Death's Door (9 page)

Her mother had been so agonizingly upset at losing the man she’d met in college and married the day after graduation that
it came as a physical blow when she’d brought home a much younger man she’d met at a fund-raiser. It was even more upsetting when Jessica Connelly had married him less than a year after Madison’s father had died.

What had she been thinking?

Madison still didn’t have a clue. She’d always been closer to her father than her mother. It had begun in early childhood when her father had been more willing to play with her. She’d reveled in the attention and as she grew, Madison took her problems and her triumphs to her father first.

“Why don’t you at least meet Wyatt Holbrook?” Paul asked. “That way you’ll have more to tell your mother when she calls.”

Why don’t you go to hell.
Although she was tempted to yell this at him, Madison kept her temper in check. “I need to talk to my mother before I do anything,” she insisted.

She knew she sounded a bit childish, but she did feel the need to talk to…Erin. That’s who she would have called about this as soon as Paul Tanner had spouted his wild tale. Erin’s death had closed that door irreversibly. Never, ever again would she be able to discuss anything with her best friend.

But even if Erin were here, this was a question for her mother and she might not check in for days or even weeks. When she did, the connection might be a hiss of static the way it was last time. But Madison wouldn’t have any choice. She would have to ask this question over the telephone.

She was meeting Rob at Erin’s home tonight to decide what to do with her friend’s things. She could talk to Rob. He had a level head and he was accustomed to listening to people with sick and dying pets, giving him a wisdom and empathy few others had.

Once she could have discussed this with Aiden, but those days were gone. Even if she could, she knew Aiden would insist Paul’s story was true. She could just hear Aiden saying,
Why would a man like Paul Tanner make up such a thing?

“I understand how hard this has been for you. These last few
days have been tough. Why don’t we go get the bill of sale for the dog?” Paul suggested. “It may help us decide what’s going on here.”

P
AUL GAZED
at Madison for a moment with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. He knew she wanted to get rid of him, to make the whole business with Wyatt Holbrook disappear. Not on his watch. “I’ll drive you out to your place. You can give me the sales receipt. Burgess expects me to bring it to him.”

She hesitated, then finally responded. “Can’t I do it tomorrow? It takes forever to get to Fisher Island and back. I’ve been out of the office for days. I’m swamped.”

“The sooner Burgess tracks down the person who sold your friend Aspen, the sooner he can pursue a valuable suspect or eliminate that person. Don’t you want Erin’s killer found?”

“Of course I do. It’s just that I doubt someone would sell her a dog, then kill her.”

“You never know.” Privately he agreed and Burgess must have, as well. Aw, hell. Maybe not. Lincoln Burgess was a piss-poor excuse for a detective—not exactly the best choice for a complicated investigation. Around the department, they referred to Burgess as “the missing link.” Over the years, it had been shortened to Link. Dumb schmucks thought it was a nickname for Lincoln.

“Well…I guess I—”

Paul stood. “Come on. You can bring the dog with you. I’m in an SUV today.”

“What dog?”

Her wide-eyed, innocent stare didn’t fool him. “The golden retriever under your desk.”

It was a moment before she replied, “You can’t see him from there.”

“No, but I see a few gold hairs on the carpet. Considering this is your first day back at the office, the dog has to be here.” He gestured around at the small cube. “The only place he could be is under your desk.”

She rewarded him with the suggestion of a smile that alluringly tipped the corners of her mouth upward. With her wild mane of hair and no makeup, she could have passed for a woman who’d just gotten out of bed. The thought alone sent a rush of heat through his body.

He cataloged every inch of her face while keeping his expression neutral as if he were thinking about the dog. Yeah, right. Something about this woman made his mind wander to sex every time he was around her.

He resisted the urge to allow his eyes to detour lower to where the V-neck of her T-shirt revealed the shadowy cleft between her breasts. His pulse thrummed just thinking about the way she’d looked when he’d walked into her office and had taken the opportunity to give her the slow once-over. True, he hadn’t seen below the waist—she’d been sitting—but he liked what he could see.

“You’re right. Aspen is under the desk.” She rose from her seat in one fluid motion that he found undeniably provocative even though he knew she didn’t intend it to be. “I didn’t let on I had him because I didn’t want Detective Burgess to take him.”

As they walked out to his Jeep with the golden retriever at Madison’s side, Paul thought about the dog. When he’d heard her screaming and raced into Erin Wycoff’s home, he’d charged through the kitchen, barely noticing the envelope on the counter beside the pizza box. Minutes later the envelope and the dog had been gone.

