Words That Kill (A Maddox Storm Mystery Book 3)

by Claire Robyns

“We should go to Sheriff Matthews,” I decided. “If there’s a chance you’re right, and the killer used your story as his boilerplate for murder, he needs to know. It could help with the investigation.”

  “Yeah, I guess we…” Joe half rose, then dropped heavily again. “We can’t take this to the sheriff.”

  “Joe, we have to.” I set my mug down on the adjacent pedestal table so I could lean forward with serious intent, elbows digging into my knees. “The killer might have been a guest here. He might be someone associated with you, even vaguely. Without even realizing it, we could be holding clues that lead to his identity. We can’t do nothing.”

  “Everything leads to me.” Joe stood all the way up this time, frowning down on me. “I’ll be their prime suspect.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I exclaimed.

  “I wrote precise and exact details of a crime months before it was committed. Do you honestly think he’s going to go chasing after a story thief when he has every reason to suspect the killer is standing right in front of him?”

  “Normal upstanding citizens don’t just become murderers overnight,” I said. “No one will believe that for a minute.”

  “You did, and you know me, Maddie, the sheriff doesn’t.”

  “I didn’t believe that for a whole minute,” I protested. “It was a couple of seconds at the most, and only because I knew you’d done the same thing—” I backtracked when his frown intensified “—okay, a totally different thing with Chintilly, but it’s not like I’m going to broadcast the fact that you’ve re-enacted one of your scenes in real life before to get the gritty edges lined up. My lips are sealed.” I zipped my mouth for dramatic effect. “See? I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Once they start investigating me, they’ll find Chintilly and she’ll be only too eager to rat me out,” Joe said. “We didn’t exactly end on a happy note.”

  “Chintilly?” I blinked up at him, confused. “How would she know that you seduced her merely to sharpen your writing skills?”

  Joe blew out a long breath. “I told her.”

  “You told Chintilly?” My neck was getting a crick from looking up at him, so I stood stiffly. Looking him in the eye wasn’t much better. My head was getting an ache. “That was low, Joe, really low.”

  And now I had to feel some semblance of sympathy for the woman. That was even lower.

  I slipped around Joe and paced a path to the French doors.

  He followed. “It wasn’t like that, Maddie. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You always have a choice,” I snapped, my gaze skimming over the frozen lake outside.

  I was supposed to be hibernating. I was supposed to be done with this emotional rollercoaster.

  A hand landed on my shoulder from behind.

  I shrugged it off and side-stepped to gain traction on my personal space.

  “Maddie, when you walked in on us backstage in Chintilly’s room—”

  “For goodness sake!” I spun about to growl into his face. “I was there, remember? I don’t need a recap.”

  “I’m sorry, Maddie, but just hear me out.” He backed up a step, folded his arms. “I wanted to go after you at once, but Chintilly seemed to think we should finish what we’d started. Her hands were all over me, I couldn’t even pull my damn pants back up—”

  He paused at the choking sound in the room. That was me gagging in my mouth.

  “Okay, you didn’t need to hear that,” he quickly said. “But she was clinging to me, and she kept saying that I didn’t need to rush off, that I obviously didn’t love you anymore, that I wouldn’t be there with her if I did, and I lost it. I told her you were my life and she was just the bit part in my book. I told her everything, Maddie. It was the only way to make her stop and let me go.”

  On the plus side, I no longer had to worry about feeling sympathetic toward the woman who’d broken my marriage. But with what Chintilly knew, she could cause Joe a whole lot of problems if he went to the cops.

  “What about Jack Spinner?” I offered. Jack had been with the Sheriff’s Department less than a year, but he was dating my best friend Jenna. That made him a solid option. “We can just tell him what we know, and he can do a little digging, maybe pass on any relevant information. I’m sure we can trust him to keep your name out of it.”

  “If you tell Jack, it will get to Jenna somehow, and she can’t know.” Joe gave me an earnest look. “Maddie, swear you won’t tell Jenna.”

  I chomped on my lower lip.

  “She hates my guts,” Joe said. “She’d love to use this against me.”

