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Twenty-Five

Maddy.”

Madison turned to see Troy. “Oh, hey there.”

“I’ll sign out a car and wait for you outside,” Terry told her and carried on his way.

Troy shortened the distance between them, stopping so close she could feel his breath on her face.

“How’s your day goin’?” she asked.

“Just getting started. Missed you this morning.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just thought I’d get an early start.”

“I know. You have that murder case.”

“Uh-huh.” And the Mafia and corrupt cops to bring down…

“And it’s going all right?”

“We just caught another lead. That’s where Terry and I are headed.”

“And how are you feeling today?”

She hadn’t puked yet. “Much better, but I really should get go—”

He leaned in and kissed her.

“Knight!” It was Sergeant Winston, and his bellow echoed down the hall.

Troy slowly pulled back, mischievousness painted all over his expression.

She shoved him in the chest. “Happy you’re amused.”

“Very.” He laughed and left.

“I’d like a word,” Winston said, “if you’re not too busy with Romeo.”

Troy saluted Winston and kept walking. She wished she had more leash to treat Winston that way. She spoke back enough and stood her ground when needed, but Troy didn’t have to fear any professional repercussions. He didn’t report to Winston, and his sister was the police chief. The fact Madison was dating the chief’s brother didn’t seem to carry the same weight.

Winston snarled, his gaze going past her. He must have caught Troy’s gesture. “Where’s Grant?”

“We’re about to head out,” she said. “Something I could do for you?”

“What do you think? You haven’t filled me in on your current case.”

“I haven’t seen you around.”

“Come with me.” He led the way to his office, and she felt like a captive would have walking the plank on a pirate ship.

He parked behind his desk. She remained standing. “I really need to go. Terry’s—”

“Sit,” Winston barked, “and fill me in.”

“Not much to say.”

“Unbelievable.” He shot bright red from his chin to the top of his balding head. “I thought I’d step back, let you roll with the case, figured you’d fill me in when you had something.”

Since when did the man ever “step back”? Micromanaging was in his blood—for better or worse. And that trait was always worse when it was directed at her. “You sure that’s what it was?”

“Excuse me?” Winston leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his eyebrows pointing up like arrows.

“Never mind.” She was dying to ask him where he’d been. Weekend or not, a fresh murder case should have had him in the office.

“That’s what I thought. Fill me in.”

“Female victim. Chantelle Carson, age forty-eight—”

“Yadda, yadda. Suspects? Leads?”

She glanced up to the ceiling, summoning a greater being for the patience to put up with this man. She’d heard her grandmother say no one was tested beyond what they could bear, but Winston was pushing the limits.

“Knight,” he prompted.

“We’re currently trying to track down her ex-boyfriend.”

“You have reason to believe he killed her?”

“That part’s not affirmative yet, but he’s certainly a person of interest. We’ve found out he was a con man. He took Carson for everything, destroyed her life financially.”

“And his motive for killing her?”

“Still trying to piece that together. But as I said, he’s more a person of interest at this point.”

“Okay, and that guy you held overnight?”

She filled him in on Carl Long and his working relationship with who they knew as Saul Abbott. “Guy’s still bound for prison. Only a matter of time.”

Winston scoffed. “Once proof is lined up maybe, but that would be for fraud. Not your department last I checked. But it would seem you have time on your hands.” He leveled a look on her that didn’t need words but got the message across. He was making a dig at her kissing Troy. She knew it wasn’t appropriate to show displays of affection at work, and typically they didn’t. Before she could say anything, he continued. “Clear this guy—the ex-boyfriend—or book him, but don’t concern yourself with him being some con man.”

Her earlobes sizzled with anger, and she balled her hands into fists behind her back. Winston had a way of operating within certain lines, and if any crime fell out of the purview, he could ignore it. But not her. “If he did this to Carson, he’s taken other women’s money and is apparently working one right—”

“No.” He held up a hand. “Your job’s to solve murder, Knight.”

It took every bit of her willpower not to roll her eyes. As if she needed him to remind her what her job was!

Winston added, “You have concerns about fraud, forward his information to that department. Do we have an understanding?”

She turned, looked at the clock on the wall above the door, and started to leave.

“Knight, where are you—”

She stopped but didn’t face him. “I have someplace I need to be.”