Shadow Falls

by Wendy Dranfield

  Once Rex told him what was in the police report, he knew for sure. He just didn’t know why Stacey’s deeply religious uncle would do that to his beautiful niece and then frame Nate for it by planting the bloody hammer in his car seconds after Nate’s arrival at the house.

  He’s disappointed that there are still no leads on Father Connor, but he’s hopeful that he’ll come face to face with him one day. He ends the call and stands up, but he’s too late to miss the spray from the dog shaking himself dry. “Come on! Give me a break,” he says.

  The dog barks at him, excited to get a reaction. Nate hears a woman laugh behind him and turns. He recognizes the redhead who’s looking at him.

  Eight

  The next morning, Madison packs what few belongings she owns. Nate wouldn’t answer her calls last night and she’s worried he’s going to move on to the next job and forget about her. She looks around the small room that has served as her home for the last seven months. The bedcovers are threadbare, the carpet is covered in stains and the soft furnishings are filthy. She’s leaving here today and never returning. And if she ever makes it back into law enforcement, which she’s determined to do, she’d love to come back and arrest Leonard for pimping out the women who have kept her company.

  She pulls the cheap Glock pistol she bought on the street out from under her mattress. She doesn’t intend to go back to Colorado unarmed, so a gun was one of the essential items she spent her first month’s wages on. She slips it into her purse, picks up her holdall and opens the door. Without looking back, she walks to Patty’s door and knocks. Marcus, Patty’s oldest son, opens it, rubbing his eyes as if he’s been asleep.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she whispers. She looks over his shoulder and can see Patty is in bed with the babies. “Is your mom still asleep?”

  Marcus nods.

  “Would you do me a favor and give her this when she wakes up?” She hands him a parcel of leftovers and a sealed envelope. On the front is a brief note: I’m sorry it’s not more. Take care. M x

  He looks up at her. “Are you leaving?”

  She nods, not trusting herself to speak. Marcus is nine years old and similar to her own son in many ways.

  “Wait here.” He turns away from the door and puts the leftovers down on the coffee table, then runs to his side of the double bed. He squats down and picks something up. When he hands the item to her, he turns shy. “On TV, cops always wear aviators. I found these and saved them for you.”

  She looks at the mirrored sunglasses and knows he didn’t find them; they’re branded and new-looking. But she’s touched he would steal them for her. She kneels down for a hug, enjoying the warm embrace. “Thank you. I love them. Just please don’t get caught. Remember what I told you about prison?”

  He nods.

  As he waves goodbye and closes the door, Madison turns her back on the motel for the last time. She fights back tears behind her new sunglasses as she begins the three-mile walk to Nate’s hotel.

  With her feet aching in her worn sneakers, she’s sweating and pissed off as she reaches the Majestic Hotel, which is surrounded by palm trees and overlooking the beach. She can’t help feeling envious of Nate. He might have had it worse in prison, but he’s living better than her now he’s out.

  As she turns the corner into the parking lot, she sees him carrying bags to a metallic-grey Jeep Grand Cherokee. She’s about to approach him when an attractive redhead appears. Madison waits behind a palm tree as she watches the woman wrap her arms around Nate’s neck.

  “I’m never going to see you again, am I?” she says.

  Nate pulls her in closer by her waist. “Never say never.” They kiss. “If I’m ever back in Malibu, I’ll call you.”

  “You better.” She smiles at him and Madison jumps as a cab appears behind her.

  Just before the redhead gets in the back, Nate calls out, “Say hi to Blake for me.”

  She laughs whilst shaking her head. “You’re so bad.”

  It’s only as the cab drives away that Nate notices Madison walking toward him. She finishes her cigarette and removes her sunglasses.

  He watches her as she checks out the Jeep. “It’s one of the few luxuries I afforded myself once I received my payout. I figured it would be comfortable enough to sleep in if I ever had to go on the run. Not that I should have to, but you never know what life has in store.” He laughs. “It’s smaller than my prison cell, but more comfortable, and with much better air quality.”

  Madison crouches to look through the car’s tinted windows and then gestures to his bags on the ground near the trunk. “Going somewhere?”

  “What are you doing here, Madison?” he asks, noticing her own stuffed holdall.

  “Call me Maddie. You didn’t return my calls last night.” She stands up straight. “You’re leaving, aren’t you? Moving on to the next town, the next job.”

  He nods. “I am. I was going to call you before I left this morning to let you know that I’m happy to look into your case, but I realized I didn’t have your cell number. Did you use a pay phone to contact me? It came up as number withheld.”

  She smiles and then turns away before he can see her tears. Her heart starts beating faster as she realizes what his help could mean. If he finds out who framed her, she could be exonerated and back on the force within months. Earning again. Living again. She could find her son and tell him she’s not a murderer. She could wipe the slate clean.

  While she struggles to contain her emotions, he gives her a minute to compose herself by checking he’s brought all his belongings from the hotel room.

  With a shaky voice, she asks, “What persuaded you?”

