One thing was certain: most days she missed the times when she could just crash on the couch at the end of the day, watch a bit of mindless TV, and go to sleep. Tonight, the thought of doing that brought on feelings of sadness and loneliness.
And she’d be going home to face the damaged coffee table from her grandmother. But it wasn’t just the brooding over Hershey and days gone by, loved ones who had passed…she missed Blake.
Her chest heaved when she dwelled on his name. She was reminded of his calling and then hanging up on her. Whether it hurt or not, she didn’t have time to deal with all the drama. She had to cut him loose. Her job demanded her focus. Then she thought of Terry, of Richards, of Cynthia. Even though her friend wasn’t married, she had a life outside of the lab.
Aren’t I entitled to one, too?
She parked her car in her apartment building’s lot and headed for the front of the building. There was a man sitting on the bench near the sidewalk. The area was illuminated by the streetlights, but it wasn’t possible to make out his appearance right away, although the size and mannerism seemed familiar. As she got closer, his identity was confirmed. Blake. Her stomach tossed. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.” Blake reached out for her, but she kept moving.
“I told you that tonight wasn’t good.” She was determined to keep walking but stalled when she realized he was following her. She turned to face him.
“I’ve been here for hours. Standing in the cold—” His voice held a defensive anger.
“I didn’t ask you to,” she fired back.
His face fell, the shadows of light and darkness changing his expression.
In the silence that passed between them, her feelings of loneliness forced her to speak. They didn’t make a commitment to each other, so what right did she really have to be angry?
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll make you a hot drink.”
He dipped his head and followed her inside the building. When she opened her apartment door, Blake went straight for Hershey’s kennel. “Hey, buddy…hey.”
Hershey scampered, barking and whimpering. Blake unlatched the cage and the dog jumped around his feet.
Blake turned back to Madison. “He remembers me. I’ll take him out.”
You’re hard to forget. Pride made her hold back.
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll get the kettle on.” Maybe if she kept her hands busy, her mind and heart would get on the same damn page. “Oh, this will help.” She handed him the key to the building and her apartment.
Blake took them from her and left with Hershey. With them gone, the place felt so empty. It would have been quiet except for her thoughts felt thunderous.
What does he want to talk about?
Minutes later, the door opened again. “Brrr. It’s stinking freezing out there.” Blake undid Hershey and hung the leash on a hook.
“What are you doing here?” Her words were sharp, but she had to protect herself, and her heart was getting carried away.
He walked toward her. “You smell good.”
Why did he ignore what I said?
She’d been on the job for hours and she didn’t wear perfume to work. “Do you tell her that, too?”
Blake’s eyes were full of emotion, warmth and coolness blending together. “It was agreed that we could see other people.”
She couldn’t breathe. Did he just say that? Her worst fears were coming to reality. But she refused to allow him to see her true feelings. “It was.” She turned her back on him, pulled down a couple mugs from the cupboard, and dropped a tea bag in each. “Assume orange pekoe is ok?”
He didn’t say anything but leaned against the counter. Hershey stood at the door and pranced in front of it, then put his nose to the floor.
“Is he asking to go out again?” Blake asked.
“I guess.” She couldn’t have been more clueless when it came to animals, but she took it as an opportunity to step out. “Did he not go?”
“Number one.”
“Oh, he should have the other on board. I’ll take him this time.”
She was in no hurry to get back upstairs, even though it was cold enough to freeze to the sidewalk. Snow fell in tiny flakes. The air was even too cold for them.
She let Hershey sniff whatever he felt like. Maybe if she stalled long enough, she’d know how to get her emotions under control. She had feelings for Blake—she begrudgingly had to admit that—but it was up to her where it went from here. Would she allow herself to continue being vulnerable? She didn’t think she could handle having her heart broken again. If she called an end to this, she would be the one in control and the pain would subside faster. She tried to convince herself of that.
Hershey sat at her feet, looking up at her and sniffing the air. Guess he wasn’t going to go, and she couldn’t put off going back inside any longer.
“Where have you been?” Blake walked toward her with a steaming cup. “He must have had quite the load on board.” He attempted a smile. “I put two sweeteners in with a splash of milk. I believe that’s how you like it.” He handed it to her.
It was exactly how she liked it. How did he know her so well in some ways but in other areas be so oblivious? She took the tea from him and sat at the kitchen table. She waited for him to take a seat and then said, “We do need to talk.”
“We do.” He blew on his tea and took a sip. “That woman—”
“You don’t have to tell me who she is.”
“I know that, but I want—”
“I’m thinking it doesn’t really matter.” She had to cut him loose before he killed her. “Maybe we should…” Her words stalled but her message got through.
He got up from the table. “Maybe we should.”
-
Chapter 42
THE NEXT MORNING, Madison was at her desk at the station by six thirty. It had been a long night of tossing and turning and seeing most hours on the clock. At least she had Hershey. It was almost like he knew that he’d never see Blake again and sensed her pain. His fur was extra soft, smooth as velvet. She’d held him close to her chest, sniffing in the smell of his fur and absorbing his love.
