Cry For Help

by Wendy Dranfield

  “Nate.” He’s wary of reporters, so he doesn’t give her his full name, but he does shake her hand.

  “Are you two…” Kate leaves the rest of the question in mid-air, but he knows what she’s asking.

  “No,” says Madison. “I work for Nate.”

  He’s surprised she doesn’t say they’re friends. Maybe he’s misjudged their relationship, or maybe she doesn’t want this reporter to make any more assumptions.

  “I was surprised to learn you’re still in Lost Creek,” Madison continues. “I thought you had bigger aspirations.”

  Kate screws up her face. “I moved away after your conviction. I just felt horrible about the whole thing; it didn’t seem right what they did to you. It was all so… rushed. Anyway, as you know, I’d been wanting to get away and work at a bigger news corporation, so I moved to Denver and settled there. But Patrick contacted me on social media—you remember Patrick, right?”

  Madison smiles. “Sure I do. You used to make me stalk him with you when we were teenagers.”

  Kate laughs. “It’s embarrassing how obsessed I was! Well, he divorced the perky cheerleader and eventually tracked me down online. We met up and ended up getting together.”

  “Finally!” Madison laughs.

  “I know, right! All that work I put in during high school finally paid off! Anyway, we lived in Denver for a while, but almost a year ago he decided he wanted to move back here to be closer to his family.” She waves her wedding ring finger. “Married for four years. We have two kids aged five and three. And yes, before you do the math, one of them was out of wedlock.” She smiles.

  Nate finds himself smiling too. He can see how she’s perfect for TV, as she has a way of setting people at ease, making them drop their guard before she goes in for the real story.

  A guy hauling camera equipment joins them and gets ready to record. “Are we covering the story or not?”

  Nate looks at Madison, whose smile has vanished.

  “If you give me exclusive access to your story, I’ll make sure the audience knows what really happened.” Kate lifts her mic.

  Madison shakes her head. “There’s no story here. I’m just back to bury Stephanie. Please don’t announce my return on the news. I don’t need everyone in town gunning for me. Plus, I don’t want to upset Ryan’s parents.”

  He can see that Kate’s conflicted. She looks at the police station and then back at Madison, sensing that something interesting just went down. “Fine. Put the camera away, Bob.”

  Madison steps toward her. “Do you know where Owen went after my conviction?”

  Kate looks taken aback. “You mean you don’t?”

  Shaking her head, Madison explains that child services didn’t tell her anything. “It’s like they were paid off to keep quiet. Have you seen him around?”

  “No, I haven’t. But I don’t know if I’d even recognize him after all this time. I’m sorry. I can ask around for you?”

  Madison smiles. “That would be amazing. Thanks. I’m staying at Stephanie’s place. She left it to me in her will.”

  Kate looks surprised. “I’m so sorry about what happened to her. It was such a shock to the community. And now we’ve got a dead teenager at the park. People are starting to worry something sinister is going on.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a card with her contact details. “Let’s catch up soon, okay?”

  They hug goodbye and Nate leads Madison and Brody to the car. He notices Kate watching them as he speeds out of the parking lot.

  21

  “What the hell was that?” shouts Chief Sullivan, slamming the door of his office shut behind Douglas. He bursts into a coughing fit.

  Mike could really do without being yelled at for someone else’s stupidity.

  “A witness came forward last night,” says Douglas defiantly. “Was I supposed to ignore him?”

  Mike looks at the chief. He won’t like Douglas’s attitude.

  “Who was the witness?”

  “Brad Skelton, a contractor. Said he was working on a neighboring farm when he saw the car speed by and he recognized Harper from the media coverage of her trial.”

  Mike frowns. He knows that name. “He’s not reliable. He has a record.”

  “You were supposed to check the validity of his claim before arresting someone for murder!” Chief Sullivan glares at them from behind his desk. “You can’t just bring someone in because you have a beef with them.”

  Douglas remains calm. He’s always calm. That’s what freaks Mike out about the guy.

