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Forty-Seven

Madison and Terry stood on the back stoop of Luck of the Irish for a few minutes. She looked to the oak tree and the opening to Napoleon Avenue. She considered doing a little tour of the area, but she’d made a promise to Troy. Besides whenever Cynthia and Mark arrived, they could handle that along with Terry.

“Listen, I’ve gotta go,” she said.

“You’re in pain?”

“No…yes, but that’s not why.”

“You want me to drop you off?”

“I’ll call a cab. I need you to stay here. Question all the staff about Carson and Elliott, the Mercedes SUV. See if anyone saw the two of them interact or caught a plate.”

“Okay. Might take all night.”

“You know I’d help if I could.”

Terry slowly nodded. “Go. I’ll fill you in later.”

“Also, arrange to have officers watch the pub tonight in case Elliott shows up.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and run our thought about Carson past Cynthia. Maybe there was a knife missing from Carson’s kitchen that was a match to the stainless pulled from her stab wound?”

“Carson could have purchased one just for confronting Elliott. Maybe just as a means of threatening him.”

“Could be, but I have the feeling she planned more. He’d destroyed her, and it was cumulative. Every man in her life had let her down. Her husband, her new lover, that being Elliott, and her boss. And if she only wanted justice, why didn’t she report him?”

“You said before if she didn’t know Abbott’s real name, that would have been tough to do. Look how hard it’s proved to be for us. We still haven’t found him. You really think she had cold, premeditated murder on her mind?”

“Wouldn’t shock me.”

Terry returned inside the pub, and she called for a cab. It showed up five minutes later, just after she’d gotten rather comfortable on one of the stairs at the front of the pub. She had the driver take her straight home, even though she felt like a dog dragging its ass along the ground. She was queasy just thinking about what Troy wanted to discuss.

With early-evening traffic starting to pick up, the drive took twenty minutes as opposed to fifteen. She paid her fare and let herself inside.

Troy was on the couch, watching something on television.

Hershey barked and jumped off the couch, hurtling toward her.

“Hey, baby.” She ruffled his ears and bent over and kissed the top of his head. “You broke him out of jail?” she said to Troy.

He flicked the TV off and got up to meet her at the door. “Surprise.” He’d said the word rather drily, and she couldn’t touch on the reason why. Disappointment she hadn’t been there when he came home with Hershey?

He hugged her gently and kissed her. “Happy you’re home.” He tapped another kiss to her forehead.

She smiled, a little more at ease by his reaction to seeing her. They’d made peace before she went to Luck of the Irish, but his hanging up on her earlier still wasn’t far from mind. Troy didn’t typically get worked up and terminate their phone conversations like that. “Happy too.”

She slipped out of her coat and placed it on a hanger in the front closet. Troy didn’t say anything, but Madison didn’t miss the expression of surprise on his face at her doing so. She would normally toss it on the back of a chair or hook it on the closet handle. She slipped off her shoes and let out a deep breath.

“How are you doing?”

“Please don’t ask.” She attempted a smile, and he swept a hand over her head.

“Want a drink or something to eat? I can get it for you if you want to sit down.”

“Do I want a drink?” She laughed. “A glass of water, I guess.”

“Coming right up.”

She settled on the couch, getting semi-comfortable. Hershey laid his head across her lap, and she rubbed behind his ears.

“So how’s your murder case coming along?” Troy returned to the living room with her water.

“Think we’re making some headway. Finally. Thanks.” She took the glass from Troy and took a greedy sip, imagining it was wine instead. “Not sure how Terry kept himself busy without me though.”

“Ah, you’re too hard on the guy. I’m sure he followed a lot of leads.”

She grinned. “He did. I’m just kidding around.” She hated herself for how awkward she was feeling.

“I was thinking a chicken casserole would be our safest bet. Sound good?”

They smiled when they met each other’s eyes.

“We can risk it,” she said.

Silence wormed in, the tension crackling in the air. She would take a stab at easing it.

“I’m happy that you understand why I left the house today.” Definitely wishful thinking, but phrasing it that way might help him see things from her perspective and put off what he wanted to talk about.

He sat in a chair, seeing as Hershey was taking up the rest of the couch and seemed quite content all spread out.

“You know that when I get a case, I need to see it through,” she added.

“That’s why you’re Bulldog.”

“Right. But you do understand?” She wished she could retract the question the instant it came out. She was quite sure she didn’t want to hear his answer.

“I know what you’re like. I know you have a hard time letting go.”

She could puff out her chest and become all indignant about how she took her badge and the responsibility that came with it seriously, but there was no need, and she in no way wanted to imply that Troy didn’t.

Troy went on. “I just want what’s best for you. I always have.”

The urge to cry rushed over her. Likely the cursed pregnancy hormones at work. Could she blame them yet? “I know you do. But I’m fine.”

“I know you are, but I don’t want you to just be fine. I want you happy, good, great even. I don’t know if you realize how often you say you’re fine.” His green eyes locked with hers. “Are you happy, Maddy? With me, us, I mean?”

“Yes, I…” She gulped as her heart raced. “I love you. I love my life with you.”

