“I’ve personally stared it at it until I’ve almost gone blind,” Cynthia said.
“Well, I need you to keep trying. Bring your entire team in on this. Put your heads together.”
Cynthia was expressionless, and it didn’t instill much confidence. “I’ll call them here and see what we can do, but I’m not making any promises.”
“And I wouldn’t expect you to.”
-
CHAPTER
40
MADISON SPEED-WALKED OUT OF THE LAB. Her mind was on one thing, and that was getting the jump on Constantine and getting her sister back. Screw playing by his rules.
She pressed the “down” button for the elevator, but the doors didn’t open right away. She didn’t have time to wait, so she bypassed the elevator for the stairwell. Sometimes it was just faster to use the stairs, and today was one of those days.
“I have a sinking feeling I know what you think you’re going to do,” Terry said, hustling behind her.
She didn’t respond to him and entered the stairwell. It was far more than a thought; it was going to happen.
“You think if you go to the prison to talk with Dimitre that he’ll open up to you?” Terry was breathing heavily, and it wasn’t because of poor cardiovascular health because he ran every morning.
She stopped moving and spun around.
“If we go to the prison, you do realize that the warden will be tipped off?” Terry quirked his eyebrows. “The same warden who we believe is double-dipping, or at least being coerced to work for Dimitre and this other power player at the same time. Again, assuming this is the case…”
“I need to rescue my sister,” she said with heat. “Dimitre just might give us a lead as to where Constantine could be holed up. We can use Dimitre. Lord knows no one else seems to be getting anywhere.” Patience had never been her strong suit, and tack on her sister being in the hands of Constantine and it was even less so.
“Are you forgetting that the chief doesn’t want you directly involved in hunting down Constantine? Don’t you think talking to Dimitre would qualify?” Terry tightened his jaw and stared in her eyes. “She’s going to bench you altogether if you disregard a direct order. She’s not going to give you a pass just because you’re practically family.”
Madison wished she could argue that point, but she knew he was right. One quality that she loved about Andrea was the fact that she was unbiased and professional, and when she made up her mind, there was no changing it. Like sister like brother.
Madison kept hustling.
“Come on, don’t throw your career away. Don’t let Constantine win like that.”
Something between the words, the way Terry said them, and the way he was looking at her, made her relax a bit. It was one thing to play along with the man, let him believe he had control over her; it was another if he demanded she sacrifice the life she loved.
“And do you really want a murder on your hands?” Terry continued.
“What do you mean?”
“The warden. Ever think that if our running theory is correct and word gets back to the power player, it might cost Dimitre or the warden his life?”
She shook her head abruptly. She wasn’t going to say so out loud, but the world would be a better place without Dimitre.
“Really? You’re willing to risking two men’s lives?”
“Yeah. You know what? That’s a chance I’m willing to take if it gets me closer to saving my sister.” Maybe more Dimitre’s than the warden’s, but still. She resumed walking, and Terry grabbed her arm on a backswing. She turned around and shrugged free of his grasp.
“And the warden?” Terry pressed on the sore spot. “What about his wife and kids?”
Maybe he’d been coerced into working with the mob, but he had to have known what he was getting himself and family into.
“Come on, Maddy. Think this through. One, you’re not a killer, and two, your career means everything to you.”
“Not as much as my sister.”
Terry held up his hands. “I get that.”
“Don’t say but.”
“But,” he said purposefully, “we’re going to get her back, and if you do what you’re thinking of doing… Well…” His shoulders sagged, and he glanced away. “I can’t help you. Troy can’t help you. The sergeant—”
“He won’t hesitate to take my badge.” The sober realization sank into her bones and had her grounding the heels of her shoes into the floor.
And Constantine will have won… Terry’s earlier words came to her mind as an assault.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” she lamented. “Constantine doesn’t want to meet me until eight thirty. How can I think about anything else?”
“You focus on what you can investigate, and maybe we’ll stumble across a clue that will lead us to him,” Terry suggested. “And if we do, great. You wouldn’t have technically broken the chief’s directive. You’ll hand it off, and a team will swoop in and save your sister.”
She’d love to believe the fairy tale he was dishing out, but she wasn’t buying it. Constantine would not let Chelsea go without an exchange. It would come down to Madison’s life for her sister’s. Not if Madison could help it, though.
“And if we don’t find a lead to Constantine,” Terry continued, “we’ll at least be getting more answers to the two other murder investigations.”
“Like, if McAlexandar killed Yasmine,” she said.
“We have him on tape leaving after the time-of-death window, and that’s enough for a search warrant and an arrest warrant probably, too. That ought to keep us busy for a while.”
“That’s for sure.” She got along with paperwork about as well as she did with running. “We should let Winston know about McAlexandar now.”
“You think?” Terry said sarcastically.
