MADISON GLANCED AT THE CLOCK on the wall. She had run through the events of that day as best she could remember. Parts she didn’t remember clearly, like whether she went in with her gun raised, she left out. “I really don’t know what else to tell you.”
“How are you sleeping at night?”
“Just fi—good.” She needed to eradicate the word fine from her vocabulary or this woman would see through it.
“I think we still have more to talk about.”
“I’m not sure what.” Madison’s heart thumped against her ribcage. She had things to take care of. She needed this woman’s signature on a form to confirm to the sarge she’d followed through.
“You said that you went to this man, Sergey. What prompted you to do this?”
Madison was appreciative and surprised, that the woman never broached the subject of their assassination. “I thought that part was clear. I wanted answers.”
“Yes, answers, but why after so many years? Why not just wait things out long—”
“Longer?” Madison shook her head. If this lady thought she was going to get the entire story, the one that went back generations, she needed to give up on that dream. “No, it had been too long already. They know the truth of what happened. I wanted to hold them accountable.”
“Already tried and found guilty.” Connor poised her hand under her chin contemplatively, her pen giving the pose an added touch of credibility.
“I know.”
“You have doubts.”
Madison’s eyes snapped to meet hers. The truth reflected back at her—the reality that, yes, she was having doubts. Not everything fell into the perfect alignment she figured it would.
“Well,” Connor prodded her.
“There are a lot of things to consider.”
“You feel responsible.”
“Responsible for?”
Connor swept her hand in front of her. “For all of it. For rushing into that warehouse, for putting your life in danger, for harming the relationship with your partner, for jumping to conclusions. Possibly for their death.”
And there it was. Madison’s earlobes went warm. “I was doing my job. Their deaths are not on my head.”
“Is that how you truly feel, Detective, or is there more to this picture?”
Madison had to look away and bite her tongue before she lashed out at this woman and sent her off crying to her mother. “There is only one thing I feel guilty about.”
“This isn’t about guilt.”
Her earlobes went from warm to a blazing fire. She hated word play. “I should have taken care of this years ago. I should have gone in there and handled things.”
“You mean you should have shot them all?”
“Where did such a stupid question come from?”
Connor didn’t give any impression that Madison’s words impacted her. If anything, she intensified her gaze.
“I mean, I should have pushed it harder years ago, but the next case came up, and then the next, and before I knew it, this case had been shuffled behind. Cold. Reduced to file storage like the man never existed, as if his life meant nothing.”
“You feel responsible for that.”
“Of course I do.” The confession hurled out of her mouth, followed by silence. It ricocheted between them, and when Madison dared to look at Connor, she was smiling.
“I think that will be it for today.”
The woman was unbalanced.
“What? So I can leave feeling guilty? Guilty over something I had no control over?”
Connor stood and came to Madison. “As I said, Madison, it’s not about guilt. I’d like to see you again.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me?”
“Here.” Connor extended an appointment card like she had the other day. “You keep working with me, you should be free of me after a few more visits.”
“A few more visits? I don’t understand why you can’t just release me now. I’ve told you everything.”
Connor laced her fingers. “I believe we’re starting to make some real progress. Now, I’ll see you in two days, at two o’clock.”
Madison snatched the card and stuffed it into a pants pocket. Why did she always feel worse when she left the doctor’s office?
THE DRIVE BACK FROM CONNOR’S allowed her time to think—if only she felt like dealing with any of the issues that surfaced. Like the fact she housed a lot of guilt and anger as if the Russians’ crimes were her personal transgressions. She was no more responsible for their actions than she was a random terrorist.
She had to shake all this personal mumbo-jumbo and get to work. It was time to tamp these emotions and thoughts into a deep recess and move on. But first, she had a stop she wanted to make. Maybe it would be a trip into the hornet’s nest, but she was determined not to be the one who got stung.
-
Chapter 44
SANDY TAYLOR, Chief McAlexandar’s receptionist, shook her head. “He said you’ll have to make an appoint—”
“I need to talk to him.” Madison rushed into his office.
“Detective, you can’t…”
Madison found McAlexandar behind his desk.
“Knight, I’d say what a pleasure—”
She heard the clicks of Sandy’s heels coming behind her. “I’m sorry, she barged right on in here.”
He waved a hand of dismissal, and Sandy left, closing the door a little harder than necessary behind her.
“I’ve been seeing a shrink,” Madison said.
“Good. You’d benefit from one.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
A sinister grin. “Again with the pleasure.”
She had more than one issue she wanted to discuss with the chief. They had been pushed to the back burner but had never been forgotten. She still suspected he had connections with the Russians.
McAlexandar leaned back in his chair and gestured to the one across from him. His eyes read, by all means.
