by LENA DIAZ,
Madison frowned. “Damon was always healthy. I can’t remember him ever being sick.”
Logan’s lips thinned. “That thought occurred to me too. The man I heard about didn’t sound like the man I’d met.”
He held up a picture in front of the camera. “Trouble, tell me if you recognize this man.”
Madison studied the black-and-white photo of a man sitting on a bench in a garden. His hair was dark, streaked with gray, and his eyes were slightly sunken in as if he was ill. She shook her head. “He doesn’t look familiar. Should I know him?”
“I would think so. Since you married him.”
“What?”
“This is Damon McKinley, the real one,” he said, picking up another photo and holding it up. “And this is the male nurse who used to take care of Mr. McKinley.”
Madison made a choking sound and pressed her hand against her throat. “That’s Damon,” she whispered.
Logan put the picture down. “No, that’s Simon Rice, the man I believe stole Damon McKinley’s identity and married you.”
“Simon?” Pierce and Hamilton both said at the same time.
“I thought you’d catch that,” Logan said. “What are the odds he’s your ‘Simon says’ killer too?”
Madison held her hand against her mouth, as if she were trying not to throw up.
Pierce put his arm around her shoulders. “We had always assumed the ‘Simon says’ killer was actually named Simon, making it easy to rule Damon out . . .”
“What was the point of leaving those notes?” Madison asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “And killing all those people?”
“To throw us off track,” Hamilton said. “And to keep my men busy, to distract us from following up on your stalker.”
“I disagree,” Pierce said. “I’ve worked enough serial killer cases to know how their minds work. If Damon is this ‘Simon says’ killer, it’s a compulsion. He’s a psychopath. He kills for the thrill. Even if part of his plan was to distract the police, he killed because that’s just what he does. He can’t stop. I’ll bet if we look for similar cases in New York, we’ll find he killed others while he lived there.”
“While he was married to me,” Madison said, her voice breaking. She was so pale Pierce wrapped his arm around her shoulders, afraid she might faint. But she drew a deep breath, and seemed to brace herself. “Go on,” she said to Logan. “Finish this. What else did you find out?”
“The real Damon McKinley is missing,” Logan continued. “Unfortunately, without a body, we don’t have anything against Simon, not even identity theft.”
Hamilton frowned. “What do you mean? Seems pretty cut and dry to prove that he passed himself off as McKinley.”
Logan held up another document. “He legally changed his name to Damon McKinley when he moved to New York. The man crossed every t, dotted every i. There’s nothing illegal about changing your name.”
Madison clutched Pierce’s hand beneath the table. “But, what about the money? He only had a million dollars left when he supposedly died in the car crash, but when we first got married, he had several million dollars. He had to have stolen that money from the real Damon McKinley.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Logan said. “But we have no proof, and there’s no dead body to prove he killed the real McKinley. The real McKinley apparently transferred all his money to Simon Rice before leaving Bigfork. Naturally, I assume it was either done under duress or fraudulently by Rice. But, again, I have no proof. I think the FBI needs to dig in on that, but for now, we have nothing.”
Pierce leaned forward. “You said Rice was a nurse?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s not much of a stretch to think he’d have knowledge of what drugs to use to cause temporary paralysis if he wanted to fake an injury. I assume that could be done.”
Madison grabbed his arm. “It can. I remember Austin telling me the drugs his doctors have him on right now cause temporary paralysis. If Damon . . . ”—she swallowed and cleared her throat—“or Simon, was a nurse, he would have known what to use.”
Logan frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Damon was here, at the station today,” Pierce said. “In a wheelchair, pretending to be paralyzed.”
“Clever,” Logan said. “Got to admit, that’s a first in my experience.”
Pierce nodded. “Mine too. As a former nurse, he’d also have a thorough understanding of the kinds of drugs, and timelines involved to fake a heart attack. Heck, he might have kept all the drugs he used while taking care of the real McKinley and has his own little pharmacy of meds to use if he wants.”
Hamilton shook his head. “Or he got them from the woman he killed and buried in Mrs. McKinley’s backyard. She was a pharmacist.”
Logan looked grim. “You’re probably right. He had the opportunity to kill my father, and the knowledge. I can’t think of a motive though, why he’d want to kill him. If it was the money Madison would inherit, then why would he fake his death and disappear when he could have stayed and had millions more?”
Madison swallowed hard. “Damon said he left because I was suspicious about Daddy, and that he knew I’d tell you if he stuck around. Supposedly, the only reason he didn’t kill me . . . was because he loved me.”
“When did he tell you all this?”
“Today, when he came to the station.”
A knock sounded on the door.
“It better be important,” Hamilton said, as a police officer opened the door and stepped inside.
“Yes, sir.” He looked at the others and hesitated.
“Don’t worry about them. What’s up?”
“There’s been a murder, sir, outside of town off I-95. The man’s name is Joshua MacGuffin.”
Madison gasped and stared at the policeman in horror.
“Do you have any more details?” Hamilton asked.