She narrowed her eyes at him and resumed walking. Somehow, she was feeling a little calmer. The answers were going to come, and as much as she hated that they weren’t coming fast enough, her hands were tied. And Terry was right: she had to focus on what she could. Maybe, if luck was on her side at all, they’d stumble across something that pointed them to Constantine’s whereabouts.
They found Winston in his office. He was scowling, as he seemed to be doing a lot these days.
“Come in.” He waved them forward. Just as was always the case, there were stacks of paper on his desk, including one directly in front of him.
Terry took a seat in one of the two chairs across from him, and Madison got the door before sitting down.
The sergeant leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands across his stomach. “Am I going to want to hear what you have to say?”
“Probably not.” In most cases, honesty was the best policy, and this was no exception. In fact, it was likely best not to dance around the message, either. “We need to have two warrants issued. One to search Patrick McAlexandar’s home, and another for his arrest.”
Winston just sat there, his gaze moving between the two of them for a few moments. “The former chief?”
Madison nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Whatever for?”
“We have an eyewitness who placed him at Yasmine’s apartment building, and now we have even better,” she began. “We have him on video leaving after the time-of-death window.”
Winston guffawed. “He could have been there visiting anyone.”
“And leaving at five in the morning?” Madison served back. She shook her head. “He already confirmed he was having an affair with her.”
Winston’s posture stiffened, and he stretched his neck from side to side like a boxer getting ready for a fight. “And how would you know that?”
This was the part she wasn’t going to savor. “We spoke with him.”
“You what?” he spat. He pressed a fingertip into his
desk. “You spoke to the former chief and accused him of murder?”
“Not exactly.” Maybe she could dance around the meat of it a little.
“But you questioned him about this murder without my knowledge.” Winston turned to Terry. “And no one bothered to say a thing to me.”
“We followed a lead in an investigation, and now, well, it’s shown to have merit.” Madison relaxed her body into the chair, but she was still ready to pounce given the right provocation.
Winston clenched his jaw, and his gaze was going through the both of them. “We’ve had the conversation about communication more times than I can count.” He drew his gaze back to her. “What seems to be so hard to understand about keeping your superior informed?”
“You know that I don’t like to give you anything unless it plays out.”
“But that’s not what I ask for, is it, Knight? I ask for updates. I don’t ask for the case to be solved by the time I hear anything.”
Madison held up a hand in acceptance.
Winston shook his head. “I should just write up the both of you. This is not the first time you haven’t shown respect for authority, Knight. And Grant—” he turned on Terry “—I’d expect more from you.”
Madison ground her teeth, but there was no point in firing back at him with a snappy comeback. He’d think she was too emotional to remain objective. Now was a good time to swallow her pride and keep quiet.
When Terry didn’t say anything, either, Winston continued. “I’m surprised McAlexandar didn’t call me after you saw him.”
“And that right there should tell you something,” Madison said. It earned her a glare from the sergeant, but it was true.
Winston tapped his chin and clicked his teeth repeatedly. It was an odd mannerism that showed itself at times when he was feeling conflicted. “You’re sure that you have enough to go after him? The man is running for mayor.”
She nodded. “Ballistics from Yasmine’s murder tied back to a gun that should be in evidence lockup.”
“Should be?”
“That’s right.” She wasn’t going to tell him it was the one used to kill her grandfather.
“And you think you’ll find it in McAlexandar’s possession?” Winston cocked an eyebrow. “You think he’d be stupid enough to hold on to it all this time and bring it out to murder that girl?”
Madison hitched her shoulders. “People have done crazier things.”
Winston seemed to be looking through her again but eventually nodded. “Very well. Do what you have to do, and let’s hope this doesn’t bite us in the ass.”
-
CHAPTER
41
MADISON HAD EXPECTED A LOT more resistance at the DA’s office getting the warrants signed, but it had been an in-and-out affair. It somehow seemed like a letdown on top of the hours of paperwork they’d had to do. Strange thoughts to be running through her mind, really, considering she wanted everything to go on without a hitch—and quickly. Any other time, the ability to execute a search warrant on the corrupt former chief would have made her beyond happy, but the circumstances dampened her joy. Namely the niggling feeling in her gut that told her all of this was moving along too easily. She said as much to Terry when they were on their way to McAlexandar’s house, warrants in hand.
“It’s too clean? Too easy? You don’t have a fight, and you want to make one.” He smirked. “I don’t get it. You must be a conflict junkie.”
“What I don’t get is…” She paused, chewing on Terry’s accusation and dismissing it, her mind turning fully back to the case. It was clear that McAlexandar adhered to his own code of ethics, so why was she questioning his innocence in this murder? And she’d been wanting to pin him since the beginning of the year when his connection with Dimitre had become apparent. Maybe she should just take what was given to her.
