Seek and Find

by Dana Mentink

He was two car lengths away now, unsure of her exact location. Her own breathing sounded so loud she was sure he could hear it. Slowly she eased around the far side of the car. He was waiting for her to unlock the door, perhaps. She thought about screaming to attract the attention of someone inside, but the music and conversation would drown her out.

  Back pressed to the cold metal, she crouched there, slipping off her pumps in case she had to run. Toward the hall? The best option. The man had a heavy hand on the hood of her car now, a flashlight pricking the darkness as he located her keys underneath. They jingled as he poked them with his foot. She remembered with a jolt that she had a photo key ring. Now he knew exactly who had been eavesdropping on their conversation.

  “The reporter,” he snapped. “What did she hear?”

  Was the other man still there at the edge of the lot? Had he circled around to come at her from the other side? She gathered the edges of her skirt in her hands as she heard the squeak of boots. He was moving around the headlights now. Run now, Mads. You can do it. You have to. The edge of the flashlight beam was worming its way closer. In a matter of inches he would shine it right in her face.

  She exploded from her hiding place, sprinting toward the grange hall. Though the long skirt hampered her, she was moving well away from the parking lot. The hum of party noises grew louder, and she was opening her mouth to scream when something hit her in the ankles. She fell hard.

  A fist connected with her temple, and she felt her body go numb. Then she was hauled over a big shoulder. The ground moved dizzily in her vision as he carried her to the woods.

  * * *

  James scoured the hall again for Madison. “Where is she?”

  “Looking for Little Red?” Marlton asked, working his way through a plate piled high with cheese and cookies.

  “Yeah. Have you seen her?”

  “Talked to her about fifteen minutes ago. She was trying to exit out the back, probably going to do some snooping, but I redirected her out the front door, since you and Ryder were doing another security sweep out there.”

  “Did she leave?”

  “Guess so.”

  “And you didn’t walk her to her car?” James snapped.

  “I’m off protection duty. I’m on personal time,” he said with a shrug. “She’s somebody else’s problem.”

  Biting back a retort, James whirled on his heel and hastened toward the front door. He’d probably missed her and she was on her way home. He’d try her cell. As he reached for his phone, Ryder met him at the front door. “Godwin reports that they’ve got a crane in place to haul up the truck. Going to finish up here and head over to relieve her.” Ryder looked near exhaustion.

  “Ryder...” James started. He wanted to express to his friend how sorry he was that the sting had come to nothing. No sign of a rookie-cop serial killer, and still not the slightest hint that there was any connection to the slaying of his wife.

  Ryder shook his head. “I know. Gonna go brief Chief Jones.” He gave James a slap on the back and walked away, shoulders bowed.

  James dialed Madison’s cell. No answer. Probably driving. He went out the front door and made his way to the parking lot. Her vehicle was still there. He puzzled over it for a moment. “Must have missed her inside.” Something caught his eye in the moonlight. Lying just under the front tire, a set of keys, a silver heart attached, with a picture of Kate and Madison. Next to it was one of her shoes. He swallowed hard.

  Skin prickled all over, he was on the radio in an instant, with Ryder promising to get help on the way without alarming the guests. Ryder was the first one to join James as he frantically scoured the ground in the beam of his flashlight. Nothing unusual, no sign of anything amiss except her key ring.

  Okay. Play it through in your mind. She’s getting into the car. Maybe she hears something and bolts. Or maybe someone takes her. Breath coming fast now, he went to the browned grass at the edge of the lot.

  “I got something here,” he barked, training his light over the crushed dry stalks. “Broken grass, maybe from a scuffle.” What he wouldn’t give right then to have Hawk by his side. The dog would find her in an instant. He didn’t wait for any discussion with his fellow cops before he headed to the woods behind the grange hall.

  Plunging into the deep shadows, he stopped to listen. Nothing. Suddenly he had the irrational fear that he was going to find her dead, lying in the woods like Melanie Hayes all those years ago. He’d been so focused on himself, certain that another blond-haired rookie was the target. Had his mistake caused Madison her life? Fear thickened in his throat. No, it’s not going to be like that. The long, arcing beams from the cops’ MagLites began sweeping through the trees.

  Weapon in hand, he tried to be like Hawk, reading the signs on the ground that would take him to Madison.

  * * *

  Madison felt her senses gradually beginning to return. She realized she was being carried into the woods behind the grange hall, her head bumping against a muscled back. She flailed, trying to slide off the man’s shoulder, but his arm around her waist was like an iron band. Wild panic surged through her body before she forced herself to think. What had she learned in self-defense class? Go for the eyes.

  Curving her fingers, she tried to reach out and claw where she thought his eyes must be. Her plan worked. With a grunt, he dumped her on the ground, the impact driving the breath out of her. Immediately she flipped over and scrambled on hands and knees toward the grange hall.

  With a muttered oath, he grabbed her ankle and tugged. She kicked and bucked, one foot connecting with his face. She heard a soft crunch. He jerked back, freeing her. In that precious moment, she moved faster than she’d ever imagined, long enough to scramble along, hands shoving at the branches that slapped at her, stumbling over the uneven ground.

