‘How do I know? We’re out here and they’re . . .’ she waved her hand at the X-ray machine and the large iron door behind it before spinning on her heels and striding back towards him.
‘Any guesses?’
‘An escape attempt?’
Their eyes locked and he read the question in hers.
He cleared the clog layering his throat and shifted his shoulders. ‘It won’t be Madden.’
It was a pitiful attempt at reassurance when he hadn’t a clue whether it was or wasn’t. But the brief upward slant of her lips made the effort worthwhile, even if it didn’t stop her wearing the mottle from the carpet tiles beneath her feet.
‘Of course it won’t be him.’ It was unclear whether the words were for his benefit or hers. ‘That’d be too . . .’ she waved her hand again.
He pitched in. ‘Coincidental?’
She shook her head, staring sightlessly at the wall ahead, the loaded shriek of the siren crowding the empty space around them. Her shoulders hunched, her voice so small he had to lean in to hear it.
‘Ridiculous.’
45
‘He was low risk.’
Jayda glared at the red-faced Prison Field Commander. ‘That’s reassuring now he’s dead.’ Only the gentle pressure of Georgie’s hand on her shoulder prevented her from losing it.
Dead.
The ramifications of that four-letter word swirled round her brain. Roan Madden was dead, and whatever answers she’d hoped for today had died along with him.
Chase’s fingers dug into her wrist as he tugged her away from her questioning, from Georgie. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Tracking a killer.’
The lines on his face deepened. ‘Your request for a meeting was for tomorrow.’
Of course he knew. It was his job.
She dragged steel into her shoulders and tilted her chin. ‘We were in the area so I thought I’d drop by.’
‘The exact moment he hung himself?’
‘A coincidence.’
Something in Chase’s expression didn’t sit well. Something she’d never thought to see when he looked her way.
Doubt.
Shoving at the wrench in her gut, she glanced across at the stunned Prison Field Commander still being questioned by Georgie. Her friend’s gaze darted her way and softened, shooting warmth and comfort across the distance.
She swallowed, returning attention to her less-than-amused partner. ‘Were there any witnesses?’
‘Undoubtedly a whole prison-load, but no-one’s talking.’
‘What about changes in behaviour? It’s not every day a man enters prison on a single murder charge only to be exposed as a serial killer.’
Chase shrugged. ‘He passed his psych assessment only two days ago. It’s not a given, but it does raise questions.’
‘Like whether his death was rigged to look like a suicide?’
His eyes shuttered. ‘That is a consideration.’
‘Hell, Chase. It’s me here, not some two-bit reporter.’
Her face warmed as she bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. Seth was leaning against the reception desk talking to a prison officer, but his eyes flicked to hers as if he sensed her scrutiny. She looked away.
She’d never imagined the day would come when she’d feel guilty for denigrating his profession.
‘What do you want me to say, Jayda? We’re looking into it. I can’t tell you any more than that.’
‘At least tell me how a prisoner can hang himself in a room with no hanging points.’
‘He smuggled a mop into his cell and wedged the handle between the bookshelf and top bunk. Don’t ask me how he got hold of it, because we don’t know.’
‘What did Madden say this morning when you questioned him?’
‘Jack shit.’ He scrubbed his immaculately shaven jaw. ‘We looked at the visitor log and the only recurring name was Anna Jones. A long-time girlfriend, so we’re told.’
‘He met someone in prison?’
‘Knew her before he was convicted.’
‘He was having an affair when he killed his wife?’
‘Possibly. We’ll find out more after we bring her in for questioning.’
‘Any kids?’ Her heart stalled as she held her breath and waited.
‘We’re looking into it.’
‘How about, while you’re looking into things, you check out the other inmates to see if any are connected to past Night Terror victims.’
His expression hardened, and she could tell she’d pushed Chase to his limits.
‘I know how to run my investigation.’
My investigation. As if he’d been heading it from day dot. It grated, but she bit back the retort that would send her nowhere but up shit-creek without a link to the information she needed.
‘Damn, I’m sorry, Chase.’ Air whooshed from her lungs. ‘I’m pissed and frustrated, but that’s no excuse. It’s just that every time a door opens in this case, a second later it slams in our faces.’
‘Which doors are we talking about, exactly?’
‘Eric, Madden.’ She wouldn’t mention the key. That would only hasten a disaster which would come soon enough.
‘Eric was a stalker, Jayda. Nothing’s shown up so far to link his death to Madden’s.’
Chase was still thinking inside the box. But perhaps his inability to think wider would buy her the time she needed.
‘You’re right. There’s too much craziness in my life at the moment.’ She scraped her hair back from her face. ‘Any chance you can keep me posted on Anna Jones?’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ His gaze sharpened further, so much she’d swear it’d draw blood if he moved any closer. ‘Is there anything you need to tell me?’
‘Anything about what?’
‘The case. Your investigation. The reason you’re here.’
‘I told you why I’m here. As for the rest, I’m off the case, remember?’
‘And we both know that’s bullshit.’
