Deadly Impulse

by Carolyn Arnold

  “I’m not going to say I don’t.” And there was the wall he would erect from time to time.

  She changed the subject from the chief. “Why are so excited about this gala, anyway?”

  “It’s in honor of fallen heroes. Why wouldn’t I be?” The light in his eyes betrayed him.

  “What if I said I’m not buying it?”

  He raised his arms in surrender. “All right, you got me. It’s getting you into a dress”—he leaned in, his breath hot on her cheek—“so afterward, I can get you out of it.” He waited until the timing was perfect to tease her. Then he pulled back. Turning to walk away, he said, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “No,” she said, “I’ll meet you there.” She had to take back some of her power.

  “You got it.” He waved and was off.

  Now…to resume regular breathing. Being next to the man was a rush. It was a miracle she didn’t pass out when they made love. Made love? God, he had not only gotten physically beneath her skin, but he had managed to entwine her heart somehow.

  “I see lover boy stopped by.” Terry dropped into his chair and slurped coffee from his mug.

  She narrowed her eyes at him as she took a seat. “Terry.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you have a case to work on?”

  He shrugged, letting his focus drift from her to a file on his desk.

  While Terry went back to work, her mind dwelled on Troy. He had said he was excited because of the event’s purpose. The part about getting her into a dress was a diversion. Why did he really want her to go with him? Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out. And it involved a gown, makeup, and jewelry.

  -

  Chapter 12

  CYNTHIA CAME UP BEHIND TERRY and leaned over him, her gaze on Madison. “Did you hear that? It sounded an awful lot like wedding bells.” She straightened. “I saw you and Mr. Hot Stuff over here. Be careful, or the two of you will set the place on fire.”

  “Cyn, we’ve been through this.” Madison established eye contact. As best friends, they’d had this conversation a number of times. The relationship between her and Troy was just for fun. Yes, they had made a commitment to remain monogamous, but beyond that, she retained her freedom and independence. Wedding bells were definitely not something she anticipated—or wanted—anytime soon, if ever. There were times she was shocked she even took the leap of the C-word. Commitment.

  “If the wedding bells belong to anyone, it’s you,” Madison said.

  Cynthia lit up, her grin touching her eyes. “True.”

  “So are you here just to harass me or do you have something insightful to offer?” Madison teased.

  Cynthia scoffed, pretending to be offended. The grin turned into a bitter scowl, and a hand went to a hip. “She’s always business, isn’t she?”

  “That’s Maddy,” Terry said.

  “I hope she never changes. And, yes, in answer to your question, Madison, I do have news for you.”

  “You have the full ID on Faye?” Madison asked, wondering if Richards had passed this information along to Cynthia.

  “Nope. Well, not that I’ve heard anyway.”

  “So what is it?”

  Cynthia smirked at Terry. “This girl’s never going to learn patience, either, huh?”

  “I’d say if it were going to happen, it would have by now,” he said.

  “You and me both.”

  Madison clasped her hands on her desk. Inside, she was pulsating. “Cynthia?”

  “There was a lot of ‘evidence’ in the area where Faye was found. What pieces are significant will be determined as the case moves along.”

  “And at the speed we’re going, the case has already been locked away in storage and marked cold,” Madison said.

  “Seriously?”

  Being told, in effect, to check her patience again was too much. Her determination flared to life.

  Faye likely had family out there looking for her who had no idea what had happened to her. Their job—her job—was to find who had taken her away from them. She was also responsible for bringing peace to Faye’s loved ones by determining what truly happened. Madison may not be able to reverse time and undo what had occurred, but it was within her power to provide closure.

  “Someone’s grandmother is dead, Cynthia. She was found yesterday morning. It’s been about twenty-four hours since we found her. Whatever you can tell us would be helpful.” She toned down the harshness of the last sentence, gauging Cynthia’s reaction through her body language. And it wasn’t favorable.

  Her brow lowered, her lips set in a straight line, and her nostrils were flaring a bit. Cynthia crossed her arms. “Don’t talk to me like that. You’re making this about your grandmother, but you have no right.”

  Madison sensed Terry watching her, but her eyes never left Cynthia’s. Seconds later, Cynthia’s face softened, her expression turning into more of a grimace. Remorse lapped over Madison. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have talked to you like—”

  “You are under a lot of stress—”

  “But it’s not a good reason,” Madison finished Cynthia’s sentence. She was thankful for a friend like Cynthia, one who understood her complicated moods, her stubbornness, and determination. “I won’t interrupt again. Please. Go ahead.”

  Cynthia bobbed her head. “Of the items we found, the only thing providing DNA was a cigarette butt found on a public sidewalk. It could be anyone’s.”

  Madison decided to be optimistic. “Once we get a suspect, it might help us.”

  Cynthia smiled and glanced at Terry. “So she can be positive.”

  “Actually, I have been more so lately,” Madison voiced in her defense.

  “Uh-huh.” Cynthia laughed.

  Madison’s cell phone rang then, the ID showing it was Richards. She quickly accepted the call. “Tell me you have a full name and address.”