“The medical examiner is on the scene, says the C.O.D. is most likely strangulation. Mr. MacGuffin has been dead for several days. And, Lieutenant, we found a room in the basement of his house with a mattress. The ceiling had all kinds of pictures on it. One of the officers on the scene said he e-mailed some snapshots to you from his phone.”
Hamilton clawed for his cell phone and opened up his e-mail. He turned the phone around toward Madison. “Are these the pictures you saw when you were abducted?”
She nodded, her heart breaking at the thought of poor Mr. MacGuffin being killed just because he’d wanted to help her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Those are the pictures I saw.”
Hamilton shoved the phone in his jacket. “Thanks, officer. I’ll head out there in a few minutes.”
The officer nodded and closed the door.
“Several days,” Pierce said. “I bet he was killed the night he called to tell Madison he’d seen her husband. When he saw Damon in the restaurant, he must have reacted somehow, and Damon realized the man had recognized him.”
Madison blinked back tears. “Mr. MacGuffin was so nice to me, so concerned about me.”
“Hamilton,” Logan said, from the monitor. “I heard you have Madison’s computer. We’ll need a look at that, to see if the files she had on Damon can help us prove his crimes.”
“Of course.”
“And,” Logan continued, “you need to have Damon tested to prove he’s faking the paralysis. That will take away his main defense, and you can investigate from there.”
It was Hamilton’s turn to redden slightly as he shifted in his chair. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Why not?” Pierce and Logan asked at the same time.
“I had a tail put on McKinley when he drove off in his van. But I think he must have realized he was being followed. He shook the tail. I don’t know where Damon McKinley is.”
MADISON RUBBED HER hands up and down her arms and paced the length of Pierce’s bedroom. They were back in the bed-and-breakfast, because once again Pierce had wanted to stay in town to be close to the i
nvestigation, and the search for Damon.
He quietly watched her from his bed. The cashier’s check pressed against Madison’s chest like a heavy weight, reminding her of the lie she’d told him.
Reminding her of the choice she had to make.
“Hamilton dropped all the charges against you,” he said. “You should be relieved.”
“I know. I am. But—”
“But you’re still worried about Damon. I won’t let him hurt you.”
She stopped pacing at the foot of the bed and put her hands on her hips. “You may be tall, dark, and handsome, but you’re not Superman. You still bleed. You can still die.”
He slid off the bed and stood in front of her. He put his arms on her shoulders. “I may not be a superhero, but Damon isn’t a supervillain either. He’s just a man. I’ll find the evidence I need to put him away for a very long time. I’m good at what I do. I will put him behind bars.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. He’s sneaky, and smart, and . . . and . . . he doesn’t have a conscience. You heard the lieutenant after that call with Logan. He said he still doesn’t have enough evidence to take to a grand jury. There’s nothing he can do.”
“There’s nothing he can do yet. Casey’s working on the case. Logan’s still trying to dig up evidence. Hamilton’s looking into it. It’s just a matter of time.”
Shaking off his hands, she paced across the room again. She wrapped her arms around her waist and faced him. “Can you promise me, swear to me, that you’re one-hundred-percent positive you’ll be able to get enough evidence together to put him away? Can you swear to me that he’ll pay for killing my father? That he won’t be able to hurt my family, or you?” Her voice broke on the last word.
“You know I can’t swear to that. Do I believe I can find the evidence I need to put him away? Yes. Absolutely. Am I positive? Would I bet my life on it?” He shook his head. “No. But, I swear I’ll do my best, and I’ll keep you safe.”
“What about my mom and her husband? Amanda? Logan? What about you? How will you keep all of them safe if Damon is free?”
He frowned. “I’ve never seen you this nervous. What’s really going on?”
She closed her eyes tightly but a tear still slipped down her cheek. She almost never cried, but in the past twenty-four hours she couldn’t seem to help herself. She was so scared, so worried about her family, about Pierce.
“Ah, sweetie. Don’t cry.” He dragged her against him and held her close.
She clung to him, willing her tears to stop as she breathed in the comforting scent of his aftershave, and allowed his welcome heat to seep into her. She loved him. The thought came to her with a startling clarity. Through all the months, all the doubts, all the worry that she couldn’t trust her own feelings . . . she suddenly realized her doubts were gone.
She not only loved him, she knew, beyond any doubt, she would always love him. This wasn’t a bright flash of love like she’d had for Damon when they’d first met. Her feelings for Pierce were totally different.
But it was too late for her epiphany. Pierce might believe he could keep her family, and himself, safe from Damon. But Madison couldn’t bear to risk anyone she loved on the off chance that Damon might hurt them. She had to make sure he could never hurt anyone she loved ever again.
Tonight she would offer him a trade. One million dollars for his confession, a confession she would record. She couldn’t let him go free. This time she had to protect everyone she loved.
Looking up at Pierce, for the first time she allowed all her love to shine in her eyes. She reached her hand up and cupped his face.
His brows wrinkled in confusion. “Mads? What—”
“Love me,” she whispered. “Please.”