She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of following his silent directions. She crossed her arms and stood, one leg jutted out in front of the other. “We need to talk about some things.”
One eyebrow hitched. “Oh yeah, and what would that be?”
She had always been direct, why stop now? “The Russians.”
He leaned forward, his thumb tapping the back of his pinkie ring. “What about them?”
“You’re on their payroll.”
McAlexandar’s resulting laugh was hearty and rocked his frame. “You must have hit your head in there.”
“Did I?” She solidified eye contact and hardly dared to breathe.
The chief’s face reddened and he wagged a pointed finger at her. “You better have your shit together to make accusations like that.”
“Or what? You’ll have me fired. Good luck. I’ll fight it.”
Why was it every time she was around this man she wanted to reach out and strangle him until the blood drained from his face, and the life force disappeared from his eyes?
“Ah.” McAlexandar resumed his relaxed posture and leaned deep into his chair, resting his clasped hands in his lap.
“Yeah. Ah. I know about all of it.”
“Do you now? So you have proof to back up your wild claims?”
“I will get it.”
“How nice of you to provide me with fair warning.”
“I like my enemies lined up in front of me.”
“Keep your enemies closer, Detective.” His face took on sharp angles as he latched eyes with her. “What people fail to realize about that phrase is that it is unwise advice. See, with your enemies close, they know your weaknesses and they can take you down.”
“It works both ways.” She held eye contact with him until he guffawed. “I’m glad you think this is all s
o funny. I’m coming after you, Chief, and you won’t know when or how, but know that I am coming.”
“You little twit. Do you have any idea who you are talking to?”
“What are you going to do, call in the Russian hitman?”
His cheeks burned red. “Don’t you talk to me like that ever again.”
“Why? Are you going to tell me that I have no idea what you’re capable of? Because I have a good feeling I do.”
“You take the law into your own hands, storm into the warehouse that belongs to the fucking mob.” He pulled down on his jacket. “As a result, half the city needs to be shut down because you acted recklessly.”
Breathing was getting difficult. Adrenaline pumped through her system causing a heartbeat to pound in her ears. Her vision blurred.
“You have nothing to say to that, Detective? Hitting close to the truth, aren’t we? Yet I was expected to get you back to full commission. It’s a joke. It really is. Here I am, put in this position. One of life’s cruel jokes.”
Despite the loud words coming from the puny man, she could only see one outcome—vindication. She would never back down from him, no matter how hard he tried to push her. She had stood up to him before and likely would many more times. But if his plans for mayor ever came to fruition, she’d never get rid of him. Maybe the latter was the angle from which she should work things.
“You are all about the politics.”
A pulse tapped in his cheek.
“You want to look good to the public. You want your official chair as mayor. But guess what? You’re not there, Chief, and right now that means you have to put up with me.” Her heart was racing so fast it hurt to breathe.
McAlexandar’s jaw slid askew. He wouldn’t meet with her eyes. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
She placed Ph.D. Tabitha Connor’s card on his desk. “Get me cleared.”
He continued to refuse her eye contact, and she stormed out of the room. Part of her couldn’t believe she’d just spoken to the man like that. She was relying on the fact that he wouldn’t want to make her visit known to anyone. If he did, she’d have hell to pay with the sergeant. But she didn’t have any choice. She wasn’t one to sit back and wait for things to unfold and, frankly, every time she was around the chief, he pulled out an ugly side of her.
WITH MADISON OUT OF HIS OFFICE, he opened his desk drawer and took out the bottle of Scotch and a tumbler. The Mouth, as he referred to her, had the ability to turn a man of sobriety into a raging alcoholic. And, with him, he had no stake to claim there, so he was really doomed, but he didn’t get to where he was today because he backed down. Maybe it was time to revisit the change in his career path, a little earlier than he had intended.
-
Chapter 45
MADISON WAS IN THE STATION lot and had already signed out a vehicle when she called Terry’s cell. She told him where she was. “Are you ready to go?”
“I’ll be right there.”
Less than two minutes later, he was walking toward her.
“I waited for you,” he said.
“Good choice.”
“The sergeant’s looking for you by the way.”
“I bet he is. Speaking of bets, don’t you owe me twenty for—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the statement. Something didn’t feel right about profiting off a man’s death. “Just get in the car.” She pointed to the passenger door.
“According to Douglas’s notes, the body was tucked away in a ravine.”
“And that means only one place. It’s off the highway heading out of town. The drive will take about thirty minutes, with most of it taken up with city traffic until we hit the outskirts.” She came up to another red light. “Longer if we keep getting these. Maybe I should just turn the lights on.”
Terry looked over at her from the passenger seat. “If a body’s there, it’s not going anywhere.”
“Crime Scene set up to meet us there?”
“Of course.” Terry looked out the window.
