by Meryl Sawyer
All Madison could make out in the semidarkness was the side of the woman’s face. Erin! No. It couldn’t be.
She sucked in a terrified breath as goose bumps pebbled her skin. For a heartbeat she couldn’t move. A burning, wrenching sensation gripped her stomach and a wave of throbbing dizziness hit her. Madison heard a jagged, high-pitched shard of sound rip through the air, but it was a second before she realized she’d screamed.
A thousand thoughts pinwheeled through her brain. Erin. How could she be dead? Her friend had always been there—a constant presence in her life—even more reliable than her own mother.
She forced herself to edge closer just to be sure. A few strands of hair covered the naked woman’s face, its skin like white candle wax. Erin. No question about it.
Why? Why? Why?
She stood near her friend, her mind barely taking in what she saw. Details registered like freeze-frame images. A wet stain pooled around Erin’s thighs. A drop of dried blood lingered at the corner of her mouth. One knee was swollen, the purplish skin so tight that it seemed ready to burst. A bulging blue eye stared sightlessly at the beige carpet beneath her. The white part of her eye was bloodred.
Madison’s vision had grown accustomed to the dark. Now, she noticed evidence of a frantic struggle. Furniture was knocked out of place. Pictures on tables had fallen and plants were overturned. By some quirk of fate, the coffee table where her cell phone had been was still upright.
Suddenly, a hand clamped across her lips. Pulse misfiring, her mind attempted to grapple with the situation, but panic shredded her brain like shrapnel.
A single thought registered: the killer!
All her instincts told her that she was a heartbeat from death. The will to survive kicked her body into gear. She flailed, biting the huge hand over her mouth and jabbing her elbows in a futile attempt to free herself. Powerful arms locked around her and brought her against the solid wall of a big chest.
“Be still,” a deep, masculine voice ordered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She wasn’t buying that bridge—not with her murdered friend less than a foot away. She kicked backward and landed a blow with the heel of her shoe.
“Stop it!” He had a death grip on her now, squeezing her so tight the air in her lungs turned to cement. “I’m trying to help you.”
“L-lemme go.” She worked hard to keep hysteria out of her voice, but detected its shaky undertone in every word.
“Screaming isn’t going to bring her back.”
Suddenly, it dawned on Madison that she hadn’t stopped screaming from the moment she’d spotted her friend’s body.
CHAPTER TWO
How far away can a fly smell a dead body?
MADISON TEETERED, feeling light-headed, grabbed the back of the sofa for support and closed her eyes for a second, her fragile barrier of control slipping. Get a grip, she told herself. The air was so tight in her lungs that she could hardly breathe. But the thump-thump of her heart filled her skull and made it difficult to think. Even with her eyes closed, she kept seeing Erin’s lifeless body. She opened them and found the dark-haired man from the street gazing down at her.
He handed her a cell phone and calmly said, “Call 911. I’m going to check the rest of the house just in case.”
The man’s calm, cool attitude told Madison that she’d been mistaken. He really was trying to help her, as he’d said. He wasn’t the killer. That man was long gone but his evilness remained, hanging over the small house like a noxious cloud.
Madison’s eyes dropped to the body prone on the carpet. “Don’t leave me.”
The man touched her arm and prodded her in the direction of the kitchen. “Go out back. You’ll be safe.”
Madison stumbled toward the kitchen, managed to open the door and lurched to an upright position on the other side. She gulped hard and air rasped down her throat, then thundered into her lungs. She swayed for a moment, the numbers on the keypad of the small cell phone swimming in front of her. Something brushed against her leg and she gasped out loud but managed not to scream when she realized it was just the dog, standing beside her, tail swishing.
She gazed down into his soulful eyes and something unexpected tugged at her heart. Erin must have cared deeply about the dog to bring him home even though she knew a pet could mean eviction from a bungalow she’d described as “perfect.” Had this poor animal seen the killer, heard the desperate struggle in the other room?
The screech of tires on the street outside jolted her. Call the police! She punched the numbers and hit Send.
“Nine-one-one. Please hold.”
Hold? Erin was dead. Getting an ambulance here fast wasn’t important, but what if someone—
“What is the nature of your emergency?”
“M-my f-friend’s been killed.” Madison choked on the words. It was almost as if saying them made it true. If she didn’t utter them, Erin would still be alive.
“Does your friend have a pulse? Have you cleared the air passages?”
Madison mumbled her replies, trying to make the overly calm, patient woman understand. Erin had been murdered. As she talked, she spotted the envelope and leash on the counter and made a split-second decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret. She shoved the envelope into her purse, which by some miracle was still slung over her shoulder. She snapped the leash onto Aspen’s collar.
“What is your address?” the emergency operator asked.
Madison went blank. She could find her way to her best friend’s house easily but didn’t recall the number on Sawgrass Terrace. “I’m on a cell. I’ll go outside and check the number.” She plowed through the small kitchen and service area, Aspen in tow. Outside, the sun was blistering a path across the sky. In shimmering waves, moist heat rose from the grass in back of the house.
