by Rebecca Deel
Ethan knelt beside her chair and cradled her small hand between his large ones. His dark gaze held hers. “Madison, I’m trying to protect you both. Nick gave me his word he wouldn’t run. I believe him.” He squeezed her hand. “I thought you might stay here tonight. Until I figure out what’s going on, I’m not taking chances with your safety or his.”
The wildfire burning inside her gut vanished and left her with a bitter taste of regret in its wake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a shrew.”
“Save the apology,” he said. “You might want to take it back if I can’t unravel this puzzle soon.” Ethan patted her hand and stood. “I’ll check on you later.”
She reached for Nick’s hand and laid her forehead against their clasped hands. Nick worried about her, but she feared he was the one in danger. Ethan and Rod had to figure this out before it was too late.
Needles jabbed Nick’s hand and dragged him from deep sleep. He opened his eyes and squinted at the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, grateful for a low-level headache instead of the earlier atomic explosion. Trays rattled, phones rang, nurses in rubber-soled shoes carried on muted conversations outside his hospital room.
He turned his head and smiled. Madison had fallen asleep with her head pillowed on his hand. He caressed her cheek with his free hand. She jolted awake. “Hey, sleeping beauty.”
“How are you?”
“Better.” He tugged on her hand. “Come here,” he whispered. He kissed her, tunneling his fingers in her hair. Oh, yeah. A kiss well worth enduring a headache.
She eased away and smiled.
“Well, this looks interesting. Makes a good front page photo.” Megan smirked at them from the doorway holding a white paper bag in one hand, gym bag in the other.
Madison grinned. “Hi, Meg.” She resumed her seat, her hand still clasped in Nick’s.
“What did you bring me?” Nick asked.
She laughed, handed him the paper bag. “Chocolate chip cookies from Serena. Chocolate is the Cahill remedy for everything. Mom’s sending your shower stuff and change of clothes by Josh.” She slid the gym bag to Madison. “Change of clothes for you, Maddie, along with toiletries.” Meg sat in the vacant chair. “How are you, Nick? I heard about the concussion.”
“Better than a few hours ago,” he said. She pulled a notebook and pen from her handbag. “You here as a reporter?”
“Weekend edition of the Gazette runs tomorrow. Tell me your side of the story.”
When he’d finished relating his call from Bates, she interrupted. “How did he get your cell number?”
“Handed out my card to a few early-opening stores in town this morning.”
Meg tapped her pen on the pad, her lips pursed. “Including the pharmacy?” When he nodded, she leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “Bet he got the number from Jenny. Did you talk to her?”
“She was late this morning. I left the store a few minutes after 8:00.”
Meg jotted a few notes on her pad. “Did Bates say what he wanted?”
“Talk; said he’d meet me at the trail.”
“Hmm.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. Nick smothered a grin. Madison possessed the same habit. “What time were you supposed to meet him?”
Megan excelled in her profession. She squeezed every bit of pertinent information from his throbbing head over the next few minutes. He had worked with detectives who weren’t as thorough as Meg.
She finally flipped her notepad closed and shoved it in her purse. “Nothing like handing Ethan an open-and-shut case. If you didn’t kill Bates, then who did? Know someone else who held a grudge against him?”
Nick shoved a hand through his thick hair, flinching at the jab of pain from his stitches. “No.”
“Better find somebody else with a reason to murder Bates, or you’ll trade your hospital room for a jail cell.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nick signed the final release papers with a flourish and grabbed Madison’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.” They walked through the lobby into the gray, misty morning. He drew fresh air deep into his lungs, glad to be away from the hospital’s antiseptic smells and tasteless food. “Know where your car’s parked or do we cruise the parking lot?”
She laughed and tugged him to the right. “Jackson left it in Row D, under a light.”
“First stop’s the police station. Ethan’s expecting me.”
“He told me last night.”
“He came by last night?” He stared at her, puzzled. “I don’t remember that.”
