Deadly Impulse

by Carolyn Arnold

  “You! You!” She rose to her feet. The entire time she was wagging her finger. Her shirt was three times her size and hung off her thick frame, and she wore a red visor. Eggs were stuck to her mouth and face, and she had a hairy upper lip.

  Terry stepped between the woman and Madison and held up his hand. “Please take your seat.”

  She watched over Terry’s shoulder. The woman’s finger remained raised.

  “She! She!”

  People were staring now.

  Terry’s stance remained grounded, protective of Madison. “Take a seat,” he repeated.

  The woman’s beady eyes remained fixed on Madison. Enough was enough. Madison maneuvered in front of Terry.

  “Take your seat or we’ll take you downtown.” She steeled herself, ready to take physical action as her insides quaked from the rush of adrenaline. Who knew what this woman was on—or rather, what she should have been on?

  “I see you.” She hunched her head down, snickering.

  Madison went to take hold of the woman’s arm and didn’t even make contact when the woman lashed out. Her fingernails cut into Madison’s flesh.

  “Son of a bitch!” Madison cupped her cheek and pulled her hand back to see that the woman had drawn blood. Now she needed a tetanus shot. Great. She should have left these people to Sovereign.

  “That’s it. You’re coming with us.” Terry cuffed the woman.

  “I see you,” the woman hissed on her way past Madison. Terry glowered at Madison.

  Yes, maybe she should have stayed positioned all nice and safe behind him. Maybe she should just have stayed at home—today and every other day. Period. Like women back in the day when all they did was cater to the men.

  Madison noticed that the one woman behind the counter had stopped midway between the serving tray and a man’s plate. It was there in her eyes. This woman managed the place.

  “We’ll be back to talk to you,” Madison called out to her.

  The woman resumed movement and emptied the loaded ladle onto the plate. She pasted a smile to her face and then said, “Enjoy.”

  The entire time she never took her eyes off Madison.

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  Chapter 48

  THE WOMAN WOULD BE CHARGED with assaulting an officer, but until that happened, Madison and Terry were stuck waiting for a uniformed officer to show up and escort her to a holding cell.

  Madison was in the driver’s seat of the sedan with the visor flipped down and antiseptic spray in one hand. Her cheek was raw and the area surrounding the cut was a bright red. She gingerly dabbed at the wound with a tissue.

  As she worked to clean her face, she saw the woman watching her in the mirror. She scrunched up her face when she noticed that she had Madison’s attention.

  Madison snapped the visor back in place. She was too angry to talk. Too angry to react. She was just going to sit there and pretend she had patience while they waited for an officer to get this woman out of her sight…and so the woman could no longer see her.

  She leaned her head back and shut her eyes in an effort to detach from the current situation and soothe the uneasiness pulsing through her. It wasn’t working.

  She shot forward. “Where the hell is—”

  Flashing lights appeared in the rearview mirror. The woman’s eyes were still on her. They had just jumped mirrors. God, this woman gave her the creeps.

  Madison bounded out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

  Officer Tendum got out of the patrol car and strode toward her. Of all the uniforms, why did it have to be him? The day had just started, and she was ready to crawl into a hole.

  Terry was working to get the woman out of the backseat.

  “Ouch.” Tendum pointed to her cheek. “It looks like she did a number on you.”

  “Conversing isn’t necessary.” Madison glanced back to Terry, who had finally met with success. He handed the woman over to Tendum.

  “Book her for assaulting a police officer,” Terry said.

  “Will do.” Tendum assumed control over the woman, guiding her by her cuffed wrists. “This way.”

  Madison rolled her eyes and shook her head. “This is a joke.”

  “You’ve got to let what happened go.”

  “Let it go? He shouldn’t even wear a badge, let alone be entrusted with a car.” Hearing her words, she finally understood the exemption. Tendum was a man; therefore, he received a pass. Now if she had been in the same predicament as Tendum had—which she never would be, as she would have pulled the trigger—she’d be out on her ass. And deservedly so.

  “How is Higgins these days?” Terry asked her.

  “I like how you sail right over this.” She swept her hand in front of her. “And it might work as a nice diversion if Tendum wasn’t the reason Higgins is on modified duty.”

  “I’m not trying to sail over anything, Maddy, and I’m not going to talk about this again. Cut the kid some slack.”

  “Cut him some—”

  “If Higgins can forgive him, so can you.” Terry left her standing there and headed back toward the soup kitchen.

  She hurried to catch up with him. “Let me take the lead in there.”

  “Guess we’ll see if you beat me to it.” He opened the door, and she snuck under his arm.

  She strode toward the woman from earlier, badge held up high. “Detective Knight.” She bobbed her head to indicate behind her. “Detective Grant. Do you have someplace we could talk in private?”

  She placed the ladle she held into the serving tray and addressed the burly man beside her. “Barry, I’m taking five.”

  “Sure. Don’t bother me none.” Barry’s eyes traced over Madison and Terry.