  He throws his bags in the trunk and closes it. “If you were framed by a cop, we could really nail the assholes. We could take down a whole department. Because these things don’t happen in isolation; a bent cop needs cover, which means someone else knows what they did to you. They could do it again. Hell, it was six or seven years ago now, so they probably have done it again. I don’t like that, Madison. That kind of thing keeps me awake at night.”

  She nods, more relieved than he’ll ever know. He’s trusting that she’s innocent.

  “But for now, I’ve been called out on another case, so I can’t go to Colorado with you just yet. I’m sure you’d agree your cold case isn’t as urgent as a missing child.” He turns to get in his car. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but if you give me your cell number, I’ll contact you when I’ve wrapped that up.”

  “No.”

  He turns back to look at her.

  She’s shaking her head. “No. It’s taken me almost seven years to find help. I’m sticking with you so you don’t forget about me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She feels desperate. He can’t make her wait any longer. She steps toward him. “Let me come with you. I can help you with your other case. I can do the admin, invoicing, driving, whatever! I have nothing here, Nate. I have nothing anywhere.”

  He looks up at the blue sky, as if he’s enjoying the warm sun on his face.

  It’s agonizing for her to be reliant on a complete stranger to sort out her problems. “I travel light.” She picks up her holdall and nods to it. “And I’m not a big talker. You won’t even know I’m there.”

  “Is that seriously all you own?” he asks.

  She watches as he realizes it was a stupid question. He would have left prison the same way as her; with nothing but the crappy street clothes they give you and fifty dollars from the state. If he hadn’t received compensation, he wouldn’t be in the position he’s in now. She just has to hope he remembers how that feels. “Please, Nate. Just give me a chance. You never know, we might even get along.” She attempts a hopeful smile.

  He looks as if he’s seriously considering it, but then says, “You don’t even know where I’m going.”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “Like I said, I have nothing keeping me here, so I don’t care where you’re going. All I know is you’r
e stuck with me until you solve my case.”

  He takes a deep breath, then motions to the car. “Okay, get in. But don’t make me regret this.”

  She jogs around to the passenger side before he can change his mind. After buckling her seat belt, she gives him a thumbs-up through the windscreen.

  Nate shakes his head, but she thinks he’s probably happier than he’s letting on. The world is a lonely place for ex-convicts. They need to stick together.

  Nine

  Madison watches the beach disappear in the rear-view mirror. She can’t believe her luck. It’s been so long since anyone said yes to her that she’s worried Nate will change his mind before they’ve even left Malibu. She tries to stay quiet so he forgets she’s there. Sinking back into the comfortable leather seat, she thinks about Owen, her son.

  He was ten years old when she was arrested. He would’ve celebrated his seventeenth birthday this month. Owen was a summer baby and had the blond hair to match. Her chest aches whenever she thinks of him. She needs to find him. She needs to explain where she went and why, but not until she’s been exonerated, because he needs to know he’s been fed lies about her for the last seven years.

  “Did you move here straight after your release, Maddie?” asks Nate.

  “I came here to find you. I don’t live anywhere at the moment.”

  He takes his eyes off the road for a minute. “How did you track me down?”

  She thinks there’s no harm in telling him. “Through one of those websites dedicated to murderers. It constantly updates with who’s been convicted, sentenced, released or…” She tails off.

  “Or put to death?” he says.

  She nods. “Yeah. Someone had updated your profile to say you’d been spotted living in San Francisco recently and you were working as a PI, then someone else said they’d heard you’d moved on to Malibu. It wasn’t hard to find you down here. I used to be a cop, remember.”

  He looks a little annoyed. “I’ve been trying to keep a low profile.”

  “Not hard enough, obviously. If I could find you, any cop or federal agent could. You need to travel under a different name.”

  He’s silent for a few miles and she’s desperate to ask him about his experience. She’s intrigued by the fact that he was almost a priest but gave it all up at the last minute for a woman. She knows he was convicted of murdering his fiancée, and that he was just months away from taking that final walk to the death chamber when he was finally exonerated. That’s got to change a person; knowing the day you’re going to die. What must be even worse is knowing you’re being killed for something you didn’t do, while the real killer is free. She’ll be surprised if she doesn’t discover somewhere along their journey that he has a temper. Anyone would be angry and vengeful after spending almost two decades on death row.

  Even so, she’s not afraid of him. Having been a cop, she knows how to protect herself, but so far, he appears to be anything but angry. Still, she won’t ask him anything about his case until they know each other better. Clearing her name and finding Owen is her priority.

  “I thought about it,” he says, finally. “I thought about changing my name once I’d been released. But I didn’t want to give up my identity after everything else they’d already taken from me. I don’t know, call me stupid, I guess.”

  She looks over at him. “I understand. I feel the same way. We shouldn’t be ashamed of who we are. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  He nods, and she can tell his mind is taking him backwards, to prison, so she changes the subject.

  “So, where are we going?”

  He laughs. “I can’t believe you’ve only just asked that.” He punches a zip code into his sat nav and takes a right turn. “First, we’re going to Santa Barbara. Should only take an hour depending on the traffic. I’ve been asked to investigate the disappearance of a twelve-year-old girl, and that’s where her family lives. She was at a summer camp north of the state when she disappeared. The cops think she’s just a runaway, but the grandmother’s adamant she wouldn’t do that.”

