He ended up passed out near a statue of Jesus. He only woke up because some homeless woman was rifling through his pockets, trying to steal his phone and wallet. She ran off after he opened his eyes and grabbed her wrist. Ashamed of his behavior, he left the church feeling like he wasn’t good enough to ever return.
As he drives, he wonders what to tell Madison when he sees her again. Should he be honest, or pretend he stayed at a hotel, seeking alone time? He’s being stupid, of course: he can’t fool her. She’ll know exactly what he was doing.
He takes a deep breath. He’s been off death row for two years now and can’t understand why he still uses drugs to cope with being outside. The thought of attending Narcotics Anonymous enters his mind, but he dismisses it. He’s not that bad. It’s rare that he lets it get out of control.
He shakes his head at his own excuses.
His morning has been spent on and off the phone with Rex, trying to track down some background information on Officer Ryan Levy and Detective Don Douglas. Because regardless of what Madison says, to Nate, Douglas is the most logical suspect in Ryan’s murder. They knew each other, and it could be said that Douglas benefited from his death because he secured a conviction for it. That’s the only possible motive Nate’s been able to think of: that Douglas is some hotshot who needs a one hundred percent success record to feel like a tough guy or to progress up the ladder of law enforcement. Rex is going to look into whether he’s been the subject of any internal affairs investigations. Perhaps he’s done something similar before.
Nate’s phone buzzes. Rex has sent him the address of Ryan’s parents. He punches the zip code into his sat nav and heads over there.
When he pulls up outside the house, he’s surprised by how big it is. Ryan’s parents clearly have money. There’s one car on the large driveway, which has room for three. He spots a woman walking toward it from the house.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” He approaches her.
She’s well dressed in a silk blouse and navy slacks. “Yes?” She doesn’t look fearful of a stranger approaching.
“My name’s Nate and I’m a private investigator.” He holds his hand out but she doesn’t take it. Instead she looks at him as if he’s some foul mess she’s stepped in. “I’m looking into a potential corruption case at Lost Creek PD and I wondered if you’d take a few minutes to answer some questions about how your son’s murder was handled?”
She takes a step back and looks surprised. “Are you investigating Madison Harper again?”
“No, this relates to someone else.” He can’t tell her he’s trying to clear Madison’s name, as she’ll ask him to leave immediately and probably call the cops, so he has to mislead her a little. “Am I right in thinking your son was an outstanding officer who never had any conflict with his coworkers?”
She relaxes slightly and even smiles. “Ryan got on with everyone. One of his strengths was his ability to defuse tense situations. He wanted to become an FBI hostage negotiator in the future.” Her smile fades. “But thanks to that woman, he was robbed of the opportunity.”
“So there was no one in the department he might have had trouble with?”
“Not that he ever mentioned. And he would have mentioned it. We saw him regularly.”
Nate strikes that off his list of potential motives for the killer. “Could he have been investigating someone from his department? Maybe undercover, for internal affairs?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if he knew a coworker was breaking the law, would he report them to his superior?”
Mrs. Levy eyes him suspiciously. “What did you say your name was again? And who are you working for?”
He smiles. “I’m not at liberty to offer that information.”
She folds her arms. “Perhaps you should be asking my husband these questions. I’m sure he’d be very interested in talking to you.”
Sensing he’s not going to get anything else from her, he takes a step back.
“Madison Harper killed my son,” she says. “My husband and I have no doubt about that, because her weapon was used and only her prints were on it. So I don’t know why you would come here and ask me these questions. If anyone in Ryan’s department was corrupt, it was her.”
“I’m sorry for bothering you, ma’am. Thanks for your time.”
He feels her eyes on his back as he walks away. His instinct tells him the answer to who killed Ryan won’t be found by asking about motive. He needs to start thinking about the method instead.
Something that’s been bothering him is how the killer gained access to Madison’s locked gun safe. He googles a local locksmith and keeps walking as he calls the number. He watches Mrs. Levy drive away from her house as he nears his car.
A woman answers.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m just after some hypothetical advice. I have a riddle to solve and need an expert locksmith to humor me for a moment.”
“I like a riddle,” she says. “Go ahead.”
“Great. How would someone gain access to a locked gun safe if they didn’t have the key and there’s no key code?”
She hesitates before answering. “You’re not trying to rob a bank, are you?”
“No, nothing that stupid!” He laughs to set her at ease.
“Well, I guess you could find out online anyway, so I may as well tell you what I’d do. Depending on the brand and type of safe, you could pick the lock with any number of instruments—a screwdriver or a sharp-tipped knife, for example—or you could use a drill to—”
He interrupts. “There was no damage at all to the safe in question. Yet someone got into it and removed a gun that was then found in a different house.”
“Hmm.”
“Would a locksmith be able to open it without damaging it?” He doesn’t for one minute think a locksmith was hired to get into Madison’s safe—they’d be a potential witness linking the killer to the crime—but he’s got to at least know whether it’s possible.
