Words That Kill (A Maddox Storm Mystery Book 3)

by Claire Robyns

  “Shouldn’t someone go with you?”

  Jack answered, “Stealth over strength.”

  “Make sure she stays put, Skinner,” Nate said, and then he slipped off into the night.

  I plastered my face to the window.

  “Relax,” Sam drawled. “He’s packing.”

  “That means he took his gun,” Jack supplied.

  I gave him a look. “I know what packing means.”

  “She watches cop movies?” This from Sam.

  “Why do you do that?” I snapped, taking my nervous energy out on her. “Talk to me in third person.”

  “To be fair, I’m usually talking about you, not to you.”

  The driver’s door flung open, wide and fierce, startling the breath from my lungs. But it was only Nate, and the wind that had taken the door.

  “There’s a car parked in the trees,” he said.

  “Isla?”

  “It’s well hidden, so yeah. We only saw it because the light glinted off the metal.” He rubbed snowflakes from his hair and shifted so he could look at everyone. “The factory can’t be far.”

  Sam interpreted that as, “We’re going on foot from here.”

  Jack unholstered the gun at his hip.

  “Put that away, cowboy,” Sam drawled. “You’re staying here to babysit Maddox.”

  “No!” I scowled so hard at Nate, my eyes practically crossed over. “No.”

  He blew out a breath. “Okay, you’re with me. Sam, you take Spinner.”

  “Nate, I swear to—”

  “She’s going with or without my blessing,” he cut through Sam’s protest. “At least this way, I know where she is.”

  He knew me so, so well. I fake-smiled and said nothing about the third person usage.

  The wind almost swept me clear off my feet when I stepped out the car. Head forward, hands shoved deep into my pockets, nose tucked into my collar, I pressed against the windblown snow, glued to Nate’s heels. Not totally necessary. Everyone with a cell phone had the flashlight app turned up to bright, so all I had to do was follow the bobbing lights. Just when it felt like my thighs had died on me, the road broke out of the forest into the clearing the guard had promised.

  The factory looked like a small office block, a dark and boxy contrast to its white surroundings.

  “You okay?” Nate yelled at me, the only way to be heard in this foul weather.

  “Yes!” I was so ready to do this, to nab Jenna and get the hell out of crazy land.

  “Sam! Spinner!” Nate jabbed in one direction, then took my hand and pulled me along after him in the other.

  We ran as quickly as the soft snow allowed, cleared the open space and flattened ourselves to the brick wall. I’d lost sight of Jack and Sam in the poor visibility long before the building actually cut us off.

  Nate gave my hand a tug to get me moving. We walked slower against the side of the building, searching for a way inside. The factory was about four stories and the lowest line of windows started roughly halfway up.

  No light shone through the windows.

  I sincerely hoped that wasn’t a sign that no one was home.

  We rounded the corner to a more sheltered side and the drumming wind eased slightly. Finally, I could hear myself think.

  We’d also found a door. The keypad on the wall beside it blinked red digital zeros.

  “Someone’s disabled the security system,” Nate observed.

  I tried the door. “It’s locked. Or jammed.”

  He held up the swipe card. “Maybe this will still work.”

  Two lurking figures rounded the other corner, Jack and Sam. They spotted us and waved.

  Nate swiped the card.

  The keypad flashed four dashes, then went black.

  Sam reached us first, assessed the situation and said, “We passed a cargo door and service entrance. Come on.”

  My heart hammered in my chest as we hurried around the other side. We were so close now, so why did it feel so far?

  The keypad to the service door, however, was intact. Nate swiped and it beeped open.

  We pushed through into a long and narrow passage, and heard it as soon as the door swung closed behind us. The mechanical hum you’d expect to find on a factory floor. Except this one was supposed to be shut down for winter.

  No! I darted forward.

  Nate yanked me back. “She’s turned the systems on, Maddox, but they probably take a while to warm up, or whatever the hell canning machinery does.”

  Jack strode on ahead, forcing us to hurry up and follow.

  The passage led to some kind of warehouse receiving area. A large open space. Hogging one corner, a small desk with a computer and a printout rack. A flight of stairs that ascended into blackness.

  The humming noise came from the far end of the room.

  Nate pointed at Sam. “You and Maddox take the stairs,” he said. “Spinner, you’re with me.”

  Sam went rigid. “I’m not a damn babysitter.”

  Nate stepped in front of her, his voice low, “I’m not bringing her with me, Sam. You’re the only other person I trust with my life.”

  They shared a look that totally excluded everyone and anything else.

  I left them to it and raced for the stairs. Nate was going after Isla in the operation room and didn’t want me there. That was okay. They could do their professional cop thing, I was only interested in Jenna and I’d had one of those rare, temperamental gut instinct moments.

  The final hour was abstract art.

  A masterpiece.

  And a noisy factory floor was no place to foster creativity and inspiration.

  I hit the first couple of steps at a running leap, but the dark stairwell soon slowed me.

