Race Against Time (8 page)

Madison shook her head. “Not really. Reid was my first love. We started dating in ninth grade. We dated on and off for the rest of high school and college and then we got married after we both graduated.”

“Wow, that’s incredible. I don’t know too many people who ended up marrying their high-school sweetheart. That’s a real accomplishment.”

Madison smiled wistfully. “Yeah, it was.”

Lincoln tugged at her shirt. “Mom, come see what I made in school today.”

Madison excused herself and followed her son back to the guest bedroom so she could gush over his art projects. A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and Madison heard Daniel’s booming voice from the front of the house. Madison and Lincoln joined the couple in the kitchen.

“Madison, good to see you again.” He kissed her cheek. “The food smells wonderful.”

Kayla blushed again, soaking in all of Daniel’s attention. No sooner did a round of small talk begin than the door bell rang again. Before Kayla could stand, the door opened and Brody stepped inside.

“Please, join us to eat. We were just about to sit down,” Kayla said, leading him into the kitchen.

Madison drew in a light breath when Brody came into the room. He just seemed to have that effect on people. Anyone could see he was easy on the eyes. He didn’t seem to hold it over people, though. Still there was something about him that was so mysterious, that seemed impossible to get past.

Of course Madison wasn’t supposed to get past any walls that Brody had put up. She was merely an acquaintance. But why did the idea of getting to know him better seem so intriguing, then? She chided herself. She was getting into dangerous territory with her thoughts. She needed to keep her distance.

“Madison.”

She nodded his way. “Brody.”

Lincoln looked up at him. “You’re our neighbor, the one that never talks to us.”

Madison wanted to bury her face. “Lincoln!”

“No, it’s okay.” Brody chuckled. “I admit, I haven’t been the best neighbor. I’m going to try and do better.”

Lincoln’s chin jutted out and he nodded, hands on his hips. “You can start doing better by playing baseball with me sometime.”

“Lincoln!”

Brody chuckled again. “He’s got spunk—I like that. I would love to play baseball with you sometime, Lincoln. I think it’s a great idea.”

“I always say if you want something you should go after it,” Daniel said. “I think I’m looking at a future member of my baseball team right here.”

Brody reached his hand out. “Good to see you, Daniel. It’s been a while.”

“Your fan club at the gym has been very disappointed by your absence lately.”

“Fan club? That’s the first I’ve heard of that.”

Madison had to give him some points for at least appearing humble. She wondered if he secretly relished the attention, though.

“Won’t you stay and eat, Brody?” Kayla asked. “We have plenty.”

Madison watched as Brody squirmed for a moment. She could only imagine that he was trying to think of an excuse to leave, to get away from her. Apparently nothing came to mind because he said, “I guess I can stay for a few minutes. But I will have to eat and run, so don’t be offended.”

“I’m just happy that you’re actually staying. I don’t get to spend enough time with you, cousin. You’re always too busy working.”

Everyone made pleasant small talk as dinner began.

Halfway through, Brody looked at his watch. “Madison, could I steal a minute of your time before I run?”

“Absolutely.”

Brody stood and placed his napkin on the table. “Kayla, the meal was wonderful. Thank you for having me over.”

“Let’s do it more often.”

“I may have to take you up on that. Your cooking definitely beats the microwave meals I’m used to eating.”

Madison cast another glance at Lincoln. He was busy chatting with Kayla and Daniel. He’d gotten the gift of gab from his father and he used his gift as often as possible. Seeing how at ease he was with others brought her both pleasure and distress. One could never be too careful in the world.

Madison followed Brody into the living room. He pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Here’s a copy of that note I promised you.”

She took the paper from him and, as she did so, her throat went dry. She wanted to see it, but she didn’t. Instead of looking at the note, she folded it again and put the square in her jeans’ pocket. “Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Any reason why you wanted to see that?”

“Just something about it is bothering me. I want to read it again and see if I can figure out what.” She shifted her weight. “Any updates on the investigation?”