“He stopped in about 11:00 on his way home. You were asleep.”
The news irritated him. He gave Ethan his word. “Hard to skip town in an airy hospital gown with a soldier stationed in your room reading a Robert B. Parker novel.”
“He wasn’t afraid you’d skip. He checked your improvement.”
He tossed her a skeptical look, but refrained from comment.
Her gaze searched his face. “Will Ethan arrest you?”
“Maybe.” The pain in her eyes hurt him. “I would if the circumstances were reversed.”
“You didn’t kill Bates.”
He steered her toward the car. “But Ethan must follow the evidence, and it all leads back to me.”
Nick narrowed his eyes. Something under the windshield wiper flapped in the breeze. A cold ball of ice formed in the pit of his stomach. He drew closer, recognized the familiar green floral paper.
“Is that what I think it is?” Madison reached for the bundle.
He released her hand and brushed her arm aside. “Let me.” Three more dead white roses and a small rectangular white card. He tugged his shirt free from his jeans and covered his hand. He peeled back the paper and pushed aside a rose stem blocking his view of the card. “He can’t save you.”
His clenched his teeth, frustration boiling inside him. The stalker baited him, taunting his ineffectiveness at keeping this madness from touching Madison. He and Luke believed the stalker was Bates, but evidence to the contrary stared him in the face. He rubbed the back of his neck. The irony almost made him laugh. The stalker roamed free, trailing Madison, and he could be arrested for first degree murder.
Ethan shut the office door with his foot and handed Nick a mug of coffee. The PI’s movements were tense, his face pale. He imagined Nick had a grizzly-sized headache. “No useable prints from the card.”
Nick nodded, sipped his coffee. “What’s next?”
“Evidence against you is growing, Nick.” Ethan leaned back in his chair. In the squad room, Madison sipped her own cup of coffee while talking on her cell phone. He feared more dark days loomed ahead for her. He swiveled to face Nick. “Off the record, I want answers to a couple of questions. How long have you been in love with Madison?”
Nick stared into his coffee mug. When he raised his head, a hint of vulnerability showed in his eyes. “Since the night Luke died.”
“And how long before that?”
Nick blanched. “Look, it’s not what you think.”
“How long, Nick?” His tone slashed like the fine edge of a sharp razor.
He sighed. “I’ve been half in love with Madison since the first time I met her.” His expression grew fierce. “But she was my partner’s wife. I spent very little time with her and never without Luke. I kept my social calendar full, and double-dated a few times with Luke and Madison. Nothing else. How I felt about her was my problem. Neither of them knew.”
Ethan studied Nick’s flushed face, arms folded across his chest. “This is the way it’s going to play out. You fell in love with Madison and decided to get rid of her husband.”
“No.”
“You looked up Bates when he left jail, offered to pay him if he’d kill Luke. You set up the dead roses and notes so Bates appeared to be stalking her. Benefited both of you. Bates got revenge; you got the woman of your dreams. He murdered Luke. You comforted Madison and started the slow campaign to win her heart.
“Bates came
back for more money. You wouldn’t pay him, so he tried to kill you. He missed. By chance, he saw Serena on the evening news and tracked her to Otter Creek and Madison. He began where you left off with the roses. She would run to you for help. When you arrived, he sent more roses, trashed her car and torched The Bare Ewe. Just pure bad luck his car broke down on a town road, and we found the rifle he used to shoot you.”
When Nick tried to interrupt, Ethan silenced him with a wave of his hand. “You confronted him in Hank’s, where a crowd of witnesses confirm you threatened him. Bates scheduled a meeting to discuss the financial arrangements in exchange for him not telling Madison the whole sordid tale. You met him on a deserted trail and killed him. The threat’s neutralized, you get the beautiful princess and live a fairytale life.”
“No.” Furious, Nick jumped to his feet and slammed his palms on Ethan’s desk. “It isn’t true.”