  Seconds later, Sam caught up and overtook with her flashlight. “What’s the hurry?”

  “The offices,” I puffed out. “Jenna’s up here.”

  “If you say so,” she muttered, sounding uncannily like Burns. “Just stay behind me.”

  “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “I don’t, but I’m not explaining to Nate if you go splat.”

  I stared daggers into her back. “You’re really not a very nice person.”

  “So, sue me.”

  “The State of New York wouldn’t have enough money in their coffers to pay your damages.”

  She stopped dead, turned that flashlight on me.

  “What?” I challenged.

  She shook her head, chuckled. “Maybe you’re not that bad.”

  I sucked on a few choice words and sped past her.

  She grabbed my coat and plucked me back so she could pass again. “Nice try.”

  There were two more flights before we reached the landing. Heavy duty woven carpets and grey walls, not much but an improvement from below. We strode down the hallway, Sam knocking open doors on one side, me doing the same thing (somewhat more impatiently) on the other.

  My impatience turned to dread when I saw a slither of light up ahead. Please be okay. “Sam, here!” I shouted as I ran ahead, tried the door handle.

  Locked.

  I banged. “Jenna!”

  Sam rushed over. “Stand aside.”

  I hopped away, shut my eyes and prayed we weren’t too late. Be alive. Be alive.

  My eyes popped open at the deafening thud. Sam’s boot against sallow pine. The door shuddered in its frame.

  “Don’t you have a gun?” I said. “Shoot the lock out.”

  She arched a brow at me. “You’re a real danger to society, you know that?”

  “It worked on the boat hatch,” I sniped.

  “And lucky for you, there was no one on the other side at the time.”

  Oh, right. I flicked a hand in the air. “Fine, kick the door down.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered sarcastically and did exactly that on about her hundredth attempt. First came the splintering, then the cracks, then the door spluttered loose from its hinges. Amazingly, the lock remained intact.
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br />   I barreled inside the room.

  Skidded to a halt.

  Jenna stood up against the wall, staring at me with her jaw slack.

  We kept that up for about two seconds, then ran into each other’s arms.

  “Nate’s here,” I said, hugging her so hard it hurt my ribs. “Jack’s here. And Sam’s here,” I added grudgingly. “Everything’s okay.”

  “Sam’s here?” She pulled her head back to look, did a double-take and looked again. “Huh. I see what you mean. She could be a problem, but we’ll find a way to manage it.” She looked further than Sam. “Where’s Jack?”

  “He’s downstairs with Nate,” I told her. “They’ve gone after Isla.”

  Jenna shivered. “That woman is the spawn of Satan.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “We have to go help them.”

  I titled my head to catch her wandering gaze. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “It’s Jack,” she sighed.

  “And Nate.”

  We spun out of the hug, and found ourselves staring down the wrong end of a barrel.

  Sam held the gun steady. “Don’t even think about it. I’ll make sure to miss any vital organs, but I will put a slug in the first one who tries.”

  I narrowed my eyes on her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  She smiled like this was her lucky day. “Why don’t you try and let’s see.”

  I took a hasty step back.

  Jenna huddled close, muttering, “This day just does not get better.”

  Sam lowered her gun a fraction, not nearly enough to make me comfortable.

  My throat clotted with anger. She wouldn’t shoot us, I couldn’t believe that. But I wouldn’t put it past her to take potshots around our feet and make us dance like training bears, and I refused to give her that pleasure.

  So I stayed right where I was and stared her down, and that’s how Nate found us.

  He looked from me to Jenna, back to me and then to Sam.

  She shrugged and put her weapon away. “They wanted to go save you.”

  “She pulled a gun on us,” I blurted.

  Nate shoved a hand roughly through his hair, his expression beyond exasperated. But all he said was, “We got Isla, cornered and cuffed. Spinner’s watching her.”

  “Should I call it in?” asked Sam.

  “Already done,” Nate said. “Backup’s on the way.”

  Jenna sprang forward. “Where’s Jack?”

  Nate stepped away from the battered doorway, waved her through. “Bottom of the stairwell.”

  “Your partner needs serious work on her people skills,” Jenna muttered loudly as she passed him. “A weekend in Miss Crawley’s care should just about do it.”

  Sam rolled her doey green eyes and stalked out after Jenna with a throwaway, “Someone needs to keep an eye on the kids.”

  Nate’s mouth kicked up, his gaze washing over me. “Alone at last.”

  That just got my ire going again. Clearly it was time to address the Sam problem. I crossed my arms, glowering at him with attitude. “She pulled a gun on us.”

  “Did she rack it?”

  “Rack it?”

  “Sam doesn’t carry with a round in the chamber.” He mimed the sliding action of racking the barrel of a gun as he advanced with a slow, loose-limbered stride. “If she didn’t rack it, the gun wasn’t ready to fire.”

