“Going through the…motions?” He was angry now, too, but he had no right to be.
“The truth hurts sometimes, doesn’t it?” Witnessing the callousness in his gaze, her heart was putting back up its defensive wall.
“Madison.”
“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be shutting me out.” She paused, hoping that he would interject, say something to smooth out her words, remedy the situation.
He remained silent.
“We both have had crappy pasts.” She offered this as if it were some sort of reconciliation or explanation for his inclination to deal with Barry’s death on his own.
“This has nothing to do with that.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled back.
“Your wife cheated on you, my fiancé—”
“Why are you bringing all—”
“I’m bringing it up because it’s there for us every day, whether we like it or not.”
“We’ve worked through all that.”
“I thought so, too, but apparently, we haven’t. If we were really moving forward, you would trust me enough to talk to me.” Her heart felt like it was splintering.
“If that’s how you really feel,” he said slowly, darkly, “maybe we should take a break.”
She swallowed the emotion that welled up in her throat, pushing back the tears, and gazed into his eyes. He’d told her that she wouldn’t get rid of him easily like she had previous boyfriends and that unless she did something to really piss him off, they’d always remain a couple. Had she messed up?
She shook her head, but it was in response to her own question, not his suggestion. She had to stick up for herself. She’d always been good at that, she’d always known when to back out before it was too late. Maybe she’d gotten sucked in too far, well past the breaking point, and had just failed to see it until now. But this was her opportunity—he was giving it to her—to make a clean break.
“I think that’s a good idea.” The words barely cut from her throat, but she held her ground and raised her chin.
“Fine.” He sliced his arms through the air and turned and stalked away.
As she watched him leave her, she could barely breathe. She rubbed her arms and headed to the bathroom where she could find privacy to cry.
But somewhere amid the tears, her mind went to Joni and the pain she was suffering. Madison felt the need to go visit her, and she wasn’t going to allow Troy to stop her from helping her friend. This was just another relationship, she told herself. She’d survived breakups in the past, and she’d survive this one. Her breath hitched as she hiccupped another series of soft sobs.
She stared at the hook on the back of the bathroom door, getting her breath to slow down, and after a few deep inhales and exhales, she was ready to leave. She’d have to learn to live with the pain in her chest.
Madison found Terry at his desk. He looked at her, and she could tell by the way his gaze probed her eyes that he knew she’d been crying. She wasn’t giving into the drama of heartbreak, though. Forget it. Forget Troy.
“You want to come with me to see Joni?” she asked, even managing to muster a brief smile.
“Sure.” Terry turned his monitor off and got up.
“Actually, before we head over, let’s go to the lab.” She hurried toward the elevator. “Maybe they’ll have something for us, but I really want to get the card from Barry’s cruiser to give to Joni.”
Terry touched her shoulder, and she was afraid he was going to ask her if she was okay. If he did, she’d fall apart right in front of him. But he didn’t say a word. She pushed the button to go up.
Inside the lab, Cynthia was looking at a slew of photographs that were spread out on the table in a grid pattern. She didn’t look up when they entered the room.
“Hey, Cyn,” Madison said.
Cynthia jumped back and put a hand to her chest. “I never even heard you come in…”
Madison and Terry moved closer to the table. The pictures were of the decal, the shooter, and driver.
“I just wish I could get their faces,” Cynthia said. “I’ve been staring at these practically nonstop since you left.” Cynthia looked at the two of them. “How did you make out with Erica Snyder?”
“She’s working with a sketch artist right now,” Madison said, trying to muster the confidence that something useful would come from it but not getting too attached to the idea.
Cynthia’s tone was light and hopeful, though. “She saw the shooter?”
“She did.”
“Wonderful.” There was a bit of a smile curving Cynthia’s mouth.
“Well, don’t get too excited yet. She saw that he was Caucasian and that he had a dominant nose.”
“That could be enough. We’ve been led to the bad guy going on less before.”
Madison nodded, admiring her friend’s optimism and wishing she were infused with more of it herself. “How did Sam make out with Snyder’s car?”
“There was a nine-millimeter bullet embedded in the ceiling of the Chevy. It entered there through the top of the car’s doorframe. Samantha is comparing it to the other three to confirm that all four bullets came from same gun.”
Madison knew it wasn’t because they had reason to suspect a second weapon, but it was a matter of being thorough. “Terry and I are going to go visit Joni. You wouldn’t have that card close by, would you?”
Cynthia left them standing at the table and went over to her desk, where she retrieved the card, returned, and extended it to Madison.
Madison took the card, not daring to take another peek at it. If she did she’d likely lose it and start crying again. She felt as if she were loosely taped together as it was.
“I haven’t been by to see her yet, but please send my love and give her and the girls a hug for me.” Cynthia gestured over the table. “I need to stay here.”
Madison nodded and took a step toward the door, Terry behind her.
