“I see it made a difference.”
Madison narrowed her eyes at him, and she checked her phone. There was a message. “I’m just going to check my voice mail.” She dialed in; it was Cynthia. She erased it. “Time to go to the lab. Cynthia’s got the names from the USB sticks ready for us.”
Minutes later, they were in the lab.
“I got your message, Cyn,” Madison began. “Where are they?”
“The names?”
Madison angled her head. “Yes, the names.”
“She has no patience, does she?” Cynthia made the comment, looking at Terry for him to back her up.
“No ganging up on me here. List?” Madison held out her hand, flexing her fingers.
“Fine.” Cynthia put the printout on the table in front of Madison. “It’s compiled from newest to oldest.”
Madison read it from the top down.
1. Barry Parsons
2. Simon Angle
3. Neil Bench
4. Andy Morgan
5. Laverne Tourville
6. Adrian Unger
7. Anita Smith
8. Elizabeth Windsor
“No Aaron and no Allison.” Madison looked at Terry, who shrugged his shoulders.
“You’ll also be happy to know that Jennifer finished extracting the samples from the condoms,” Cynthia said. “I’ll be running Parsons’s before I leave tonight. Jennifer’s backed up.”
“Good.”
“And if you’re happy with that, then you’ll be happy with what I have to say next. I have analyzed the swab from Claire’s vaginal cavity.” She paused, as if trying to build up the anticipation in her small audience.
“And?”
“There was viable DNA evidence there, but—” she held up a finger, licked her lips, and smiled again “—it didn’t match DNA from any of the condoms.”
“Claire was with two men the night she…”
“According to forensic evidence.”
“So there were two men—one she had sex with using a condom and another she hadn’t.” Madison gnawed on that. “She wasn’t raped…or at least Richards concluded sex was consensual. What would make her do that?”
“She trusted the one more than the other,” Cynthia suggested. “And it was condoms, not a condom.”
“All the ones from her wastebasket were from one guy?”
Cynthia nodded slowly. “I’d like to think for a period of time. Not one night.”
Madison paused, giving more thought to how Claire used protection with one partner and not with the other. “The one encounter could have been spontaneous.”
“So, Mr. Condom,” Terry said, warranting a look from both women, “woke up to find Claire grinding on some other man, got pissed off, and killed her?”
“Possible, I suppose. But why not kill the man, too?”
Terry’s head snapped in Madison’s direction. “Don’t you have a date to get to?”
“We’re working here.”
“A date?” A smirk tugged the corners of Cynthia’s mouth. “Is it with Blake again?”
Madison wanted to tune them both out, hum and bounce like a child refusing to heed a parent’s direction.
“Oh, it’s getting serious,” Cynthia said. “Look at her. Is she blushing?”
“It’s not getting serious.”
“You sound cranky enough to indicate that it is.”
“I can’t leave in the middle of the investigation, not at a time like this.”
“Parsons has volunteered his DNA. It’s a waiting game there,” Terry offered.
Madison tried to catch a look at the time on the wall, hoping that neither Terry nor Cynthia would notice.
“She wants to go.” Cynthia laughed.
“You guys are like children on the school ground.”
“You just hate the fact that we’re right,” Terry said.
“You’re not—”
“Yes, we are.” Cynthia clipped right to the point. “It’s getting more serious, and you’re frightened about it.”
She felt like she was being backed into a corner with both of them intent on bullying the answer out of her. It wasn’t going to happen, not today and not like this. She looked at the clock again. “I’m only going because one should honor their commitments.”
Terry and Cynthia were both smiling. They looked like they had won, whatever it was they could win with this. Nonetheless, they accomplished something, and Madison didn’t like that realization. They were getting too close to the truth—and to her real feelings.
She pushed between the two of them and left the lab. She called out over her shoulder, “Call as soon as you get the DNA results back on Parsons!”
-
Chapter 15
MADISON WAS STILL FUMING WHEN she walked into Piccolo Italia. She was an adult and had the right to have feelings for someone. It didn’t mean she was going to marry Blake and bear his children.
“Right this way.” A dark-haired maître d’ in a tuxedo suggested she follow him.
The restaurant, as always, smelled delicious and successfully roused her underlying hunger. Garlic, onion, basil, and oregano filled the air along with freshly baked bread, pasta dishes, and steaming seafood.
The tables were set apart to provide privacy, and the dimly lit space created an intimate ambiance. The drapes and walls were a rich burgundy and a candle centerpiece burned on each table. Dean Martin crooned in Italian over speakers set at a low volume.
Blake was tucked into their regular corner. They had eaten here more than she dared to count, and every time they were, they sat at this table. She didn’t know if she admired this regular pattern, viewing it as a reliable trait or as evidence of a predictable personality. If she continued in this relationship, would there be any surprises in store for her? Or would they be here years down the road, still huddled into this familiar corner of Piccolo Italia?