  THE WOMAN’S NAME WAS VALERIE Armstrong, and she led them into an office that made Madison’s desk look organized. Papers were stacked on four three-drawer horizontal filing cabinets that lined the back wall and atop a table that served as a desk. There was a computer monitor, but Madison couldn’t see a keyboard. It must have been buried beneath the sheets that were fanned over the desk’s surface, along with an assortment of pens, markers, and paper clips. It was as if an office-supply-laden tornado had passed through.

  Valerie gestured around the space. “Sorry there’s no place to sit. If there were, I’d offer you a chair.” Her eyes met Madison’s, diluting the sincerity of her offer. “You know that I spoke to another detective…blond hair, good-looking.”

  It was easy to see Sovereign as “good-looking” when you didn’t know his personality.

  “We’re just here to ask some follow-up questions,” Madison began. “You have a camera that covers the back alley, but it’s live-feed only, correct? It doesn’t record?”

  “No, it doesn’t. It’s mainly there as a deterrent to make people think twice about trying anything.” Valerie crossed her arms and angled her head. “I told all this to that other detective.”

  “Who is responsible for watching the feed?” Madison asked.

  “Barry.”

  “He was the one serving food next to you a moment ago?”

  “Yes. We don’t have the funding to hire someone to monitor that thing full time. We’re happy to just keep the doors open, give people food for their bellies.”

  What was the point of having the surveillance equipment if no one watched it?

  Madison steadied her patience. Her cheek was welted and throbbing. It wasn’t as if her mood had been a good one to start with today. She really needed a solid night’s sleep.

  “Is anyone here between midnight and two in the morning?” she asked.

  “No. And, again, I told that other detective all this. I’d love to help with your murder investigations, but I’m not sure what else I can say.”

  Investigations. Plural. Madison’s blood heated. “So you know about…?”

  “The
young woman as well? Yes. Although she wasn’t killed in the alley.”

  “Who told you that?” Madison’s question came out as a snarl.

  “The detective.”

  Unbelievable. Here Sovereign was all over her, complaining to the sarge about her overstepping boundaries when he was guilty of that very thing. What nerve he had to tell this woman that Zoe was killed somewhere else.

  “The investigation is still under way,” Madison said coolly, providing a blanket statement.

  Valerie glanced at Terry. “I can only tell you what I’ve been told.”

  Madison took a few deep breaths. If Sovereign were sitting across from her, there might be bloodshed, even though she hated the sight of blood.

  She took another deep inhale and exhale.

  With Kimberly volunteering here, Valerie might have met Zoe, and if so, she might know why Zoe had been in the area.

  Madison pulled up a photograph of Zoe Bell on her phone and showed it to Valerie. “Do you recognize her?”

  Valerie nodded. “He showed me her photograph.”

  Son of a bitch—Sovereign, and the fact that she hadn’t met Zoe.

  “We”—she gestured between herself and Terry—“believe that she was killed in the back alley at the same time as the homeless person.” So much for presenting a united front as Stiles PD and for keeping case particulars confidential. “Did you know the girl? Did she volunteer here?”

  “Before he showed me her picture, I had never seen her before.”

  “What about this woman?” Madison showed her a photo of Kimberly Bell.

  Valerie leaned over to get a good look. “Her, I know. She volunteers here.”

  If Madison relayed that Zoe was Kimberly’s daughter now, she might lose Valerie to an emotional reaction. She couldn’t take that chance. “Would Kimberly have any reason to be here between midnight and two in the morning on a Saturday?”

  “Not that I can imagine.”

  “She has a key to the building,” Madison realized aloud. The fact had been contained within Valerie’s response.

  Valerie’s eyes slid from the phone to meet Madison’s eyes. “How did you know that?”

  “Well, you would have said things differently if she didn’t. When asked if she had any reason to be here, you would have said that the kitchen is closed at that time.”

  The woman nodded. “Reading between the lines.”

  “Something that is necessary for the job,” Madison said.

  Valerie dipped her head. “Fine. Yes, she did have a key. Sometimes she’d open up. She is a huge help around here.”

  Open up… Madison ruminated on that. A place like this, located where it was, would have more than just a camera. “Does the place have a security system?”

  “Of course.”

  Many companies assigned different passcodes to each employee. “Did Kimberly have an individual access code to disarm it?”

  “Yes.” The word slithered out on a hiss with a tinge of uncertainty.

  Madison glanced at Terry. Again, Sovereign’s lack of thoroughness was epic. She and Terry would get ahold of the security system records and find out if Kimberly, or anyone else, disarmed the place that night. Why Kimberly would have been here in the first place was another issue. She could have killed her daughter and the vagrant in the alley without it even involving the soup kitchen.

  “Did Kimberly use her alarm code Saturday during the wee hours?” Madison asked.

  “I can find out.” Valerie gathered some papers and moved them aside to uncover her keyboard. A highlighter fell to the floor in the process, but Valerie didn’t bother picking it up. She started typing.

  With each keystroke, the fact that Sovereign had interfered with her investigation hammered into Madison’s skull. If he could ask questions about her case, she could do the same. “You didn’t happen to know him, did you? The homeless person?”