Surprise flickered across his face. He started to step back, but Madison grabbed his arms.
“Pierce, love me.”
He stopped and his gaze fell to her lips. “No. Not again. I’m not a ‘friends with benefits’ kind of guy. I want it all, Mads. All, or nothing.” He stared down at her for several minutes, as if weighing an important decision. Then he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a ring. He held it up in front of her.
Madison stared at the pear-shaped diamond solitaire, but she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Her heart was already breaking. Again.
“This is yours, if you want it,” he said. “If you want me. I love you. I have from the first sarcastic comment that came out of your mouth. I bought this ring a long time ago, for the woman I loved. I was going to propose. But you left.”
Misery choked the words from her throat. She couldn’t agree to marry him, no matter how much she wanted to, not when she was about to go face Damon . . . or Simon . . . and might very well not come back. She knew the odds weren’t good, that she could be killed. She couldn’t tell Pierce, and have him go with her, because Damon had already told her what would happen if she didn’t come alone.
He’d kill her family. He’d kill Pierce.
She couldn’t agree to marry Pierce and then leave him, not like this. But more than that, she knew if she said yes, that he wouldn’t let her go. She’d be expected to be happy, to celebrate with him. There would be nothing she could say to him that would allow her to sneak out of the bed-and-breakfast to meet up with Damon.
There was no way she could say yes. She had to hurt him, again. And she knew, this time, there was no going back. He couldn’t take that kind of abuse from her twice, and give her a third chance.
Hot tears streamed down her face as she realized Damon had already won.
He’d taken Pierce from her.
He took another step forward, watching her intently, waiting.
“I can’t marry you.”
His entire body went rigid. He stood for a full minute, not moving, just staring at her. Then his brows lowered, and he shoved the ring into his pocket. He was suddenly crowding her against the wall, using his body to trap her there. His legs were spread wide, one on each side of hers, and his palms flattened on the wall on each side of her head.
“What do you want from me?” Her voice came out a miserable whisper.
“I want the truth, for once,” he whispered harshly. “Tell me what’s going through that sarcastic, obstinate, frustrating . . .” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. He shuddered and drew a deep, shaky breath. “Tell me what’s going on inside that beautiful, intelligent, wonderful mind of yours.” He kissed her gently on the lips. “Not some made up lie about wanting to move on. I knew you were lying that day. Don’t lie to me again.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “You didn’t know I lied about that until Austin tricked me into admitting it.”
“Do you honestly believe that? I know you far better than you think I do. And I always know when you’re lying.”
Alarm shot through her. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Every person has things they do when they lie, a ‘tell.’ And I know all the signs when it comes to you. Go ahead. Test me. I’ll tell you if you’re lying or not.”
“Stop it.” She curled her fists in frustration. “Let me go. I don’t want to be this close to you.” She shoved her hair back from her face.
His expression softened. “Lie.” He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek.
She shivered, hating that he was right. With him this close, feeling his heat, breathing in his tantalizing scent, all she wanted was to curl up against him.
“What happened to us, Mads?” His deep voice sent tendrils of fire curling in her belly. He ran a fingertip gently down the curve of her face. “We used to talk for hours. We laughed until you were hoarse. Do you remember all those late nights on the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore?” His gaze dipped to her mouth. “Making love?”
She shivered against him, remembering, longing for the past more than he would ever know.
“You were happy,” he said. “We were happy. What changed that?”
She shook
her head, digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from reaching out to him. “Two months. We knew each other for two months, and only dated for one. It didn’t work out. That’s all.”
“What we had was a hell of a lot more than just dating. We were always good together.” His finger burned a fiery path down the side of her neck. “In every way.”
His voice had dropped to a husky note when he said those last three words, and she couldn’t help the shiver of longing that swept through her. He caught that little shiver and his eyes turned hungry. He brushed his lips against hers. Once, twice, three times.
She was suddenly in his arms, unable to get close enough to him. He winced, reminding her of his bruised ribs, but when she tried to pull away, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.
His mouth ravaged hers, his tongue slipping inside, fanning her desire into an inferno so quickly it left her breathless. It felt so good to be in his arms, so . . . right. Like coming home. But when his lips moved from her mouth to the side of her neck and her eyes opened, the logical part of her screamed that she had to stop him or he would think they could be together again, that there was a future for them. She didn’t even know if she had a future after tonight.
Convincing him that she didn’t care about him was the only lie that would ensure that he would leave her alone long enough for her to slip out and meet Damon.
“Don’t.” She pushed against his shoulders, careful not to touch his ribs.
He eased his hold but didn’t let go. His eyes were dark and smoldering with heat.
“Why?” he asked.
Inside, she was dying, already aching for what she was about to do.
“The truth?” She clutched her hands together to keep from reaching for him. “I told you the truth when I left you all those months ago. You were fun, a lot of fun, especially in bed. I got what I wanted, and it was time to move on. I didn’t want to be tied to one person. Just because I didn’t find anyone else I was interested in dating since then doesn’t mean it was a lie.”