Simon Says Die (19 page)

“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

P
IERCE 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.

“Y
OU'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.”

M
ADISON 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?”

She shoved back from the table and stood.

“Sit down, Mrs. McKinley. We aren't finished.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“No.”

“Then we are most definitely finished.” She strode toward the door, but the detective jumped up and grabbed her arm.

The door burst open. Pierce stood in the doorway.

“Let her go.”

The detective released Madison and swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he looked up at Pierce. “The interview isn't over.”

“Sure it is.” He guided Madison out the door.

“What are you doing?” Casey whispered furiously as he followed them.

“What I should have done in the first place.” He turned to Madison. “Do not say another word without an attorney.”

Hamilton came running up to them, shaking his head in disgust at the detective. “She's not leaving yet. We aren't finished asking questions.”

“Yes, you are.” He led Madison to the reception area, with Casey and Hamilton following close behind.

“I can hold her overnight without arresting her, Agent Buchanan.”

Pierce turned around. “You'd better decide right now how you want to play this. If you hold her, the front-page story in tomorrow's newspaper will be about Savannah-Chatham Metro PD's harassment of a young widow and how they threatened to arrest her when she called the police for help—three times—because a man was stalking her. The story will explain that you're blaming that same widow for the crimes of the very man who abducted her. Shall I continue?”

Hamilton's face turned bright red. “You're being entirely unprofessional.”

“I might say the same about you. You're taking the easy way out, instead of investigating these crimes the way you should.”

“Go on, get out of my station. Make sure you get her a good lawyer. I promise you. She's going to need it.”

M
ADISON HAD TO
practically jog to keep up with Pierce and Casey's long strides as they exited the police station. She was really, really tired of all these long-legged men making her run all the time.

“You just stirred up a hornet's nest.” Casey tossed Pierce's car keys to him.

“It was either intimidate the man or let him railroad Madison into jail. We have to act fast. He's not going to drop this.”

“Act fast how?” Madison asked.

He didn't seem to hear her. He and Casey continued to talk about the case while they walked through the parking lot, as if she weren't there. The only way she knew Pierce hadn't forgotten about her was that his hand was on the small of her back.

That hand might as well have been a leash for as much attention as he was giving her.

“Guys, I'd like to be included in any plans you're cooking up. It is my life after all.”

Pierce opened the passenger door and handed her the car keys. “Turn on the heater and lock the door. I'll be right back.”

“Wait, I want to—”

He closed the door, shutting her inside. She slapped her hand against the window in frustration as he walked between some parked cars to another aisle, apparently to Casey's car.

She tried to sit patiently, but the more time that passed, the angrier she got. It was her freedom, her life at stake. She needed to get going, find Damon. And she knew just where to start.

She shoved the keys into the ignition.

A
FTER TALKING TO
Casey, and getting Madison's knives and gun from him, Pierce headed back toward his car. He was tempted to start calling Madison “trouble” like her brother did. She'd certainly caused
him
a lot of trouble today, and it wasn't even lunchtime yet.