getting to know each other,” Connor said.
Madison knew the doctor expected her to speak, but her throat was stitched shut.
Connor must have sensed it because she angled her head to the left, inquisitiveness stamped in her eyes. She wasn’t going to say anything until Madison offered something.
Madison took a deep breath. “This is all new for me. I’m fine. I’m only here because the brass thinks I need to be. I’m sure you can just sign off on the paper saying that I came and we’ll both be able to go our separate ways.”
Connor remained silent.
“I survived the ordeal.” She held up her hurt wrist. “I have a little memento, but I’ll be good as new. It’s feeling better already actually.”
Why did she offer that?
Connor’s eyes steadied on her, and Madison’s level of discomfort ratcheted up a few notches. The woman seemed to have a way of peering into her mind, and Madison didn’t care for it—that space was reserved for her and no one else.
Troy Matthews possessed a similar ability, the way his eyes pierced into hers. She thought back to his fit chest, and his words, if you wanted to be in my arms, Madison, all you’d have to…
Maybe she shouldn’t have cut him off.
She shook the thought aside. She was getting carried away. “Listen, the truth of the matter is, I don’t need therapy. Your time would be better spent with someone who needs help.”
“I have this piece of paper.” Connor extended a sheet to her, and Madison knew its origin before it reached her hand. She made out the department letterhead.
“Like I said, that’s why I’m here in the first place.”
“Hmm.”
Madison shifted on the sofa and placed her good hand beneath her thigh. “I just don’t see the point in all this.”
“Well then, if you are feeling as good as you say, this should be easy. Let’s start with why they think you need to see me.”
“Protocol.”
“And that’s the only reason?”
Oh, this woman was good, Madison gave her that, but it would take more than direct prodding to get her to spill her feelings. She would stick to the meat of things and not divert course. She could handle her own emotions. She didn’t need someone justifying the way she felt, telling her that it was completely normal “under the circumstances.” She didn’t need their permission or absolution.
Connor’s gaze was unrelenting. It was obvious she wasn’t going to retreat.
“All right, here goes. I made a decision that put me in a bad spot,” Madison stated simply.
“You did? Do you regret that decision?” The woman was at it already—twisting her words.
“It wasn’t my fault. I mean, what happened wasn’t...”
“Are we talking about the lawyer?”
Madison’s eyes locked with Connor’s. How much did she know?
“You seem surprised. I do get a background on my new patients.” She offered a placating smile. “I know that you went there to speak with Sergey of the Russian Mafia.”
Madison stood and paced behind the couch. She was relieved Connor never tapped further into the past. “Guess they tell you everything.”
Connor wrote something on her notepad. “So, you feel that you could have prevented something? It wasn’t your fault. It what?”
The shrink’s question touched close. It made Madison wonder what she had referred to when she said it wasn’t her fault. This is why she wasn’t meant for psychological analysis. It messed with people’s minds. She went for the door. “I’ve got to go.”
“Please, just sit.” The doctor glanced at her watch. “Just give me ten minutes.”
Madison looked at the clock on the wall, but it was Connor’s gaze that had her consenting. She wouldn’t be going anywhere until she opened up a bit. “I’ll give you six. I’ve been here four already.”
“Fair enough.”
Madison took a seat again, with another glimpse at the clock. She wouldn’t let the minute hand go past ten after.
“Please continue,” Connor encouraged her.
“With the cold case, I just needed to get it taken care of, once and for all. I wanted answers.”
“There’s nothing like getting answers.”
This woman’s tactics were clear. Relate, become friends, so that her guard would drop, but she didn’t need the patronizing attitude. Madison knew what she did, and she knew why she did it. The fact that the rest of the world didn’t seem to comprehend the purpose wasn’t her issue.
“Why did you become a cop?”
“I wanted to make a difference and have a purpose in life.” Madison refused eye contact while she spoke.
“Very commendable. Most like to just get through life.”
Madison chose to look at Connor now. There was something lurking in her eyes. How much of a background did she get? Did she know everything, and the true reason she needed to be a cop?
“I’m not like everyone else. I don’t need to take it easy. I don’t need people to relate to me. If they have a problem with something I’ve done, or a choice I’ve made, that’s their issue to deal with.”
“Not everyone understands where you’re coming from.”
Madison resisted Connor’s professional inclination to relate and encourage communication, but she still found that she elaborated. “My boss, for one. He doesn’t understand why I do half the things I do. My partner, well, he’s just something altogether different.”
