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Forty-One

Madison grabbed the department laptop, ready to dig in. She needed to find out more about the numbered corporation connected to that Deer Glen neighborhood home and the Roman Petrov attached to it. She also wanted to get the mystery woman’s identity once and for all. She’d just logged in, fingers poised over the keyboard ready to do some searches, when there was a knock on the door.

She answered and, at the sight of Terry, wished she was wearing something other than yoga pants and a sweatshirt. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you, too.” He brushed past her, holding a tray with two Starbucks coffee cups and a brown paper bag.

“I see you’re at work already.” He pointed to the laptop on the couch and backed out of his shoes.

“I am, but what are you doing here? It’s Saturday.”

“Ha-ha. Want to know the truth?” He handed her a cup, and she wished she could drink what he’d brought her. A caramel cappuccino—her favorite—and today it smelled divine. “I figured I’d catch you up before you harass me. More peaceful to be proactive,” he added.

“Why start now?” She smiled at him and returned to the couch.

“Here. This is also for you.” He gave her the bag.

“What is it?”

“Open it and find out.” Before she got that far, he said, “A chocolate chip muffin.”

“Ooh. Thank you.” She pulled it from the bag and bit off a chunk from the top. When she lowered the baked good, her eyes landed on the apple, all shiny and healthy, staring back at her from the tray on the table. Judging her.

Terry sat on the couch beside her, unzipped his coat, and pulled out a folder. “I’ve got some big news.”

“You put Carson’s killer behind bars?” She would have loved to have played more of a role, but if Terry had apprehended Carson’s murderer, she could focus on the mob and Murphy. Until the next murder case anyway.

“Not yet, but…” He removed a sheet from the file. “Meet Jake Elliott.”

“And who’s Jake—” She looked at the large photo of a man and recognized him instantly.

Terry took a drink of his Starbucks. “Meet our con man, previously known as Saul Abbott.”

“How did you…” She skimmed the page and flipped it over. Double-sided, but only a partial background. “There’s more that goes with this, right?”

“Yeah. In the folder.” He made no move to retrieve the rest of the report.

“How did you find him? A hit with facial rec?”

Terry shook his head. “Unfortunately, for all the photos we had of him, none of them garnered a hit. But someone from the prison called looking for you and was told you were out. Their call got put through to me. Carl Long was cellmates with three men during his last year, one of whom was Jake Elliott.” He took another draw on his drink.

There was a satisfaction that came with knowing his identity, but also a disappointment. “His name doesn’t explain the GB written in blood.”

“Unfortunately, no, and at this point, I’m still at a loss for its meaning.”

“Still…” She sighed. “We need to find him and talk to him. You check out these addresses?”

He nodded. “No luck with any of them.”

“Does Elliott have a phone we can trace?”

“None listed.” Terry lifted his cup and took a big swallow.

“Huh. He probably uses a prepaid burner.”

“I realize this guy’s scum, but what would his motive be for killing Carson?”

“She has a lot on him,” she said. “I only got started on the files you left me, but he conned ten women that Carson was aware of.”

“Still, unless Elliott knew she was going to turn him in to the police, you’d think he’d want to stay clear of her.”

“Yeah, but maybe Carson made that impossible. What did he go to prison for?”

“Get this. Assault.”

“So he has a violent past.” This wasn’t boding well for his innocence and so much for Luke Landers’s character testimony. “How long was his sentence?”

“Seven years.”

“So the guy’s not in his twenties now if he served some time alongside Carl Long.” Even she could do that math. Long got out ten years ago and said Abbott/Elliott only beat him out by six months.

“Real age is thirty-eight. He was twenty-one when he went away.”

She nodded. “Details of his crime?”

“He claimed self-defense, but it was bar fight that landed Elliott’s opponent in the hospital with two broken legs.”

“My God, we’ve got to find this guy. Where are we with tracking Shannon Keller?”

“I got a copy of a rent check from Stevens, and I’ve taken it to the bank, but they’re not talking without a warrant. I didn’t have you there to sweet-talk the clerk for information.”

“Is the account still active?”

Terry shook his cup, likely to swirl the remaining liquid in hopes of it picking up some foam clinging to the sides. “Yes. I got that far, thank you very much. And the paperwork’s started. Now we just wait.”

Her mind was blank for other ways to track this guy down, but then she recalled the photos that Carson took. Surely among the hundreds of them, there was an area they could identify and stake out. She’d have to revisit them with a closer eye for any possible clues. She searched her memory for other angles of the case. “Did we ever get video footage from the city?” Another request that had fallen into a black hole. She never received a call back or an email.

“There was a hold up with it, but it should come through today.” Terry set his cup on the table.

“Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking. You review Carson’s phone records. My interest is in the numbers she called in the last month. If she was going to confront Abbott—should I say, Jake Elliott—maybe she reached out to arrange a meetup. She could have played it nonchalant, like she missed him, and then brought up everything once they got together. And all this could be complete fabrication…” She was frustrated and had a headache.

“It’s worth checking out. And you? I know you won’t just be sitting around.”

“I’ll look at the pictures Carson took of Elliott. There has to be a clue in there somewhere as to his whereabouts.” She was thinking it would have been nice if Carson had just documented these things, but then that would have made their job easy.

“All right. I’ll keep you posted if I find anything.” Terry got up.

“Thanks. Same here.”

He pointed to her untouched cappuccino. “You feeling okay? I haven’t seen you take a sip.”

“Yep. We’ve just been busy talking.”

“Okay,” he said slowly and left. His empty cup remained on the table.

She got up and locked the door behind Terry. She was feeling torn and overwhelmed. She still intended to get Carson justice, but Madison could have been killed, along with her and Troy’s baby. She could stick around home all day, doing her searches, and smacking into dead ends or she could follow through on one of her ideas. She could confront Murphy, but the situation called for some finesse, and she had sicced Troy on him. This left her free to pursue the Mafia angle, and she was quite sure that if it weren’t for them, Murphy never would have done what he had. It was time to talk to Leland King and find out who the mystery woman was—once and for all. For her, for Troy, for their baby.