She glanced at the button for the lights but decided against it. Terry was right. There wasn’t a rush.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she said.
“’Bout time.”
“Hardy-har.”
“Hey, that’s my line. Yours is shut up.”
She heard the smile come through his voice but didn’t turn to face him.
“The bullet in the maid, Sonia Pike, I think it’s going to match up to the bullet type pulled from Lexan.”
“That’s a possibility. So, you think maybe this hitman was used years ago too?”
“I do.” Madison’s cell rang and the ID showed it was Sergeant Winston. “Shit!”
“You’d better get it.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Lovely vocabulary.” His facial expression soured. He hated swear words at the best of times.
“Listen, you have no idea what—” It was another sentence better left unfinished.
“The shrink must be getting to you.”
She ignored his quip. “Now I’ve got to face an angry Winston.”
“He didn’t seem angry.”
“He wasn’t an—”
The phone rang for the fourth time. She had one more ring before it was put to voice mail. She took a deep breath.
“Knight, where the hell are you?”
“What do you mean?” She slid her focus to her partner. “Didn’t Terry tell you where we were going?”
Terry mouthed, Hey.
“Yes, but it’s not about that. It’s the reporter. He wants to do another piece on you.”
“Why?” Her life was getting out of control and fast.
“It’s a piece on you as the person.”
Silence.
“It’s good PR.”
“Fine. Whatever I have to do.”
“I knew you’d say that. He’s meeting you at Piccolo Italia at eight o’clock tonight. Don’t be late. Oh, and, Knight, make sure he picks up the tab.”
“By all means.” She was lowering her phone as she spoke and then clicked off.
“Why do I sense the earth stopped spinning?”
“Funny, because to me it’s never spun faster, and, I would add, it’s off kilter.” It wasn’t enough that she had to play nice with the reporter, he wanted to meet her at the restaurant she and Blake used to frequent. She pounded her palm on the steering wheel.
Quickly, the action transported her back to the torture room. She was getting sick of replaying the same imagery, the same movements, and the same attempts on her life. Somehow, she had to pull herself out of this vortex.
-
Chapter 46
SHE PARKED THE DEPARTMENT SEDAN at the side of the road, and the forensic evidence van pulled up behind them.
Cynthia and Mark got out and went rooting in the back of the van. Mark came out with some sort of fancy detector and Cynthia slipped a camera over her head. They both carried evidence kits.
The gravel crunched beneath their steps as they approached.
Cynthia kept her sunglasses in place as she spoke. “Richards is on standby if we find something.”
“Sounds good,” Madison acknowledged her friend and colleague before turning to the ravine.
The overgrowth was mostly shades of brown, with the odd clump of green grass. They rustled in the breeze providing an eerie backdrop for what Madison was certain was a dump site. She was certain because Douglas had paid with his life in the Russians’ attempt to keep this location secret.
Madison took the lead down the hill. “According to Douglas, they took the body down the ravine. It’s probably located at the base, next to the river.”
Cynthia snapped off some photographs and shrugged her shoulders when Madison looked at her. “What? If we find somebody do
wn there, this sets the scene.”
Madison took each step carefully. The ground was spongy beneath her feet and small twigs were strewn everywhere. Low-level branches also served as a hazard, but the four of them reached the bottom without incident.
“Spread out. Look for any evidence that things have been disturbed,” Madison said.
“You do realize if Douglas is right, the body dump dates back—what?—five years ago.” Cynthia shared a glance between Madison and Terry before looking over at Mark.
“The way Dimitre’s cleaning house, nothing would surprise me. I also have a feeling we’re going to find more than one body today.” Madison took in the area, her eyes keen, scanning for any evidence. She settled on Mark’s detector. She nudged her head toward it. “What do you propose to do with that?”
Mark lifted the apparatus in response. “It’s quite possible the body has metal on it. Rings, a watch, belt buckle, you name it.”
“Makes sense.” That was her audible answer. But they had found a watch that matched to James Calin in the warehouse, so why leave a ring and take a watch? Of course, where they found it suggested the possibility of a scuffle and it falling off. She supposed it was plausible they were buried in clothing that could include metal.
Madison took in the area again, and the four of them spread out. She went straight, Cynthia went right with Mark, and Terry went left.
There was a mound of green grass next to the river and it stood out against the otherwise bland landscape.
Madison lowered to her haunches and pointed. “I think I found something.”
“Here too,” Mark said.
She heard it then, the soft pulsing bleep of the machine. She rose to full height.
“Just like I thought. More than one body.” Her hands instinctively went to her hips. When her injured hand reached there, she realized it didn’t hurt much at all anymore. “We better get Richards down here.”
“Just wait until—” Terry squatted near Madison and the grassy mound, and started cupping the earth with his hands.
Just Cause Page 18