“We’re working as hard as we can, but nothing yet. The man left no prints, no hairs, no fibers, nothing.”

“He was like a ghost.”

“It’s still early. Don’t get discouraged.”

“Discouraged probably isn’t the right word. It’s more like terrified. I don’t like being afraid to be in my own house. I just don’t know who to trust or how to protect my son.” She attempted a weak smile. “As a certified control freak, this is really knocking me off-kilter.”

Brody shifted. “What can I do, Madison?”

She shrugged. “Nothing, Brody. I’m sorry I vented. I don’t expect anything from you. I just…” She blew the air from her lungs and looked into the distance. “I’m going to get back to dinner. Thanks for the note.”

She slipped away before her emotions got the best of her.

SEVEN

B
rody remained at the front door, his hand on the knob, as he contemplated staying or going—the same song and dance he’d gone through earlier when he’d left his neighbor. He wanted to keep his distance, to remain professional. But another part of him, a part that he thought he’d buried, wanted desperately to help her, to ease her fears, to carry her burden.

But, of course, he had to go. He had a job to do and that was the true way he could help Madison—by finding the would-be killer. The investigation was just moving much more slowly than he’d wanted and with every minute the culprit could be getting away.

That was unacceptable.

He wanted to go and talk to the families of the two other suicide victims also. He knew his colleagues had questioned them already and he didn’t want to make them stir up any of those devastating memories again. But Brody just felt like there was something they were missing…much like Madison with that suicide note.

Right now, he’d go ask about the timers. That might be the best lead they had at the moment. He’d start with Victor’s family. They’d claimed from the beginning that Victor wasn’t the type to commit suicide, even if he had struggled with depression.

It was a shame, on more than one level, that Victor was no longer with the Sheriff’s Department. Victor had been one of the first people to try and befriend Brody when he’d arrived at work the first day nearly a year ago. Then one morning in June Victor didn’t report in to work. Another deputy had gone to his place and discovered his body. No one had seemed too surprised by the suicide note. Family members never wanted to believe that their loved one had committed suicide, though.

Brody hoped that Victor’s mom wouldn’t mind him showing up at the doorstep. He knocked tentatively, trying to gather every ounce of bedside manner that he had. A moment later Mrs. Hanson answered. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and Brody wondered if she was still mourning the loss of her son. She’d probably be mourning for the rest of her life. People never seemed to get over the deaths of their children.

“Detective, what can I do for you?” She sniffed and gripped the door handle like a lifeline.

“Ma’am, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions concerning the death of your son.”

“Detective Blackston was just here earlier today.”

“A few additional questions have come up,” he explained gently.

She hesitated before nodding and stepping back to invite Brody inside. “Of course, I’ll answer them. Especially if it means proving my son didn’t commit suicide. He loved me too much to take his own life.” She released a long, shuddering breath. “He was finally getting back on track. He loved his job with the Sheriff’s Office. I’ve said from the beginning that something doesn’t add up.”

Brody sat in the armchair that Mrs. Hanson led him to. “I have one specific question for you, if you’ll humor me. There’s a key piece of evidence we might have missed, one that may have seemed insignificant at the time.”

“What would that be?” She lowered herself onto the couch across from him.

“An egg timer.”

Her eyebrows flicked up. “An egg timer? The kind you wind up? The old fashioned sort?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded. “Of course, I have one. I have a couple, actually. I use them all the time when I’m cooking my pies.”

“Can I see them?”

“I’ll grab them from the cabinet.”

He glanced at the house, a clean, sparsely decorated space, as she disappeared into the kitchen. He tried not to tap his foot impatiently as he waited. He wanted answers and they seemed to be within his grasp. A moment later Victor’s mom reappeared with two white timers in hand.

She held up one. “This is my old one, the one I always use.” She held up a second one. “This one we got in the mail. It doesn’t work very well, but I kept it as a backup.”