  Valerie stopped typing and shook her head. “No, sorry. I saw him in the alley several times, but he never came in. I even personally invited him on a few occasions. He said he wasn’t into accepting ‘no handouts,’ phrased just that way.”

  It was curious why he decided to position himself near their back doors when he had no interest in taking advantage of their services.

  Madison nodded at what Valerie had said, and Valerie went back to her computer. “As I suspected, there are no entries in the system at that time.”

  It could never be that easy, could it?

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  Chapter 49

  MADISON AND TERRY LEFT THE soup kitchen and walked to the back alley. With the camera from the soup kitchen rendered useless, they were at a dead end. There were no other businesses that backed up to the alley and no cameras were mounted anywhere. Even apartment buildings with bars on the windows that would fetch more a month in rent than they were worth didn’t offer any surveillance equipment.

  Madison sighed and scanned the area one last time, then got back in the car. Her phone rang as she was buckling up. Cynthia called to confirm she had the footage from the city’s camera and would have it ready when Madison and Terry arrived back to the station.

  And, true to her word, when they walked in, Cynthia had the black-and-white video onscreen.

  “What happened to you?” Cynthia asked, angling her head to assess the damage to Madison’s cheek. Her hand reached out to touch the wound, but Madison shrunk back before her friend made contact. Shivers laced through her just anticipating Cynthia’s fingers brushing against the inflamed skin.

  “Please,” said Madison, “let’s not go there.”

  “What did you say or do to piss someone off?”

  Terry chuckled.

  Madison glared at him, then at Cynthia. “Excuse me. How could you even believe that I have the ability to piss people off?” She played innocent and then continued. “Killers probably hate me because I put them behind bars.” She carried on with the monologue in her mind. The word tenacious came up and then carried over to thoughts of Troy. She had been rough on him yesterday, and their interaction was partially to blame for her shoddy sleep and foul mood.

  Madison gestured to the video. “Let’s watch it.”

  Cynthia raised her brows. “What, are you not going to tell me?”

  “Nope.” She stared at the screen, waiting for the video to start. It didn’t.

  Cynthia was looking at Terry, arms crossed.

  “Some old lady attacked her,” Terry said.

  “Really?” Cynthia’s facial expression was a mix of amusement and fascination.

  Madison leveled her eyes on her friend. “It doesn’t really matter. Let’s watch the video.”

  Cynthia held up her hands and pulled a remote out of her pocket. The video came to life.

  The time stamp was for nine in the evening four weeks ago. Apparently, Nick Stanley had lost track of the days as he’d thought it was three weeks ago. It was dusky from nightfall setting in, but the picture was rather clear. But still not clear enough to make out facial details.

  Cynthia paused it. “Just so you know, I worked through to find this incident you said that man had witnessed. I searched the time frame you requested, starting a month back, and got lucky quickly. I only had to work through a couple evenings.” Cynthia hit “play” again.

  The man came out of the club, close to a run. He sidled up next to his car and opened the driver’s door, but he didn’t get in. He pulled out his cell, dialed, and then put it to his ear. He rested his left arm on the roof of his car and talked animatedly. His free arm was to the camera, and it was coursing through the air, up, down, left, and right. Flailing.

  There was something about his movements that was familiar. “Can you zoom in?” Madison asked.

  “I’ll see.”

  The video was paused in a position where the man’s arm was down. C
ynthia went over to the computer, clicked here and there, and enlarged the picture.

  His facial profile was too pixelated to distinguish.

  “What about the license plate?” Terry asked.

  Madison glanced at him. That was going to be her next question.

  Other vehicles blocked part of the plate and what remained was at a sharp angle, but Cynthia could work miracles.

  She did her thing with the computer, selecting the plate and dragging it to another monitor and into another program, where she made some adjustments. She grabbed corners of the image and straightened it.

  The letters AAW stared back at them.

  Cynthia keyed those letters into the DMV database and searched in Stiles. In seconds, they had their answer.

  “Son of a bitch!” Madison balled her fists and stomped her heel into the floor. She shook her head and looked at Terry. “Winston made me let him go.”

  “Who is he?” Cynthia asked.

  “Ben Dixon.”

  “The one whose DNA and prints we have to test?”

  “That would be him.” Madison paused for a second and then continued. “Did you watch much more of this segment? Does the video show him going around the club to the back door?”

  “He came out the front door and got on the phone—the part you saw—and then he leaves.”

  A minor technicality. He could have argued with Zoe on another occasion. She hadn’t forgotten the hair color issue, either. The girls and Nick had said the man who’d argued with Zoe was blond.

  Madison hurried to the door.

  “Just a second,” Cynthia called out.

  “What is it? He could be anywhere by now.”

  “Surprised you didn’t ask, but just so you know, Samantha’s working on the DNA comparisons today. I’ll let you know as soon as I get something.”

  “Thanks, Cyn,” Madison said while on the move. She’d turn on the lights to part traffic and get to Ben Dixon faster. It was one thing not knowing who the killer was—that was the cat and mouse game—but it was quite another thing to have had the mouse in her claws and have let him get away.

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