But it hadn’t been a misstep that garnered the Mafia’s attention. It was her doing the job she’d signed up for in the first place that had painted a target on her back and gotten Constantine’s attention. And sure, she feared for her own life, but her primary concern was her loved ones. They’d done nothing to deserve being brought into this. It was one thing to mess with her mind, violate her body, and seek her life, but if that’s what it took to protect her family, she’d sacrifice all those things.
MADISON WAS THE LAST TO step out of the conference room, and the ache in her chest just wouldn’t go away. She needed to call her sister, hear her voice, and be told that they were all right. She had her phone in her hand ready to make the call, but Terry and Troy were waiting outside the door.
“Can we talk?” Troy asked.
Terry slid her a look that said he was out of there and took off down the hall.
“Sure,” she dragged out the word, hesitant.
Troy went back into the room and she followed, closing the door behind them. He spun around. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Given the fierceness haunting his green eyes, she wasn’t going to give him any indication that she knew what he was talking about. It would have been as good as admitting to him that she had withheld the information on purpose.
He scoffed and shook his head. “You want us to be open with each other, but then…” His words trailed off as their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.
She wondered if his mind went where hers had, to the time shortly after Barry had been murdered and how Troy had shut her out. She had been on him about communicating and relying on her for strength. In effect, now their roles had been reversed.
“I should have told you,” she admitted. “It’s just that I didn’t think it mattered at the time.”
“That’s a lie, Maddy,” he countered, and despite the allegation, managed not to come across as combative. “You told me that you felt Constantine was behind Bates’s murder. Why leave out the eyewitness account?”
“Honestly, I discredited its importance.” She crossed her arms. “Just because he was in town the other day didn’t mean he was still around, and it didn’t mean he was coming after me.”
“Is that what you truly believed?” His question was direct, as was his eye contact.
She found herself hesitating. After all, there was no way to win by responding to him.
“Just as I thought.” He raked a hand through his hair and exhaled. “I thought we were past all this.”
“All this, what?” Agitation brewed within her.
“You thinking that you have to do everything on your own. I don’t know… Maybe you’ll never realize that—” He looked away, but before he did, she registered the twinge of pain in the set of his mouth.
Her initial response, like it always was before she had Troy, was to withdraw inside herself, put up a wall, and deny her feelings. But she’d made a vow when in Russian captivity that she would open herself up completely to others, even at the risk of being hurt.
“I know I’m not alone anymore.” The admission rubbed her raw emotionally, exposing her weakness and fragility. She reached out and touched his forearm. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. The pain was there in his eyes, even a trace of surrender that things would never change, that he would always want something from her that she could never give. “Please forgive me. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s so easy for you to revert to your old ways, to acting like you have to do everything on your own. Sometimes…” He broke eye contact. “Sometimes I wonder if you’ll ever fully let me in. Just when I think you are, something like this happens. You hold back just enough to make me question…”
She was afraid to ask for clarification, but she had to. “Question what?”
“Us, Madison.” He met her gaze solidly again, and the emptiness she saw in them pierced her heart.
“You don’t ever have to question our relationship.”
“I don’t?”
She didn’t know how to respond. Nothing in life was guaranteed. There was a part of her that second-guessed her good fortune with Troy and at least partially expected it to fall apart. Two things she excelled at were solving murders and pushing people away.
“You’re not going to say anything?” he pressed and then shook his head. “Of course, what would I expect?”
“Stop,” she implored. “Please don’t be like that.”
“You moved in with me, Maddy. You tell me you love me, and, god, I want to believe it.”
Emotion was rising in her throat, and tears were stinging her eyes.
“But there’s something that has been bothering me ever since you moved in a few months ago.” He stopped talking, as if he expected her to interject. “When are you getting rid of your apartment?”
She frowned at him. “I just haven’t had a chance, Troy. You know this job keeps me busy.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” He held her gaze a little while longer before leaving the room.
And she let him. The potency of his question had her doubting herself. Why hadn’t she completely moved out of her apartment and passed on her lease to someone else? The answer that immediately came to her was exactly what Troy was ultimately accusing her of: she was holding on to it as a safety net in case their relationship failed.
-
CHAPTER
15
MADISON SLIPPED OUT OF THE station, watching her breath dissipate in clouds of white, and she was thankful she still had her coat on. The sky was dark, threatening to dump snow on her at any moment.
Her thoughts were even more jumbled than before, as now she had more to worry about than a vengeful Mafia hit man. She had some serious thinking to do when it came to her relationship with Troy. The fact that she loved him was indisputable, but she couldn’t deny that feeling in the pit of her stomach when it came to letting go of her apartment. It was almost too much to imagine going through with it. Did she really have such little faith in their relationship? She had let her guard down with Troy, far more than she had with any other man since her cheating fiancé broke her heart over a decade ago. Maybe she hadn’t fully opened her heart, yet, but didn’t he appreciate how far she had come?