Years down the road? That thought scared her. Her heart was being pulled away from her, and she had to put an end to it before she ended up heartbroken.
Blake rose to greet her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
The maître d’ pulled the chair out for her. “Miss, may I pour you a glass of wine?” He referred to the bottle of red on the table. Blake already had some in his glass.
She nodded, and the maître d’ poured her a glass and backed away from the table. The potent aroma of the wine found its way over the smells of food.
“Hope you don’t mind that I started without you.” He pinched two fingers around the stem of his glass. “You were running a little late.”
Of course he’d point that out. He was a stickler for punctuality. She was surprised that he hadn’t just greeted her with, About time you got here.
She could tell him all about the hellish week she’d been having, how she had a long list of suspects and should be chasing them instead of being here. She could have told him about what she’d found when she went home to change: a big mess in Hershey’s kennel. But somehow all of that would come across as if she had a need to defend herself.
Blake reached out a hand for hers, careful not to upset the burning candle. A corner of his lips curved upward. “You must have put in extra effort tonight. You’re absolutely beautiful.”
“But not to imply that I’m not other times?”
“Of course not.”
“Thank you, then.” She smiled modestly. There was something in his eyes—a subtle vulnerability? But instead of being pushed back, she found herself drawn closer. How was it he had the power to alter her mood? She could have her mind set to do something and then, just the way he’d say something or the way he’d study her face, her commitment to a thought was lost. Maybe his ability to manipulate her was a skill that crossed over from his profession as a defense lawyer.
&nbs
p; “You’re always beautiful, my girl.”
He had this way of calling her “my girl” that made her gush. She wished she could stop it. How infuriating for a woman like her—a professional, independent woman who didn’t need a man to complete her life. “I have a dog now.” The words burst out, catching her off guard.
“A dog?” He rubbed his thumb mindlessly along the side of her hand. “Why?” He took a draw on his wine.
She smiled. “It was a gift.”
He laughed. “Let me guess. Terry’s responsible?”
“You got it.” She ran her fingers along the base of her glass. “He thought I needed more in my life. Don’t really know what he was thinking…if he was thinking.” She shook her head. “Let’s just say the whole thing is sort of a nightmare right now.”
He pointed at her ears. “My gift came out ahead?”
Her hands instinctively went to both ears, and she squeezed on the diamond, dangling earrings that adorned them. “Definitely.” She took a large mouthful of wine. “Think I’ll have a bit of this tonight, if you don’t mind.” She held her glass, lightly rocking it side to side.
He grinned with boyish allure. “Not a problem at all. We can continue at your place.”
“Uh-huh. You just want to have your way with me.” She laughed. The little bit of wine she’d had already seemed to be affecting her stance, her earlier decision to have space. God, she was all over the place. She just needed to make a clean break… Oddly, her mind skipped back to Hershey. “You might not like what you find at my place.”
“Really? I’ve always liked it in the past.”
“Oh shut up.” She was far too comfortable with him. It was as if she had known him forever. She talked to him like a close friend, the same way she talked to Terry. It made her nervous. Was she crazy to consider breaking up with him?
“Are you ready to order?” The waiter came to the table, a long cloth draped over an arm, a black notepad in his left hand, a pen ready in his right.
“The usual,” she said to Blake.
Blake placed their orders, and as she listened to him rhyme off her desire, her gut clenched. She had thought about Blake being predictable, but here she was having the same meal again. Was she becoming that way because of him? Were they getting settled already? And was she losing her identity? She’d apparently lost the ability to place her own order.
After the waiter left, Blake reached for her hand again, and she felt a ball of nausea tighten in her stomach when he touched her.
“As I mentioned on the phone, I have something important that I want to discuss with you—”
“Blake, you know I’m not into all that.”
His eyes darkened and she guessed he didn’t like that she’d interrupted him, but she didn’t regret doing so. She was the other half of this relationship, and she had the right to speak, too. She continued. “I just have so much going on, and with this new case—” She fell silent, knowing she was prolonging the inevitable. Everything good had to come to an end, right? And it might as well be on her terms. “I don’t think we should—”
“What? Get married,” he blurted out.
She was thankful she hadn’t chosen that moment to sip her wine. She nearly choked on her own saliva from the depth of the swallow.
Blake laughed heartily. His eyes looked past her, over her shoulders, before resetting to her gaze. “I’m not ready for marriage, either, crazy girl.”
His reaction made her feel foolish. She hadn’t said married, he had. Either way, she needed to end things before there wasn’t any redemption left for her. Her last desire was for her emotions to occupy all her thoughts and dictate her next step. She had to be strong, but she just didn’t care for the way he was coming across. Maybe he was thinking the same thing as her. “You think we should end this?” she asked.
“Have you fallen down and hit your head?” He was still smiling. At least he seemed to find amusement in her wild guesses.
Maybe he’s the crazy one.