  “Jenna would never hurt you.”

  He threw his hands up. “She punched me out cold!”

  “That was months ago.”

  “And she hasn’t spoken a pleasant word to me since.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  “Okay,” I relented. “We don’t tell Jack or Jenna, but we have to do something, Joe. What if the cops never catch the real murderer? What if he walks free? What if he kills again? I couldn’t live with myself if we sit on information that could have helped.”

  “He will walk free if the cops concentrate all their efforts on me instead of looking for him.” Joe’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to go to prison, Maddie. God, I have no idea what to do.”

  “Well, maybe I do,” I said reluctantly.

  As far as ideas went, it wasn’t the brightest in the box, but I’d sworn off those anyway. This was more like a desperate last resort.

  Needless to say, Joe was not thrilled. He made me work so hard to convince him, I’d almost convinced myself by the time I was done.

  I ran upstairs to grab my winter coat and gloves, and that’s when I saw the stack of loose papers bundled with a large elastic, on the chair where I’d dumped it weeks ago.

  If Joe was so convinced he was a prime suspect, then what did that make me? I hadn’t read the manuscript, but that would be my word against the full brunt of the law.

  I hefted the heavy bundle (436 printed pages!) under my arm, plucked my car keys from the bachelor chest and trotted out the room. I had some half-baked idea about trashing the evidence in the outside bin, but the smell of smoking pine cones wafted across to me at the bottom of the stairs and changed my mind. Burns had lit the fire in the lounge.

  TWO

  I headed north on the Valley Road, the world around me carpeted in white with the smallest bits of green peeking through on the slopes. A streaky haze of cloud covered the sky, but didn’t quite block the sun. I slowed right down to take the turn for Nate’s cabin, and then slowed even more when I saw the lane that speared through the woods hadn’t been cleared. There was a fresh set of tire tracks, though, and I used that to guide me.

  I’d made it all the way to the tiny lake when I hit something. A bump or a ditch, impossible to tell. I revved the engine, tires spinning, sludge churning, getting nowhere.

  “Crap.” I got out to take a look, and it wasn’t good. Icy wind stung my cheeks and the front of my car tipped forward, snow packed higher than the tires.

  Too late, I remembered this road was an obstacle course of craters. Nate’s truck managed it pretty smoothly. My small Beetle, not so much.

  I climbed back in and tried to reverse, but all I achieved was more churning, probably making the problem worse.

  “Stupid snow tires.” I slammed my palms against the wheel in frustration, and that’s when serious doubt set in. Partly because I was stuck in the snow on a lonely country lane, mostly because why, why on earth would Nate give me any special treatment?

  We hadn’t spoken in more than six months, and that hadn’t ended well. When he’d seen me in Joe’s arms, he’d said a very definite goodbye and he’d walked out, out of the house and out of my life, and I’d just stood there and watched him go.

  Common sense told me I should sit right here, call for roadside assistance and keep the engine running for warmth until they arrived. But the seconds ticked on by and Nate’s tug grew increasingly i
rresistible. And I’m not just talking about those stone-kissed eyes and Nate’s overall chiseled hotness. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him for six months, I’d tried not to think about him too often, but Nate was still the quiet calm in my storm. Which sounded crazy, given our short, tenuous and somewhat explosive relationship. But deep inside, where it really mattered, Nate felt like the anchor that kept me drifting too far into harm. And if that was totally misguided, I guess I was about to find out.

  I pulled my collar up around my ears, cut the engine and climbed out into the bitter cold. I locked my purse in the trunk, slipped my phone and car keys into my pocket, then put my head down against the wind and started walking.

  Glimpses of frozen lake sparkled through the firs and the wind whipped furiously, showering me with displaced snow every now and then. This was kind of fun. The first quarter hour, anyway, then the deep plunging degraded into torture by Stairmaster. I was ready to be done by the time Nate’s sprawling log cabin came into view.

  There were a couple of things I hadn’t factored into my plans when I’d set out from Hollow House. One: it was mid-morning on a Saturday and Nate might well not be home. He was. Two: he may not be alone. He wasn’t.

