Race Against Time (13 page)

Kayla hurried into the living room and glanced uncertainly at Madison and then at the front door. “Should we answer?”

Madison stood, her reflexes on full alert. “Let’s see who it is. Brody shouldn’t be back yet.”

Kayla tiptoed to the front door and peered through the peephole. “It’s a man,” she whispered. “I don’t recognize him, but the deputy is with him.”

The man knocked again, this time faster, more urgent. Since when did the Suicide Bandit knock? Never that Madison knew of. Still, she wanted to be safe.

Madison crept forward and gazed out the peephole also. Some of the tension was released from her shoulders at the familiar face distorted on the other side of the glass. “It’s Mark Zeskinski. He’s a reporter for the paper.” Madison unlocked the door and twisted the knob, careful to remain on guard.

“This man said he knows you and needs to speak with you,” the deputy said.

“He’s fine. I know him from work.”

The deputy nodded and sauntered back to his vehicle. Mark cocked an eyebrow. A smirk teased at the corner of his lips. He’d always thought himself to be more handsome and charming that he actually was, and that was obvious now by the overwhelming confidence exuding from him as he leaned forward.

“Police protection?”

Madison shrugged. “Long story.”

“You’re a very hard woman to find, Madison.”

“How’d you manage it?” The two had worked together on numerous stories where Mark had written the articles, and Madison had taken the pictures. Madison had always suspected that Mark liked her as more than a colleague, but as he stood here now, she knew his intentions were anything but romantic. His eyes were full of hunger—for a story.

“I’m a reporter. It’s my job to track down people.” He waited a moment before shifting his stance and looking beyond her at Kayla. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Madison shook her head and kept her arm across the doorway in an effort to not appear inviting. “No, I’m not. What are you doing here?” She stood in place to quickly shut the door and lock it, if necessary.

“You know what I’m doing here, Madison.”

She forced her expression to remain neutral. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

His shoulders fell and he tilted his head in a chummy sort of way. “Come on, Madison. Give me my big break. Give me a jump on the broadcast media. You were one of the Suicide Bandit’s victims, weren’t you?”

Indignation rushed through her and her grip on the door tightened. “You shouldn’t be here, Mark. Besides, I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends. That’s why you should give me the inside scoop here.”

“Mark, what if I was the victim? And I’m not saying I am. But if I was the victim and I was your friend, I’d think you’d be more concerned about me than a story or a big break.”

His eyes lost some of their cockiness. “I am concerned. But—but you seem fine, so I didn’t even think to ask how you were doing. I know you’re a tough lady. And you obviously survived, so you must be doing pretty well. It could have been worse.”

Madison didn’t buy it. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Mark.”

She started to shut the door when his hand shot out. His shoulders slumped some and his eyes changed to pleading. “Come on, Madison. Please. This is the biggest story here in York County since the Colonial Parkway murders. A serial killer. In York County. It’s all people are talking about.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t see it as glamorously as you do.”

His gaze traveled down to where her shirt met her throat. “You were his victim, weren’t you? I see the evidence on your neck.”

Madison’s hand shot to her throat. She’d forgotten about the burn marks there. Her shock turned to anger. “It’s nobody’s business. Leave me alone, Mark.”

Before he could say anything else, Madison shut the door. She’d always considered Mark someone she could trust. Apparently he put his career before their friendship, though.

Her mind flashed back to those pictures she’d spotted in the crime-scene photos. She remembered a time when she’d downloaded all the pictures on her camera to Mark’s computer so she could send them to their editor in time. He would have had access to those pictures.

She pictured the photos at the crime scenes. Were those some of the photos she’d downloaded to Mark’s computer? She wasn’t one-hundred percent certain, but she knew it was a good possibility. Plus, he knew her schedule. He could have figured out where she kept her spare key. He’d asked her out once and she’d said no, so perhaps he even had motive?

What if Mark was secretly the Suicide Bandit?

Her pulse raced at the possibility.