  Richards never missed a beat in responding, and she hung up while on the move. She glanced behind her to see Terry jogging to catch up. And she smiled at Cynthia.

  The woman’s name was Faye Duncan, and they had an address.

  -

  Chapter 13

  MADISON MAY HAVE REACTED ON IMPULSE, running off in glee over the fact that they had the victim’s full name. The implication of having it, though, came afterward and slammed into her—hard. An identity meant notifying next of kin. She hated doing that as much as she hated the sight of blood.

  Terry had looked up Faye Duncan’s basic information in the car. The woman had outlived two husbands and left behind her only sister, Della Carpenter. Della would have been the one pregnant as a teen. She also lived in Stiles.

  Officers were sent to Faye’s house to watch over it while Madison and Terry headed to speak to Della.

  Maybe she could persuade Terry to provide notice even though he had given it the last time. Uniformed officers could do it in a detective’s stead, but that wouldn’t be a smart decision. Clues could be gleaned from delivery of the news.

  She had to look at this from the standpoint that they were bringing closure to Faye’s family. Then she’d be able to manage it better, she told herself. But that reasoning hadn’t worked yet.

  “So, Terry, I guess it’s your turn.” He’d know what she was alluding to, and she was hoping that his memory was failing him or that his preoccupation with his baby would make him agree without thinking about it.

  He glanced over at her from the passenger seat. His right arm was braced on the window ledge. He had the window down, and the breeze teased his blond hair. “Not a chance, Maddy.”

  She grumbled as she pulled the department car into Della Carpenter’s driveway. Her house was a gray-brick bungalow. The fragrance of freshly cut grass tickled Madison’s sinuses and she almost sneezed.

  A brunette woman was already stan
ding at the front door.

  According to the file, Della was ten years younger than Faye’s sixty-eight. If this was Della, she must have dyed her hair.

  “Can I help you?” The woman’s voice wavered, full of fear and curiosity.

  Madison flashed her badge. “Are you Della Carpenter?”

  “Yes.” Della gripped at the front of her shirt, bunching up the fabric in the middle of her chest. “What is it?”

  “Can we come in for a moment?” Madison’s heart sank as Della reached for the railing to steady herself.

  Based on Della’s reaction, Madison guessed at least one death notification had been served to her in the past. Her heart squeezed. It only made delivering the news that much harder.

  Terry went to Della, threaded her arm through his, and guided her inside the house. He helped her to a sofa chair in the living area left of the entry. Madison and Terry sat across from her on a couch.

  Della’s eyes were full of tears when she looked up at them. “I know why you’re here.” Emotion fractured her words. “My husband—” she paused, holding a hand to her neck “—died in a car accident, and the police came then, too.” She stopped there, her gaze taking them in, drifting over their clothing. “You’re not police officers, though. No uniforms. Are you detectives?”

  “Yes.” Madison nodded along with the verbal response and formally introduced herself and Terry.

  Della’s chin quivered. “This means someone was killed, doesn’t it?”

  Madison’s heart hammered. It was these moments of truth she detested most. The ones where she couldn’t ease the news she had to deliver.

  “We are here regarding your sister, Faye Duncan. Her body was found—”

  Della gasped, her hand snapping up to cover her mouth. Her frame shook and tears poured in a steady stream down her cheeks.

  Madison gave it a couple of seconds. “She was found yesterday morning on the property outside Peace Liberty Hospital.”

  The older woman continued to hold her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide and her lashes soaked with unshed tears.

  “She died of a heart attack, but we have reason to believe—”

  Della took a deep breath and sniffled loudly. “Do you think someone caused it?”

  “Her body was moved after she died.”

  Della’s face blanched. “You said you found her yesterday. Why wasn’t I told then?” She pulled a tissue from a nearby box and blew her nose.

  “She was left without ID.” Madison gave Della a few seconds to assimilate that information. “Do you know of anyone who could have done this to her?”

  Della shook her head. “She was loved by everyone who met her. She was active in the community and stood up for what she believed.”

  “Active in the community?” Terry asked.

  “Well, she protested abortion. That’s all I meant by that. You said she was found outside the hospital. That’s where the protests happened. Did one of those people do this to her?”

  “It’s too early to say.” Madison didn’t want to disclose the fact that nothing there led to that suspicion. In fact, background reports showed the other protesters were clean.

  “But she was found there.”

  “She was.” It was time for Madison to elaborate. “Your sister was also found strapped into a wheelchair.” Verbalizing your sister gave Madison’s chest a burning ache. She couldn’t imagine handling the news of Chelsea’s death. The truth was that she wouldn’t handle it; she’d lose it.

  “A wheelchair? That doesn’t make sense. Sure, she had one just after her surgery, but she didn’t like using it. She let me take her for a few walks in it only because she missed the fresh air. That was three months ago. Up until the hip replacement, she was as healthy as an ox. She even hated to have in-home care. Said it made her feel like an invalid.”

  Madison glanced at Terry. “Do you know which service she used?”