“Not without a key. You sure whoever did it didn’t have the key? Maybe a spare one the owner forgot they had?”
Madison was adamant there was only one key. “I’m as sure as I can be.”
Silence. Then, “Well the owner must have left it unlocked by mistake. It’s the only other logical explanation.”
Nate nods. He wonders how Madison would react if he asked whether she’d neglected to lock it. It would be easily done with all the distractions of being a working single parent, but she’d be mightily offended at the suggestion. “That must be it. Thanks for your time, I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem.”
He can’t delay it any longer. It’s time to face Madison.
35
Angie’s back home, in the paddock next to the house, and she’d bet Wyatt doesn’t even know she and Mason went anywhere. She’ll have to fill him in eventually and he probably won’t be happy with her, but she had to make a fast decision for the sake of their family. For now, she needs some alone time, and grooming her horses at the end of each day always relaxes her. She gently pulls the brush through the thick black mane. She’s read somewhere that stroking a dog or a cat can reduce your blood pressure, and grooming her horses does the same thing. They seem to enjoy it too.
She thinks of Mason and of how frightened he was when she left him. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would make him feel better. It hurts to think of how much they’ve gone through in order to be a family and how quickly it can be shattered.
She hears the sound of car tires on gravel. She pats the horse’s glossy hindquarters and walks toward the porch, where her half-empty bottle of vodka awaits. As she sits in her rocking chair, she listens to the approaching footsteps. She’s expecting someone from LCPD to come by looking for Mason, and she has it all figured out in her head what she’s going to say.
She waits to see who appears. A blonde woman comes around the corner and stares at her. It’s been so long since they last saw each other that it ta
kes a full minute before Angie recognizes her sister. She tries not to give away her surprise, but truth be told, she’s stunned. She’d heard of her early release from prison but hoped she wouldn’t be stupid enough to return home.
Madison’s looking better than Angie would have expected considering where she’s been. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Can we talk?”
Angie thought she’d be angry if Madison ever dared to come here, but now Mason’s gone, she feels like she has the upper hand. “Well, I suppose our catch-up is long overdue. Pull up a chair.”
Madison perches on the other rocking chair, the one that’s stained with engine oil. She looks nervous and angry.
“So how was prison?” Angie asks, trying to provoke a reaction.
“I’m not here to talk about that. Tell me about Mason McCoy.” She pauses. “He’s my son, isn’t he?”
Angie takes pleasure in confirming it. “He is.”
She watches as Madison looks up at the sky with tears in her eyes. She should be relieved that family stepped up to look after him, but when she makes eye contact again, she looks angry.
“Why did you take him in?”
That annoys her. “He’s Wyatt’s son. I had no choice.” She sips her vodka. “I think I should be the one asking the questions, seeing as you slept with my husband. Were you ever going to tell me, or did that slip your mind?”
Madison looks away. “How did you find out?”
“What does it matter?”
“I want to know.”
“I don’t give a shit what you want!” Angie’s losing her cool, but she doesn’t want Madison to know how much it bothers her. “It’s none of your goddam business.”
“It is when my son’s involved.”
“Well maybe if you didn’t sleep with married men and get pregnant with their babies, you wouldn’t have ended up in this situation, sis.” Her eyes narrow. “You ever think about that?”
Madison’s shaking her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell I don’t. Wyatt told me everything.”
The look on her sister’s face has turned to surprise. “Really? Everything?”
Angie turns away from her and takes a deep breath. “The stupid asshole got so drunk one night that he let it slip. Told me you begged him for it. Imagine that: my little sister lusting over the man she pretended to hate.” She turns back. “You made such a big deal about what a bad guy he was and how I’d end up miserable and lonely if I married him. Is that because you wanted him for yourself? Because according to Wyatt, you were infatuated with him.”
Madison’s shaking her head. Her hands are trembling. “It was nothing like that. Look, I didn’t come here to fight. I just want to know about Owen. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, Angie. Where is he?” She looks around.
“He’s not here. You can’t see him.”
Disappointment makes her shoulders slump. “If he’s not here, then where is he?”
Angie remains silent.
“He’s my son, you can’t stop me from seeing him! Does he even know I’m back?”
“Wouldn’t matter if he did. He’s not here.”
“Angie, he’s in trouble. The press have named him as Nikki Jackson’s boyfriend. I need to protect him.”
Angie sees red. “I’ve already taken care of it. I’ve already protected him. I’m the one who’s been his mother for the last seven years, since you went and got yourself convicted. You should be thanking me, but of course you won’t, so I’ll never tell you where he is.”
Madison looks away and Angie realizes she’ll stop at nothing to find him.
“Can’t you at least tell me how he is? What he’s been doing all this time?”
Angie has no sympathy for her. The bitch is a hypocrite. She can’t resist the urge to rub it in. “He’s special, that’s for sure. A natural hunter, too. We didn’t think he would be at first, ’cause he cried every time Wyatt took him out, but until recently he was hunting almost every morning with his dad.” She takes another sip. “He’s academic, like you were.”