“Guys,” Cynthia began, and they both turned around. “Do you think we’re just looking at a one-off thing here?”
She must not have heard that a gang was claiming responsibility. Madison shared the intel with her.
“And we don’t know which one?” Cynthia leaned back against the table. “So it was an initiation killing? I’m going to be sick.”
“It’s too early to say.” Madison tried to sound convincing, but based on the way Cynthia cocked her head, she wasn’t very successful. And the truth was, things could get a lot worse before they got better.
-
Chapter 17
WHAT THE HELL HAD HE JUST DONE? He obviously wasn’t thinking straight, and given the way his body hurt all over, Troy would swear the cause of the pain was actually physical exertion, not an emotional overload. But if Madison couldn’t just give him some space so he could deal with his loss in peace, maybe it was better that they were taking a break. Maybe they weren’t as perfect together as he’d thought.
He walked into his home office and opened one of his desk drawers. His eyes fell to the small box with a bow. He’d had it all figured out—how he was going to ask her—and was ready to defend his proposal, but none of that mattered now.
He slammed the drawer shut, the thud hitting his temples and drilling home the start of a migraine. But he’d been weak already. And he had to take a break and try to get some rest. He’d worked seven full shifts before being called in today, which was supposed to be his day off. All of this was just adding to the toll of losing Barry…and now Madison.
Troy had driven around the city for half an hour before building up the courage to go past Barry’s house. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop the car and get out. Words were failing him, and Joni needed to be surrounded by people who were strong enough to comfort her. He was failing even himself in that regard.
A single tear fell, and he swiped
at it. “Why?” he cried out toward the ceiling, but even though he was alone, he quickly felt foolish for doing so. His mind churned, bringing up his other hurt. “Damn it, Maddy.”
He went into the living room and dropped onto the sofa.
What was happening to him? He’d always prided himself on having control of his emotions, a key aspect that made him good at what he did. As a SWAT team leader, logic had to dominate hunches. Basing decisions on feelings most certainly would get someone killed. And yes, he’d lost men before. Yet even though those losses weren’t his fault, each time he was sucked into this sort of abyss where he’d question everything in life from his career choice to his relationships. But it had never affected his personal life this severely before—or had it? Maybe that’s what had torn his marriage apart, what had driven Lauren to cheat, what had given him his cool detachment and his steel focus on the job.
His eyes drifted to the floor and then to the few dog toys that were tossed into a corner of the room. Madison had pretty much moved in. At least, it felt as though Hershey had. Maybe Troy had rushed things and jumped into this relationship too soon. But it hadn’t been compulsive. He’d harbored an affection for Madison long before he had acted on it. He’d been logical about it.
But somehow, in this moment, love didn’t seem logical in any sense. It opened one up to pain and suffering, either through a breakup or with one person dying. Very rarely was the brushstroke of fate fair enough to take lovers together.
Yes, maybe it was best he and Madison were taking a break. Some pain now could spare him more down the road. He knew he was thinking like a cynical old man, but his thoughts were forming rapidly. And God, did it hurt.
He leaned back on the sofa and shut his eyes.
His doorbell rang then, and his breath caught. Madison?
But she wouldn’t ring the bell. She’d likely let herself in and be yelling at him when she did. The bell rang a second time.
“Hang on!” he called as he got up and headed for the door. He looked out the window next to the door and let out the lungful of breath he’d been holding when he saw his visitor. While he was somewhat relieved, he was also disappointed that it wasn’t Madison.
He opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
Andrea stepped inside and handed him a bag of Chinese takeout. “I came bearing dinner and that’s the response I get?”
“You came to check up on me?” She might not be here to force him off the investigation, but he wouldn’t put it past his sister to be checking on his welfare. “I’m a grown man.”
She was slipping out of her coat and shoes. “You are my baby brother so I do have that right, you know.”
He rolled his eyes, a habit he’d picked up from Madison, and a splinter shot through his heart.
“I just thought you might like some company,” Andrea said.
“How did you know I’d be here?” He walked back to the kitchen with the food, his sister following.
“Winston told me you had stepped out for a break.” She opened a cupboard and pulled out two plates.
He pulled out forks and knives. Neither of them used chopsticks.
“And—” Andrea put her hand on his “—I thought you could use someone to talk to.”
He pulled his hand free. “I’m fine.”
Hands on her hips, she stared at him.
He hated when she did this. Madison told him he had a way of prying into her thoughts, and apparently, it was a family trait he’d inherited from his sister. “I will be fine.”
Andrea hugged him faster than he could even consider getting away.
He gave himself over to the embrace, even finding comfort in it.
Easily a minute passed. He tapped her shoulder. “I’m good.”
Andrea released him and smiled subtly. “You’ve never been good at talking about your feelings.”
“I take it you and Robert chat about each other’s feelings a lot?” He held eye contact with her, and again found that she was falling back into reading his mind.