  “I don’t have a beef with her.” He pauses. “Sir, with respect, Madison Harper killed her former lover, so when someone comes forward to tell me she was in the vicinity when another of her lovers is murdered, I’m going to go with the evidence and act fast. If that’s not something you agree with, then I might not be the right fit around here anymore.”

  Mike’s eyes widen. Douglas is going to talk himself out of a job at this rate.

  The chief waves a dismissive hand. “Stop being dramatic. I know you hate being told what to do, but just stop harassing Harper. She’s done her time. If it turns out she did kill this woman, then be my guest: arrest her and build an ironclad case. But it’s highly unlikely if she was working with another police department at the time.”

  Clearly annoyed, Douglas says, “I don’t believe that. I’ll contact them to verify it. And I need to look into her companion. Never seen him around here before.”

  “Could he be a boyfriend?” asks the chief. “I mean, it would appear she’s happy to sleep with anyone.”

  Mike winces. They can’t be talking like that. “Let me speak to her,” he says. “I’ll catch up and find out what she’s planning once she’s buried Stephanie. Maybe she’ll leave just as quickly as she arrived.”

  Douglas turns to him. “Stephanie Garcia was cremated yesterday.”

  Mike opens his mouth but doesn’t trust what he’ll say. He looks at the chief, then back at Douglas. “What do you mean?”

  “The coroner’s office released her body and I managed to get in touch with her mother up in Washington state. She showed no emotion when I told her of her daughter’s death; she just asked where the body was and if we were done with it so that she could get it cremated.” He shrugs. “It’s done.”

  Mike shakes his head in disbelief. “Madison was going to arrange a burial.”

  Chief Sullivan speaks up. “Jesus, Douglas. You’ve just caused me a massive headache. She’s going to be pissed, and rightly so if you ask me.”

  Douglas remains defiant. “The victim’s body was autopsied with a conclusive cause of death. It was photographed and analyzed by forensics, and released by the coroner. Plus, her mother gave permission. Are you saying you think I should have left her lying in a morgue for no reason?”

  “Listen,” says Sullivan. “If she was nothing to do with Madison Harper it wouldn’t be an issue. But you should have waited.”

  “I didn’t even know Harper was on her way here, plus Bowers only told me yesterday that the victim was her ex-girlfriend.”

  Mike feels like he’s being thrown under the bus yet again. “Don’t pin this on me. You can be the one to break the news to Madison.”

  Douglas shakes his head. “I don’t answer to cop killers.”

  “It’s done now; there’s no changing it. Let’s move on.” Sullivan rubs his jaw. “So apart from Madison, who else is a suspect for Garcia’s murder?”

  “I’m waiting for Alex to process the evidence found at the scene,” says Douglas. “Then I’ll go where that takes me.”

  Sullivan looks at Mike. “And what about Nikki Jackson? Is that ready to be closed yet?”

  “Maybe,” says Mike. “I’m heading to the morgue as soon as Lena’s autopsy report is ready. But Alex doesn’t agree with the cause of death being suicide because he found a thumbprint on her forehead that doesn’t belong to her. Plus, the knife is still missing.”

  Chief Sullivan raises his eyebrows.
“Well that’s not good. Any leads on where it could be?”

  “Not as of this moment, no. But I’m working on it.”

  Douglas turns to him. “You need to react to the reports in the news. It’s getting out of hand. They know the knife is missing, so they’re suggesting it was murder.”

  “What’s that?” says the chief. “Should I be watching the news now, Bowers? You know how much I hate watching the news. Especially when we’re on it.”

  Mike takes a deep breath. He could do without Douglas ratting on him. “No, sir. I’ll handle it.”

  “Good. Get on top of it quickly.” Sullivan points at them both. “You two need to learn to communicate more effectively. I’m sick of babysitting you.” He turns to his computer screen, signaling that the meeting is over. “Keep me updated. Now get back to work.”

  They leave his office like scolded schoolboys.