  A silver SUV sat behind Nate’s black truck out front.

  The cramp in my thighs and the frosty bite pushed me forward anyway. At the very least, I could camp inside while I waited for roadside assistance.

  The front door had one of those heavy brass knockers instead of a chime button. I banged it twice and waited, nerves suddenly fluttering at my pulse.

  This was a very, very bad— That thought dropped off as Nate opened the door, looking all kinds of scrumptious in faded denim, a grey cabled sweater and messy dark brown hair.

  The look on his face was stunned shock with a dab of horror. I couldn’t really blame him. Not only had I rocked up on his doorstep out of the blue, but I didn’t wear nature particularly well—especially on the appendages. I could only imagine what a sight I made. Damp hair flattened over my ears, ruddy cheeks, Rudolph red nose, that kind of thing.

  Nate finally found his voice. “Maddox?”

  “Hello, Nate.” I twinkled my gloved fingers at him.

  “What are…?” He stepped across the threshold, peering over my shoulder. “Did you walk here?”

  “My car’s stuck in the snow.”

  His eyes came back to me. “On the Valley Road?”

  I shook my head. “Where the road bends at the lake,” I said. “I was on my way here.”

  “Nate?” a distinctly female voice called from inside. “Close the damn door, would you? If I wanted to freeze my ass off—” the voice rapidly approached—“I would have gone ice pole fishing.” A gorgeous redhead with doey eyes and creamy skin (not a single freckle) popped up behind Nate. Amusement lit her eyes as they landed on me. “Well, hello there.”

  “Um, hello?” I smiled, but on the inside I was cringing. Crap. Crap. Crap. I knew this was a very, very bad idea.

  “Maddox.” Nate shifted out from between us as he made the introductions. “Sam.”

  I twinkled my fingers at her. That seemed to be my new thing. And, of course, I couldn’t stop my gaze from running down the length of her. At least five foot eight, dressed in some sort of black Lycra that fit her body like a second skin and, let’s just say, she had a figure that would be right at home on a catwalk in Milan.

  Sam didn’t twinkle back. She studied me a moment, rather intensely, then she said to Nate, “Interesting.”

  And then she turned to walk away, calling over her shoulder, “Shut the damn door.”

  Nate chuckled under his breath. “She has a certain charm, right?”

  I blushed furiously, from my hair roots to my toes. Luckily, all the parts of me exposed to Nate’s eyes had already been rudely reddened by the wintery frost.

  “Nate, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you had company. I mean, I knew you weren’t alone, obviously, there’s an extra car in your drive, but I didn’t realize you were entertaining a lady friend.” I started to turn from him. “I should go.”

  He grabbed my arm, spinning me back around. “Come inside, let’s get you warmed up.” His gaze sank into me, searching. “Then you can tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  I dug my boots into the snow. “It’s not that important.”

  Before I registered his intention, Nate’s hands came around my waist. He lifted me clear off my feet.

  I wiggled, hissing, “What about Sam?”

  “Sam’s not that bad.” He deposited me inside and kicked the door shut. “It takes a while,” he added as he took my coat and gloves to hang by the door, “but she’ll grow on you.”

  I bent double to remove my snow-dunked boots, muttering, “Thank goodness I won’t be staying long enough for that to happen.”

  I wasn’t a mean person, I didn’t think, but my snark came out in disastrous situations and, on a scale of one to Zombie Apocalypse, this one was right up there with the outbreak of a mysterious virus.

  Nate either didn’t hear or politely refrained from comment.

  When I straightened, I had a clear view across the cabin’s lounge to the wall of windows that looked out over the lake. Sam was lounging on a leather sofa, knees pulled up, eyes on me. There was a third person in the room, a distinguished looking man with salt streaked hair, whom Nate introduced as Jeff. The good news? Jeff was Sam’s boyfriend! The bad news? I’d made an utter fool out of myself.