Madison smiles for the first time.
“Wants to be a lawyer, can you believe that?” Angie scoffs. “A McCoy practicing law? Maybe he wanted to get you out of prison or something, I don’t know.”
Madison looks surprised, and Angie can tell she’s trying to control her emotions.
“Did he ever ask about me?” There’s a hunger in her eyes. She wants every detail of her son’s life.
“Sure he did, at first. But he hasn’t done for years. To be honest, he asked after your girlfriend more. He was pretty upset when Stephanie died.”
Her eyes widen. “Did she ever visit him here?”
“God, no! I wouldn’t have had her in my house.” Again, no reaction from Madison. She’s not as hot-headed as she used to be when they were kids; she’s harder to provoke. Maybe prison teaches you patience. Or maybe she’s just lost all her fight. “Your son needed a fresh start. He was being bullied at school because of what you did to that cop. So we took him out of school and changed his name. We kept him close those first few years, away from Lost Creek and the media. After a while, people forgot he even existed. The press quickly assumed he’d been adopted out of state so they lost interest. Your friend Kate might have been more persistent, but I heard she moved away after your trial. Only the locals here in Gold Rock remember Owen Harper, and most of them work for us. No one else put two and two together. There was no reason to: you were incarcerated and the town moved on to the next scandal. Those who might have thought they’d figured it out were persuaded to mind their own business.”
Madison’s jaw is clenched with the effort of controlling her reaction. Finally she says, “Do you think he could have been involved in Nikki Jackson’s death?”
“Well I never thought you would have killed anyone, yet here we are. Maybe he gets it from you.” Angie smirks.
Madison look like she’s going to slap her.
Angie stands up. “Time for you to leave, Madison. I don’t want to see you around here again. I’m done with you.”
But her sister doesn’t move.
36
Madison can feel the tension gripping her shoulders and can’t imagine it easing until she sees her son again. Seeing Angie after all this time is disorienting. They haven’t had a one-on-one conversation like this for eighteen years. And they wouldn’t be having one now if her sister hadn’t taken Owen in. Madison would have stayed well away, knowing they were incapable of a normal sibling relationship.
She recognizes that on some level she should probably be grateful to Angie, but she can’t find it in her. Not whilst knowing her son has been exposed to Wyatt for seven years. “I need answers before I leave. You owe me that much.”
Angie looks incredulous. “I don’t owe you anything! You owe me answers.”
Madison can’t understand the hateful expression on her face. The resentment she’s been harboring has clearly aged her: her hair is sprinkled with silver and the bags under her eyes are heavy. Something is keeping her up at night, that much is obvious. Is it her loveless marriage to a dangerous man, or resentment that her own sister could betray her in such a way?
If Angie knew what really happened, she’d realize Madison is the one who should be bitter and angry.
“Are you sure you want answers?” Madison says. “Because I don’t think you really do. I think you’re hiding from the truth.”
Angie looks like she might throw the glass at her. Madison intended to keep this non-confrontational, but there’s no reasoning with her older sister. There never was. That was half their trouble growing up. Not for the first time, she thinks how crazy it is that you can be so different from your sibling when you were both raised the same way.
“I already know what happened,” Angie says with venom. “You fucked my husband because you were jealous that I was happy. You wanted to split us up. Then you had his baby a
nd hid that from him so he never even knew he was a father.”
Madison’s shaking her head. “No. You’re wrong. I wasn’t jealous of you. I pitied you.”
Angie isn’t listening. “You told me and Mom that Owen was the result of a one-night stand with a cop. I had no reason to doubt you. Turns out Wyatt had his suspicions all these years that Owen was his, but he kept quiet, not wanting me to know what the two of you had done. It was only because he got wasted one night that it slipped out. Told me there’s a chance the boy might be his. And the thought of you having his child instead of me made me sick to my stomach. Still does.” She shakes her head in disgust. “The minute he told me, I knew my sister was a whore as well as a killer.”
Madison springs up and slaps her hard across the face.
Shocked, Angie holds her cheek, but her eyes burn. “You’re going to regret that.”
“How dare you call me a whore! You want to know the truth, Angie? You want me to spell it out for you? Because I think you already know, but you’re too afraid to admit it.”
Angie turns away and downs her drink.
“You know full well that I’d never stoop so low as to sleep with Wyatt McCoy. You knew I hated him.” She pauses. Suddenly the words feel too big to get out of her mouth. “He raped me, Angie. Your ugly, arrogant monster of a husband raped me when I was just twenty years old.”
Angie scoffs. “You would say that.”
Madison pulls her sister by the arm, spinning her around to face her. “I’m telling the truth. He followed me out of a bar and coaxed me into his pickup truck by offering me a ride home.” Her eyes fill with hot, angry tears, but she wipes them away. They won’t help her. It’s already done. But she needs to set this awful secret free at last. Angie should have known what he was capable of. She should have known Madison would never betray her sister like that, even if she could stomach the idea—which her loathing of him would never have allowed.
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