  “I sure do.” Della rose to her feet, swaying mildly, and took a few seconds to right her balance before leaving the room. Seconds later, she came back with a business card and extended it to Madison. “I kept this in case I needed to contact them. I never did, though, and I’m horrible about cleaning the front of my fridge. That’s where I had it. I have food flyers from years ago still up there.”

  Madison read the card: HEAVEN’S CARE. WE’RE HERE FOR YOU.

  She flipped to the back, but it was blank. She passed the card to Terry.

  “When did she last use the service?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. Probably as soon as she could get rid of them.”

  Maybe they weren’t as close as Madison had thought, but then again, she and Chelsea didn’t know all the details of each other’s lives.

  “How did you feel about the nurses from there?” Madison was thinking one could have lost his or her patience with Faye and things could have progressed from there. Even if the service wasn’t working with Faye at the time of her death, there was nothing to say that a nurse who had a problem with Faye hadn’t returned.

  “They were fine, I guess. Faye never mentioned any issues. You don’t think they—” Della waved her hand in the air, seemingly not having the strength to verbalize the accusation.

  “It’s too early to know.” That’s what Madison said, but inside, she was lit aflame because they had a lead. “Would you happen to have access to your sister’s house?”

  “Of course I do.” Tears seeped from her eyes, flowing freely down her cheeks. “Zoe’s going to be so upset.”

  “Who is Zoe?” Madison asked.

  “She’s my granddaughter, Faye’s great-niece.”

  -

  Chapter 14

  MADISON AND TERRY LEFT DELLA after she’d insisted she would be okay. She had called her daughter, Kimberly Bell, while they were there, and she was set to arrive within the half hour. So they were headed to Faye Duncan’s, house keys in hand. Cynthia and Mark from the crime lab were meeting them there.

  “As soon as we take a look at her place, you and I will go over to Heaven’s Care to see if we can talk to the nurse who worked with Faye,” Madison said. “It’s sad to think that the person she trusted to take care of her might be involved with this.”

  “You seem to be forgetting that Faye only used them for a short time period after her operation—three months ago.”

  “You think they might not be involved because of that? There’s nothing to say the person didn’t return after their employment had ended.”

  Terry rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s too early to tell.”

  That was her partner, willing to hide behind the lack of firm evidence as an excuse for not hypothesizing. She let her gut lead her, though, and right now it was pointing to the in-home care service.

  “Let’s make a bet. I’ll say a nurse is behind Faye’s death,” Madison said. “I’ll give you a chance to make your money back. Double or nothing.”

  “We don’t know where she even died yet.”

  “You’re in denial. Are you in or not?”

  “Fine.”

  There was no handshake to seal this bet, and his face had gone sullen.

  This wasn’t like him. Especially not when a wager was in play. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m all right, but it’s Annabelle. She’s having a hard time staying positive.”

  “And she’s looking to you for help with that?”

  Terry glared at her.

  Madison cracked a smile. “I couldn’t help it. Someone said earlier today I wasn’t—”

  “I know, Maddy,” he said in a softened tone.

  She was never good at the sentimental conversations, the ones that drew out feelings and emotions, but she had come a long way. She still had more to go, of course, and right now, she had two options: continue this discussion or divert. The old Ma
dison would have diverted. Why bare raw emotion? Yet, if her friendship with Cynthia had taught her one thing, it was to be more emotionally available.

  She steadied her breath, considering her words before she spoke. “I’m sure you are a great comfort to her, Terry. She’s lucky to have your support.”

  He glanced at her, pressing his chin to his shoulder. His eyes assessed hers. “You’re not just saying that?”

  “No, I’m not. You were there for me when I went through what I did.”

  “Sometimes it didn’t feel like it. I was moody and temperamental.”

  “That part is all forgotten.” And it was. It had been rough immediately following her rescue. Things between them had come to verbal blows. He threatened to get a new partner, and a part of her would have let him. But all that had been months ago, and as Dr. Connor had helped her realize, Terry had been undergoing a lot of stress in his own life, too.

  “Forgotten? Nice of you, Madison, but—”

  “No buts. You stood up for me. You defended me with Blake.” Blake Golden was an ex-boyfriend who turned out to be another defense attorney on the Russians’ payroll.

  “I guess I did.” Their eyes locked. “Look back at the road, please.” Terry pointed out the windshield.

  She smiled at him first. “You’re such a wimp.” She pulled around a slow-moving sedan and netted the result she was going for. Terry reached for the dash to steady his fears, and she laughed.

  FAYE DUNCAN’S HOUSE WAS A single-story rancher with beige siding. The shutters on the front windows and the front door were teal. It told Madison that Faye had spunk, if the protesting at her age wasn’t enough to prove that fact. And as noted by the protesters, Faye really had lived close to the hospital.

  Cynthia and Mark were unloading the forensics van when she and Terry pulled into the driveway behind them.

  Madison gave a generic greeting while moving toward the house. Determination energized her stride, taking her to the front door quickly. Faye had two locks—one built into the knob and a dead bolt. She guessed correctly as to which key went in which lock and had the knob unlocked in no time. With the dead bolt, there was nothing to do.