Her chest tightened. ‘What do you want me to say? My sister was murdered. What would you do in my position?’
‘Find the bastard and make him pay.’
‘So you understand—I need to do this.’
‘I understand that he killed a friend’s sister, and for that reason I won’t stop until he’s caught.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll keep you in the loop under one condition. You do the same.’
She didn’t hesitate, or cross her fingers and pray for lightning not to strike. ‘Fine.’
‘So, what can you tell me?’
‘Nothing yet that you don’t already know.’
He searched her face and she made sure there was nothing for him to find.
Her gaze lifted, and collided with Seth’s. Warmth touched every inch of her body.
‘I should go.’ Forcing her lips upwards into what she hoped resembled a smile, she returned her gaze to Chase. ‘It’s been a long day.’
He nodded, gave her arm a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry it has to be this way, Jayda.’ He hesitated. She sensed he wanted to say more, for a moment even thought he might. Then he turned and walked stiffly away.
Impossible to know what his apology referred to. Was it her off-the-case-and-out-of-the-loop status or his stepping straight into her shoes the minute she was gone? Or was he talking about Bec? Not that it mattered. There was a dung-heap of stuff going on in her life—he could choose from a list more than a mile long.
‘Ready to leave?’ Seth sidled up to her and cupped her elbow in his palm. She lifted her chin and stayed put. She was past worrying what her squad thought.
‘Oh, about five minutes ago.’
‘Me too.’
She followed him out towards the parking area, nodding to colleagues as she left.
Georgie’s lips fluttered into a tentative smile as she passed. Jayda couldn’t stem the doubts that had pricked at her subconscious since Georgie’s behaviour the day of Eric’s death. And now with this tempered warmth .
. . Still, she managed to return Georgie’s look with a smile of her own. ‘We never had that drink.’
‘No, we didn’t.’
‘Coffee tomorrow?’
‘Sure.’
Georgie didn’t look sure, but no way would Jayda give her a way out. ‘I can swing by at ten.’
‘Let’s meet at the usual on Warward Street.’
She nodded, wondering again at her friend’s reluctance, not only to meeting but to Jayda dropping by her place. Georgie wasn’t acting like Georgie. Another slice of her heart fell away. Just one more person in her life who seemed to be hiding something. The question was, was it related to the case or not?
Wind laced with the sun’s balminess hit her face and she stopped just short of the carpark.
‘I’ll drive.’ Seth’s hand warmed her shoulder with heat that failed to permeate deeper.
She dropped the keys into his palm and moved to the passenger side of the car. His raised eyebrows were the only indication she’d surprised him with her acquiescence.
‘I’ve got ten bucks in my wallet.’
‘Really? Won the lottery, have you?’
He shook his head and fastened his seatbelt. ‘I’d offer a penny, but since they’re no longer in circulation, and taking into account inflation and all, I reckon ten dollars is a fair price.’
It clicked. ‘For my thoughts?’
‘Aha.’
Her heart twisted. Her gut told her only two of the many possibilities governing Madden’s death seemed likely. One horrible, and one worse still. It took a moment for her shaking fingers to pull the belt across her body and snap it into place. She focused on the first possibility and pushed away the alternative.
‘The key makes perfect sense now.’
‘How so?’
‘He’s playing. He wanted me to be here when Madden died.’
‘There’s no way he knew how you’d react.’
All she could do was shake her head. The engine murmured in the background.
Seth raised a brow. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit of a stretch?’
‘From someone who doesn’t know me, yes.’ An avalanche of icicles tumbled down her back, chilling her to the core.
Too many arrows pointed in only one direction. The Night Terror knew her too well to be anything less than a friend.
46
Seth’s hands dropped from the steering wheel. ‘We’ve already established he’s someone you know.’
‘Known to my father, my family, yes. Not someone I’d consider a friend.’
‘You believe he’s that close?’
‘How else would he understand me so well? Every step of the investigation he’s anticipated my actions, my reactions. I’m not that easy to read from a distance.’
‘Not from close up, either.’
Her gaze flinted, like the spears he imagined she’d launch his way given half the chance. He hadn’t meant to say those words aloud.
Rather than deepen a hole that could bury him once more in animosity, he checked the rear vision mirror and reversed. ‘We need background checks on your friends and acquaintances. No exceptions.’
‘Done.’
‘Really?’ This time he didn’t care if she took exception to his tone. He shoved the gears into first and the tyres shrieked as they headed for the exit. What part of working as a team did she not get?
‘Before you rag on me for not sharing, consider how shitty I felt checking up on people I once thought I could trust.’
Her words sucker-punched his conscience. ‘It can’t have been easy.’ The negative shake of her head seemed as much agreement as it was determination to hold her emotions at bay. Her trembling lips gave her away.
He eased into the traffic, then reached across to wrap her ice-cold fingers into his palm. ‘I’m sorry you have to do this.’
‘I know.’
The hand beneath his tensed, turned, clasped his in return.
His heartbeat quickened. His other hand gripped the steering wheel and he closed his mind. ‘What did you uncover?’