“Sit down, Santana,” Ethan’s voice was cold and hard as steel. Madison took a couple of steps toward his office, fear stamped on her face. He frowned, caught her eye, and shook his head. She jerked to a stop, bit her bottom lip and turned away.
Nick resumed his seat, his black eyes glittering, hands balled into fists.
Ethan lowered his voice. “Phone records list calls to Madison’s number three or four times a week since Luke died, most after midnight. Conversations lasted at least 30 minutes, an hour or longer on average. Financial records show you sent roses to her every other week since the accident.”
“Sounds like you already closed the case. Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
Nick eased back in his chair and rubbed his face with his hands. “Why not?”
Ethan held up his hand and ticked off reasons as he spoke. “One, no eyewitnesses. I only have your word for what happened, and no one’s stepped forward to counter your version. Two, the blow to the back of your head. Hard to knock yourself out like that with nothing close by to use. Three, we found the weapon in your left hand.” His lips curved. “I happen to know you’re right-handed. Four, no defensive wounds, so it couldn’t have been a disagreement that went too far.” He shrugged. “It tells me someone caught you by surprise, which fits your version of events.”
He moved around to sit on the corner of his desk. “Nick, I don’t think you murdered Bates, but someone’s going to a lot of trouble to make it appear you did. And that makes me curious about the stalking incidents. Maybe you couldn’t produce proof of Bates’ guilt because there wasn’t any to find.” He leaned forward, his intense gaze on the wary detective. “I think we approached this problem from the wrong angle.”
Nick frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“What if Madison is the bait and you are the primary target?”
Ethan’s words echoed in Nick’s head. In a flash, the puzzle pieces fell into place and he knew the police chief could be right. Madison didn’t have enemies, unless he counted Charles Howard, a line he still intended to tug. “Oh, man. How could I have missed it?”
“Tunnel vision.” Ethan’s eyes flickered. “Happens a lot with the Cahill women.”
Nick closed his eyes and focused on ragged thoughts twisting in his brain. Hard to do with his head splitting into two halves. If he was the target, why had Luke been killed? Was his death an unfortunate accident? Ethan’s office felt too small, too crowded for him to breathe.
He surged to his feet and stalked to the window. The earlier misty drizzle had given way to bright sunshine. With tree-covered mountains in the distance and blue skies overhead, Nick reached deep for stillness. “If you’re right, how long ago did this vendetta start?” He turned. “Was Luke’s death an accident?”
The police chief spread his hands. “That’s something we’ll have to find out. Think about this, though. If someone wanted to cause you a lot of pain, what better way than to hurt the people you love? Luke and Madison were family to you, unless you dated a girl long-term that Rod and I missed.”
Nick’s laugh was harsh, flat. “None of the women I dated compared to Madison. After a few dates with each, I ended the relationships.” He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. Other questions and fears weighed on his mind, but he shoved them aside, not ready to expose those thoughts to daylight yet. “So what’s our next move?”
“Follow the evidence, tug each thread until the whole web of lies unravels.” Ethan rose. “The TBI ballistics report arrives in about a week. My guess is the result will identify your pistol as the murder weapon.”
Nick understood Ethan’s unspoken statement. If he couldn’t figure out who killed Bates by the end of the week, Ethan would haul him in for more interrogation and may arrest him. With all the evidence heaped against him, a good prosecuting attorney could explain the gun in his left hand and the head injury.
He itched to lash out at somebody, something. Of course, he’d land in physical therapy again when he taxed his weak back muscles. He didn’t relish more physical therapy sessions with Atila the Hun.
As a cop, he tolerated civilians interfering in a case to a point. Now on the other side of the investigation, he lacked authority. He tightened his jaw, anticipating the conflict to come. He didn’t want to antagonize the man he hoped one day would be his brother-in-law, a man he’d come to respect. “I have to dig into this on my own, Ethan.”