* * *

While Detective Blackston combed Alfred’s house for clues, Brody decided to visit the other victims’ homes once more. He wanted to look at those images that Madison had spotted in the crime-scene photos. Could she have been a target in this from the beginning?

The first home he visited was Victor’s. The young man’s mom answered again. Her eyes widened when she saw Brody. “Did you find out something new?”

“I was actually hoping to ask you another question.”

“Of course.”

He held up the crime-scene photo. “Do you recognize the picture in the background of this scene?”

She studied it. “No, I don’t remember seeing that before. I didn’t keep tabs on my son, though. He was grown, so I didn’t ask him about every picture he had in his room. Why do you ask?”

“The photographer who took these snapshots has pictures that showed up at every crime scene.”

“So he’s the murderer? The person who took these pictures is the Suicide Bandit?”

Brody raised a brow. “The Suicide Bandit?”

“That’s what they’re calling him on the news.”

Great, the media had gotten ahold of this story. Things were about to get even more fun now. “No, the person who took these pictures isn’t behind the crimes. In fact, she’s one of the killer’s victims. Only she survived.”

Victor’s mom gasped. “What a horrific experience she must have gone through. I can’t imagine. Do you have any persons of interest in the investigation yet?”

“No, ma’am. Not yet. But we’re working on this around the clock. I assure you that we’re nowhere close to giving up on this investigation.”

“I don’t know that I’m going to be able to sleep at night anymore. Not knowing that this man is out there.”

“I understand your concern. Lock your doors. And thanks for your help. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

The woman reached for his arm before he could turn to leave. “Brody, find my son’s killer. You’re a kind man. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t let this man get away with killing my son.”

“I won’t.”

Victor had been a good man. A little naive and prone to drama, like many young people were. Brody remembered Victor’s wife of only a few months had left him and sent the man’s emotions into a tailspin just before his death. But Victor still had so much to live for. Just like that, life could slip through your fingers.

He thought about what Madison had said about God. He hadn’t given much thought to God in years. He’d been too busy living for himself to think about anything else or any greater purpose.

How would his life have turned out differently if he’d been a believer? Madison certainly found a measure of comfort in her faith during this trying time. He could still see the peace in her eyes and he admired her for that.

But God wasn’t for him. He’d lived long enough and seen too much to believe in a higher power.

He put his car into drive.

For some reason, that final thought rested heavy on his shoulders. But it lay even heavier on his heart.

* * *

The next morning Brody woke up from a restless night of sleeping on the couch at Kayla’s house. He’d barely gotten any sleep, but he’d trade that for a little peace of mind in knowing that Madison was okay.

She had told him last night when he’d arrived at Kayla’s about the reporter who’d shown up at her door. Anger surged through him at the nerve of the man. It was a good thing Brody hadn’t been there. He would have definitely given the man a piece of his mind.

But more than that, he thought about what Madison had said about Mark having access to her photos. The killer had to have gotten ahold of Madison’s work somehow. Brody had assumed that the photos had been published somewhere and that’s how the killer had gotten them. But Madison said these were all nature photos that she’d never sold, that she’d taken for personal pleasure.

The web became even more tangled.

Finally the rest of the gang at the house woke up and saved Brody from his ever-churning thoughts. Kayla whisked Lincoln off to preschool and Madison didn’t even have to ask about their schedule for the day. She’d dressed prepared to go to work with Brody again today, to abandon her life until this guy was caught. They barely spoke until they reached the station.

“You’re quiet,” Madison said as she perched in the chair across from his desk there.

“Just thinking.”

“About the Suicide Bandit?”

His eyebrow twitched up. “You watched the news, too, I assume?”

She nodded while frowning. “Yeah, talk about sensationalism.”

“More like fear mongers.” He shook his head. “People may have a right to know, but now we have everyone in town terrified.”

“Maybe they should be scared. Fear keeps people sharp. Maybe now that people are aware, someone will see something or remember something.”