  Get away, her brain screamed. Get away and hide.

  She plunged deeper into the foliage, heedless of direction now, blindly moving like a drowning person searching for air. A branch cut at her face, and another snagged on her skirt until she yanked it free and kept running. When she hoped she’d put some distance between her and her attacker, she stopped to get her bearings. Tucked under a thorny shrub, she fought against her rasping breath and thundering heart. Any second she expected to feel him reach out of the darkness and grab her again.

  Think, Mads. Where was she? She saw only trees distorted by the moonlight, painted with eerie shadows. Listen and use your head.

  Forcing her body to obey her mind, she strained to make out the tiniest welcoming noise from the ball. The seconds ticked by endlessly. There, she had it. The sound of laughter floated out from the grange, which must be away and to the right of her location. Peering from under the shrubs, she tried to see some indication of where her attacker was hiding.

  Wherever it was, he could not possibly be prepared for a record-breaking sprint, which was exactly what she meant to attempt. Slowly she gathered up her dress, now soiled and torn. Her fingers balled up in the satin, rigid.

  On the count of three...

  When her mind had ticked off the seconds, she bolted with all the strength and speed she possessed. Branches cracked under her feet. Arms pumping and legs churning, she shot through the trees as best she could. In a matter of moments, the lights of the grange hall shone tantalizingly close.

  She pressed even harder and then, in a gap between the trees, she saw him there, figure large against the moonlight. Screeching to a halt, she screamed. He did not move.

  Fear froze her body as he lurched for her. She pivoted. One hand fell heavily on her back, enough to send her off balance. She rolled over to scream again when she felt his body collapse across her legs. Wriggling and squirming, she sought to free herself. He made no move to grab her.

  Pinwheeling, she wrenched her body free and scuttled backward until her back hit a tree trunk. H
e lay on the ground, facedown, still.

  The moonlight cleared the clouds just enough that she could see the edge of the hunting knife sticking out of her attacker’s back.

  * * *

  James heard Madison scream. He charged through the undergrowth. “Madison?” he roared. His voice echoed through the woods, thrown back at him. She did not respond, or he could not hear her, anyway. The shifting shadows from the clouded moonlight made the woods come alive with movement.

  He yelled for her again. Was she hiding? Or unable to answer? He forced away the thought and called out again. Still no response. She was smart, savvy. She would have run toward the grange hall if she could, toward the people who would help her, toward him. Smashing the branches aside, he plowed on until he reached a gap in the trees. He heard gulps and sobs. Madison.

  Gun drawn, he emerged on the path, trees looming on either side. Scanning quickly, he realized that she sat with her back against a tree, hands pressed to her mouth. His relief almost took his breath clean away until he noticed the second figure.

  There was a guy lying facedown on the ground, not moving.

  “Police,” James shouted. No reaction, except a startled yelp from Madison.

  “Stay still, Madison,” he said quietly.

  She didn’t respond, crouched in a ball against the tree.

  He approached, warily, looking for any signs of movement, the sign of a discarded weapon. His flashlight beam found the hilt of a knife protruding from the guy’s back. His mind reeled. Madison was trying to say something, but her words were garbled by fear, no more than a whisper.

  “It’s okay,” James said in as soothing a voice as he could rustle up. “Just stay right there for a minute.” Inching to the prostrate form, he reached tentatively down with one hand to check for a pulse on the guy’s wrist.

  Ryder and Bucks raced up, guns drawn, covering the downed man. James holstered his. “He’s dead.” They all stared at the fallen man.

  Bucks let out an amazed whistled. “Well, Harrison. Looks like you finally got Myron Falkner this time, for sure.”

  The moonlight shone on the dead man’s bald head. “No,” James said. “But someone else did.”

  Twenty

  He left Ryder and Bucks with the body and approached Madison, kneeling at her feet. She was staring at the front of her dress, eyes wide with horror at the stains splashed across the ruined satin.

  “There’s blood all over,” she whispered. “Falkner’s blood.”

  He let out a slow breath. “Madison, are you injured?”

  When she didn’t answer, he bent lower to force her to focus on him. “Hurt?”

  A small shake of the head. He silently thanked the Lord. “I want you to tell me what happened.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  She breathed hard for a minute, trying to wipe away the blood with her palm. “It’s all over. So much blood.”

  He reached out and gently stopped her, taking his hands in hers and pressing. “Tell me,” he repeated, voice low and steady.

  “I overheard him, Falkner, talking to someone in the parking lot. They were talking about murder and someone leaving town. I dropped my keys and he heard me. Chased me. Then someone...stabbed him.”

  “Who?”

  “The man he was talking to, I guess.”

  “Who was it? Did you see his face?”

  Her eyes widened, dark pools. She pulled her hands away and laced the fingers together, squeezing. “No, but it was a cop.” Her whisper carried perfectly on the night air, and Ryder and Bucks moved closer. Marlton joined them.

  “What did she just say?” Marlton asked.

  James ignored the question, still focused completely on Madison. “How do you know it was a cop? Tell me what you saw.”

  “When they were talking, I got a glimpse of a hat, a uniform hat like yours.”

