“We’re just fooling around.” Cynthia offered an explanation but didn’t make a movement to put the crayon back.
Madison withdrew her hand that held the red one and put her arm under the table.
“That’s what they’re here for. May I bring you a drink while you look at the menu?”
Neither woman took their eyes off the server.
“Glass of red, Cyn?” Madison asked.
“Bottle.”
Madison glanced at her friend, confirming the smile she had heard in her voice. She looked back to the server. “A bottle.”
He smiled at her and she felt her heart tap.
Curse men. Curse good-looking men who smelled like that!
“Which one?” He opened a menu that sat on the edge of the table. “We have several reds. There.” He pointed to the wine list, and Madison made the executive decision. But instead of verbalizing the choice, she pointed. Her finger brushed his.
“All right. It’s coming right up, ladies.”
With him out of earshot, Cynthia said, “What was that?”
“What was what?” Madison drew another X.
“That.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell you don’t.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Maddy, it’s me.”
“Fine, so he’s fine. Big deal. Let’s move on.”
“When was the last time you got—”
“You say that word, I will slap you here.” Madison laughed and looked up from her drawing.
“He is good looking, and he smells good too.” Cynthia adjusted her black-framed glasses.
“Yeah, he does.”
“Huh.” Cynthia pointed a finger at Madison.
“Hey, I’m not blind or dull of senses.” She dropped the crayon in the plastic cup and pulled the menu over hoping to instigate a subject switch. “I already know what I have in mind anyhow.”
“Oh, yeah, beef.” Cynthia winked and then bobbed her eyebrows.
Madison didn’t say anything.
“What? What did I do now?” Cynthia splayed a hand on her chest. “Would I imply anything improper?”
“Yes, you would.”
“So.”
“So, that’s why I luv ya, but if you tell anyone—”
“I know. You’ll kill me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Madison smiled.
“He is really good looking, though, don’t you think?”
Madison shoved her foot against Cynthia’s leg.
Cynthia put her hands up. “Fine.”
“How are things going with you and whatshisname anyhow?”
“You mean Lou, Sovereign’s partner? Fine.” Cynthia buried her face in the menu.
“Cyn.”
The menu slowly lowered. “Can I pull a line from you? I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What? Are you getting married and having kids?”
Cynthia coughed. “You trying to kill me? Seriously? Me? I don’t think so.”
“It is getting serious, though, isn’t it? I can tell. Your eyes give you away. You also want to pawn the waiter off on me and not stake claim to him yourself.”
Her friend leaned across the table, laying the open menu out in front of her. “Between us.”
“Of course.”
“I might care about him.”
“Care about him? And you tell me I have issues in the romance department? You’re just as bad.”
“No, there’s a difference between you and me.”
The server returned and sat down two glasses in front of the women and displayed the bottle of wine, holding it at an angle as if pitching it for auction. He opened it and poured some in Cynthia’s glass.
She took it to her lips, drained back a small mouthful, and nodded her approval.
He smiled at her. “Excellent.” He poured her a half-glass and then put some in Madison’s. “I’ll give you ladies some more time, and then you can let me know what you decide,” he said with his attention on Cynthia, only offering Madison a cursory glance before leaving the table.
“He likes you. They always like you.”
“Don’t be a hater.” Cynthia laughed.
Madison took a drag on her wine. Her thoughts not so much on jealousy of the male attention her friend always garnered like metal shavings to a magnet, but envious of her frivolity. Cynthia possessed the ability to rein them in but was never serious about any of them. It seemed men were disposable to her, and despite their claims of love, Cynthia turned them all down—at least until now.
“So, Lou?”
Her friend took a few swallows of wine, and her eyes danced over other patrons, avoiding Madison.
“I’m your friend, Cyn. Tell me.”
“Like I said, I care about him.”
“Unprecedented.”
“Yeah, especially if you’re talking about caring for more than his ability to perform magic in bed.”
Madison laughed. “Magic in bed.”
“Hey, I’m trying to keep it PG here.”
It was Madison who held up her hands now.
Cynthia took a deep breath. “I like him more than I should. The problem is we spent too much time talking. I see it in your face. Don’t say a word. It’s true, though. You spend too much time talking, you have things in common, and then this thing happens.”
“This thing?” Madison’s mouth formed the letter O.
“Yeah. Love. You can say it. It makes me sick actually.” Cynthia reached for her wine again.
“I can’t believe—”
“I know—happening to me? Who would have figured this? I trade men in like shoes. I told him we have to end it.”
“Why would you—” Madison paused. Who was she to impart some great wisdom about love and relationships? She did her best to steer clear of them. She viewed the word love as an invention people made up to make themselves feel better, to make themselves feel as if they belonged.