“I talked to Detective Blackston last night and he said they’d gotten more than one-hundred calls ever since the story aired. Most of them are useless. People with good intentions, but faulty memories. I just hope chaos doesn’t break out.”

They stopped their conversation as Sheriff Carl approached Brody at his desk. He squeezed Madison’s arm in greeting before his serious eyes fell on Brody. “Found out what caused the explosion yesterday at Alfred’s.”

“And?”

“A tampered gas line. Someone installed an illegal line to the gas meter at the building and allowed natural gas from a street line to enter the air at an excessively high pressure,” Sheriff Carl said. “When they did that, the gas line bypassed the meter’s shutoff valve and its regulator. That’s what caused the explosion.”

Brody shifted his stance. “So was Alfred trying to steal gas or did someone else orchestrate all of that just to make the grocery store explode?”

“By all appearances, Alfred was up to some illegal operations,” the sheriff said. “There have been rumors around here for months that he was selling that new drug Spice behind the counter and that he’s had some involvement with illegal gambling operations. It looks like he probably ran that line himself.”

“It just happened to explode five minutes after we left?” Madison asked.

“I know the timing seems crazy, but that is what appears to have happened. We’re still investigating, though. There could have been foul play involved.” Sheriff Carl leaned against Brody’s desk and crossed his arms. “Here’s the more important part, though. I sent a team to Alfred’s house this morning, as soon as we got a search warrant.”

“And?”

“We found everything there. Drafts of the suicide letters, leather gloves, syringes, the same rope used to make the noose, razors, drugs. Everything. It looks like Alfred was our man, that he was the Suicide Bandit.”

Brody’s heart rate didn’t slow for some reason. “Alfred was the Suicide Bandit?”

Sheriff Carl nodded. “That’s what the evidence says. We did a background check on him. It turns out he’s done time for assault and battery. A former girlfriend filed the charges somewhere around ten years ago. His mama committed suicide, also. Overdosed. Still, it gives him a possible motive.” He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “We’ve got means. Now we’re just trying to account for his time during the murders to make sure he had opportunity.”

“He fits the size of the person who attacked me,” Madison muttered.

Sheriff Carl nodded. “It seems like a slam-dunk case.”

Brody narrowed his eyes. “Almost too much of a slam dunk.”

The sheriff shrugged. “We just have to trust the evidence—and the evidence makes Adams look guilty right now. I’m looking forward to telling the fine people of York County that they can finally live without fear.”

But could they, Brody wondered? Could they really?

* * *

Madison watched the sheriff walk away and shook her head. She should be grateful that the killer had finally been discovered. Instead, she felt even more concerned. Perhaps her heightened emotions wreaked havoc on her logic? Or was it her gut trying to tell her something else?

Brody turned toward her. She tried to read the expression in his eyes. Wariness? Or relief? “I guess it’s like the sheriff said. You can finally sleep at night.”

She nodded slowly, uncertainly. “I guess I can.”

Silence fell for a moment. Madison didn’t know what to say. So much of her and Brody’s conversations had revolved around finding this killer. Both seemed to be in shock over the news about Alfred. Of all the things that Madison expected to discover after the grocery store explosion, finding out that Alfred was behind the crimes was the least of them. Now that she thought about it, she did get her house key made at his place. He could have somehow gotten a copy of her key that way. Still, everything felt surreal.

Brody stood, glancing around at the scurry of activity occurring at the station. He looked back down at Madison. “How about if I drive you back to Kayla’s? No need for you to be here while we comb through everything.”

She nodded again. “Of course.” She could have directed him to take her to her actual home, but she didn’t. Why did fear still course through her at the thought of being home alone? She had nothing to worry about anymore. It would take time to reprogram her thoughts, though.

The ride back to Kayla’s house was mostly quiet. A strange disappointment filled her when she realized that she’d have no reason to talk to Brody anymore. They’d go back to merely being neighbors and ignoring each other whenever possible. She had to admit that she’d enjoyed getting to know him a little better. He’d surprised her with his sensitivity and concern.