“He’s brought this on himself,” Terry said, as if reading her mind. “Even if he’s not guilty—though the video footage sure appears damning to me, plus the gun from your grandfather’s murder—he was the lead investigator on that case. He’d easily be able to get the gun in and out of evidence.”
“Yeah, and the records show that he did just that,” she drove home. “We have no way of knowing where the gun is now without the record being kept properly.”
“There could be something else going on here.” Terry pursed his lips.
“I know…” The unspoken possibility being that there were people on the mob’s payroll within the police department. It wasn’t a new concept to her.
She pulled into McAlexandar’s driveway, and the officers who had been sent as backup followed in two patrol cars.
“We check his place out, see what we see, and go from there,” Terry said. “That’s all.”
“Go from there,” she mumbled.
“What’s the problem now?”
“Nothing. It’s just…”
“Your sister?”
She turned the car off. “This delay is killing me.”
“You’re doing well. Probably better than I would be in your place,” he admitted. “In a few more hours, you’ll be meeting up with Constantine and getting your sister back.”
She glanced at the clock. 3:25 PM.
A few more hours?
Madison took a deep breath and reached for the handle. “You ready?”
“Absolutely.” Terry was out of the car before she’d even opened her door.
It was like her body was partially frozen in place. She’d dreamed of taking McAlexandar down, and now that the time had come, she was hesitating? It certainly wasn’t the moment to entertain doubts as to his innocence, either, because McAlexandar would pick up on them and use them to his advantage. She got out of the car.
“McAlexandar might even know where Constantine is,” Terry said.
His words prompted her adrenaline to start surging through her bloodstream. After all these years as a cop, she rarely noticed it anymore, just appreciated what it made possible: the ability to detach to the point that she could handle a crime scene or compartmentalize her emotions. Two things she still struggled with from time to time. But what Terry had said had fueled her drive to get in there and talk with McAlexandar.
She hurried past him to the front door and banged on it as if trying to rouse the residents from sleep to let them know the house was on fire. She waited only two to three seconds before banging again.
“What the—” McAlexandar swung the door open. His gaze swept over her and Terry, as well as the officers who were standing about ten feet behind them, but landed back on Madison. She held up the search warrant and stepped toward him to enter the house.
McAlexandar held up a hand. “Hold on a minute here.”
“Watch him while we search the premises,” Madison told the officers. As one of them worked to wrestle him to the side so Madison and Terry could enter, she addressed McAlexandar. “Is your wife home?”
McAlexandar bucked. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? You get off me. I’m the former chief.”
Madison leaned in close to McAlexandar’s ear. “You’re right, and we went through this last time. You are the former chief.” She glanced at the officer holding on to McAlexandar and hoped that he’d received her silent recommendation that he hold on tightly. “Now, I asked you a question. Is your wife home?”
“No, thank god!”
Madison entered the house with Terry. They both put on latex gloves, pressing down between the fingers because the darn things never fit right.
“Madison,” McAlexandar yelled out, but she ignored him and kept walking.
“Huge place.” Terry gestured to their surroundings—from the coffered ceiling, easily twenty feet above their heads, to the heavy drapes that adorned the floor-to-ceiling windows. “We should have brought more backup.”
For any other
suspect, at any other time, she would have, but she wanted to have some time alone with McAlexandar before she dragged him down to the station. She wanted to pressure him and see what she could find out about this mystery power player she was certain was out there, but even more importantly, she wanted to see if he had any idea where Constantine might be holding her sister. It would be difficult to do with eyes and ears on her downtown.
“I say we start with his office and branch out from there,” Madison suggested.
The warrant included the mention of the Ruger 9mm used to kill her grandfather and was extended to cover anything that could be used as proof that McAlexandar had been involved with Yasmine’s murder. While the video footage had been enough to get arrest and search warrants signed, as was the case with any investigation, the more evidence, the better chance of a conviction.
They entered the office, and even as Madison stepped inside, she felt overwhelmed by its sheer size. She’d noted how large the place was yesterday, but being here for the express purpose of working through it all seemed an impossible feat. At least the task should help distract her somewhat, though thoughts of Chelsea were never far off. Not that she expected them to entirely go away until they had her back.
“You take that side, and I’ll work over here,” Terry suggested, pointing to the right side of the room for her.
“Works for me.” She went straight to McAlexandar’s desk.
She started with the top of the desk and then went on to riffle through the drawers, emptying the contents onto the desk’s surface as she saw fit. She’d glance up periodically at Terry to see how he was making out, and so far he was having about as much luck as she was—which wasn’t much.
She’d just moved on to a filing cabinet when Terry said, “Ah, Maddy.”
“What is—” Her eyes went to an exposed wall safe. She hurried over to him.
Terry pulled on the door. “It’s locked.”
Power Struggle Page 26