  Madison rolls her eyes. “That’s what they all say.”

  “I’ll bet, but this feels different to me. The grandmother doesn’t trust the investigating cops, so you can see why it appealed to me.” He smiles at her.

  She likes his smile. Apart from being a bit weathered around the edges, he’s handsome. He has a thick head of sun-kissed light brown hair, and attractive blue eyes. He’s tanned, probably taking any opportunity to sit in the sun since his release, like her, although she’d bet he’s obsessed with sunscreen, if her own experience of increased UV sensitivity is anything to go by. She knows from the news reports that he’s thirty-nine years old. He hasn’t let himself go, unlike most ex-prisoners. He still shaves, and he dresses smartly. His jeans and T-shirt look like surf wear, but she’d guess they’re designer. She did a lot of digging into Nate Monroe and she knows all about his three-million-dollar payout. He was one of the lucky ones, and she’s happy for him. She doesn’t expect that to ever happen to her; her life just doesn’t work that way, never has.

  “By the way,” she says. “Don’t call me Maddie. I prefer Madison. I’m not a teenager.”

  He looks surprised. “But you said…”

  “I know, because the sad fact is that men prefer helping vulnerable young girls rather than thirty-six-year-old women. I guess I just used some persuasive powers by making myself seem vulnerable when I needed your help. Sorry. I once worked vice, so I learned a few tricks.”

  He shakes his head and looks back at the road. “This is exactly why I hate cops.”

  She turns away from him and smiles.

  When they stop at a gas station forty minutes later, Madison buys them both coffees. Thanks to months of waiting tables and smiling prettily for tips, she has enough money to last her four or five months—if she sticks to the essentials. But she wants to show Nate she’s not here for a free ride. Paying for coffee is a small gesture, but it’s all she can afford to do right now. Nate might be helping her, but she’s still got to look after what little she has. And she has her pride.

  “Here you go.” She places his coffee in front of him. They’re taking a break on some old patio chairs outside the gas station. “Did you want milk with that?”

  “You sound like a waitress,” he says.

  She bristles. “What’s wrong with waitresses?”

  “Nothing, it was a joke.” He looks up at her.

  She lets it slide and takes a seat next to him. It’s been a while since she’s spent this long with anyone, so she knows she’s lost her sense of humor. She looks at her pack of cigarettes, but she only has one left. She’s trying to cut down, and drops the pack on the table. “Who’s our client? The grandmother or the girl’s parents?”

  “Grandmother. I spoke to her last night, but she was pretty guarded. We’re going to see her at her son’s house. He and his wife know she’s contacted an investigator, but they’re not happy about it, apparently.”

  “Why not?”

  Nate takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces. “This is bad.” He places it back on the plastic table. “Because her son thinks their daughter ran away, and his wife is so devastated by the whole thing that she doesn’t want any more officials coming to her house and searching the girl’s bedroom. She’s finding it hard to cope with her disappearance, so we have to tread carefully.”

  “Probably a good thing you have a woman with you then. It sounds like she’s sick of men in suits.” She tries the coffee. He’s right, it is bad. Even so, she can’t pour it away. She worked an hour clearing tables to pay for it. That’s what she does now that every penny counts: she adds up the cost of everything she spends versus how long it took her to make it. It’s depressing, but when you spend all your free time alone, there’s not much else to do to pass the time.

  “The grandmother told me she was using a burner phone,” says Nate. “Can you believe she knows about things like that?”

  Madis
on is surprised. “Good. That was sensible if she thinks the cops could be listening to them. Maybe the detectives working the case are hiding something. She must have her suspicions about them if she’s hired a PI.”

  Nate appears to think about it. “You know, it never ceases to shock me how many cops are bent. I know there are excellent officers out there too, but it just feels that things are taking a turn for the worse. Especially lately.”

  “Well, when the politicians get away with murder, what do you expect?” Madison says. “But we’re not all bad; just fallible like everyone else.”

  Nate looks at her for a moment. “You don’t seem like a cop. Did you enjoy it?”

  She nods. “I loved my job. I’d finally got the promotion I had worked hard for. I had everything I ever wanted.”

  Nate glances away. “We’ll get it back for you.”

  She looks down at her coffee. “Some things you can’t get back.”

  ten

  November 2000—Austin, Texas

  After almost ten months in jail awaiting trial, Nate thought things couldn’t get any worse. After all, the daily confrontations, weekly beatings and random threats of rape were pretty horrific. Add to that the slop they call food, the sweltering conditions in the cells and the complete lack of comfort, and he’d be forgiven for assuming that. But when his trial begins, he realizes he’s been naïve. Everything before the trial now feels like high-school drama. Things are about to get much worse.

  Midway through the trial, Nate takes the stand, very much against his attorney’s advice. He’s adamant he wants to speak up for himself, to make the jury see he’s not a killer and that he genuinely loved Stacey.

  A deathly silence ripples through the courtroom as everyone stops whispering. All eyes are on Nate. His lawyer asks him the opening question they discussed beforehand.