“It’s just things have been strained lately.”

So he had noticed. “I’ve been busy with work.”

“Is that all?” His question was short but potent and heavy as concrete. He let it sit there for some time, and she considered bringing up the ring and how she thought he was going to propose, but he continued. “I told you I tracked the partial plate you gave me to Joel Phelps, Dustin’s brother. Well, I spoke with Joel. He said his truck was in his driveway all week, including Monday night.”

“He’s lying,” she burst out.

Troy’s gaze hardened.

“I’m telling you his truck was the one that rammed me.” Looking at him, she decided to hell with holding anything back. Maybe he was more understanding than she ever gave him credit for. He had understood when it came to her interest in Dustin Phelps and had even stood by her side to set things right.

“Why would he?”

And we’re back to that! “You’re treating me like I’ve done something wrong.” She detected the screech to her voice and hated herself for it. “I know what I saw. Murphy behind the wheel and the partial plate. Murphy must have been driving Joel Phelps’s truck, I swear to you. Talk to Joel’s neighbors, ask around, verify that the truck was in his driveway all week—because I’m telling you it was not.” She stiffened, about ready to pull out her phone and show him the pictures she’d taken of the grille guard, but she had a feeling that would just make everything worse.

“I’m not saying that you’re making it up or—”

“No? You aren’t? Then you’re telling me I’m crazy?”

“That’s not my intention.” He clenched his jaw. “I want to find who did this just as badly as you do.”

She resisted the urge to say, “You could have fooled me.” It would have been a rash, impulsive, and completely unfair reaction. Troy did care—about her and their baby. “Troy,” she started, speaking softly, “what happened to me wasn’t an accident. I know it, and I’m sure you do.”

“Not denying that,” he countered stiffly.

“I have no doubt Murphy’s intention was to hurt me, maybe even kill me.”

His face transformed from concentration to anger and became chiseled granite. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Why? Just answer me that.”

He was giving her every opportunity to open up, but how would he react? Would he leave her to raise their child on her own? Her chest became heavy. “They almost succeeded in killing me and our baby, Troy.”

“Murphy, or they, which is it?”

“I think you know who they are.” She paused as the revelation electrified his green eyes.

“The Mafia,” he ground out.

“Yes.”

Nothing was said for several minutes. Troy sat back and rubbed his jaw.

“I’m…” She cleared her throat. “I’m looking into them and the corrupt cops of the Stiles PD. They need to be flushed out, Troy. You must see that.”

Troy just held her gaze.

“Tell me you do.”

“You know what I see?” His imposed silence was long enough to drive a stake into her heart.

The solitaire. Princess cut. She’d never see it on her finger. She was losing him. “What?” The single word barely scraped from her throat.

“I see a woman who is obsessed—” He quickly held up his hand to keep her from saying anything. “I see a woman who is willing to risk everything, including her own life, to purify the city and the department. You know what else?”

“No.” She was afraid to talk for fear her voice would be laden with emotion, including anger.

“I see a woman who is foolish.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed off his chair.

Hershey got off the couch and curled up on his bed in the corner of the room.

“How dare you!” She choked on a sob.

“Why can’t you just leave them the hell alone? What’s with the obsession? Is bringing them down worth dying over? I get your drive—”

“You obviously don’t.” She panted for breath despite the pain. Rage and heartbreak were fighting for dominance. “And I didn’t know I was pregnant.”

“Why can’t you understand that I’d be ruined if something happened to you?” He snapped his mouth shut and turned away.

“So I’m just supposed to look away and let the bad guys win?”

“I’ve gotta…” He raked a hand through his hair.

She recalled his reaction to the pregnancy, how happy he’d been, how celebratory. “Troy?” she squeaked out. She’d gone and given her heart to this man, and now she had to pay for that vulnerability. “Is that it, then? Are we…done?”

His eyes steeled over. “I just need time to think.”

“I found the ring,” she blurted out.

His gaze was fierce when it aligned with hers. “You what?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Hershey got up from his bed and left the room.

“You were going to propose to me at Cynthia’s wedding, weren’t you?” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but she had to know if she was losing her mind, her ability to read people, her instinct.

He didn’t respond, and seconds later, she looked over at him. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw tight.

“Troy, please, talk to me.”

“So you want me to talk to you, but you’re obviously keeping secrets and running around behind my back.” He clenched his teeth, his nostrils flaring.

“To protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection. When are you going to accept that? Fuck, I’m a SWAT team leader.”

“A bullet would still take you down.”

“What might take me down is being made a target in the first place.” He grabbed his coat from the front closet and slammed the door on his way out.

She couldn’t get herself to respond, even to open her mouth. She was paralyzed from the throat up. All she could think was she’d lost the man she loved because of her tenacity and need to right wrongs. Maybe she’d be better off if she could just let the mob be someone else’s problem. But that wasn’t who she was. It wasn’t even normally who Troy was, and one of the qualities she admired about him the most was that he didn’t back down. She’d always seen him as strong and impenetrable. He had to be acting like this because of the baby.