Madison squinted. How could it be so bright and sunny when Erin was dead?
“You’re at fourteen eleven Sawgrass Terrace. Correct?”
From back here, Madison couldn’t see the house number but knew it was correct when she heard it. The man’s cell phone must have a GPS chip in it. Most cell phones couldn’t transmit the location so quickly. “Yes.”
The operator told her help was on the way and to stay on the line. She snapped the phone shut. Why remain on the line? Nothing the operator could say would help Erin now.
The door behind Madison slammed and she spun around. The man who’d heard her frantic screams walked toward her. She’d been so upset that she’d only had the vague impression of a tall, powerfully built man with dark hair and eyes. His hair was indeed dark brown, almost black, but his eyes were a deep blue that had only appeared brown in the gloomy house.
She told herself again there was no reason to be afraid. The man merely looked intense, the way anyone would at a murder scene. Yes, his size implied strength and threatened her even though she wasn’t the type to be intimidated. But she could see he was trying to help. And finding a dead body had to be as shocking for him as it was for her.
The hollow thunk-thunk of blood in her temples made it difficult to think as quickly as she usually did. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a thought managed to register. Most women would say this guy was hot. Not that she cared. Being with Aiden had taught her that a handsome man couldn’t resist the temptation thrown into his path.
“Whoever killed your friend is long gone,” the stranger told her in a concerned voice, but she felt trapped by his unwavering stare. “Did you call—”
“They’re on the way.” She returned his cell phone.
“We’d better go around front where the police can see us.”
Madison started to move but couldn’t. He stared at her for a moment and Madison wondered if he expected her to again cut loose with a shriek loud enough to be heard in New York. She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and headed toward the street, bringing the dog with her.
“If only I’d gotten here sooner,” she muttered more to herself than to him. As
sharp as a blade, a lone siren cut through the still air, coming closer and closer.
“It wouldn’t have mattered. She hasn’t been alive for some time.”
Madison stopped and Aspen plowed into the back of her legs. “How can you tell?”
“I’m Paul Tanner with Miami PD.”
“Oh,” she said simply, remembering the flies hovering around Erin’s body. A pinprick of a thought flashed through her brain the way obscure facts often intruded. A fly could smell a dead body a mile away. They’d been buzzing around Erin’s lifeless body for hours.
A police car followed by an ambulance, lights flashing, screeched to a stop at the curb. Two uniformed policemen emerged from the squad car just as a gray sedan drove up. They waited until two men in suits got out of the second car.
“Yo, Tanner,” called one of the men in suits to Paul Tanner.
The man was who he claimed he was, she thought. How could she have mistaken him for a killer?
“Her friend’s been strangled.” Paul lightly touched Madison’s arm. “The back door’s open. She came over to—”
Madison realized everyone was staring at her, expecting an answer. “I came over to get my cell phone.”
One detective remained with her while Paul led the other detective and the uniformed officers to the back of the house.
“I went in and found Erin on the floor in the living room. Sh-she had this cord or sash around her neck.”
“So she was dead when you arrived?”
“Yes. It looked like she’d been strangled.”
The detective jotted a few notes in the small notebook he held in his hand. His face registered no emotion. Obviously, dead bodies came as no surprise to him.
“What is the victim’s full name?”
“Erin Allison Wycoff.”
“How’d you get in?”
Madison ran through the story of the newly changed locks and how she’d found the hidden key. She was coming to her senses a little bit, her mind grasping the gruesome reality of the situation.
The two policemen came out of the front door, followed by the other detective and the Tanner guy. From their impassive, almost frozen expressions, no one could guess the grisly scene they’d discovered in the house.
“Medical examiner’s on the way. The tech van will be here to process the scene,” announced one of the men in uniform.
The men gathered a few feet from Madison. She took a step back and bumped into Aspen. She leaned down and stroked his head. The men conferred for a moment, speaking so softly Madison couldn’t make out what they were saying.
The detective with the notebook continued asking questions as the men moved closer. “When was the last time you saw the victim?”
“Erin. Her name was Erin.”
The men looked at one another. Hysterical female, they silently telegraphed.
Madison took a deep breath, then told them, “I was with her on Friday night. That’s when I left my cell phone. I called her Saturday and Sunday, but I didn’t get her. I also tried to reach Erin on her cell. It kicked into voice mail.”
“Did you find that unusual?” asked the detective.
“No, not really. Erin often turns off her phone. She isn’t—wasn’t—the kind to talk on it all the time.” Madison couldn’t help blaming herself. She should have driven over yesterday instead of house-hunting for a home she could never replace. If she had, Erin might still be alive. Surely the killer wouldn’t have tried to murder two women. She could have saved her friend if she hadn’t been obsessed with replacing a home—and a life—that was gone forever.
“When I couldn’t make contact this morning, I drove over here,” Madison told them.
“Do you have any idea where she’s been or who she was with?”
Madison shook her head.
“Boyfriend? Parents?”
Before she could respond, Tanner asked, “Do you know anyone who would want to kill your friend?”
“No, no. Of course not.” She heard her voice crack and with it came the threat of tears.