“It must have been a long, hard week without me,” he cooed. He squeezed her hand, and she became painfully aware that despite her brave thoughts of independence, she hadn’t pulled her hand away. He kept his eyes on hers. “I think we should take this relationship to the next level—” He stopped abruptly, holding up a hand to silence her. “Not marriage, but I think we should be committed to each other. I think they’re calling it exclusive these days.”
Committed to each other… Exclusive… Commitment hadn’t worked out so well for her in the past. She swallowed roughly.
“Maddy?” he prompted.
Her heart wanted to jump right in, but her logic reined her back. “No.”
“No?”
“No.” She shook her head, pulled her hand back, and glanced over at another couple. The man must have just proposed, because the woman was holding up her left hand and admiring a diamond ring on her finger. Madison looked back at Blake.
“I thought that’s what you’d want.” His tone was bitter.
“You suggested a committed relationship because you thought that was what I’d want? How does that work exactly? I commit to you. You give your promise to me. Then what?” Blake didn’t know about Toby, about the broken engagement, about her shattered belief in happily ever after. And she refused to get into that right now.
“This isn’t how I saw tonight going.” He pressed the wine glass to his lips. If he took a draw, it was small. “Listen to me, Maddy—”
“No.” He was trying to manipulate things again, maneuver them in such a way that he’d have a sure thing. He didn’t want to commit to her; he felt like she wanted him to. What the hell was that?
He exhaled loudly. “Let me start over.”
She waved for him to continue.
“It came out wrong from the start, but maybe if you hadn’t interrupted me…”
She felt a surge of rage, of defense, flash through her, but she remained silent.
“Sorry,” he said, obviously having sensed her emotion. “Maybe I’m rushing things.”
The dejection that radiated off him stabbed her with some regret. He had intended to take their relationship to the next level, and maybe most women would dream of this, but she was afraid to be one of them again. Blake in particular was a successful defense attorney, had money, had good looks, and could easily have a harem of women. So why was he willing to make a commitment to her?
A small twitch was pulsing in his cheeks. He was angry now, and she didn’t want the night to end like this.
“I’m happy you’re back.” She feigned a smile and attempted to redirect the conversation. Maybe this would be a good test. If he was committed to her in his heart, he would fight for her. He wouldn’t let one argument or disagreement stand in his way.
It seemed like minutes passed before his shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, I missed you, too.” He smiled at her, but it didn’t touch his eyes, and she knew that something had changed.
-
Chapter 16
BLAKE SNORED BESIDE MADISON. They had gone back to her apartment after dinner. Blame it on the wine.
Hershey had welcomed the newcomer with jumping and barking and a gift in the kennel. She was going to have to send him for obedience training and to be housebroken.
Blake hadn’t seemed to mind joining Madison and Hershey outside as Hershey sniffed and did his business again. It was funny because she never took Blake for an animal person, but he and Hershey seemed to have a connection. Blake had even picked up Hershey’s mess and disposed of it in the garbage can in front of the building.
“That was above and beyond,” she had said, the wine making her easygoing and carefree.
“That’s just the kind of man I am.” He had kissed her then.
She had pulled back and said, “I bet you say that to all the women.”
That hadn’t
gone over well, but thankfully, by the time they’d gotten back upstairs and started making out; any ugliness from the evening had disappeared. They’d had sex on her couch, and nearly passed out from both exhaustion and alcohol but managed to drag themselves to her bedroom. It was a choppy night of sleep, though, because whenever their bare legs touched, they went at it again.
The memories of last night made her gut wrench in longing and made her take a deep breath, but she had an investigation to get back to. Not that she’d had much private time since she’d met Blake for dinner, but she had managed to squeeze a call in to Terry and Cynthia. Unfortunately, she’d been funneled to both their voice mails.
Blake stirred beside her and rolled to face her. “Good morning, my girl.”
Somehow hearing him say “my girl” this morning struck her differently. Maybe more possessively. “Morning.”
He reached over and brushed a hand along her cheek. “So beautiful.” He moved closer, put an arm around her, and kissed her nose.
She heard a strangely familiar sound, but the morning-after haze that came with drinking too much and a late night wasn’t helping her figure out what the noise was. It took a while for it to register that it was Hershey whining. But he sounded closer than the kennel, which was in the living area.
“Hershey?” She felt something at the side of the bed. It scared the shit out of her, and her heart was beating rapidly. She looked down to see Hershey pawing at the bed frame.
“See? Even he wants in bed with you.” Blake smiled like a devil that got his way and would again and again.
“Uh-huh.” Madison slapped his exposed shoulder. Then she realized something. “He wasn’t put in his kennel last night.” Panic struck her at the mess he would have likely made. She bolted upright.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Oh, I can’t believe we didn’t put him in there.” She bounded from the bed.
“Nice view.”
She was naked and turned to face him. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Too late.”
She threw a pillow at him, and felt a pang of guilt. She didn’t have time to fool around. It was time to go. She had suspects to run down, questions to ask, and answers to get.
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