“How is the investigation coming along from your standpoint?” she asked, going off the script he’d expected her to stick to.
“It’s going.” He opened the lid on a container and found it full of chicken fried rice. He dished some onto his plate.
“Just be careful.”
“Of the rice?” he teased.
“You know what I’m talking about. On the job.”
“Always.”
She pressed her lips into a firm line. “I don’t even want to—”
“No, no, no. Don’t get started down that path.”
“You’re out there every day, risking your life.”
“Are you forgetting that you used to be an officer on the streets?”
“Used to be being the point there.”
“I take precautions.” Not that any of that would have helped Barry…
She was looking him in the eye again and nodded a few seconds later.
They ate their food in front of the TV, and Andrea left soon afterward.
With her gone, his mind drifted back to the investigation, this time to the perps’ license plates.
Had the car had any in the first place, or had they been removed just for the shooting?
Troy pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes, he was staring at the far wall, but he had his answer.
He would assume that they hadn’t driven very far without the plates—otherwise they’d risk getting pulled over—and while they drew attention to themselves by yelling out and squealing their tires, they wouldn’t want to be pulled over before or after they’d carried out the crime. The car could have been stolen, of course, and if so, from anywhere, but the plates were likely removed near Rico’s. What if Barry had a history with someone in that area who wanted payback?
-
Chapter 18
NOTHING ABOUT VISITING JONI WAS going to be easy. Even as a seasoned detective who faced death on a regular basis, Madison was a conflicted mess. The cop part of her told her to detach—even though this loss struck close to home—and to accept that people’s lives sometimes came to an unfair and tragic end. The human side of her, though, found it hard to let go and surrender.
It was odd how time passed in the aftermath of tragedy—lightning quick yet also so slow. The shooting had only taken place this morning, but it already seemed forever ago. Maybe it only felt that long because she had a promise to fulfill. It was the why and what-ifs that were the large questions that, even when answered, never seemed to satisfy.
Why did this happen? Why did someone kill Barry? Why were a mother and children left without a husband and father? What if Barry hadn’t been filling his tank at that time? What if he hadn’t gone in for his shift? These were the types of questions that could bury one faster than quicksand. And just as with the sand, if one obsessed over the “why,” lives would be lost to obsession and insanity.
And she’d lost more today than a friend and fellow officer, too. She’d lost a lover, the man she was starting to consider to be even more than that. But love was an illusion. It had to be, with the way it kept slipping through her fingers. Yet despite her heartbreak, she found herself worrying about Troy. Had he even been by to see Joni yet?
She took a deep breath, supposing it wasn’t her problem, and pulled into Joni’s driveway. Nerves tied her stomach in knots.
A cruiser was at the curb, and the driveway had two vehicles in it with another parked on the road behind the cruiser. One would have been Joni’s, and the other two likely belonged to her parents and Barry’s parents.
Madison parked the department sedan in front of the cruiser, and the officer waved at them as she and Terry turned to walk toward the house.
“Are you ready?” Terry was standing on the patch of grass between the public sidewalk and the curb. Sh
e was just standing by the car.
She had to admit that despite her desire to see Joni, her legs weren’t cooperating. In fact, it seemed like her entire body just slowed down. But she would be strong. For her partner. For Joni. And for Barry and Joni’s daughters.
“Let’s do this.” She tugged down on her jacket and led the way to the front door. Her coat was zipped up, the card tucked carefully inside.
She had her hand to the doorbell when the door opened. An older woman with gray hair was looking at them, assessing them. Her cornflower-blue eyes were wet, and she was holding a bunched-up tissue in one hand.
Madison pressed a palm to her chest. “I’m Madison Knight, and this is my partner, Terry Grant. We’re both friends of Joni and Barry’s. We both work for the Stiles PD in the major crimes division.”
“Very well.” She turned away, leaving the door open for them to come inside.
That wasn’t exactly the reception Madison had expected, and by the shocked expression on Terry’s face, she’d say he felt the same way.
“Be sure to take your shoes off,” the woman stated gruffly.
They removed them as well as their coats, draping those over their arms.
“She’s in here,” the older woman said, pointing a finger to the right toward the living room.
Madison took a deep breath, steadying herself, before she breached the doorway.
Joni was sitting in the reclining chair. Tissues were piled up in a trash can next to her, but she wasn’t crying at this particular moment. Two older men were seated on the couch, and the woman who had answered the door dropped into another chair.
Joni shot to her feet and hurried toward Madison when she saw her.
It took all of Madison’s strength not to cry. But despite her internal coaxing to stand strong, a few tears fell after a moment. Joni threw her arms around Madison, and Madison hugged her with her free arm.
“I’m so sorry, Joni,” she said. Joni was still holding on to her tightly, probably not realizing that the embrace was also soothing Madison.
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