“He doesn’t get you?”
“No, he gets me. He just doesn’t agree with me. He thinks I’m careless and jump into things too fast.”
“Do you?”
Madison’s eyes diverted to the clock for a second, back to Connor. “At least you’re not trying to relate to me with this one.”
“It’s an honest question.”
Madison let out a rush of air. “I guess I go by my feelings a lot.”
“And this gets you into trouble.”
“Guess you could say that—this time.”
“There have been other occurrences?”
“Terry, that’s my partner, he’s—how do you say it? He doesn’t want to upset the balance between himself and the sergeant. He’s going to be a father.”
“Oh.”
Madison picked up on the way Connor let the simple one-worded statement exit her lips. This was the detour Madison needed to keep the focus off her and
onto someone else. “They don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, although, Terry is certain it’s going to be a boy. They were supposed to find out, but the baby’s position didn’t allow a clear view.” Madison let out a small laugh, but it faded quickly. “But they are worried that he may be born with Spina bifida or some other ailment.”
“Sounds like a scary place for your partner. And his wife?”
Madison responded to the shrink’s enclosed inquiry. “Yes, his wife. I guess you never know these days, but Terry’s very much into commitment.”
“I sense you’re not.”
Madison looked at the clock. Three minutes left.
Connor changed the direction of her crossed legs. “You talk about your job with passion. You talk about your partner and I sense sadness. You mention commitment and I sense fear.”
Madison ran her good hand down her thigh, inwardly wishing that she could spring from the sofa and run out the door. She glanced at the clock at again. Two and a half minutes.
“I love my job. I love my partner. And you’re right about the commitment thing. I’m working on it.”
“Why are you sad when it comes to your partner?”
“Well, it’s his baby and whether or not it will be born healthy.”
Connor pressed her lips in a grandmotherly, all-knowing sort of way. “There’s more, Madison. I’ve been doing this a long time.”
Her conversation with Terry replayed in Madison’s head.
What is your problem anyway?
You. Plain and simple.
She swallowed. “There were some words spoken before I came here.”
“Between you and Terry?”
“Yes.”
Silence fell in the room and hung as a heavy drape.
“He’s mad at me. I don’t know why.”
“Maybe he’s just worried about you. Pain and hurt can manifest themselves as anger.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him quite like this before.”
“You almost lost your life. He’s expecting a baby with his wife. These are huge changes. Uncertainties.”
“You’re trying to tell me he’s mad at me for being okay?”
“Not at all, but he could feel that you put yourself at risk and it wasn’t necessary.”
“So it’s his job to control my life choices?” Madison consulted with the clock and was relieved. She stood. “As I promised you, ten minutes. Time is over. I assume you’ll sign the form saying I was here and we can put this behind us.”
“I believe we’re just getting started, Madison. There are issues here you need to talk out before you can move forward. We hardly even touched on your experience in the hands of the Russians. How that made you feel, and how it’s affected—”
“Let me make it simple for you. I was scared. I got through it. I got over it. End of story.”
“Oh, nothing in life is that simplistic, Detective, and you of all people should know that.”
There were a few seconds of resulting silence. Madison suspected Connor knew her history, but she was letting it rest for this session.
“So you won’t sign my release form.” It wasn’t a question so much as a dire observation.
“I would like to see you in a couple of days.” Connor scribbled something on a small card and extended it.
Madison took it, albeit reluctantly. She looked at the card and realized it was confirmed, she had a shrink. Son of a bitch.
ON THE DRIVE FROM CONNOR’S OFFICE, Madison’s mind was whirling with thoughts. The bulk of it centered on the case of the murdered defense attorney and the evidence that James Calin had likely been at Homeland Logistics, and possibly murdered in the Russians’ torture room.
The floor, although it held evidence from several contributors, was too contaminated to prove useful. While it would support the fact the Russians had made men bleed in that room, without bodies to go with the blood, a conviction would be a crap shoot. No one needed a supposed dead person coming back to life after the fact.
And Terry? He could be moody at times, but it typically was never directed her way—at least not to this extent.
He could feel that you put yourself at risk and it wasn’t necessary.
Those were Connor’s words but was it that simple? Is that why he’d turned his back on her when she needed him more than ever?
She had to let the notions about Terry go. He didn’t control her life, even if he felt he had the right. He had a family he could hold power over, but not her.