“May I?” He reached for it.

“Of course.”

He turned over the timer, his heart racing. This was the same timer that someone had mailed to Madison. There was no such company on the record in York County or the surrounding areas.

“Was there anything strange about this timer? Do you remember seeing it anywhere unusual after Victor’s death? Think carefully because this is very important.”

“I don’t even have to think about it—I know the answer. I found this timer in the bathroom. I thought it was strange, but no one else did. I always keep my timers in the kitchen and Victor never used them for anything. He’d have no reason to have it in the bathroom. I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d used it so he wouldn’t be late for work or something. I had no idea.”

“This was a huge help, Mrs. Hanson. Do you mind if I take this with me?”

“If it will help to prove my Victor didn’t commit suicide, then you can have it and anything else in this house, too. Just clear my boy’s name.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

* * *

After Madison got Lincoln to sleep, she went into the dining room. She’d been so keenly aware of the note in her back pocket, that it seemed like the paper seared through her denim into her skin. Kayla had disappeared into her own bedroom, so Madison guessed she had a few minutes of privacy. She wanted to read this note again when she was sure she was alone so she’d have some time to process the words there.

She lowered herself onto a chair at the dining-room table, feeling like she was bracing herself for bad news. Her hands trembled as she pulled the paper from her pocket. She took several deep breaths before unfolding the note. With slow, steady movements Madison spread it smooth across the table. Before her eyes even focused on the words, she soaked in the handwriting. Usually she wrote with flowing loops. Reid had always said she had artistic handwriting that was as pretty to look at as her words were to read. The handwriting on this paper looked uneven. It told the tale of her distress while writing it.

She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, knowing she’d need divine strength to relive the nightmare she was about to unveil. Slowly she pulled her eyes open and, ignoring her rapidly beating heart, looked at the words she’d scribbled.

By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. Really, this whole event was a long time coming. On a brighter note, I love my family very much. One of the most precious things in life. Know I loved you, Lincoln. Love wasn’t enough, though, to get me through my heartache after losing Reid. You’re better off without me. No more pain for me.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she tried to pull them back. She’d never leave Lincoln. Never. He was her whole world.

Her pain turned to anger that the man had forced her to write those words. If Brody hadn’t found her before she’d died, then her son would always have thought that she’d abandoned him and taken her own life.

It was enough to make her want to track down her would-be killer herself and hand him over to the authorities. He’d even known enough about her that he’d included her son’s name in the note. Her heart felt ice-cold at the thought.

Why had her attacker picked these words? What was so important about her writing these sentences exactly as he dictated? It just didn’t make sense. The cadence of the words was off. Like on the sentence that started with “On a brighter note.” Then the next sentence was just a fragment. If the killer had so carefully planned the note, why had he chosen those awkwardly phrased sentences?

She leaned back in the dining-room chair. What if the killer was trying to say something else through the note? She stared at the words a moment, trying to figure out if there was some code to the letters. What were some codes that people used? Every third letter maybe? She tried it, but only ended up with an odd assortment of letters.

After trying the first letter of every word and various other ideas, she felt ready to give up. She put her forehead to the table, fighting tears.

“I didn’t know you were still up.”

Madison gasped and jerked her head back. Kayla stood in the kitchen doorway. She relaxed slightly and chuckled at her overreaction. “Kayla.”

Her friend approached the table, a sympathetic expression on her face. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I should have known better.”

Madison waved her off, even though her heart still beat double time. “You’re fine. I’m just looking at this note that the man forced me to write. Something’s off about it and I’m trying to figure out what. It’s got me on edge.”

Kayla stepped forward. “You mind if I look? I’m pretty good with puzzles. Maybe I’ll see something you didn’t.”

“Go right ahead.”

Kayla sat beside her and cautiously took the paper, slipping it from Madison’s hand. Her eyes scanned the words there for what felt like hours. “Maybe there’s some kind of hidden message here. Is that what you’re thinking?”