  “Are you sure? It was dark,” Ryder said. “Could you have been mistaken?”

  “No,” she said, eyes snapping to his. “I’m sure. There was a cop working with Falkner, and he stabbed him. I didn’t see it, but that must be what happened.”

  James could feel the confusion and defensiveness in his two colleagues, sensing their disbelieving body language as they processed the accusation.

  “You’re saying a cop did this.” Marlton said, voice tight. “So when we dust the knife for prints, it’s gonna point to one of our own?”

  “Yes,” Madison repeated.

  Marlton stood straighter, his tone derisive. “You sure we aren’t going to find your prints on it, ma’am?”

  He heard Madison gasp. “What? You think I killed him?”

  He gestured around the woods. “Well, you’re here with a dead body and blood all over you, accusing cops of murder,” Marlton said. “I’d pick a reporter over a cop for a murderer any day of the week.”

  “I didn’t kill him.” Her voice shook.

  “You’re the one out here alone with a dead guy, missy,” Marlton fired off.

  “That’s enough,” James warned.

  “You can’t possibly think that I killed this man,” she said.

  “Oh no?” Marlton stared at her, arms folded across his chest. “Well, guess what? That’s exactly what I think.”

  James moved to insert himself between Madison and Marlton, but Ryder put a hand on Marlton’s shoulder. “We need photos and help to secure the scene. Get people out here to cordon off the area. Keep the guests from seeing. Call the coroner. Get him en route.”

  Marlton looked as though he was not going to follow orders, but he reluctantly moved away, jogging toward the back door of the grange hall, talking into his radio.

  Ryder stood for a moment. “Miss Coles, we’ll have the medics check you out and get a formal statement.” He gave her another calculating glance and returned to organize his people as cops began to pour out of the grange hall.

  The wind blew through the trees, making the pine needles quiver above them. James’s gut tightened as the facts thundered through his mind. A knife. Another body in the wooded shortcut to a residential area, a man who’d faked his death the night before. Who was the other man? King. A crooked cop? And Madison Coles at the center of it all, like she had been from the moment he’d met her.

  “James,” Madison said. “I didn’t kill Falkner. You know that, right?”

  Madison Coles, a woman he could not get out of his heart, a woman who clouded his thoughts and made him question everything. He chose his words carefully and the cop in him came out. “I know people can have a dramatic reaction when their lives are being threatened.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You think I killed him?”

  Did he? His heart, gut, mind and soul said no. “No, I don’t. I’m saying I would understand how it could have happened if you were afraid for your life.”

  Wrong thing to say. His diplomacy did nothing but make her draw away further, until her back was scraping against the tree. “That’s cop talk. You don’t believe me about the stabbing or the fact that it’s a cop behind all this, do you? Why not be a man and say it?”

  “You’re putting words in my mouth.”

  “Then tell me you believe me right now.” She fixed on his face, hers a tender expression of longing and deep need. “James, look me in the eye and tell me you trust me enough to believe what I’m saying.”

  He wanted to, desperately desired to tell her he believed her 100 percent. But the cop part of him, and the hardened part of his heart that had calloused over when he’d believed Paige, stopped him from answering. Betrayal flickered across her face, dulling the fire in her eyes and dousing whatever there had been between them. What had he just done? He wanted to touch her, hold her, erase the grievous injury he’d just inflicted,
but she was stepping gingerly away, avoiding the rocks that cut at her bare feet. He reached out a hand to steady her. She jerked away.

  “You need to stay here, wait for the medics.”

  “I’m going.”

  “Madison...”

  “I’m going,” she repeated, and there was a terrible finality to the words. “If you want me to stay here,” she said low and hard, “you’re going to have to arrest me.”

  “I’m not going to do that,” he said quietly. “I’m asking you to stay.”

  “Yeah?” The moonlight sparkled in her eyes, or perhaps it was the fury. “Well, here’s my answer.”

  She turned her back and walked away toward the grange hall.

  * * *

  It was a long night before Kate drove her back to the cabin. She’d been able to retrieve her purse, phone, and keys, but somehow, she’d forgotten her sweater inside the grange hall and she had not found her pumps, so she curled her feet up under her on the sofa, trying not to look at the bloodstains on her dress.

  “I’m going to stay with you tonight,” Kate said. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow morning, and it’s too late to drive back to Tuckerville. Go take a shower.”

  Madison should have been thrilled. Instead she was numb and cold and dead inside as she headed to the bathroom. James did not trust her. When it came to the place where the rubber met the road, he’d not believed her.

  Even when she had stripped off the ruined dress and stood under the shower until the hot water ran out, she could not rid herself of the iciness inside. A man had died right at her feet, and it felt as if something had died inside her, too.

  Wrapped in a robe, she padded into the kitchen, where she found her sister texting.

  “James was checking on you. I told him you were okay.” She peered at her sister. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Madison said.

  Kate tapped the phone against her palm. “You don’t look okay. There’s something hopeless in your eyes.”

  “That’s a determined look, not a hopeless one.” She took a breath. “Falkner’s dead. There’s a police connection to the crime and the protection racket. I’ve got a story to write.”