Cynthia’s dark hair was swaying in a ponytail, and the pendulum kept going when she stopped in front of Madison and Terry. “He’s not going to let us live this down, is he?” She pointed toward the front door, implying Richards and the fact that they’d arrived after he had. Normally her shoulder-length brown hair was down, not that it mattered how she styled her locks. There was something about her—even Cynthia didn’t know exactly what—that made men fawn over her. She had played that to her advantage for years until Lou Stanford, another major crime detective, put a ring on her finger. Of course, they still had to officially tie the knot, but the commitment was made.
Madison shook her head. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t much care for it when it happens.”
“That I know.” Cynthia moved to the side and turned to Mark. “You go on ahead of me. I’ll be in shortly.”
Mark acknowledged Madison and Terry with a head bob as he walked inside, but his ponytail didn’t sway as much as Cynthia’s. He kept his tied low at the back of his neck. In fact, Madison had never seen his hair down.
Madison turned back to face her friend, who locked eyes with her, something Madison would have preferred to avoid because Cynthia had the ability to read minds…or so it seemed. Maybe if Madison pressed on with the case specifics, Cynthia would be distracted enough to drop her focus from Madison. The last thing she wanted was for her friend to see her true feelings, to know that she wouldn’t be solving this murder fueled by her regular drive to find justice but rather to quell her suspicions about Constantine’s return.
“The victim has a security system,” Madison blurted out. “That might provide us with some leads.”
“Victim? So either the victim hasn’t been ID’d yet or you knew them. Which is it?” Cynthia was scanning her eyes, and Madison knew she’d messed up. Madison always preferred to use names over victim.
Madison wet her lips, glanced at her partner, and then turned back to Cynthia. “The latter.”
Cynthia’s gaze became more penetrating. “Did you know them well? Are you okay?”
When Madison didn’t respond, Cynthia eyeballed Terry. “She should probably pull herself off this case,” he said.
“Hey, I’m right here,” Madison spoke up. There wasn’t anything more irritating than being talked about when one was present. “And this victim’s identity isn’t going to stop me from working this case. No one is.”
Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “All right, now I’m curious. Who is it?”
“It’s Jimmy Bates.” Madison said it in the most detached tone she could muster.
“Jimmy Bates?” Cynthia’s voice raised a few octaves. “Isn’t that the man who—”
“Killed my grandfather?” Madison finished. “Yes.”
“What happened?”
Madison hitched her shoulders. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
“He was stabbed multiple times,” Terry offered.
Cynthia didn’t break her eye contact with Madison. Maybe it was best to just come out with her notion that Constantine might be behind Bates’s death, but even her close friend might think she was crazy given how little they had at this point. No, she needed some more evidence first. At least a direct connection between Bates and the Mafia.
“Stabbed multiple times?” Cynthia paused. “We don’t see that too often. The last case I remember was that woman… What was her—” Her eyes widened. “Constantine killed her.”
That didn’t take long…
“Her name was Lillian Norton,” Madison replied calmly, proud of her reserve considering the jumbled mess she was inside.
“You don’t think…?” Cynthia let her implication go unspoken, but her face paled.
“It’s too soon to tell who’s behind Bates’s murder.” Madison sounded steadier in that conclusion than she was in her gut.
“Huh… That doesn’t sound like the Maddy I know.” Cynthia angled her head. “Lillian’s name just popped right into your head when I brought up the stabbed woman? I doubt that. You’d already noted the similarities between the two murders, didn’t you?”
Terry turned to face Madison now that she’d been called out. Maybe she should just admit to that much. “I did.”
Terry’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you say anything about Lillian upstairs?”
“Why didn’t you?” she fired back, and Terry shook his head. “Listen,” she said firmly, “we have to look at this murder from all angles, and I’m not going to get stuck on one guess. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Cynthia, we need to question the vic’s girlfriend and coworker.” Madison stepped down the walk toward the driveway, her mind spinning and emotions cresting.
“If you think he’s back,” Cynthia called out, “you should get protection, just to be safe.”
Madison spun to face her friend. “I’ll be fine.” And there was that word again. She’d been saying fine a lot today. When she’d first started seeing a shrink—under mandated orders after her ordeal with Constantine—her doctor had pointed out that she used the adjective often, and that it was a means of deflecting how she truly felt.
“You’ll be fine? What if you’re not?” Cynthia’s shoulders sagged, and her face drained of color. “You need to at least remove yourself from this case. If Constantine’s back…”
Madison’s body stiffened. Hearing her friend say his name again and seeing her so visibly upset shook Madison to her core, weakening her resolve to just deal with this investigation one step at a time. Her mind was telling her to let go of the idea that Constantine killed Bates, but her heart wasn’t buying it. Bates’s murder, and what it represented from her perspective, was truly a nightmare she wished she could wake up from, but she wasn’t going to cower in a corner. She wouldn’t let him win.