  I retreated a step as he closed in on me. “I don’t know if she racked it—” another step back “—and I don’t care.”

  The next step backward, I hit wall, and he was still coming. I slapped a palm to his chest, holding him at bay. “She pulled a gun on us, Nate.”

  His gaze sank into me, heated with intent. “I’ll have a word with Sam.”

  “You will?” I said, suspicious to the bone.

  “I swear.” He reached out to graze my cheek with his thumb, leant in and pressed his other hand to the wall above my head. “Anything else?”

  I’m pretty sure I had long list of grievances against Sam, but his mouth was just there, I was breathing Nate in and suddenly I couldn’t recall a single item on that list.

  My fingers curled against his chest, grabbed folds of his jacket to anchor me to planet earth as Nate’s lips brushed mine. His hand slid down from the wall and he wrapped an arm around me, folding me into his warmth. Every slant of his mouth tugged a thread of want and longing as I melted in his arms, into his taste, into Nate. This wasn’t the most romantic place for our first proper kiss, but everything else was toe-curling perfect.

  SIXTEEN

  Joe took his sweet time returning home from New York City. The FBI had released him the same night Isla had been apprehended, but he’d stayed on at his publisher’s insistence. I couldn’t say I blamed him. They’d put him up at the Five Seasons, with an expense account for all his basic needs. Apparently that included champagne. I had the Skype video sessions to prove it.

  He’d done the rounds, interviews, chat shows, you name it. Everyone wanted a piece of Joseph McMurphy, the man who’d caught his own copycat killer before she could strike again.

  Joe had tried to pass the credit on to where it was due, but no one seemed particularly interested. The FBI and cops were supposed to catch the bad guys, it was their job. Where was the story in that?

  He’d thrown my name around as well, but that had stuck in all the wrong places. People were more focused on whether his ex-wife was still in the picture, were we getting together again, and how romantic it was that I’d managed to get myself into the kind of mess that needed him to save me. They totally glossed over the part where I’d been an intrinsic cog of the wheel that had brought Isla down.

  And then there was Joe’s grand finale.

  He’d shredded his manuscript on live television. He’d lifted his puppy dog eyes on his global audience and said he refused to benefit from a work that had unintentionally resulted in Lacey Markson’s death.

  His soaring number of rabid fans had gone wild for him.

  I was kind of surprised he’d returned to Hollow House at all, but he had, arriving in a chauffeured town car. I engulfed him in a big hug, then dragged him inside, past Burns napping at the reception desk and through to the lounge.

  “You made a wrong turn,” I said, chuckling as I pointed at the gracious spread of Lakeview Spa Retreat across the lake. “That’s where all the celebrities hang out.”

  “I’m just glad you and Jenna are safe,” he said, his gaze settling on me, “and that mad woman is behind bars.”

  My cell phone chirped a chorus of crickets, my ringtone for unrecognized numbers.

  “Just a minute,” I said to Joe and took the call. “Hello?”

  “Maddox Storm?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Hello, Maddox, this is Jo Ann Carrington from SKNNY.”

  “Um, hi.” I scratched my brain, wondering if I should know her. I did work at SKNNY, after all. Sort of.

  My cluelessness must have filtered into my voice, because she added, “I’m the production schedule manager for the station. Do you have a couple of minutes to talk?”

  My heart dropped a foot. “You’re not firing me, are you?”

  “Quite the opposite,” she assured me, and we proceeded to have the kind of conversation that unicorns and stardust are made of.

  Joe only heard my end of the conversation, but it was enough to get his smile beaming. My excited twitters might have helped.

  “They’re giving you your own show?” he said when the call ended.

  “Your notoriety has rubbed off on me,” I said somewhat giddily. “They think I have a built-in audience and the right presence, whatever that is.”

  “Congratulations, Maddie.” He took my hands in his, his eyes filled with warmth and soul. “That’s great.”

  “It’s only Monday mornings,” I said, trying to invoke some of the caution Jo Ann had advised.

  The dead hour, she’d warned. And there’ll be a probationary period.
We’ll do a couple of shows and see how it goes.

  Oh, for goodness sake, who cared?

  “Yes!” I squealed. “It’s going to be called Dirty Weekend Secrets and I have to go in tomorrow to discuss all the fine print.”

  “Dirty Weekend Secrets.” Joe laughed. “That sounds scandalous.”

  “I know!”

  “You’re going to be star.”

  I rolled my eyes at that. “That’s going a bit far. It’s only a mid-morning radio talk show.”

  But I did sort of have stars dazzling in my eyes as I lifted my phone again to call Jenna, and then Nate, with the news.

  My life was pretty darn great right now.

  … Thank you for reading and I hope you’re enjoying the Maddox Storm Cozy Mystery series. Please don’t forget to give this book a quick review on Amazon if you’re able. Even just a couple of words, “Liked it” or “Not for me” reviews help so much. I’m grateful for all feedback from my readers, good or bad

  Thanks again for your support.