The police chief weighed Nick’s words in silence. He inclined his head. “Work on the stalking angle and the fire at the Bare Ewe. Let me deal with Bates’ murder. Our investigations may cross paths, perhaps lead to the same perp.”
Surprised at the easy victory, he folded his arms across his chest. “Why are you so willing to let me investigate?”
“I’d do the same thing if I were in your shoes,” Ethan said. “I’ll do anything necessary to protect the woman I love.”
Nick agreed with the chief’s heartfelt statement. He’d keep Madison safe, even if it meant sacrificing himself. He wanted to marry his gorgeous knitter, love her until he was 100 years old. “Any restrictions?”
“You know the rules of the game, Nick. You aren’t a cop anymore. I want to know anything you find, even minor things.” A pointed look. “Information I can use.”
Nick’s mouth curled. In other words, any information had to be obtained through legal means and hold up under courtroom interrogation. “You have my word.”
Madison parked in her parents’ driveway and grinned at Nick. “Mom said dinner was almost ready. Good thing. The cushion on Rod’s chair was starting to look tasty.” When he didn’t reply, her smile dimmed. After his private discussion with Ethan, Nick gave his statement to Rod. Then the three of them spent a couple of hours in the interrogation room.
When they left the station, Nick refused to talk about the discussion in Ethan’s office. His lone comment about the interrogation was, “They grilled me about what happened at the trail, digging for new details.” He rode to the house in silence.
Nick threw open the passenger door. He slid out, slammed the door and stalked toward the back door of the house. She cringed, half expecting the window to shatter. She shut off her engine and sat in the empty car. Guess he didn’t want to talk right now. After the grilling Ethan put him through, she didn’t blame him.
She leaned her head against the backrest of her seat. Ethan said something in his office that upset Nick, hurt him, something that involved her. She saw it in his eyes when he looked at her. She reached for the door handle, wishing he would confide.
Nick was so different from Luke, a thought that had nibbled at the edge of her mind all day. She and Luke had shared everything from the time they started dating in high school. For him, sharing was as natural as breathing. Nick, on the other hand, was guarded. His feelings were deep, but buried. His emotions peeked through when he played the guitar, the intensity of his emotions feeding his passionate music.
Madison locked her car and climbed the deck steps. She opened the kitchen door on an intense discussion between her parents and Nick. At least, Nick was in
tense; her parents appeared bemused. “If you want me to leave, I’ll understand,” he said, his voice subdued. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” His cheeks were stained a deep red.
Her mother hugged him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Nick. We know you didn’t kill Bates.” She stepped back and smiled. “Now, go wash for dinner. We can’t hold Josh back much longer.”
Nick turned to her father, waiting for him to agree or toss him out on his ear. Madison grinned. Knowing her parents, they’d already talked out this situation before her father came home from Nashville.
“Go on, son,” Aaron said with a smile. “Cahill women don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Yes, sir.” Nick headed for the stairs.
With the dinner dishes rinsed and loaded in the dishwasher, Madison searched for Nick. She found him alone on the deck swing. She held out her hand. “Walk with me.” She ignored the twinge in her hip, remnants of a night filled with nurse-interrupted catnaps in a chair.
She walked in silence, glad for a respite from two days of stress. Monday, she would call her insurance agent and check on her claim. Maybe deliver yarn orders. Her lips twitched. Josh would be happy to see living room carpet instead of bags of yarn. He insisted they gave him nightmares about terrorist sheep laying siege to her house.
They walked to the small park near her parents’ house. By the time they completed the circuit around the park, Madison’s limp became more noticeable.
Nick slowed their pace and guided her to the nearest bench. A cool evening breeze tousled her hair. Starlings moved in mass from one tree to another. Crickets chirped. A honeybee dashed by, finished with pollen-gathering for the day. She wondered if it was one of the bees from Serena’s hives.
“Thank you.”
Madison jerked her head around, eyebrow raised.
