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Forty-Eight

Madison had taken the department laptop to bed after Troy left, skipping the casserole because she wasn’t even hungry. Last time she looked at the time, it was two in the morning, and Troy still hadn’t returned home. She shuffled through the surveillance photos Carson had taken of Elliott, not that it seemed she knew his real name. Madison had read all her research, and the name Jake Elliott hadn’t surfaced once.

Most of the photos were at a distance. She’d wager they were taken with Carson’s phone given the fuzziness of some of the zoomed-in shots. Madison’s phone was much better taking one-ratio pictures then enlarging and cropping compared to magnifying and then clicking the shutter button.

Another thing she noticed was quite a few of them were taken outside the same brownstone. Unfortunately, the street number wasn’t in focus, and she didn’t think that Cynthia could work her magic on what was there. That’s even if Cynthia was speaking to her. Maybe she’d finagle things so Terry could ask.

In some pictures, it looked like Elliott was looking straight into the camera lens, as if he saw Carson. Surely he had to know she was tailing him. Waiting outside Luck of the Irish, for one thing.

As she stirred awake, all of this felt like a dream more than something that had taken place. But she smelled bacon. Maybe she was still dreaming. Troy didn’t cook or eat bacon.

She looked beside her, and the bed was empty, but the pulled-down comforter and ruffled sheets confirmed they’d been slept in. At least Troy had come home last night. Still, there was an ache in her chest, like something had broken between them.

The bedroom door slowly opened, and Troy entered holding a tray of food. “You’re awake. Good.” He advanced on the bed, and she shuffled into a seated position. He pulled out the legs on the tray and set it over her lap. She never even knew they had one of these things.

She wasn’t much in the mood to talk to him just yet, but him bringing her breakfast in bed was a smart move.

He sat on the edge of the mattress. “I’m so sorry about last night.” He peered into her eyes, and his apology sliced her open.

“You really hurt me.” And pissed me off!

“I know, and I’m mad at myself for that. I never wanted to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. I love you, Madison.” He placed a gentle hand on her cheek.

“Why did you…” She couldn’t bring herself to speak the word leave. Something about saying it out loud would make what had transpired between them last night more real. As it was, the persistent hurt in her heart told her it had happened.

“I was upset.”

“Yeah, well, guys act like absolute assholes when they’re upset.”

He laughed and gestured to the spread of food on the tray. “Hopefully, that will help make up for my asshole behavior.”

Bacon and scrambled eggs, a couple small pancakes drenched in syrup, a few strawberries, a glass of orange juice, and a coffee. She pointed to the latter. “Decaf?”

“You know it.”

“Where did you get the bacon?”

“I picked it up at a twenty-four-hour grocery store on my way home last night. Along with pretty much everything else you see.”

“For me? To make up for your asshole behavior?” She was probably having a little too much fun with this.

“Yes.” A few beats passed, and he continued. “Enjoy your breakfast while it’s hot, and then we’ll talk. Okay?” He touched the hair at her temple, his fingertips grazing the area for the briefest of moments before he got up.

“Oh, please stay.” Her invitation was impulsive.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He sat back down. “But eat up.”

She went for the coffee first and took a sip. “You know this stuff really isn’t that bad. I might even be able to fool myself into thinking it’s the real deal.”

“Until you nod off in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” She shoved him gently in the shoulder. “Speaking of nodding off in the afternoon, what time did you get up? What time is it now?” He blocked her view of the alarm clock. She took a bite of bacon. He’d cooked it to perfection—crispy, but it didn’t shatter into bits when chewed.

“I was up at six. Slept like crap.”

“I didn’t sleep well either.” She polished off the first slice and lifted her fork and dug into the eggs.

“Not that one could tell given your snoring.”

“Hey!” She swallowed her mouthful. “I don’t snore.”

He laughed. “Oh, yes you do.”

“Whatever. I’d like proof.” She made a show of rolling her eyes but smiled. They met each other’s eyes, and it was clear to Madison there was still love between them, but last night had hurt them both. “So the time is…”

“Ten thirty.”

“Ten thirty! I haven’t slept that late for—I can’t remember how long.”

“And how does it feel?”

“Like I’m a lazy toad.” She laughed, then reeled back. Blasted ribs.

“Well, you’ve been through a lot this week and need your rest.” He put a hand on her thigh, his touch not evoking thoughts of sleeping. She put her right hand over his, and they held that position as she ate every bite of what he’d prepared.

She set her fork down and burped. “Excuse me.”

He laughed. “Someone was hungry.”

“Very.” She was going to jest she was eating for two now, but it would be blaming the baby, and it was far too young to be responsible for an increased appetite. “I just realized that my stomach’s feeling pretty okay this morning.”

“That’s good, considering.” He indicated her empty plate and cleared the tray so she could get out of bed. “The bacon will probably help.”

“How?”

“Fatty foods sometimes sit well on an upset stomach.”

Unless it’s a greasy burger.

She got out of bed and was going to just wrap a robe around herself and go to the living room, but decided she’d rather get dressed for the day, even if it was putting off the conversation Troy obviously wanted to have with her. He’d brought her breakfast in bed, but was that a sign that he’d come around to her point of view or a way of buttering her up so she could see his?

“I’m just going to have a shower and get human,” she said. “Then I’ll be out.”

“Okay.” He pecked a kiss on her forehead and left the room ahead of her.

She stopped to pick up her cell phone off her nightstand. Terry had texted a message last night at eight thirty. She hadn’t heard it come in because she’d silenced her phone. She was so angry at Troy for leaving, but she didn’t trust herself to ignore him if he called. As it turned out, he hadn’t.

She read Terry’s message now.

Interviewed all pub employees. No one saw anything. No murder weapon found or purse. And dumpster out back emptied on Mondays. Cyn will review video closer. Looking into Carson/knife. Lipstick and scrap of fabric found. Will compare to Carson

She fired back a quick, Thanks for the update, and headed down the hall.

She ran a shower, turning the faucet to as hot as her flesh could stand, and stood under the stream. The ache in her chest was still there, but it had dulled. Now it was more like a scar, a reminder that she’d been wounded, that she was vulnerable, that she was not invincible. She closed her eyes and let the water pour over her face and down her body. She heard the hooks on the shower curtain sliding along the bar and turned to see Troy stepping in behind her.

“I’m so sorry, Madison. I really am.” He closed the distance between them.

They put their foreheads together, but it wasn’t long before their mouths met, their tongues darting and hungry. Hands searching, cupping, kneading, caressing. Panting and gasping.