Deadly Impulse

by Carolyn Arnold

  She grabbed a Starbucks on her way to the station and, once there, headed for the lab. She sent a quick text off to Terry to let him know where she’d be.

  Madison found Cynthia perched behind her computer. Her black frames rested on the end of her nose. Cynthia pushed them up when she turned to Madison. “Good morning.”

  It didn’t much feel like one to Madison. The liquid stimulant would need to wield the power of the gods to wake her up. If it hadn’t been for the driving force to find Zoe and Faye’s killer, she’d still be in bed.

  “So why did you leave Saturday night? Troy didn’t look too happy,” Cynthia said.

  Rage pulsed through her. “He didn’t seem too happy? Well, that’s too bad.”

  “Oh no. What happened?”

  “Why do guys keep secrets? Is it a genetic thing? You work in a lab. Do men have a clandestine gene?”

  Cynthia laughed, but it faded under Madison’s stare. “I guess you weren’t joking. Ahem.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  Cynthia rose to her feet, tilted her hips to the right and placed a hand there. “Spill it.”

  “You promise you won’t tell a soul.” Madison realized the stupidity of requesting such a thing. Troy’s relationship to the new chief wouldn’t remain a secret forever. Anyone could find out if he or she cared to. Of all the times for her to forego a background check on a man she was dating…

  Cynthia extended her little finger toward Madison.

  A pinkie swear?

  Madison slapped her hand away playfully. She loved how her friend had a way of trying to lighten the mood.

  “Did he kill someone? Oh, I know! He likes to cross-dress on the weekends?” Cynthia grinned.

  Madison couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at one side of her mouth. “Would you be serious please?”

  “Sorry. I’m listening,” Cynthia said. Her mouth twitched from trying to suppress a smile.

  “Chief Fletcher is Troy’s sister.”

  Cynthia’s eyes lit up. “How awesome.”

  “Awesome? That’s not exactly how I’d describe it.”

  “And this is why you left on Saturday?”

  This conversation wasn’t going the way Madison had imagined it would. She had expected some empathy, some understanding. “Yes, it’s why I left. He sprung it on me.”

  “He probably thought you’d like the surprise.”

  “He should know I don’t like surprises,” Madison mumbled.

  “So you left because of who his sister is and you haven’t talked since?”

  “If he wanted to talk, he has my number.”

  Cynthia winced.

  “What?”

  “You think he’s the one who should be calling you? You left him there. You—”

  “You think I overreacted?” Madison pressed her hands to her own chest.

  “Uh, yeah. There’s no question.”

  “You weren’t there. Fletcher was there and Troy didn’t even come out and say it. I put it together. He swears he had every intention of telling me that night, but who the hell knows.” She realized she had started gesturing wildly and crossed her arms.

  Cynthia put a gentle hand on Madison’s arm. “Remember when the Russians had you?”

  “Now, that’s a stupid question.” Cold sweat coated her skin—the precursor for most “events.”

  Anatolli cocks the hammer, and Madison closes her eyes, anticipating the bullet.

  “Three.”

  Then the delay.

  She opens her eyes, staring blankly at Sergey, and hears the click of the hammer.

  “Bang! You’re dead!” Anatolli exclaims, and both men start laughing.

  “Looks like fate has other plans,” Sergey says.

  “Maddy, are you all right?” Cynthia was shaking her slightly as she spoke.

  Madison pulled back. “Yeah.” Would the flashbacks ever stop? Dr. Connor had told her they would, but some days it was hard to believe.

  Cynthia studied her eyes. “You told me that you promised yourself some things. Do you remember those promises?”

  Madison took a steadied, deep breath as she ticked them off in her head.

  She would open up to people and try to trust them.

  She’d let herself forgive, forget, and heal.

  She’d love with all her heart.

  She’d accept herself as she was. The few extra pounds she carried didn’t measure her worth.

  She’d give more of herself to those around her, including her parents.

  Madison swallowed. She wished she’d had never confided those vows in Cynthia. Had she done so for the purpose of accountability? What had she been thinking?

  “Do you remember, Maddy?”

  “Yes, of course, but this is—”

  “This isn’t an exception,” Cynthia interrupted, shaking her head. “You promised to love with your full heart and to be forgiving.”

  She could argue that she’d made those specific promises in direct regard to Toby Sovereign, but she knew the excuse wouldn’t fly with her friend, even if they had been made with him in mind.

  “Are you still with me?” Cynthia asked.

  Madison nodded.

  “Troy is a good thing for you. Plus, the guy is hot.” A mischievous grin curled her lips.

  “Cyn—”

  Cynthia held up a hand. “This is one case where you’re going to have to swallow your pride. He’s related to the chief. So what? You do remember how many times I listened to you bitch about the last one. The chief, not your ex-boyfriend. Although, we could go there, as well.”