  Nate excused us and ushered me toward the kitchen. “Sam and I work together at the Auburn Detective office,” he said as he brewed two mugs of fresh coffee. “We’re partners, actually. They spent the night so Jeff and I could do some midnight ice fishing.”

  “I’m not your social activities coach, Nate.” I plonked my butt on a stool by the breakfast bar. “You don’t have to explain your schedule to me.”

  “Really?” He added milk to my coffee, then placed the mug in front of me. “You looked like you were ready to bolt the second I turned my back.”

  “Yeah, well,” I grumbled. “I didn’t expect to find a woman here, okay?”

  “You expected me to be living like a monk?”

  “I didn’t expect anything!” This conversation was bordering on ridiculous. “I was mortified that I’d interrupted your morning cuddles. Yeah, weird of me, I know, but I actually felt bad about intruding on your romantic interlude.”

  A slow grin slid over his mouth. “No romancing going on this morning.”

  “Thanks, I already got that memo.” I sipped on my coffee, glaring as he settled on the stool beside me. Of all the ways this encounter could have gone, I couldn’t help thinking I’d drawn the short straw. We’d barely said hello before I was stumbling over my own mouth and we’d already had our first argument. Maybe two.

  Nate put his elbow on the counter, propped a fist against his jaw, watched me glaring at him for a good long while before he said, “How’s it going with Joe?”

  “Awful,” I sighed. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Surprise registered, then blanked. “I’m sorry to hear that, Maddox, I’d hoped you two had a real second chance.”

  “What?” I wrinkled my nose in dismay at where I’d unintentionally led this conversation. “No, Joe and I are fine. Well, not fine fine obviously, we’re divorced, but it’s been six months and we’re—”

  “Six months?” Nate said sharply. “You’ve been divorced since…?”

  Since he’d last seen me? “Pretty much.”

  “You sure as hell kept that quiet,” Nate said softly, his jaw hollowed with a hard grimace.

  “I told you I was getting divorced,” I said snappishly. “I got divorced. My life really isn’t as complicated as you seem to think.”

  And yes, I was well aware Nate’s last impression of me and Joe might have led him to believe otherwise, a mistake I’d deliberately not corrected at the time. But I was beyond irritable, irritated at everyone in this household, myself included. Okay, maybe not
Jeff, he’d been perfectly nice.

  Nate stood abruptly, his gaze narrowing down on me, waiting…

  I nudged my chin high and met his gaze in stubborn silence. I didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

  “Why are you here, Maddox?” he asked at last.

  I remembered I’d come begging a favor, and slapped a smile over my hostile stare. “I need some advice.”

  A beat passed. “About?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “How’s this supposed to work, then?” His brow cocked. “I’m not a mind reader.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “I mean, I can’t tell you until you promise not to breathe a word of it to anyone.”

  “I don’t do off the record.”

  My smile sweetened. “I hoped you’d make an exception.”

  Nate sat again, dragged his mug closer. “What have you gotten yourself into now,” he grumbled. Not a question.

  “Not me,” I said defensively. “Joe. And I really can’t say more without your promise.”

  We sipped our coffee, staring each other down. The tension built, waiting for one of us to crack. It felt a little like the Wild West, pistols at dawn and all that.

  Nate cursed under his breath. “Okay, I’ll keep this to myself on one condition. If a crime has been committed, then I have to call it in.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “No one’s committed a crime.” Which wasn’t the whole truth. “Okay, obviously a crime was committed, but Joe’s not involved.” Not quite right, either. “Well, he’s involved, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, but he’s totally innocent.”

  “Stop talking and just tell me.”

  I gave him a droll look. “You do realize that’s technically impossible.”

  “Maddox,” he growled.

  “Okay, jeez.” I put my mug down and folded my arms. “It’s about Lacey Markson’s murder.”

  Nate’s frown sank deep into his forehead. “The senator’s daughter?”

  I nodded, and told him everything. Except the part about Joe and Chintilly’s real life staged drama because (a) it was far too personal and (b) it wouldn’t look good for Joe’s case and (c) I’d given Joe my word that no one would ever hear it from me.