  Outside, Mike stops Douglas. “Listen, Don, we’re meant to be on the same team. You should have spoken to me before you arrested Madison and before you had Stephanie cremated.”

  Douglas shakes his head in disgust. “What’s she got on you? Were you two fucking back in the day or something? Are you hoping she’ll pick up where she left off now she’s back?”

  “Don’t push me, buddy. That’s out of line.”

  “Then stop protecting her. In my eyes she’s the most likely suspect for Garcia’s murder. And I need to be able to talk to you about what I find without worrying you’ll tell her everything I say.”

  Mike crosses his arms. “I’ve seen her for all of five minutes since she’s been back. How can I be protecting her?”

  Douglas starts walking away. “Just remember who you work for.”

  Mike’s fuming. He doesn’t need this asshole telling him how to do his job. He storms out of the station.

  22

  As Madison enjoys a scalding hot bath, she stares up at the shelf above her, which holds a range of succulents happily absorbing the steam from the hot water. She’s too exhausted to feel weird about being back in Stephanie’s house. Instead, her thoughts turn to the happier times she had here. She remembers the brightly colored plastic boats Owen loved playing with in this bath when he was a toddler. She tries to remember what happened to them. They must have gone to someone else’s kids when he outgrew them. There’s a selection of half-burnt candles dotted around too. They remind her of the times she and Stephanie would share a bath. There were always candles and a glass of wine each.

  She looks at the cracked tile above the faucet and smiles. Owen did that with his basketball. She’s surprised Steph never got it fixed. Maybe she liked the reminder of him. Child services didn’t ask Stephanie to care for him when Madison went to prison, despite Madison’s request and despite the fact that she and Owen had spent almost five years living with Steph as a family. It made her life in prison hell, not knowing who he’d gone to live with.

  “I’m back!” shouts Nate from downstairs, making her jump. “Don’t be too long, it’ll go cold.”

  “Roger that,” she yells. He sent her upstairs almost two hours ago, instructing her not to come down until he was ready. From the sound of all the running water, she’s assuming he’s been cleaning. Then he stationed Brody outside the bathroom door to protect her and said he was going out for pizza. If it was anyone else, she’d be offended that they thought she needed protecting, but Nate means well. Although he’s only thirty-nine, he’s a little old-fashioned, undoubtedly because he missed the advances in society while he was on death row.

  She pulls the plug out, dries off and steps over a sleeping Brody in order to get to Steph’s bedroom. The room they shared. She doesn’t focus on that right now. Instead, she rummages through her bag looking for some sweats to pull on. Keeping her damp hair tied back, she heads downstairs, with Brody beating her to the bottom.

  She checks the front door is locked and latched and then peeks out through the blinds to make sure there’s no surveillance outside. Nothing yet. She would bet a hundred dollars Detective Douglas drives past at least once tonight.

  Nate approaches her and nods to the living room. “It’s all clear in there now.”

  Her eyes water at the fumes coming from a mix of strong bleach and too much vanilla air freshener. Nate’s overdone it a little. There’s a large patterned rug in the middle of the room that wasn’t there last night. But the evidence markers, latex gloves and shattered lamps are gone.

  “I managed to clean up most of the blood, but it left a stain on the carpet,” says Nate. “So I cut it out and covered the hole with the rug from the spare room. It stands out like a sore thumb, but hopefully it’s better than what was there.”

  He has a way of making her feel better, even when he’s talking about something as horrific as Steph’s crime scene. She didn’t realize until meeting him just how much she misses being cared for. Taking a deep breath, she says, “Please tell me you also got wine? Because this is nice and all, but it’s not going to get me drunk.”

  He smiles and heads to the kitchen while she opens the windows.

  Brody sniffs the new rug and whines softly. He’s not fooled by the bleach, the air freshener or the rug. He knows what happened in here. She goes to him and strokes his head. “It’s okay, boy. We know. But we can’t go anywhere else at the moment, so we’ll have to pretend it isn’t there. Okay?”