“If he’s back and he’s going to come for me, he’ll do it whether I’m working this case or not. Now,” she said, “we really do have work to do.”
Cynthia waited a few beats. “Just be careful.”
“I will. I promise.” Madison walked away, and while Cynthia didn’t say anything else, Madison could feel her friend’s eyes on her back.
“She’s right, you know.” Terry stepped in line with Madison.
She couldn’t bring herself to glance over at her partner. Her body was quaking, a mixture of fear and anger. The latter won out. She met his gaze now. “What? That I should go into hiding? No. He doesn’t control how I live my life.”
Terry shook his head. “Not hiding, no. But if you really think he’s back, you should take precautions.”
Madison let out a deep breath. “How about we prove he’s back in town and go from there?” she suggested coolly, keeping her strides wide and determined.
She headed toward Tendum, who was in the car with Yasmine Stone, presumably taking her statement. Madison made eye contact with him and gestured to him with a curled finger. Tendum nodded in receipt of her unspoken message to come out and update them, and joined Madison and Terry by the trunk of the car.
“What can I help you with, detectives?” The twentysomething officer’s eyes were alert, and his cheeks were flushed with the cold air.
Madison rubbed her hands. “How are you making out with her statement?”
“Almost finished.” Tendum’s gaze went to the car, and Madison sensed he was eager to get back to Yasmine. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
“We’ll be taking her downtown shortly.” Madison stepped farther away from the vehicle, and the men followed her. She didn’t want Yasmine to overhear them. “I just want to make sure you ask a few specific things so we can see if she replies the same way when we ask the same questions later.”
“Understandable,” Tendum said. “Shoot.”
Shoot? Sometimes the officer’s age really didn’t do him any favors.
“But first, I want to start with your impressions,” Mad
ison said. “How does she seem? Shaken? Distant? Angry? Shocked?”
“I’d say she’s scared and shaken.”
Madison hadn’t expected that. “Have you asked her why she’s scared?”
“She said finding him ‘like that’ was unsettling and that it’s scary how we can be here one minute and gone the next.”
“So she’s analyzing her own mortality. Quite a natural reaction,” Terry chimed in.
“I’d say there’s more to it,” Tendum ventured. “She’s shaking and biting her bottom lip quite often and fidgeting with her hands.”
Those traits could indicate shock, nervousness, or guilt. After all, she had the attention of Stiles PD and not in a good way. The person to find a dead body always fell under suspicion.
“Did you push her further on why she’s so scared and unsettled? Try to break her?” Madison asked.
Tendum nodded. “I did, but I didn’t really get anywhere.”
Hopefully Madison would be able to apply enough pressure to squeeze something more out of the woman once they got her downtown. “When did she last see him alive?”
“She said she came over last night for a booty call at about eleven and left before midnight.”
“And then she came back early this morning? Why didn’t she just spend the night? Did you ask her that?” Madison snapped at Tendum without meaning to. She had to be on edge about the prospect of Constantine being in town.
Tendum fumbled with his notepad and thumbed through it. A moment later, he looked up, eyes blank. “I didn’t think to…” Tendum seemed embarrassed as he scribbled something down.
“Maybe the guy just preferred to sleep alone,” Terry interjected.
Madison glanced at her partner, defender of the newbies. She pointed to Tendum’s book. “Make sure you ask her.”
Tendum tapped the end of his pen to the page. “I will, Detective. I’ve written it down.”
“And the house has a security system,” Madison added. “Did you ask her anything about that? Whether it was armed when she showed up today? If she has a code and a key for the door?”
Tendum was just staring at her.
“You did see the system, right?” she pressed.
“I…did,” Tendum admitted. “But I didn’t think to ask her either of those questions.”
“Well, add that to your little list, then,” she responded.
Tendum winced and scribbled in his notebook again.
Madison took a few staggered breaths to bring her rising impatience under control, and then asked, “And was he all right when she left him last night?”
“Yeah, he was fine.”
“So you asked?”
The young officer flushed. “Yes.”
“What about how long she’s been seeing Bates?” Madison asked, keeping the questions coming.
“For a few months now,” Tendum responded without consulting his book. “She couldn’t remember exactly when but figured they started seeing each other around October or thereabouts. Before you ask, she’s worked with Bates for a year.” He squared his shoulders as he regained his confidence.
Good work, Newbie, but it will take more to impress me…
“Have you run her background?” Terry asked before Madison could comment aloud.
“Yeah, of course. Nothing of interest there, though. Like, no criminal record anyway.”
Like? Tendum’s youth sprouted through the cracks.
“Is there anything else or should I finish up?” Tendum asked.
“Finish up. Ask her those questions—” she pointed to his notebook “—have her sign off on what she’s told you, and then we’ll take her downtown.”
Tendum nodded and headed back to the cruiser.
A few minutes later, the car doors opened and both Tendum and Yasmine got out. Tendum gestured for her to stay next to the car, but he headed over to Madison and Terry. Yasmine pressed a cheek to her shoulder as she waited.
