by LENA DIAZ,
“I don’t care where we go, as long as the food is hot. I’ll grab my purse.”
He frowned, as if he’d just thought of something. “I’ll get it.” He crossed to the side table where she’d tossed her purse when they came into the room. He opened it, sighed heavily, and took out her Glock, along with her two magazines of bullets.
She frowned. “How am I supposed to protect you if Damon finds us?”
He shook his head in exasperation. “I’m the protector. You’re the protectee.”
She shrugged and grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “That was too easy. Hand it over.” He held out his palm.
“Hand what over?” She tried her best to look innocent.
“The gun tucked inside your coat.”
She grumbled and unzipped her jacket pocket, then slapped her other Glock onto his palm. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. I just know you.” He strode into his adjoining room. He returned without her guns. “Now we can go.”
“MADISON, WAKE UP.”
She bolted up in her bed at the sound of a voice next to her ear.
Pierce grabbed the gun she was holding and yanked it out of her hand. “Good Lord, woman. You’re going to shoot someone one day.”
“That’s kind of the idea.” She rubbed her eyes and stretched while he unloaded the clip from her 9mm.
“Where in the world did you hide this one? It wasn’t in your suitcase. I checked.”
She shot him a glare as she reached for the bedside clock to see what time it was. “What did you do? Go through my things after I went to bed?”
“Damn straight. I didn’t want to wake up with a three fifty-seven pointed in my face.”
She cursed. Damn, she’d hoped he hadn’t found that one. She’d sliced the bottom panel of her suitcase and had tucked the gun inside. She shrugged, pretending she didn’t care.
“I also didn’t want a Colt forty-five staring me in the face.”
“Damn it.” She curled her hands against the sheets.
“For you to be that mad, I must have found all of your guns. Now I can rest in peace.”
She raised a brow. “ ‘Rest in peace.’ Interesting choice of words.”
He gave her a warning look.
“Good grief.” She blinked at the clock, finally able to focus her bleary eyes. “It’s only seven in the morning.” She plopped back down on the pillows and closed her eyes. “Why did you wake me up so early?”
“Braedon called. There’s been some trouble at your house.”
Her eyes flew open. “Again? I swear I must be cursed. What else could possibly go wrong? Did it burn to the ground or something?”
“Or something. Get dressed. You’ve got twenty minutes. We’ll go through a drive-thru for breakfast on the way.” He grabbed her arsenal of weapons and headed toward the adjoining door.
“Wait.” She scrambled out of bed after him.
He turned, his gaze immediately dipping down to her legs.
She belatedly remembered she was only wearing a thong and a T-shirt. Well, let him look. He’d seen it all before anyway. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Pay attention.”
“I am paying attention.”
“To my face, bucko. What happened at my house?”
He swallowed, hard, then dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “Your house?”
She thumped his stomach. “You said Braedon called.”
He scrubbed his hand across the stubble on his cheeks. His gaze slid back down her T-shirt again, pausing on her breasts, before sliding further south. He cursed beneath his breath and headed through the adjoining door. “Nineteen minutes.” He slammed the door shut between them.
She stomped her foot in frustration. She hated getting up early, hated being ordered around, and hated that he’d taken her guns. Well, most of them anyway. She headed into the bathroom to get ready, and to pull the plastic bag out of the toilet tank where she’d hidden her last remaining gun—a Colt .380—along with two of her favorite knives.
It was amazing what you could duct-tape inside a Wonderbra.
FOR ONCE, PIERCE didn’t argue with Madison when she asked him to let her accompany him to the backyard to see what was going on. He grabbed her hand, hauled her out of his car, and tugged her after him toward the backyard.
There were just as many policemen, if not more, running around her yard and parked on the street as there had been when she’d been abducted. Then she caught sight of another vehicle, parked farther down the block.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
Pierce glanced at her, then followed her gaze. “I know,” he said. “Come on. You’re not leaving my side.”
She looked away from the medical examiner’s van, feeling much less enthusiastic now about seeing what Braedon’s crew had found in her backyard.
As they rounded the corner, Hamilton saw them. He was standing with Tessa and a group of officers beside a hole in the ground. He frowned and hurried over.
“She shouldn’t be here.”
“Where I go, she goes.”
“She doesn’t come inside the yellow tape,” he said, referring to the crime-scene tape surrounding a portion of her yard, up near the house’s foundation.
Pierce motioned toward Braedon, who was standing near the back fence along with his other brothers.
“Braedon, keep Madison with you guys until I finish talking to the lieutenant.”
“No problem.” Braedon smiled and held out his hand. “Morning, darlin’. Would you mind coming with me, please?”
She raised a brow and took his hand. “It’s nice to see at least one of the men in your family knows how to ask, instead of giving orders.”
Pierce rolled his eyes and headed toward the crime-scene tape with Hamilton.
“LOOKS LIKE WE found our missing yardman.” Hamilton held a wallet between his gloved fingers and showed it to Tessa, before showing Pierce the driver’s license inside.