She had been wrong to think it would hurt less to be the one to decide to end things. It didn’t really matter which way it went, but maybe the fact that Blake was so readily in agreement hadn’t helped her feel like she’d made the decision, that she’d been in control. Maybe he’d come there to break up with her. But why wait for hours in the cold to break it off? She should have listened to him when he tried to tell her about the brunette, but there was no turning back now.
“Hey,” Terry said as he draped his coat over the back of his chair.
“Hey back. I’ve done a little research this morning on Aaron Best. His driver license puts him at a height of five eleven.”
“That’s spot on for the estimated height of our killer.”
“Yep.” Madison closed the folder in front of her. “And his lawyer should be here any time now.”
She looked at the clock. 8:40.
Where had the time gone?
Her gaze drifted to the front desk and Adrian Lambert was standing there. This attorney had graced their interrogation rooms before. Fresh to his law firm, his vigor and determination to advance his career manifested itself in strong determination and negotiation skills. He had a confrontational energy that exceeded his rivals.
Madison nodded her head toward Adrian to direct Terry’s gaze there. “I think he’s here now.”
She walked up with Terry.
“You spoke with Mr. Best without my presence.” Adrian’s silver eyes possessed the wild nature of a wolf. Apparently, he didn’t believe in wasting time with greetings.
“We didn’t question him after he requested a lawyer,” Madison said.
“He was under the impress
ion he was being questioned in regards to the murder, not suspected of the actual crime. He was under the impression he was cooperating to help find a killer.”
Obviously, Aaron had shared quite a bit on his phone call to Adrian. “Mr. Best is a grown man. And no doubt you are familiar with the law, Mr. Lambert. We are entitled to question someone as long as they have agreed to talk. And we also have the right, by law, to hold a suspect in custody for twenty-four hours without a formal charge—”
“Don’t discredit me by rehashing the law. What proof do you have against Mr. Best?”
“Why don’t we get settled in an interview room?” Madison presented it as a question, but it was really a statement.
“Don’t you mean interrogation room?” Adrian responded dourly.
“Follow me.”
Madison had Terry arrange to have Aaron Best brought up from cells. Once everyone was in the room, she sat across from Adrian and Aaron.
“Let’s get to the evidence, shall we?” Adrian began. “What proof do you have against my client?”
Madison leaned back in her chair. “Your client had the means, motive, and opportunity to kill Claire Reeves. He admitted to being at her house the night of the murder. He was in love with her, but she threatened to leave him and reveal their affair to his wife—and destroy his business—if he didn’t do as she wanted. And he had access to the murder weapon.”
“I assume then that you have the murder weapon.”
“A Bowie knife and your client makes these.”
“But you don’t have the actual weapon?” Adrian raised his brows. “How can you connect it with my client? Surely there are hundreds of thousands of knives in this world.”
Madison continued in another direction. “He’s left-handed like the killer. He’s five eleven and that fits the height of the killer.”
The lawyer didn’t say anything. Aaron shifted in his seat. His hands came together on the table, his thumbs twirled once but stopped when he must have noticed Madison looking at them.
“Do you like to hunt, Mr. Best?” Madison asked.
Aaron’s face paled as if he was going to vomit. Adrian gestured for him to answer.
“Yes,” Aaron punched out.
“Do you like to hunt woodland caribou?”
Aaron began to answer., “I—”
“What does this have to do with the case?” Adrian asked.
“Forensics found a hair from a woodland caribou in the victim’s wound,” Madison began and turned to Aaron. “Have you ever been to Newfoundland?”
The lawyer consented for Aaron to answer.
“Yes.”
The one-worded answers were effective but aggravating. Madison wanted elaborations because they would make it easier to catch him if he was lying. “When were you last up there?”
“Sometime in early September.”
Aaron was telling the truth. This morning one of her first calls had been to Natural Adventure Outfitters to see if they had any record of him staying there.
“Forensics also found male DNA.” She locked eyes with Aaron. “Will it match yours?”
Silence.
“If you’re innocent like you claim to be, you’ll volunteer a DNA sampling, and you wouldn’t mind us searching your property for the murder weapon.”
Aaron’s eyes got enlarged, and he looked at Adrian.
“If you honestly believe that you have enough to substantiate and obtain a warrant, detectives, then my client will comply. Until then—”
“Rest assured we have enough. Mr. Best can go back and wait it out in holding,” Madison said.
Aaron let out a sigh, one hand briefly rubbing his left temple, and then he placed one on the Adrian’s forearm. Adrian turned to his client, the fire in his eyes communicating that he didn’t care for being touched.
Madison worked on Aaron. “If you cooperate, this will look better for you.”
“I don’t have anything to hide.”
“So you will give us written consent to search your properties, your business, and your home and collect your DNA?”
“Mr. Best will require a warrant,” Adrian interjected before Aaron could say anything.
