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Seven

By the time Madison and Terry walked through the Bernsteins’ back gate, Richards and Milo were removing Carson’s body from the outbuilding. The loss of life sank in Madison’s gut. She would certainly do all she could to find that woman justice.

Madison hurried to catch up with them as they stopped at the entrance to the side gate. “When will you be conducting the autopsy?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Richards said.

“More specifically?” She raised her brows and pressed her lips.

“Rather get it over and done, so let’s say eight.”

Eight, Sunday morning. She must have been delusional to think she’d get to sleep in. After all, she had the homicide case and her own business to take care of tonight.

“Did you hear me?” Richards prompted.

“I’ll be there.” Madison passed a side-glance at Terry, and he sighed. Though she wasn’t sure why. He’d probably have gotten his run in by that time. People who ran and did mornings were a true enigma to her.

Richards and Milo saw themselves out with some help from a nearby officer who came along and got the gate.

She headed to the door off the lower deck, Terry following.

Estelle opened the door just as they reached it. Her complexion was ashen, and she was hugging herself.

“How are you doing?” Madison asked, though it seemed obvious her real estate agent wasn’t doing that great.

“I don’t know how you do this all the time.” She gestured a hand toward the shed. “Dealing with dead bodies… Murder. Guess I like to live in my safe, little bubble.”

Madison touched her arm. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“I guess.” A visible shiver tore through her.

“We need to speak with the Bernsteins again,” Madison told her agent.

Estelle stepped back and let them inside.

Madison and Terry wiped their shoes on the mat and went up to the sitting room, Estelle in tow.

Oliver was walking from the kitchen with two steaming mugs, one of which he handed to Rhea, who was seated on the couch where she’d been before. She probably hadn’t even left the spot.

Madison remained standing and said, “We have an identity on her now.”

Rhea’s breath caught, and she exhaled a jagged sigh.

“The woman was Chantelle Carson.” Madison watched the Bernsteins’ body language and facial tells. Slumped shoulders, wet eyes. “You knew her?”

Oliver’s mouth set in a straight line, and he nodded.

Madison dropped into the chair she’d sat in the first time she talked to them. Her insides were quaking. She’d had a feeling there was a connection between Carson and the Bernsteins. “How?”

Oliver wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She helped us set up property insurance recently. Gave us a good deal too.”

If Carson was in insurance and had written up the Bernsteins’ policy, it would make sense that she’d know about the outbuilding. “What company does she work for?” They could get this from a report, but why wait?

“Southern Life,” Oliver said.

Madison nodded. There was another thing they needed to clear up, though. “Mrs. Bernstein, you said that you heard a thump in the morning, around one o’clock?”

“That’s right.”

“Is it possible that someone had knocked on one of your doors?”

Rhea seemed to consider Madison’s question. “I’m not sure.”

“Would you mind if my partner and I conducted a little experiment?”

Rhea looked at her husband, back to Madison. “What is it?”

“I’d like you and I to go where you were when you heard the noise, and Detective Grant will knock on the different doors you have. Then you can tell me if any of them sound like what you heard that night.” Madison realized there was the risk Rhea would confirm the sound out of desire rather than it actually being the noise, but it was worth a shot. Madison looked at Terry and nudged her head at him. “I’ll call you once we’re in position. Mrs. Bernstein?”

Rhea set her mug on the coffee table in front of her and led Madison down the hall to the master bedroom. Really, it was a suite with a small walk-in closet and a private bath complete with double sinks, jetted tub, and shower stall. A transom ran above three large windows on the back wall. To the right was an exterior door, and beside it, the entrance to the bathroom. That’s where Rhea stopped.

“I was right here.”

Madison called Terry on his cell phone and told him to knock on the door off the lower deck. She watched Rhea as Terry pounded in varying rhythms and heaviness. “Any of those sound like what you heard in the morning?”

Rhea’s eyes were closed, and she shook her head.

“Try the door on the upper deck, Terry,” Madison told him.

A few seconds later, Terry knocked on that door.

“That the sound?” Madison asked Rhea, and again she shook her head. “Okay, Terry. Thanks.” She was disappointed as she had convinced herself Carson had tried to wake the Bernsteins for help.

“That! That right there,” Rhea declared.

Madison looked out the window. Terry was climbing down the wooden staircase.

“I’m certain that’s the noise I heard.”

“Okay,” Madison said to Rhea and stepped into the hall. In her phone to Terry, she added, “Mrs. Bernstein heard someone on the back stairs. Is there any sign of blood?” She thought she’d ask, but she wasn’t too confident that the answer would be positive, given the rain.

“Not that I see,” Terry replied, “but I’ll have Cynthia and Mark take a look.”

“Sounds good. You might as well come back in.” Madison returned to Rhea.

She was looking at Madison with wide, wet eyes. “What does this mean?”

It would seem Carson had climbed the stairs to knock on the back door. There would be no easy way to tell the woman that Carson had likely tried to get their help, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie either. She laid it out as kindly as she could.

“I could have…” Rhea sobbed, and Oliver entered the room.

Seeing him made Madison curious, though. “You didn’t hear anything in the night, early this morning?” She’d asked him before but thought she would again.

“Once I’m asleep, I’m out,” Oliver said.

“She tried to get us, Olie.” Rhea put her arms around her husband, and he held on to her.

Madison told him it was likely that she’d knocked and the sound his wife had heard was Carson going back down the stairs.

Oliver’s chin quivered, and he drew his wife tighter to himself.

“You can’t blame yourselves for any of this. Do you hear me?” Madison asked.

The couple nodded.

“Please keep us informed.” Oliver pulled back from his wife.

“I’ll do my best, and call me if you need anything.” With that, Madison saw herself through the house. She found Estelle sitting in the front room, staring off into space. “There’s no reason you have to stay,” Madison told her. “Officers will remain on the premises for a while yet.”

The Bernsteins joined them. Terry was standing in the breezeway by the back door. Madison gestured to him that she’d be there shortly.

Estelle’s gaze went to the couple, and her brow pinched with concern. She glanced at Madison, but she didn’t say anything.

“She’s right, Estelle,” Oliver said. “You can leave if you’d like.”

“Thank you, Oliver, but I’m good to stay a bit longer.” Estelle rubbed her arms.

Madison went out the front door with Terry, and they convened in the driveway. She noted that Terry had arrived in a department car, whereas she’d come in her own Mazda. “Want to follow me home? I’ll drop off my car.”

“Sure.” Terry turned to leave.

“Actually, let’s meet up at the station.” Truth was she didn’t want to run into Troy and possibly get sucked into a conversation. She just needed to keep moving with this case because the clock was ticking.

“That your final answer?” he teased.

“Yeah. And it would be great if you could pull the report on Carson so it’s ready for when I arrive.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Terry smirked and bowed.

“Cut it out.” She kept Terry around for several reasons, but he was certainly good for entertainment.

“You said that Higgins was sending it to you, though, didn’t you?”

“Would be nice to see it on paper.”

“Fine.” He went on his way.

As she was pulling away from the house, she thought about how unpredictable life could be. Alive one minute, gone the next. She doubted anyone woke up thinking, Today’s the day I die. Plans were always on the horizon, as if people preferred to play in a world without acknowledging death. It wasn’t until it slapped them in the face that people were reminded of their mortality. Otherwise, most harbored fantasies of beating or outsmarting the Grim Reaper. But poor Chantelle Carson had failed, and Madison doubted she ever would have envisioned herself stabbed and bleeding out in a shed.