Pierce watched the medical examiner studying the remains that had been placed onto a plastic sheet beside the hole in the ground.
“Now we know why the perp didn’t want my brothers digging the foundation,” Pierce said.
“How long has the vic been dead?” Tessa asked the medical examiner.
“Too long to give you an exact time, or even date. He’s been in the ground for weeks, maybe longer.”
Hamilton threw out a date. “Was he killed before or after that?”
Pierce stiffened. That was the date when Madison had moved to Savannah. “What are you doing, Lieutenant?”
“My job.”
Tessa glanced back and forth between them. “Something I should know here?”
“He died right around that time,” the medical examiner said. “Could be a week before, a week after. The insect activity should help narrow it down, but that’s the best guess right now.”
Hamilton motioned toward a uniformed officer, calling him over.
“Don’t do it, Lieutenant,” Pierce said.
“Back off, Agent Buchanan. You’re interfering with a criminal investigation. I’ll have you arrested.”
Tessa grabbed Pierce’s arm. “What’s going on?”
He gently removed her hand. “Hamilton’s going to arrest Madison for the yardman’s murder.” He started to follow the lieutenant and uniformed policeman across the yard toward Madison, when one of the crime-scene techs collecting evidence in the grave yelled out.
“Lieutenant, I need you over here.”
The lieutenant and officer stopped, then hurried back to the hole in the ground.
“Did you find the murder weapon?” Hamilton asked.
Pierce squatted down beside the yardman’s grave. His stomach lurched with dread when he saw what the technician had seen. Madison’s quip about being cursed might very well be right. “He found a hell of a lot more than that.” He glanced up at the lieutenant. “He found another body.”
Chapter Twenty
PIERCE DOUBLE-PARKED HIS car in front of the police station. He didn’t give a damn if he got towed. Hamilton had refused to let him ride in the patrol car with Madison, and Pierce wasn’t about to let her go into the station without an ally.
He’d encouraged her not to talk to Hamilton without an attorney. But she’d argued that since Hamilton hadn’t arrested her yet, she might be able to answer his questions and get out quickly. Pierce thought that was a horrible idea, and he was still determined to make her listen.
He put his pistol in the glove box, then jumped out of his car and headed over to where Hamilton had parked against the curb.
When the uniformed officer opened the back door for Madison, Pierce shoved past him and held his hand out to help her out of the car.
“Sir, you need to back up,” the officer said.
Pierce flashed his FBI badge. “I suggest you stay out of my way.”
Hamilton slid out of the other side of the car. “It’s okay officer. Let him escort her inside. Then we’ll take her to interrogation.”
Pierce took Madison’s hand, bracing himself for the fear he knew he’d see in her eyes. She held on to him, stood, then looked up.
She wasn’t afraid. She was furious. Her brows were dark slashes, and her blue eyes had turned almost black.
“When this is over,” she said, “I’m going to go all high school on Hamilton.”
Some of the tightness in his chest eased when he saw she still had her flash and fire. “What exactly does ‘go all high school’ mean?”
“Give me a dozen eggs and a roll of toilet paper, and I’ll show you.”
He laughed and turned with her toward the station.
Hamilton was frowning as he watched them.
Madison blew him a kiss.
“For the love of . . . stop baiting him,” Pierce whispered harshly. “You need to take all this a bit more seriously.”
“Oh, I am. Trust me. I am seriously considering all the ways I can make Hamilton’s life hell when I get out of here.”
He shook his head, at a loss for words. Madison was like a force of nature, and he still hadn’t figured out how to contain her.
Hamilton and the uniformed police officer reached them just as Pierce held the door open for Madison.
She started to go inside, then her eyes widened, and she backed up, pulling Pierce with her.
“Mrs. McKinley,” Hamilton said, “you have to—”
“Give us a minute,” she said. “Just one minute.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “Please.”
He crossed his arms. “Make it quick.”
She tugged Pierce over to the shrubs a few feet from the front door, and turned her back on the police.
“What’s going on?” Pierce asked.
Madison looked over her shoulder, then shifted so her back was directly to Hamilton. She reached up and pulled Pierce’s head down to her. “There’s a metal detector in there,” she whispered.
“Well, yes, of course. Why do you . . . ah hell. You have a gun don’t you?”
“A girl has to protect herself.”
“Where is it?” he growled.
She reached into her bra and pulled out a Colt .380 with a piece of silver tape on it.
Pierce couldn’t help but be impressed. “Duct tape. Clever. I should have thought of that.” He grabbed the gun and shoved it into his pants pocket. “Do you have a machine gun in there too?”
“No, but I do have a knife . . . or two. Give me a second.” She started unbuttoning her blouse.
“Oh, for the love of . . . you’re going to be the death of me woman.” He opened his jacket and stepped in front of her to shield her from anyone watching from the street.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Hamilton took a step toward them just as Madison pulled two pieces of duct tape from the inside of her blouse, concealing two small pocketknives.
Pierce grabbed them and shoved them in his other pants pocket just as Hamilton reached them. He stepped around her, blocking Hamilton’s view while Madison buttoned her shirt.