She shook her head, knowing the answer. It wasn’t about how far she’d come but how far she was willing to go. Was she willing to surrender all of herself to this relationship by letting go of her backup plan? And if she was, where would she put all her furniture? It’s not like Troy’s house had room for everything she owned, not that she had much. She’d have to put it in storage, sell it, or sublet the apartment furnished. And the latter wasn’t really taking the leap Troy wanted her to take. Except she didn’t think he saw it as so much a leap but rather a sure thing. For a man who had been hurt before, he was easily able to let go of the past and move forward. Why couldn’t she be like that?
Heck, she still thought of his house as his—not hers, not even theirs.
She was obviously in the mood to judge herself, but she had to snap out of it because it was doing nothing for her present situation. She’d make things right with Troy, but for right now, she had potentially life-threatening things to take care of.
Madison was still holding her phone in one hand. She pulled up her sister, Chelsea, in her contacts, but her phone rang before she could call. She answered without consulting the caller ID. “Detective Knight.”
“Madison?” It was Chelsea. And she sounded irritated…
“Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” The words were slathered with sarcasm.
“It was just a question, Chels. You don’t call me too often during the day.” She was trying to backpedal and doing a terrible job of it. Probably because she knew she needed to tell her sister about Constantine. Madison cleared
her throat. “I was just about to call you actually. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Does it have anything to do with the police cruiser sitting in front of my house?” she fired back, revealing a trace of dread but also a bit of anger. Probably for being left out of the loop.
“It does. Listen—”
“What’s going on?” she interrupted. “And be upfront with me. I might be your younger sister, but I can handle it.”
Of that Madison had her doubts, but factoring in Chelsea’s tenacity and hardheadedness quelled those concerns somewhat. “I’d rather talk to you about it in person.”
“Great. You coming over now? Or I can come to you?”
Madison could imagine her sister on the move through her house to her front door, scooping up her car keys with her phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder.
“I can’t right this minute,” Madison said.
“Are you safe? Are we? What about your nieces?”
She didn’t need a reminder of all that was at stake. “A matter has come up.”
“Should I get the girls from school?”
Madison put her free hand to her forehead. If she told her sister that officers had already been dispatched to their school and to the youngest one’s daycare, Chelsea would lose her temper. “Let’s meet for lunch. Give me an hour.”
“Madison, tell me that my girls are safe.”
There are no guarantees in life…
The thought assaulted Madison, cinching her gut and churning bile up into her throat. She swallowed roughly, disgusted at the bitter coating in her mouth. “One hour. Meet me at Starbucks downtown.” She told her sister which one.
“Fine.” Chelsea hung up without saying goodbye.
Madison didn’t blame her sister for being pissed off. She’d avoided the question about the girls’ safety—twice—but what was she supposed to say? She couldn’t assure her they were out of harm’s way yet.
She hurried back into the station, and when she reached her desk, Terry stood up from his.
“I’ve been wondering where you went. I thought we were going to turn in the letter to Cynthia and see if she has any updates.”
“I’ve just been outside talking to my sister.”
“You’ve ‘just been outside’?” he mocked. “You have a hit man stalking you, threatening your life, and you’re just hanging around outside?” Terry was getting all worked up. His face was turning red, and his eyes were darting all over the place. She could only imagine he’d act similarly years down the road when his daughter, Danielle, reached dating age—overly protective and on the edge of losing his sanity.
Madison tucked her phone into a pocket and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine, Terry. Let’s go,” she said as she walked past him and headed toward the crime lab.
-
CHAPTER
16
MADISON LOADED ONTO THE ELEVATOR with Terry to head up to the lab on the third floor. There was an awkwardness brewing in the silence between them, and she remembered the looks Winston had given him in the meeting. “What was up with you and Winston before?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked nonchalantly.
“The glares he was giving you during our meeting, for starters. Usually he’s doling them out to me.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t really matter.”
“Come on, Terry.”
“When you didn’t come in this morning, I was wondering where you were,” he started, still ignoring her question. “Speaking of, if you could let me know when you’re going to be late, I’d appreciate it.”
“I would have, but—”
“I’m your partner, Maddy. I need to know where you are, especially when we’re in the middle of a case.”
“I had an appointment,” she said, as if it was justification for not filling him in. She really didn’t feel inclined to tell him about the nightmare she’d had.
“A two-second phone call next time, okay?”