‘Nothing. Not a single red flag.’
‘So, what next?’
‘We delve deeper. Phone records, financials, anything and everything until something shows.’
‘What can I do to help?’
Her breath hitched. ‘Be the voice of reason while we figure out which one of my friends wants to destroy me.’
He held his silence as she battled her tears. Most women would be ranting by now—or a screaming, blubbering mess if they’d suffered even a portion of Jayda’s past two weeks. Her composure had him in awe, flushed with pride and a jumble of other emotions which warred against his better judgement.
The square of her shoulders told him when she’d won.
‘We need to go via Dad’s.’ Although she used the word ‘dad’, he could tell it no longer held the same meaning.
She seemed to be waiting for a response, so he nodded. What else could he do? The confrontation wouldn’t be easy, but she needed it. If for no other reason than to fill in the missing blanks in the folder at her feet.
She turned up the stereo, then turned it back down. ‘Thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘For not judging me. For keeping our agreement and not publicising my family’s private messes. For sticking with me through every one of my red hair moments.’
‘No problem.’ Something low in his belly fluttered. ‘For the record, it wasn’t a hardship. I happen to be quite partial to redheads.’
Her lips twitched. ‘And I thought you were into blondes.’
‘That night was the exception.’
Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘Why?’
‘I guess I had a feeling you were red at heart.’
She opened her mouth, closed it, instead leant forwards to turn the stereo back up.
Her other hand remained clasped in his, and Seth couldn’t deny he liked the feel of their coupled palms. With that thought he should have broken contact. Instead he squeezed, and the twitch of her lips let him know she got the message. That he was there for her no matter what.
Unbridled warmth flooded his chest.
Forty minutes passed in a silence that he’d have called companionable if it weren’t for the circumstances. It was altogether too soon when he pulled into the curb. ‘I’ll wait in the car.’
Her shoulders relaxed and she gave him an almost-smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘If you need me, I’m here.’
‘I know.’ She glanced down at their linked hands and the blush on her cheeks ripened. Her fingers seemed reluctant to let go, and when they did, they wavered before reaching for the door.
His heart stumbled.
File in hand, she stepped out of the car, still gripping the door after it was firmly closed. The look in her eyes told him more than she ever could with words.
His hands clenched against his thighs to prevent them from opening his door and going to her. Oh, but he wanted to, more than anything. To hold her, comfort her, tell her everything was going to be fine. Only he didn’t know that it was. Neither of them did.
His gaze drowned in the deep green of hers and he swallowed. She may be holding it together, have guts peppered with a dash of bravado, but for the first time since they’d embarked on this ride together, Jayda was scared.
With every step through her father’s post-retirement garden, Jayda willed herself not to throw up.
Anger didn’t begin to cover what she felt. It was a part of it—a huge part—although the word was measly when measured against the force of her fury. And it wasn’t alone. It lay muddled together with myriad emotions—in the main, betrayal and fear.
It was one thing to see the disclosure in print, but it would be altogether different to hear it uttered by the man she’d considered a father and mentor. And friend.
Her hand wavered over the freshly stained front door. It wasn’t as if she expected more than an empty house. Wouldn’t they already be off on their sabbatica
l, or whatever the hell you could call it?
Her gut said otherwise.
There was a part of her that almost hoped her instincts were wrong, because no answer would mean she could neither confirm nor disprove the facts that were even now forcing bile up into her throat.
She swallowed, held her breath, and knocked. Nothing moved, inside or out. No noise but her shallow breathing and the caw of a distant magpie.
Her heart thudded so hard every smack rammed against the back of her throat. She knocked again, once, before the wood disappeared from beneath her knuckles.
The door opened, spiralling time backwards, to her uniform days of marshalling bums from city street corners. Her father could have been any one of those unfortunate men as he braced himself against the door frame, crumpled and haggard in second-day clothes, deep, dark circles rimming his eyes.
So different from the man she’d seen at Bec’s funeral. Was that really only hours earlier?
It took a moment to find her voice. ‘You’re still here.’ She sidestepped and peered behind him into the dim hallway. ‘Where’s Mum?’
He scratched at the two-day stubble on his chin. ‘She had to go out.’
‘I thought you were going away.’
‘I had . . . some loose ends to tie up first.’
‘Like orchestrating Roan Madden’s death?’
‘Madden’s dead?’ His eyes bugged out of his unusually pale face. ‘And you think I had something to do with it?’
Her mind glazed over the pain in his expression and instead focused on her own hurt. ‘So you don’t deny it?’
His gaze darted past her and out onto the street. Then he stepped back. ‘This isn’t a conversation for the doorstep.’
She brushed past and didn’t wait for him to close the door, marching down the hall and into the living room. All signs of the OPI search were gone and the room once more resembled her father’s normal brand of tidy—an organised clutter that she’d always associated with him and home.
Leather and sandalwood filled her nostrils, scents that had always made her feel safe, secure. Now they just made her heart ache.
‘Is that Seth outside in the Beetle?’
Lethal in Love Page 32