  Nate returns and holds a bowl of cooked chicken pieces under Brody’s nose. “This will help him relax.”

  It certainly distracts him. Madison sinks into the couch and switches the TV on low. She got used to it being on almost 24/7 in prison, so it’s a habit now. Brody eats loudly as Nate fills two glasses with white wine.

  “Douglas and Chief Sullivan will probably accuse me of covering up my DNA if they find out we cleaned this up.” She takes a long sip of her drink. It tastes good. She sits back, pulling her feet up under her.

  Nate sits in the armchair opposite the couch. “I called Richie Hope first and asked him to check whether the cops had got everything they needed from the house. They had, so they were just being lazy by not getting a clean team in here.”

  “More like vindictive,” she says. Again she wonders why Mike wouldn’t have thought of her. She wants to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he would’ve got someone in eventually. “Thanks, Nate. For cleaning it up. That can’t have been pleasant.”

  He waves a hand. “I cleaned up far worse in prison.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “What could be worse than someone else’s blood? Actually, you know what? Pretend I never asked.”

  Nate relaxes back in the chair. “I know I only met him for a few minutes last night, but Douglas seems like a regular asshole. The type of cop who arrests guys for domestic violence in the daytime and then goes home to beat his own wife.”

  She grimaces. “Surely no one would marry him?”

  Nate doesn’t smile. He’s looking serious now. “Madison, I have to ask. How did your service weapon end up at Officer Levy’s crime scene?”

  She swallows hard. It’s time to tell him everything.

  23

  Madison tenses. Nate’s not going to like what she’s about to tell him.

  “Did you know your gun was missing?” he probes. “And if so, how long had it been missing for? Had you reported it?”

  She takes a sip of wine. “It was never missing. As soon as Ryan dropped me home that evening, I locked it in my gun safe, the same as every time I finished a shift. When you have a child in the house, you can’t leave a gun lying around; locking it away is always the first thing you do when you get home. It becomes automatic.”

  Nate is clearly confused. “So how did it end up at Ryan’s house?”

  She shrugs. “That’s what you need to find out.”

  He leans back in his chair and cocks his head while he thinks out loud. “Someone took it from your safe, killed Ryan, left it at the scene to be found, and then… what? Called the shooting in to the cops?”

 
Madison can’t help feeling relieved that he’s not even considering that she might have killed her friend, despite how it looks. Her department knew her a lot longer than he has, yet they immediately suspected her, and that hurt. Hell, it still hurts. “Douglas got an anonymous tip-off.”

  His eyes widen. “Did they trace the call?”

  She nods. “It was from an old phone booth in Prospect Springs—a large town north of here—that wasn’t covered by CCTV and that had been wiped clean of prints. My defense team got a hold of the 911 recording but no one recognized the voice, including me. So the prosecution concluded I’d paid a random bum to make the call.”

  “Okay…” He’s thinking. “I assume your prints were the only ones found on the gun?”

  She nods. “The perp must’ve worn gloves.”

  Nate looks so eager to solve the riddle that she feels a wave of appreciation wash over her.

  “So who had access to your gun safe?” he asks. “Who knew where you kept the key?”

  She repeats what she told her lawyers and what she told the jury. “No one had access. I deliberately had just the one key for it so there was no chance of Owen ever getting inside, and that was on the same chain as my house keys. Stephanie obviously knew about the safe and where I kept the key, because we previously lived together and she knew my routine.”

  “Anyone else?” he asks.

  “Well, anyone who has ever been to my house and seen my gun safe, I guess. My coworkers, Owen’s friends’ parents, my decorator. The list is endless. But my house keys were always with me and the safe wasn’t damaged. It wasn’t broken into.”

  “Was your house broken into?”

  She shakes her head. “No. And Owen and I were only out for an hour that evening—we went to spend time with next door’s cat. Owen wasn’t feeling well, so when we returned, we went to his room to watch a movie in bed.”