She turned around and pressed her hand lightly against Pierce’s chest. “Don’t mind us, Lieutenant. We were just saying good-bye.” She leaned up and tugged his head down so she could press a kiss against his cheek. “See you inside.”
Hamilton looked thoroughly confused as Madison swept past him.
“Want to explain what that was all about?”
Pierce shook his head. “Actually, no, I really don’t.
Hamilton opened the door. “Are you coming?”
“I’ll catch up in a few minutes.”
He shrugged and went inside.
“What did I miss?” Casey called out, hurrying up the front walk toward Pierce.
“It’s about time. I called you half an hour ago.”
“Excuse me. Been a bit busy with the ‘Simon says’ case.”
“Any leads?”
“Not that have panned out. When you’re finished with this stalker business, maybe I can bribe you to work one more serial-killer case.” He glanced around. “Where’s Mrs. McKinley? You said Hamilton was arresting her?”
“I talked him out of arresting her, for now, but only if she’d answer a few questions. I wanted her to wait for a lawyer, but she’s convinced she can talk Hamilton into letting her go.”
“Big mistake.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So, she’s inside?” Casey started toward the front door.
“Hold on a minute.” He reached into his pockets and grabbed the Colt .380 and knives. “Here, hold these.” He shoved the weapons into Casey’s hand, and tossed him his keys as he ran toward the door. “Mind moving my car? I’m double-parked.”
He didn’t wait for Casey’s answer.
“YOU’RE LUCKY I didn’t let your car get towed after that stunt.” Casey stepped into the interrogation booth, joining Pierce.
Pierce watched Madison through the two-way glass. “She waived her right to an attorney. I couldn’t convince her otherwise. You’d think the sister of a cop would know better. She’s too stubborn for her own good. She thinks that because she hasn’t done anything, she shouldn’t be worried.”
Casey raised a brow. “Theoretically, she’s right. Innocent until proven guilty.”
“Tell that to all the innocent people in prison.” He turned back to the glass, then grimaced at one of her sarcastic responses. “If she doesn’t really kill someone by the time this is over, it will be a miracle.”
MADISON CLASPED HER hands together beneath the scarred wooden table. It was either that or slug the detective sitting across from her. Since her goal was to stay out of prison, hitting him definitely didn’t seem like the way to go.
No matter how satisfying hitting that smirk off his face would be.
Lieutenant Hamilton had already questioned her. Now she was sitting across from another detective answering the same questions over and over.
Her patience shredded a little more with each repeated question. She was beginning to understand how someone could confess to a crime just to end an interrogation, even if they were innocent.
She glanced at the dark rectangle of glass that took up half the wall behind the detective. Was anyone behind that glass watching her? Probably, and if she had to guess she’d bet it was Lieutenant Hamilton, watching her every move. He hadn’t tried to hide the fact that he didn’t believe her story.
“Mrs. McKinley? Would you answer the question please?”
She squeezed her hands together so hard her knuckles throbbed. Forcing a smile, she focused on the young detective in front of her. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”
“I asked how long you’ve been a widow. When did your husband die?”
Her stomach jumped at this new line of questioning. “How is that relevant?”
“Background questions. Standard procedure, ma’am.”
She drew a deep breath. “Over a year now, almost a year and a half.”
>
He scribbled on the notepad in front of him. “How did he die?”
She glanced at the bottle of water in front of her. Her mouth was dry from all this useless talking, and she longed for that water. But she didn’t want to fall into the trap of needing a bathroom and not being allowed to use one. She crossed her arms and offered him a tight smile. “Damon died in a tragic car accident.”
“Tragic? How so?”
“I would think any death is tragic, Detective. My husband was only thirty-five years old. He lost control of his car on a curve and went off the road. There was a fire.” She shivered, remembering the policeman standing in her doorway, telling her about the accident.
And her overwhelming relief that Damon was dead.
“Tell me the identity of the second body found in the shallow grave behind your house.”
She looked at him incredulously. “I told Lieutenant Hamilton, and I’ve already told you, at least two times. I don’t know. How about you answer a question for me? Why would I hire a company to dig up my yard if I’d buried a couple of bodies back there? Doesn’t that sound idiotic to you?”
He tapped his pen on the piece of paper. “Maybe you didn’t realize how deep the construction company would have to dig for the foundation. Having a slab of concrete poured over a grave is a great way to keep anyone from discovering the bodies buried there.”
She tapped her foot impatiently. “Tell me something. Has anyone even tried looking into my abduction? Did they trace back from the place where I woke up in my car when Damon let me go? Please tell me someone is actually doing some real police work, that you aren’t all sitting around hoping I’m going to suddenly confess to killing whoever was buried in my backyard. Because, hey—guess what—not going to happen. I haven’t killed anyone. I’m the victim here.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of the investigation, ma’am. Just answer my questions please.”
She clenched her fists together. “Did you ask me another question, and I missed it?”
He blinked at her, obviously not appreciating her sarcasm. “What’s the identity of the second body buried in your yard?”