He’d followed Madison from the office and knew she hadn’t had the dog with her, but he hadn’t realized it wasn’t her dog. The way she’d pitched a fit at the scene about the dog needing eye treatment, he’d assumed the dog was hers.

Never assume
. When he’d studied criminology at the University of Florida, his favorite professor, Dr. Wells, often tried to trick them into false assumptions that led to erroneous conclusions in the test cases he taught.

All right, all right. He should have known better, but his mind had been busy processing the horror of the scene and trying to decide what type of killer had been responsible for the brutal attack. Hell, he’d been itching to get back into action. He hated being on leave. That was why he’d gone into the station this morning. He was hoping to find that his leave had been terminated. No such luck.

He held the back door of his car open for Aspen. The dog hesitated.

Madison patted the floor in front of him. “Go on, boy. Hop in.” The dog leaped up into the car.

They got in and Paul drove out of the parking lot. This close, he caught a whiff of the same scent he had the other time he’d been this near her. Flowery but fresh, not heavy the way some women wore too much fragrance.

He waited until they were down the road before asking, “What did the vet say about Aspen’s eye problem?”

“He needs drops twice a day. He’ll be fine.”

“How did you know to take him to the vet?”

“His eyes were tearing a lot more than normal. At least that’s what I thought. I just threw that show-dog stuff at them because I had to get away. I couldn’t stand thinking about my friend with all those people walking around her naked body, taking pictures, measuring things, collecting particles of hair and fiber and…I don’t know what.”

Paul nodded, letting her think he believed her, but there
was a missed beat in the conversation. Something about the dog. What?

“You got him help pretty fast,” he remarked, to see if she would reveal something incriminating.

“I took him to Robert Matthews. He was Erin’s boyfriend but they broke up last year. I knew he’d get me in right away and he did. I saw his associate.”

“That’s good.” Something in her explanation still sounded off but he wasn’t sure what. Evidently the dog meant a lot to her. He had the feeling it was more than the last link to her murdered friend.

“Did Erin leave her boyfriend or was it the other way around?”

She kept staring straight ahead. He couldn’t help noticing she had a turned-up nose that gave her profile a cute upward tilt. “I think it was mutual,” she finally said.

“She was your best friend. Right? Don’t girls discuss stuff like this?” He knew damn well they did. He was pretty sure now that Madison was hiding something. From the first, he’d been positive she hadn’t killed Erin Wycoff, but now he wondered if she knew more about the murder than she was admitting.

He reminded himself that he wasn’t working on this case. The department could have requested to have him removed from disability leave now that his doctor had approved his return to the force, but they hadn’t. He was working for his father and needed to complete this job.

“Women do talk,” she told him in a low voice charged with emotion. “But at the time Erin and Rob called it quits, my husband had just left me. I had all I could deal with.”

“Wouldn’t that have brought you closer to your friend?”

“It did. Erin listened to me whine big-time, but she didn’t talk much about herself. It was several weeks before I came out of my fog of self-pity and noticed Rob wasn’t around. Erin didn’t want to discuss it.”

“I see,” he said, although he didn’t. He didn’t have any sisters, and his mother had left them and moved to California when he was seven. His experience with women amounted to sex and not much more.

“You see, Erin was a secretive person. Always.” She’d turned to face him as she explained. “Our mothers met when they were pregnant. I’ve always…known Erin…forever. We were like sisters, but even as a child she kept things to herself. I didn’t find it unusual that Erin didn’t want to talk about Rob.”

The earnest note in her voice told him this was the truth, as she saw it. One thing he’d learned as a detective was the truth often depended on your perspective. “She never mentioned the property she left you.”

“Erin believed her parents left her a worthless chunk of property. She never told me it had become valuable or that anyone was interested in buying it.”

“She must have mentioned the chimp place—”

“Save the Chimps in Fort Pierce. No, she didn’t, but Erin volunteered at a shelter for homeless animals. She probably found out about it there and discussed it with them.”

They pulled into the ferry line for Fisher Island. Aspen had hopped up onto the backseat, and Paul rolled down the rear window so the dog could stick his head out and sniff the breeze while the ferry made the short crossing to the island.

The guard recognized Madison and waved them onto the ferry used exclusively by Fisher Island residents. Personally, Paul thought the whole private-island bit was a pain in the ass. It was a hassle to get on and off the place. While guards helped protect residents’ privacy, it wasn’t a guarantee they were safe. He’d easily gotten onto the island. He could have had a fake police ID and been admitted.

It was almost noon and there were only a few other cars on the small ferry. Neither of them said anything on the short trip. They drove up to the Italian villa where Madison was staying.
Madison jumped out and opened the door for Aspen. It seemed to take the dog a split second longer than necessary to jump down.