“Yeah, I know it’s deep. But now I’m hoping it’s not over. Know what I mean?”
Madison nodded. She knew exactly. She hadn’t felt much different too long ago. In the end, though, things didn’t work out. She sometimes wondered if she were simply a self-fulfilled prophecy. She didn’t believe in love, so she didn’t have it.
“Oh, never mind all this. It’s supposed to be fun tonight.” Cynthia offered a weak smile to Madison, who returned it.
“We can talk about this—”
“No, thank you. I’ve already talked about it enough. Really.” Cynthia held up her glass in a toast, and Madison raised hers to meet it. “To our independence.”
The server arrived to take their orders and as they waited for the food to come, they passed the time talking about men and the complications of relationships.
About forty minutes after ordering, their meals were set in front them. Cynthia had a seafood pasta with lobster tails and scallops in a cream sauce. Madison had the steak she had come for. She picked up her fork and steak knife and sliced off a portion of the prime rib. Pink juices flowed from it and met with her side of garlic mashed potatoes.
“How’s the diet going?” Cynthia asked with a mouthful of pasta.
Madison narrowed her eyes and put a forkful of beef in her mouth. She took time chewing it, savoring every morsel. She swallowed it and felt as if she were saying good-bye to heaven. “What diet?”
A couple hours later, and the same number of bottles of wine, they were back in a cab headed to Madison’s apartment.
“Hope you don’t mind if I spend the night.”
“No, not at all.” Madison felt at peace, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a while. With the sensation, however, came thoughts of the case, of Lacy, and of all the men in her life. “Yo
u know I was talking with Bates today.”
“Oh no. Fun, remember?” Cynthia slapped Madison’s arm.
“I’ve been good all night.” Madison smiled.
“Okay, fine. By all means, continue.” Cynthia rolled her hand, and to Madison’s wine-induced vision, it had motion swirls around it.
Madison’s mind remained on Bates. “I think he knows who killed Thorne.”
“That was the case ruled a suicide?”
Madison caught the cab driver’s eyes glance up at them in the rearview mirror. “It was, but it isn’t.”
“You’re sure of this?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Cynthia settled back in the seat and rested her head. “Okay, so who do you think did it?”
“I’m wondering if it was Bates’s friend, Hennessey. I really think he’s the one who made Lacy pull the trigger on herself, or did it himself. He beat her. He was jealous of her. It would make sense, by extension, to kill the other guy.”
“What does Terry think about all this?”
“He doesn’t know about my most recent thoughts on this. I haven’t even filled him in about Lacy’s pregnancy yet.”
Cynthia lifted her head and turned to Madison as if saying, what do you mean.
Madison told her about Terry, the situation with his wife and the baby, and his taking a personal day because of it.
“We spend the entire evening together and you don’t say one word about this?” Cynthia asked.
“You said it was supposed to be fun.”
“Yeah, fun, which meant not about work. Is he doing all right?”
Madison lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’ve tried reaching him a few times and left a message. Figured I’d update him once we connected.”
“And he hasn’t—”
Madison shook her head.
“Weird.”
“That’s what I thought. I can’t make him talk to me.”
“You’re kidding, right? You can make a suspect sign a confession against their will. You can make Terry talk.” Cynthia rolled her head, still resting against the back of the seat, and looked at Madison. “What is it?”
Madison studied her friend’s eyes. If anyone would understand, she would, but thinking about verbalizing her feelings made her feel stupid.
“I don’t know what to say.” She was honest. She wasn’t good with the whole love and baby thing.
“You say ‘Terry, how are you and Annabelle doing?’ You take it from there.”
“But what if they’re not okay, what if they need—”
“Maddy.” Cynthia reached out and rested her hand on Madison’s forearm. “He’s not expecting you to solve this. He knows who you are and knows what you’re capable of. You can be a terrific listener. Just don’t approach this as a case.”
“I don’t know anything about babies.”
“And that’s fine. Just be there for him. That’s all you can do, and trust me, that’s all he’ll expect.” Cynthia smiled at her. It lasted briefly as it gave way to fatigue.
“You’re right.”
“Yes, Maddy, I know I am.” Cynthia laughed and faced forward. “And by the way, I’m definitely crashing at your place tonight.”
Madison rolled her eyes and smiled. “I kind of figured that. Just remember, no smoking in the apartment.”
-
Chapter 41
MADISON LET CYNTHIA HAVE HER bed, and she opted for the couch. Her mind, as normal, was racing with thoughts about the case, concern over Terry, and even the handsome server at the restaurant. She smiled when his face went through her mind.
She lay there staring at the ceiling and the city lights that danced across it. She thought she heard the knock, but it wasn’t until it happened again that she realized someone was at the door.
She slipped out from under the single blanket she had draped over herself and got up. She glanced at the digital clock on the stove.