“Sure.” She gave it a moment. “So why the looks?” she tried again.
“I couldn’t reach you and went to ask Winston if he’d heard from you, but everything from last night came out. Well, how we enrolled the help of other officers, anyway. He was just feeling sidestepped again, I guess.” He wasn’t making eye contact. It was clear he was feeling that way, too.
The elevator chimed their arrival at the third floor, and they got off.
Cynthia was at her desk when they walked into the lab, but when she turned and saw that it was Madison and Terry, she got to her feet and hurried over. She threw her arms around Madison.
“I take it you told her when you checked on her?” Madison asked Terry.
“Yeah, it came up.”
Cynthia pulled back. “Why wouldn’t he have told me? You were threatened by a Mafia hit man.” There was a touch of chastisement in Cynthia’s tone, and she raised a single eyebrow at Madison.
She didn’t have the energy to correct her right now or to point out that, technically, Constantine had also threatened her loved ones, which included Cynthia. Maybe her friend had a little denial going on.
“Life goes on.” Madison handed Cynthia the letter from Constantine and walked toward Cynthia’s computer.
“How can she be so indifferent?” Cynthia retorted, following Madison. She caught up with Madison and hooked her arm at the elbow.
“You should be taking time off,” Cynthia said.
Madison spun and met her friend’s eyes. “That’s not happening, as I keep telling everyone. It wouldn’t matter if I’m on the case or off. If he wants to find me—”
“Kill you,” Cynthia punched out. “He wants to kill you. And you’re acting like you forget how close he came the last time.”
A shiver raced through Madison as her mind conjured up an image of Constantine’s face looming over her, but she managed to shake it before it became a full-blown flashback.
She touched Cynthia’s arm. “That’s right. He came close.”
Cynthia threw her hands in the air. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”
“Same goes for him.” Madison notched up her chin and pointed to the computer. “Have you gone through the prison logs for Bates yet?”
“I just don’t understand how you can be so dismissive.”
Madison gritted her teeth. Cynthia was going to continue to push and pester until she gave her the response she was after, but Madison had the feeling that her friend wanted something she couldn’t provide: surrender.
“I’ve got the entire Stiles PD behind me, protecting me. Winston and the chief will be briefing everyone on the situation and finding Constantine has become a priority. We will find him. And I believe solving Bates’s murder might help us.” She sounded so calm to her own ears, it surprised her. It was as if she’d resigned herself—at least for the moment—that life went on, even when a storm was on the horizon.
Cynthia’s eyes were rimmed with unshed tears, but a flicker of resolve lit them. “Okay.” She took a deep, heaving breath and fanned a hand over her heart.
“We’ll get to him first,” Madison assured her friend, drawing from a place deep inside her that was beyond giving in to doubts.
“So the logs…?” Terry stepped up to the table, regarded the women, and pressed his lips together.
“Well,” Cynthia dragged the word out, “it looks like Bates signed in the morning before his murder, but that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Madison had expected to find a history of visits. “Who was he there to see?”
“Dimitre.”
Madison faced Terry. “Dimitre has to have the warden in his pocket. I doubt that yesterday was the first time Bates went to see Dimitre, and the only way he doesn’t show up on record is if the warden let him bypass the system.” She pause
d. Government identification was required to visit an inmate at Mitchell County Prison, but in addition to scanning that information, visitors had to sign their names. “Did you compare Bates’s signature to the one on the prison log?”
“I didn’t because the scanned ID was legitimate,” Cynthia countered.
“I find it strange that Bates is on record as visiting the prison the day before his murder,” Terry said, “but doesn’t show up on record any other time. Why?”
“Good question,” Madison conceded, letting her gaze go to Cynthia.
“I’ll make sure Bates is the one who signed in,” Cynthia said.
Madison nodded. “I think that would be a good idea.” She glanced at Terry. “I’d say it seems that Bates was serving as Dimitre’s link to the outside world. At least for the document Bates had in his possession. But maybe yesterday was Bates’s first time visiting him at the prison.”
Terry angled his head in disbelief.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, either,” she agreed.
“Regardless, Bates didn’t get a chance to pass on the message before he was murdered,” Terry added, stating the obvious.
Madison shook her head. “But he had time to meet with Constantine at the club,” she countered. “If he had an urgent message, why not pass it on right away? Why hold on to it?”
“Maybe Bates was supposed to bring it to their meeting at Club Sophisticated but didn’t,” Terry suggested.
Madison regarded her partner, her gaze going through him. Her mind was spinning with hypotheticals. She addressed Cynthia. “You confirmed that about two and a half hours passed after the time-of-death window and Bates’s security system being rearmed, right?”
Power Struggle Page 12