  “Okay. Enough.” Just Cynthia’s reference to McAlexandar had Madison’s core temperature heating. What an arrogant man. And what nerve he had to show himself at the gala! He put on the face of standing up for the brotherhood of blue when he was a dirty cop. A bloodstained cop.

  Cynthia snapped her fingers. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then I suggest you talk to Troy and work this out.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then you’re a stupid, stupid girl.” Cynthia held eye contact until Madison received the message.

  Maybe she was overreacting to the situation. Troy had said he’d planned to tell her. But what had taken him so long? What if he had just said that to cover himself? The questions kept slamming into the forefront of her mind.

  Deep breaths. Still thoughts. Focus.

  What real difference did his relation to the chief really make in their relationship?

  “Maybe I’ll text him,” Madison conceded.

  “Maybe? You should at least text him.”

  Madison nodded but wasn’t feeling as committed to following Cynthia’s advice as she might have thought. “Now, can we focus on business?”

  “I don’t know. Can you get your mind off lover boy?”

  “Hey, you brought him up.”

  Cynthia laughed. “It’s always someone else’s fault.”

  “Just tell me what you’ve got on Zoe, Faye, or even the vagrant.”

  The door to the lab swung open then, and Terry came in. “What did I miss?”

  Madison and Cynthia glanced at each other, an unspoken agreement not to say a word about Troy to Terry passing between them.

  -

  Chapter 39

  “DID YOU FIND THE MURDER WEAPON?” Madison asked Cynthia.

  “Well, let’s just get right to it, shall we?” Cynthia smirked and headed to the table.

  There was an assortment of photographs spread on the surface. They captured everything that was collected at the various crime scenes. The items would be secured in evidence lockup and checked out for testing to ensure chain of custody.

  Cynthia continued. “In direct answer to
your question, no, the murder weapon hasn’t yet been found. As you know, Richards will be conducting the autopsy within the hour. Of course, I’m sure you’re going to be there.”

  Madison strove to be present for all autopsies related to her investigations. There was always the potential for something to stand out to her and spark a lead.

  Cynthia continued. “We know from looking at both the vagrant and—”

  “Charlie.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s just call him Charlie.” She was tired of discussing the homeless man in generic terms.

  “Usually it’s John Doe, but oooookay.” Cynthia pulled her eyes from Madison and sorted through the pictures.

  Terry raised his eyebrows. “Charlie?”

  “Just accept it,” Madison said.

  “You’ll be seeing this in person soon enough, but here you go.” Cynthia handed her a photograph of the back of Zoe’s head. Blood had soaked and matted her hair. It was pushed aside and there was a wound at the base of the skull.

  Madison passed the picture to Terry. “It looks rather small.”

  Cynthia nodded. “The killer hit her in exactly the right place. The trauma broke her neck.”

  “So you’re saying that her death was likely not an accidental homicide?” Madison said.

  “I don’t think so, no. There was a lot of force behind the blow.”

  Cynthia went to another pile on the table. “This isn’t your case, but—” Cynthia handed a picture of Charlie to Madison “—the blow to his head looks similar. We collected bloody evidence from the alley. Newspapers. Tattered blankets. There was even some blood on the Dumpster. And before you ask, I will clarify. He had another gash—this one on his forehead and nonfatal.”

  “So he was struck from behind, fell, and hit his head on the Dumpster on the way down?”

  “Precisely.”

  Then the killer had stripped him of his clothes, laid him on his back, and covered him with a tarp. She wondered how Sovereign was making out interviewing those from the street or whether he had uniforms do the job. The latter wouldn’t surprise her. Not that Sovereign wasn’t a good cop, but he delegated anything he could. She’d rather handle everything herself.

  “From the evidence, it appears that whoever killed Zoe also killed Charlie,” Cynthia summarized.

  “No doubt. I think Charlie was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Madison said.

  “Do we really have to call him Charlie?” Terry asked.

  Both women looked at him, and he held up his hands. “Fine—” Terry created a circle in the air with a pointed finger beside his ear “—Charlie, it is.”

  “Continue, Cyn,” Madison said.

  “There were three blood profiles on a newspaper we collected. I came in to analyze them early this morning, and one came from Zoe and another from Charlie. There was no hit in the system for the third.”

  Madison looked at her friend, surprised. “You analyzed it already?”

  Cynthia jacked a thumb at Terry. “She’s usually all ‘Hurry things up,’ and now I have something and she’s like, ‘Already?’ There’s no pleasing this one.”

  “You guys do realize when you get going like this that I’m right here, in the room?” Madison angled her head and widened her eyes.

  Cynthia raised her brows, and Terry smirked.

  Madison sighed and then got back to business. “It’s possible the third profile belonged to the killer. Maybe they hurt themselves in the struggle?” Madison theorized. “Is there any indication she was in a struggle before her death?”

  “Unlike Faye Duncan, Zoe didn’t show signs of bruising, but one of her fingernails was broken.”

  “And it takes a lot to break gels,” Madison added.

  Cynthia and Terry stared at her.