“Fine with us.” Madison rose to leave, but her eyes settled on Aaron’s ski jacket, which was on the table. There was a small hole in the sleeve of the left arm, down feathered at its edges. She pointed at the puncture. “What happened to your coat?”
Aaron pulled his jacket to him.
“It’s all right, you don’t have to answer. I know what happened to it.”
“HIS COAT WAS RIGHT IN front of us, in plain sight. We had every right to take it.” Madison laughed. Aaron and his lawyer hadn’t been too willing to part with it, but there was nothing they could do. Not when it could factor into solving a homicide.
“We’ve got a gift for you, Cyn.” Madison chimed the statement off like a song as she and Terry walked into the lab. Madison set a large paper bag on the table.
Cynthia looked up from her microscope to the sack.
“This needs to take top priority,” Madison began. “The suspect’s already clocking well into his holding hours.”
Cynthia was already wearing gloves, and she pulled out the contents of the bag. “The ski jacket?”
Madison smiled. “Guess we’ll find out.”
-
Chapter 43
“I STILL DON’T THINK THIS is a good idea, Maddy.” Terry had repeatedly stated his concern on the ride over to the Bests’ residence. Now they were headed up the front walkway.
“I strongly disagree.” The search warrants hadn’t come through but Madison wanted to speak to Mrs. Best and see what she had to say about her husband.
“It could hurt our case.”
“We’re just going to talk. Maybe she knew about her husband’s affair and she has something to offer the investigation.” Madison rang the doorbell, and seconds later, it opened to reveal a beautiful woman in her late thirties. For midmorning and being at home, she was made up like a model. Her red hair came to just above her shoulders, mostly straight but curled to frame her face. Her eyes were heavily yet tastefully colored with shadow and liner. Her eyelashes were long and no doubt had seen the pressing end of a lash curler. Her brows were thin and tweezed. She made Madison think Desperate Housewives. “Mrs. Best?”
“Yes. Beth.” She passed a look between them as if to say, Who are you and what the hell do you want?
Madison made the formal introductions and said, “We’d like to talk to you about your husband.”
Beth backed into the house and motioned them inside. “Would you like something to drink?” She smiled at them, but the speed with which it formed and faded said it was simply a veneer she had painted on.
With the expression, Madison suspected Beth used her looks to manipulate and get what she wanted out of life. And why was she being so accommodating? She must have known that her husband was being questioned by police in regards to a murder. Then again, maybe Aaron hadn’t been honest with her.
“We won’t take up too much of your time,” Madison said.
“Let’s sit in here, then.” Beth directed them to a front sitting room. Framed photographs of the couple accented bookshelves. In all of them the couple’s smiles and expressions were pretty much identical, and it made the presentation of a perfect marriage seem staged.
Beth crossed her legs, and as she did so, drew Madison’s eyes. She was quite attractive and Madison wondered what would motivate Aaron to cheat on her. Of course, logic wasn’t usually involved in the decision to be unfaithful. Madison also noticed that Beth was tall for a woman.
“Aaron couldn’t do it.” Beth’s curt—and seemingly random—statement surprised Madison. “He wouldn’t do it…kill her.”
Okay, so Aaron had told her.
“I sense part o
f you wonders about it,” Madison responded.
“Maybe I do, but we’ve been married sixteen years. You know a man after that long.” She pulled a tissue from a box on a side table and dabbed her nose. Her crossed-over leg pulsed up and down. “We used to be close, but he’s been distant for a while.” Her eyes got wet and a few tears fell, but Beth pressed a clean tissue to her face to wipe her cheeks.
It struck Madison as odd. If she were sincerely hurting, why would she care about how she looked? Something about her reactions seemed on cue.
Beth continued. “I didn’t even know he had a business partner until last night. I can tell you don’t believe me.” She waved a tissue in the air as if to imply she didn’t care whether Madison was buying her words or not.
“Not even in passing? She was his business partner. Silent but she invested a lot into the business.”
“He never told me.”
“You never noticed the change in the business? More money coming home?”
“I didn’t take care of the books or the budget for the business or for our household. Aaron handled all of that. I’d have no clue if there was a change.” She paused and dabbed her nose. “But he did start talking more about vacations and where he wanted to take me. Italy, Australia.”
“Not cheap getaways.” Madison clearly recalled Aaron’s weekend trip with Claire. “He just went away recently.”
“He did? Oh, yes, for business. You made it sound like it had been for pleasure.”
Something about this woman wasn’t sitting well with Madison.
Beth continued. “I guess I never gave his talking about exotic trips much thought. He was always a dreamer and liked to talk as if we had more money than we did.”
Madison decided to change the subject a bit. “Your husband take any more hunting trips than before?”
Beth’s brows pressed downward for a second. “Not more than usual. Why?”
“Is there any way we could have a look around?” The question just came out, and Madison felt Terry’s eyes on her, but she refused to look at her partner. He’d just want her to back off.
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