“I asked about the security system,” he said when he approached Madison. “She says she has a code and a key.”
“And why did she leave at midnight only to return this morning?” Madison asked.
Tendum glanced at Terry but directed his response at Madison. “It was as Detective Grant said: he likes to sleep alone.”
“All right. Tell her to come over,” she directed.
Tendum gestured for Yasmine to join them. When she did, he made the introductions. “These are detectives Madison Knight and Terry Grant.”
Yasmine tucked a stray hair behind an ear but didn’t say anything. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, and her complexion was blotchy.
“We’d like to take you downtown, ask a few more questions,” Madison said gently but without room for negotiation.
Yasmine gave Tendum an uncertain glance before following Madison. “I’m not sure why I have to speak with you now.”
“It’s standard procedure,” Madison assured her.
“But I didn’t do anything.” Yasmine stopped walking, her words full of panic as she rubbed her arms.
Madison turned toward the girl. “As I said, it’s standard. It shouldn’t take too long. We just have a few questions.”
A tear fell down Yasmine’s cheek, and she wiped it away before continuing to follow Madison.
-
CHAPTER
3
YASMINE WAS SET UP IN interrogation room one. There was something about questioning a potential murder suspect in this formal setting that gave law enforcement the edge. Even an innocent person could find themselves unravelling under the pressure, and the mind is good at playing games. It can make one feel guilty when they’re not, and that’s why it was crucial to ask the right questions and be able to read people accurately.
Madison and Terry were about to go in. She had one hand on the doorknob and she was carrying a water bottle for Yasmine in the other when Sergeant Winston called out to her.
“Knight, wait!” Winston sounded winded, and when she turned around, his face was red and his brow was sweaty, and he was panting. “Is it too much to ask for you to come to me? No, I have to go chasing you around the station. What is the update on the Deer Glen homicide?”
“There’s not a lot to say yet.” Madison slid a sideways glance to Terry.
Winston glanced at Terry, too, then back at Madison. He drew a pointed finger between them. “I saw that look. What aren’t you telling me?”
“The victim was Jimmy Bates,” Madison said nonchalantly.
Winston screwed up his brow. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“He’s the man who served twenty-five years for killing my grandfather.” There, she’d delivered the facts with cool detachment.
Winston’s eyes snapped into alignment with Madison’s. “You should probably be taken off the case.”
“No.” She stood firm, peacocking her stance. “There’s no reason for that.”
He squared his shoulders. “Last I knew, I was the one to call the shots, Detective.”
“Listen, there’s no reason to take me off this case. I didn’t even know my grandfather.”
“He was still your grandfather,” the sarge said. “That makes this case personal.”
She wanted to counter with the fact that her grandfather had died nine years before she was born, but the defense fell flat even in her head. Instead, she locked her jaw and tilted up her chin. It was probably best that she remain quiet, but the sergeant seemed to be expecting her to say something.
“The man served his time,” she said.
Winston turned to Terry. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”
“If Madison says she has things under control, then she does.”
“But she didn’t say she has things under control.” Winston studied Madison. “Do you?”
She flashed him a cocky grin. “I like to think so.”
“I’m sure you do,” Winston stated sourly and pointed to the closed door. “Who’s in there? A suspect?”
“It’s Yasmine Stone, a woman who Bates was sleeping with,” Madison began. “She’s the one who found his body.”
Winston nodded. “Does she look good for the murder?”
Madison’s heart pounded. The similarities between Lillian Norton’s and Jimmy Bates’s murders crashed together in her mind. Her legs began to buckle thinking about Constantine being back in town, but she managed to muster her strength without warranting the men’s attention. “It’s too early to say.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you, then. Get in there.” Winston waved them along.
“You got it, Boss.” Madison turned her back on the sergeant and rolled her eyes.
She entered the interrogation room first, Terry following suit. He walked behind Yasmine and leaned against the wall.
Madison extended the water bottle across the table to Yasmine. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
She took it but didn’t open it. “Thank you.”
Madison sat down across from Yasmine and set a folder on the table. Inside was Yasmine’s basic background report and a printed copy of the statement she’d given Tendum. Madison relaxed into her chair. “As I said back at Mr. Bates’s house, we have some questions for you.”
Yasmine’s eyes were glazed over, and she kneaded her purse nervously, which she’d placed on the table in front of her. She was still wearing her coat.
“Let’s just start from the beginning, okay?” Madison suggested. Yasmine nodded. “You visited Mr. Bates last night, is that correct?”
“Yes, and he was fine when I left him.” Yasmine started trembling.
Was she scared or was she experiencing feelings of guilt or regret? While it was true that she hadn’t been found covered in blood, she could have had plenty of time to return home and clean up only to come back and “discover” the body.
“Why are you shaking?” Madison asked.
Yasmine stopped kneading her purse. “I’m… It’s just…I’ve never seen anything like that. What happened to him…”
Power Struggle Page 2