She glanced at the clock and realized she had an hour before the hearing. She thought about heading directly to Knockturnl. Talking to Mason and Jessica Freeman was just one item on her list she’d like to cross off.
Yet she remembered the sergeant’s caution that she was to include Terry wherever she went and to notify him of her every move. She was never good at following orders, but this time her car headed for her apartment to change for the preliminary hearing.
-
Chapter 25
THE COURTHOUSE WAS A MAMMOTH building located in the middle of downtown. Its ostentatious white staircase led to marble columns that served as guardians in front of the doors. Inside, more marble and, on the ceiling, decorative artwork cast color into the large space.
Today the judge would determine the legitimacy of the charges being levied against Sergey and Anatolli. The DA would have to clearly show that they had committed a crime. Madison would be called upon to testify under oath that she was held at gunpoint and imprisoned. From there, it would no doubt be a long, drawn-out process due, in part, to the Russians’ pocketbook, and in another part, to their power of influence. Most wouldn’t dare to cross men of their reputation and proven criminal backgrounds, and sometimes she felt like she stood alone.
They would likely be facing several charges once all the evidence from Homeland Logistics had been fully processed, but today they would claim their innocence when it came to the endangerment of a Stiles PD detective. They would defend their stance when it came to restitution—monetary damages incurred by the city for manpower and diversion of traffic.
Madison took a seat in the front row, with her attention on the defense. Blake Golden didn’t show that he noticed her, but she sensed he knew she was there. Sergey and Anatolli sat beside him. Sergey cast her an arrogant gaze, returning his attention, seconds later, back to the bench.
On the count of three, pull the trigger.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
The smell of blood...feet shuffling around me. I couldn’t move. Chains were secured to my wrists and metal cuffs put around my ankles. A collar clasped around my neck.
She fought to establish control. Her heart raced, limiting her vision as it pumped adrenaline through her system.
When focus returned, Blake stood in front of her. She blinked and didn’t reestablish eye contact. He would sense her weakness, as if blood, and just like a shark that hunts in the seas after a plane crash, he would come after her.
“Should you be over here?” she asked.
“I hope you’re ready to see me in action.”
“I’m not sure why you waited so long. Maybe things would have turned out differently.” She dared to look at him for the purpose of nailing in the personal insult.
His tongue flicked out and wet his lips. He said nothing but gave the separating wall in front of her a tap of his hand before he went back to his side of the courtroom.
She watched after him and thought briefly about their relationship. Maybe she should feel guilt over the stab she just made at him. He was a good lover, not that she’d ever admit to that out loud, especially now. He did have some human compassion. It was just too bad that it lie so deeply buried.
Her eyes drifted over the room. One of the SWAT officers who had rescued her would state the condition they’d found her in. She noticed that
Troy Matthews was there to support him. When they made eye contact, his offered reassurance. She turned away, not sure how to handle his attention.
Why should he care about her wellbeing? They hadn’t spoken on many occasions, but now, every time she saw him she felt bonded to him in some way. It must have been because he orchestrated her rescue, a sort of Florence Nightingale syndrome—he rescued her and she was simply responding from instinct. But he was trained for this job, he was responsible for the rescue of many women, he couldn’t possibly be drawn to all of them, could he?
Why was she giving him so much thought? She didn’t need a man to complete her life. She hated that her attention kept going to him.
Once the proceeding started, it didn’t seem long and her name was called.
She made her way to the stand on legs that possessed barely enough strength to hold her upright. Her mind slipped into the past, to the moments when she feared she had taken her last breath. To the hatred that filled their eyes. To their fiery intent to torture and kill her.
Clay Simon, the prosecuting DA, was a well-seasoned match for Blake. He came over and stood in front of her. “Please tell the court what transpired at Homeland Logistics that evening, starting from the beginning.”
If she knew the beginning she could answer that, but the question of who raised their gun first threatened her sanity. She couldn’t be sure. The collage of imagery was still not definitive. She would stick to what she knew.
“I went to Homeland Logistics to speak with Sergey about an old case.”
“And he was willing to see you?”
“I don’t know. The woman from the front desk closed the storefront and left when I told her I wanted to talk to him. I sensed she was scared for some reason.”
Golden jumped to standing position. “Speculation, Your Honor.”
“Agreed. Detective, please answer the questions without assuming how other people were feeling.”
Just Cause Page 10