  “You knew that she had gel nails? That is a rather girlie thing to know.” Cynthia crossed her arms. “You never cease to surprise me. Just when I think I know you…”

  “Cut it out. My sister gets hers done and is always trying to get me to try them.”

  “You should.”

  She narrowed her eyes at Cynthia. “Not really my thing. What about the cigarette butts? The one found next to Faye’s body and the one from her backyard?”

  Cynthia scrunched up her nose. “Nice subject change.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, testing showed the cigarettes came from two different people.”

  “Did you compare the DNA from them to the third blood profile?”

  “Do you think I just started in the lab yesterday?”

  “I never said—”

  Cynthia waved it off. “Not yet, but it’s on my list of things to do.”

  “I’m appalled. You said you came in early.” Madison did her best to mask her tone in seriousness, and she had almost pulled it off. But Cynthia crossed her eyes and had Madison’s lips curling upward.

  Cynthia flailed her hands in the air. “See, you’re never happy.”

  A full-fledged smile now. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. But I do know what I want. What about Faye Duncan? Is there anything pulled from her house that could prove helpful?”

  “Jumping all over today, aren’t we?”

  Madison shrugged.

  “Okay,” Cynthia continued. “First off, the only person touching those teacups was Faye. No other prints. Prints from the front door—not even going there. But before you set into me, we were able to lift prints from the handles on the wheelchair.”

  “And?”

  “And there wasn’t a match in AFIS.”

  Automated Fingerprint Identification System was a database used to store, obtain, and analyze fingerprint data found in relation to committed crimes.

  Jody Marsh, although she would have been printed as an in-home nurse, would have had her records stored in another database. To gain access to that would require another warrant, in addition to the one already served for her DNA.

  “What about Jody Marsh’s DNA?” Madison asked, assuming it had been obtained by this point.

  “Doesn’t match either cigarette.”

  Unless evidence became known and implicated Jody Marsh, Madison was going to have to focus the investigation elsewhere.

  Cynthia carried on. “Now, the direction of the blow indicates the assailant was around five and a half feet tall, give or take a few inches,” Cynthia clarified.

  The mystery man from Club 69 was described as short. For a guy, that height would definitely qualify. Maybe if Madison went back to the club, the girls would know where he measured to against the doorframe… It was a reach, but it was a possibility.

  Then it hit her.

  “What about street cameras? Are any pointed at the back entrance to Club 69? Or behind the soup kitchen?” Madison asked.

  Cynthia shared a look with Terry. “That’s a good question,” she said. “I can call the city and see if any are pointed in the direction of the club, but we won’t hear back right away. Regarding the soup kitchen, there was a camera, but it’s live feed only.”

  “You looked into it for Sovereign already?” Madison asked.

  Cynthia nodded. “Sometimes I have to do work for his cases, too.”

  “Hardy har.”

  “Hey, that’s my line,” Terry said.

  Madison shot him a glare. He shrugged.

  “You got anything else for us?” she asked.

  Cynthia fanned her hand over the table and all the images. “As you can see, there’s a lot here. And with the three cases tying together, it’s all a rush and due yesterday. I’ve got the team in for a twelve-hour shift today.”

  By “the team,” she meant Mark, Jennifer, and Samantha.

  “There’s no doubt in my mind that both Zoe and the vagrant—Charlie—were killed by the same instrument,” C
ynthia added. “An X-ray will show the wound better, but it’s oval shaped. If you find that, you’ll be closer to finding who did this.”

  Madison recognized the throwaway phrase, the implication obvious. What she hated was that the longer it took them to sort through the facts, the longer the killer lived a full life.

  “And what are your thoughts on Faye?” Madison asked.

  “I doubt a sixty-eight-year-old woman was the prime target. I think she was rather like Charlie. An innocent bystander in all this.”

  “I agree. And, Cyn, about your calling the city—don’t worry about it. Terry and I will go to the club and see if we can spot a street cam.”

  Cynthia gave her a thumbs-up. “Okay. Keep me posted.”

  “Likewise.” Madison gave her friend a tight smile as she and Terry left.

  It was time to find out what the autopsy could tell them.

  -

  Chapter 40

  “I GUESS YOU OWE ME FORTY.” Terry held out his hand, palm up, and flexed his fingers. “The nurse didn’t kill Faye Duncan. I seem to recall a bet where you said she did it.”

  Madison brushed past him down the hall, now recalling the actual particulars of their bet. “I actually said someone from Heaven’s Care was involved, not Jody Marsh specifically.”

  Terry came up on her side, and his smile had become a frown.

  “We could amend our existing bet,” she began, “I say this case will be solved by dinner tomorrow.” She was grasping but doing her best to stay positive. Maybe the wager would help.

  “Tomorrow?”

  She stopped walking and held her hand out. “Let’s shake on it.”

  “For forty dollars or double or nothing again?” he asked.

  “Eighty dollars? That’s getting a little rich.”

  “What? You can’t afford to—”

  They shook on the bet.