The men were silent for a moment, waiting for her to compose herself. A Miami PD van marked Crime Scene Investigation pulled to the curb. The uniformed officers went over to meet it, and Madison was left with the detectives. It seemed to be straight out of a CSI: Miami episode—only this was horribly real.
“Erin doesn’t have a boyfriend. Both parents are dead. I’m all she has.”
None of the three reacted—exactly—but they silently regarded her with keener interest.
She suddenly realized how it sounded. “I—I mean, Erin has had boyfriends in the past, and she would like—would have liked—to find a guy. That’s why we went out clubbing on Friday night. But as far as family, I’m it. We grew up together.” She looked at Paul Tanner, feeling more of a connection with him than the other two men. His expression said he was measuring every word. “Our mothers met when they were pregnant with us. I’ve known Erin my whole life.”
Two men and a woman in navy jumpsuits with Crime Scene Investigator stenciled on the back had emerged from the van with a video camera and bags of gear. The crime scene techs headed toward the open front door. While she’d been talking, someone had strung yellow crime scene tape across the porch.
“We’re close,” Madison continued, “just like sisters.”
The detective taking notes arched one thick eyebrow. “Where were you last night?”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see where they were heading with this. “Wait a minute. You don’t think I—”
“They’re just doing their job,” Paul interjected. “This is a question they’ll ask everyone associated with your friend.”
“I spent the night alone. I’m house-sitting for a friend. That’s where I was.”
The detective taking notes asked, “Make any phone calls?”
Madison knew that could establish her whereabouts. “No. But I wouldn’t have any reason to kill Erin. She doesn’t have any money or anything of value to inherit.”
She could have added that the dog on the leash was her friend’s only valuable possession, but she didn’t want to draw attention to Aspen. Erin had gone out of her way—and violated her lease—to rescue this dog. Madison couldn’t bring herself to give up the retriever. She knew he’d be sent to some pound and kept there for who knew how long. Erin wouldn’t have wanted the dog to be distressed. The animal was all she had of her friend; she had to protect him from more abuse.
“We’re going to need a set of your fingerprints,” the detective said.
“Eliminating your prints and your friend’s may leave them with the perp’s,” Paul added.
“All right,” she said, but something in their attitude told her that she was a suspect. “A man had to have killed Erin, right? She was strangled.”
Silence greeted her statement. Then the detective taking notes said, “We’ll take you down to the station for the prints.”
“I’ll come in this afternoon,” she told them in her firmest tone. “Aspen has to go to the vet’s.” She tugged on the leash, making this up as she went. She had to get away from here. “He has an eye infection.”
“It’ll have to wait,” the detective said.
Maybe it was just her imagination—misplaced anxiety over her best friend’s death—but Madison needed to get away. Perhaps she should consult a lawyer. Why, she couldn’t imagine, but something was going on here that she didn’t understand.
“I said I would come into the station. Unless the department wants to be slapped with a lawsuit for causing blindness in a champion show dog, I insist on taking Aspen to the vet.”
The word lawsuit detonated on impact. The men exchanged indecipherable looks. “We’ll need those prints by four o’clock.”
It took all Madison’s willpower to lead Aspen to her Beamer without running. Who’d killed Erin? How could she possibly be a suspect? It didn’t make sense.
Something else had been niggling at the back of her brain. She was
behind the wheel, driving away from the cluster of police vehicles when it hit her. Paul Tanner. He wasn’t some former cop who just “happened” to live in the neighborhood. He claimed to be a policeman. This morning Jade had said a Paul Tanner wanted to see her about selling her security software or something. He’d driven up in a Porsche. He’d followed her here. Why?
CHAPTER THREE
“THERE’S NO SUCH THING as a perfect crime. Little things—the unexpected—stand in the way of a flawless murder.” The killer spoke the words in an undertone, although there was no one around to hear.
Erin Wycoff’s murder had made headlines. People feasted on the brutality of the crime and lapped up every gory fact. It was to be expected. Death was fascinating, especially if it wasn’t yours. The details had captured the city’s imagination. Many identified with the victim and felt lucky to have escaped her fate.
“The devil is in the details. Always has been, always will be.”
Not many people realized blow-dryers were no longer instruments of death. He certainly hadn’t. He’d been too consumed by his life’s work to read the papers or watch mindless television that might have given him the information he needed.
An enterprising manufacturer would advertise the fact. But the truth was most people didn’t recognize their potential—big corporations included. Never mind. The blow-dryer didn’t electrocute Erin, but the mission had been accomplished in spite of the unexpected development.
The killer stared out at the series of waves tumbling one after another onto the white sand, remembering and reliving the instant the blow-dryer hit the water and hissed like a cat with its tail on fire. The killer had anticipated a guttural scream, then a body collapsing into the water. Dead.
The earsplitting cry had erupted from Erin’s throat as expected. But instead of dying, she’d vaulted from the tub and streaked out of the bathroom with wild, unfocused eyes, reminding him of a rabid dog. She had to be stopped, had to be shut up before she awakened the neighbors.