Paul got out of the car, asking, “Did the vet say Aspen has some sort of a vision problem, not just an eye infection?”

Madison’s eyes became sharper, more focused. “No, but his infection wasn’t treated early enough. He has some vision loss, but he’s okay now. Aren’t you, boy?”

The dog nuzzled Madison’s hand. Again, Paul thought there was more to the connection between them than Madison wanted to reveal.

Inside the house, Madison went right to what he assumed was the bedroom she was using. Waiting in the entry with Aspen, he stroked the dog’s smooth head and looked into his eyes. “Trouble seeing, huh?”

The dog poked at his hand with his nose. His eyes appeared a little cloudy, as if he had the beginnings of cataracts. He knew dogs could develop cataracts like humans, but Aspen seemed too young.

“Here it is,” said Madison, returning to the entry.

Paul took it from her and pulled the certificate out of the envelope. He scanned the document. It immediately raised a red flag. “Someone sold a purebred dog for twenty-five dollars?”

“I guess. Erin told me a woman couldn’t keep her dog. I assumed she just wanted to find it a good home, then I discovered this bill of sale.”

“What did Erin say exactly?”

Madison silently regarded him for a moment, seeming to weigh her words. “I’m not sure. We were in a club. The music was really loud. She just mentioned the dog. I didn’t ask a lot of questions because of the noise.”

“You didn’t discuss it later when you came back to her house and had pizza?”

“No. She knew I wanted a dog. I’ve always wanted one but
Mom was allergic to them, then I married a man who didn’t want animals of any kind.” She shrugged as if her ex-husband didn’t matter, but Paul sensed this was still an open wound. Words were pouring out of her too rapidly, which made him think again that she was concealing something.

“We started to talk about the houses I had seen with the Realtor. I forgot all about the dog until I was on the way home. I figured I’d call Erin about it the next day. My first priority was to find a house where I could keep a pet.” She waved a hand at the elegant living room beyond the foyer. “The owners will return soon and I need my own place.”

It sounded true, but something about the dog situation continued to bother him. He scanned the certificate again. It looked legit but you never knew these days. A lot could be duplicated using a scanner and a computer. Counterfeiters had been so successful at replicating United States currency that the Treasury Department had created new bills just to make it more difficult.

“This says Aspen was born Rudolph Vontreben of Sunnyvale. I guess Sunnyvale is the breeder.” He looked at Madison.

She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t really know.”

There it was again, the disturbing note in her voice. What was going on? “Don’t you want to find your friend’s killer?”

“Of course I do!” she cried, then took a deep breath. “I just don’t think the woman—”

“What makes you think it was a woman?” He wanted her to repeat what she’d told him earlier. Something wasn’t right here.

“I told you. At the club Erin mentioned a woman who couldn’t keep her dog. I assume Aspen was that dog.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“Well, no. I…ah—”

“It’s possible this—” he glanced at the paper again “—L. Morgan used the dog as a ploy and followed her home.”

“It’s possible,” she conceded in a voice pitched low.

“I’ll take this to Burgess and let him run down the dog’s
owner.” He reminded himself this wasn’t his case. His agenda was entirely different.

“What about meeting Wyatt Holbrook?” he asked, and immediately saw the change of subject caught her off guard.

“Not until I talk to my mother,” she shot back.

“A life hangs in the balance,” he reminded her. He was betting a woman who had a soft heart for a dog was someone who would respond to an emotional plea. “He’s a lot like Erin, from what you’ve told me,” Paul said, making this up as he went. “He helps others even when the benefits to him aren’t observable. We could go over there tonight. He only lives in Palm Beach. You could see for yourself.”

“I’m busy tonight. I have to help Rob Matthews sort through Erin’s things.”

The faint note of irritation in her voice mushroomed into anger so powerful that it must have been festering since the first time he’d told her about her real father. “This man isn’t interested in me. He’s just—”

“True, Wyatt Holbrook wants to live, but he’s a generous philanthropist. He’s given millions to worthy causes.”

“You already told me about him.”

He could see he wasn’t getting anywhere. Then something from her bio hit him. “Wyatt’s setting up a special foundation to fund promising advances in science and medicine. There just isn’t enough money for scientists and it’s not likely to get better. The government has too many other priorities.”

Madison silently considered what he said. He knew she’d majored in mathematics and had earned a full scholarship to MIT. She was bound to understand how important such a foundation would become.

“Call me tomorrow. I’ll see what I can arrange. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks.” As Paul left, he was half-tempted to give her a
hug, but he didn’t press his luck.
Okay, pard. Get your mind back where it belongs.
He found Madison disturbingly attractive, but this was business. Nothing more.