12:15 AM.
Who the hell?
She peeked through the peephole and let out a rush of air. “Go away.”
“I need to talk to you.”
She could tell by the way he stood there, and by the transference that projected through the wood barrier between them, he wasn’t going away.
How did the man manage to get into a secured building at this time of night?
She undid the deadbolt and slid the chain. “What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.” Toby Sovereign wore the same leather jacket he had the night before, paired with blue jeans again. He brushed past her. His cologne caressed her senses.
“Keep it down—”
“You have a guy here?” he asked.
“It’s not a guy. What do you want?” She shook her head. Why was she explaining herself to him? She wished she could tell him there was a man waiting for her. “I thought we talked last night.”
He ran a hand through his hair and let it run down his face. “There’s more I need to talk to you about.” He came to her, arms extended, hands searching to touch her.
Her instinct was to step back, but her feet remained planted. Her head was still spinning from the wine, her logic not fully functioning between the alcohol and the lateness of the evening.
“I can’t continue to go on like this,” he said.
“Oh Lord.” She raised her head heavenward. “This isn’t about the case.” She let out a slow, steady exhale.
“A lot of things in life aren’t about a case.” She heard him swallow. His hand touched her and she felt a familiar rush heat her core.
“You should go.”
“Listen, I can’t take back what I did. How badly I messed up, but we could have a future—”
“No. No way.” She rapidly shook her head as she stepped back. He moved with her, his hand still on her arm. “Please let go of me.”
A slew of emotions charged through her, ranging from disgust to betrayal, to the attraction she still felt for him despite her best efforts. She knew that just because he was the first man she fell in love with, it didn’t mean she had to be strapped into the car of an emotional rollercoaster forever. She had her life in order now.
“Have you ever thought about where we’d be today if—”
“If you didn’t fuck that girl?” She stared in his eyes.
He let go of her. “I’ve apologized for that so many times.”
“You were only sorry you got caught.”
In the limited light of the apartment, she swore his eyes misted. Silence sparked between them with a viable force.
“Please go.”
He didn’t move. “I still love you.”
“Oh please.”
“Really, I always have.”
“How many girlfriends have you had since—”
“None of them was you, Maddy. Please, don’t you see I’m broken? I want you back in my life.”
She caught the whiff of whiskey being carried on his breath, the warmth of his exhale blanketing her face. She didn’t pull back. Her heart wanted to hear what he had to say. She’d suffered for nearly a decade having convinced herself she was the only causality of their broken engagement.
“I knew you wouldn’t take me back. You’re too strong. I’ve been trying to find you.”
Her heart raced and she licked her lips. “I’m right here.” Damn wine.
His eyes peered into hers.
She wiped a hand over her mouth. She had to try to reverse what she had said. “I didn’t—”
“I’ve really missed you.”
“Please, don’t do this.” Madison turned her head to look down the hallway to her bedroom. When she turned back to face him, his mouth pressed against hers.
This wasn’t happening!
Warmth surged through her. Her hand reached
out for him and wrapped around his head. She put her fingers in his hair as they kissed. Mouths both open. Hungry.
His taste, the whiskey, and her wine melded in perfection. Her pulse quickened. Her breath became uneven. They moved in sync as if they had never been separated—as if time, pain, and betrayal hadn’t cast the ultimate wedge of divide between them.
She couldn’t do this. She had to find the strength.
She surrendered to his passion, fusing it with her own until her mind wouldn’t shut off all the glaring questions.
Why was he here?
What did he want with her now?
Why did he wait all this time?
The questions were followed by the flashing images of the past. The sheets strewed on the floor. The laughter she had heard as she made her way down the hallway. The woman’s head lifting from beneath the sheets to look at her in the doorway.
Madison pulled back, and he moved with her until she placed a flat palm on his chest and moved out from his embrace.
“Please go.”
He stared at her, as if in a trance. He barely nodded and headed for the door.
“Please don’t come back here again.” She felt the catch in her throat, and as she closed the apartment door, she braced against it.
She cradled her face with her hands. Her chest heaved and tears fell over a love that had broken her heart many years ago and that had returned to tear off the scab.
-
Chapter 42
AFTER HAVING A COUPLE VENTI Starbucks cappuccinos, the haze began to lift. Cynthia watched Madison as she drained the first cup with a blow and a swallow, a brief pause and multiple repeats.
“You all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Madison offered her a smile, a good front to protect how she was really feeling.
They rose early enough to share their morning caffeine in the bistro. They talked little and observed people as the came and went.
“Normally it’s me that feels the booze more.” Cynthia lifted her second cup of coffee to her lips and took a slow draw. “I’m feeling rested. It must be your bed.”
Found Innocent Page 16
