-

Two

Chocolate was the only thing that could help Madison’s nerves. She drove to the station, a woman on a mission, and the second she got there, she made a beeline for the top right-hand drawer of her desk where she kept a stash of Hershey’s bars. Good news: there was no sign of her partner, so she’d be saved the need to defend her chocolate munching first thing in the day. Bad news: she wasn’t seeing any chocolate.

“Shit. Don’t tell me…” She pulled the drawer all the way out and rummaged through business cards, pens, clips, elastics. “Son of a…” She slammed the drawer shut.

She must have eaten the last bar yesterday. She patted her pockets for change, holding out hope the vending machine in the cafeteria would come through for her, but she came up empty-handed. Now she wished Terry was around to mooch money from, even if it came with a lecture on healthy eating.

“Hey there, beautiful.”

She turned to see Troy approaching her. Talk about impeccable timing. He’d just saved the world and didn’t even know it. She smiled brightly at him. “You wouldn’t happen to have a buck, would you?”

He closed the distance between them and looked around. With the coast clear, he tapped a kiss on her lips.

They’d been together for almost a year, and her heart still sped up when they came into contact. What woman could blame her? Troy had blond hair and piercing green eyes, was six-foot-three, and had six-pack abs. When he held her, she felt safe enough to weather any storm.

She licked her lips and held out a hand. “A buck?”

Troy looked at her hand and up to her eyes, no smile. He didn’t part with them easily, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Let me guess. Time for a chocolate bar, and your inventory’s out?”

“Now, who’s the detective?” she jested. Troy headed up a SWAT team, but when those services weren’t needed, he performed officer duties as necessary.

“No need to get hostile.” He reached into a pocket and came out with change. “You know the stuff is going to kill you.”

She snatched the coins from him. “If it does, I’d die with a smile on my face.” So maybe she was a little transparent when it came to her cacao-bean addiction and how she craved it like a smoker did cigarettes. Surely, chocolate was healthier than nicotine. She took off toward the vending machine, Troy following her.

“I take it your Tuesday’s gone downhill since I saw you last?” The devil danced in his eyes. The day had started off with them in a heap of sweat, tangled in sheets. Heat flushed through her at the memory, but she wasn’t letting it derail her current mission.

She popped the coins into the vending machine and made her selection. The curly metal started to turn—then it stopped! The Hershey’s bar was suspended.

“This can’t be happening.” She kicked the machine and writhed in pain. The bar stayed put, taunting her. “Stupid, fucking mach—”

“Hey.” Troy shuffled up beside her and nudged her out of the way. “It’s okay. I’ll get it.”

“I don’t need a man to—”

He’d already grabbed both sides of the machine and was in the processing of shaking it. The candy bar fell loose. He retrieved it from the bin and extended it toward her. She reached for it, and he pulled it back.

She cocked her head. “Someone’s living dangerously.”

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “That’s what you love about me.”

Her damned heart fluttered—again. She grabbed the bar, stepped back from him, tore the wrapper, and bit off a mouthful. She closed her eyes and let out a moan.

“You two should get a room,” Troy said, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Hmm, not a bad idea.” She took another bite and leaned against the machine, allowing herself a few minutes’ bliss.

“You never did answer my question.” He tilted his head, that morning’s escapades reflected in his eyes.

“You couldn’t have expected it to get better.” She narrowed her eyes seductively and planted a deep kiss on him, savoring the taste of him—maybe even more than the chocolate. Or was it the combination of him and chocolate? She’d have to remember that for the bedroom and was surprised they hadn’t already tried the combination.

Troy pulled back. “I did say something about getting a room—”

“Cut it out,” she teased.

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me. I wish I could ignore the fact that you did so to distract me from the serious implication of my question. Is something wrong?” His gaze bored through her.

He knew her far too well. “Nope, everything’s fine.” She hated keeping secrets from him—even this one and knowing that she did so for his own good. If that fact ever changed, which she doubted it would, she’d reassess, but for now, the less he knew about her side investigation, the better. She didn’t want to think too hard about the fact she might be withholding from him for a while to come.

He studied her. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know.” Her heart swelled. Troy would willingly be her knight in shining armor, but she didn’t need him fighting her battles.

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ve got it licked, Bulldog.”

She shoved his shoulder, and he laughed. He knew she didn’t love the pet name he had for her, but he’d likely pulled it out to lighten her mood—and it worked. “I love you,” she said, the sentiment profoundly sincere.

“And I—”

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Terry blew into the room and gestured with a tri-folded piece of paper he was holding toward the bar in her hand. “For some people, it’s breakfast time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Chocolate comes from a bean, so it’s technically a vegetable. We’ve been through this before.” She bobbed her head side to side. “The way I see it, I’m eating healthy.” She stuffed the last of the Hershey’s bar into her mouth.

“Uh-huh,” Terry said, not convinced.

Troy stepped back from her and passed a glance to Terry. “Well, you two have fun.” He gave one final look at Madison and, when he was behind Terry, blew her a kiss.

“What’s up?” Madison asked her partner as she bunched up the empty wrapper and tossed it into a garbage bin. It bounced off the edge and then went in. Score: three points.

“Where have you been?” Terry’s face was flushed, his nostrils slightly flared, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. Even for looking unhinged, every one of his blond hairs lay perfectly in place. She, on the other hand, resembled a blond cockatoo most of the time.

“I’m waiting,” Terry pressed. He was certainly in a mood this morning, and he was coming across as if he were the senior detective. He was three years her junior. “I tried calling you five times, left two messages. Why weren’t you answering your phone?”

Crap. She’d been so focused on chocolate she’d forgotten to turn her phone’s ringer back on. She rectified that and saw the missed calls. “I had an appointment.”

Terry pointed to her phone. “You had your ringer off?”

“I had an appointment,” she repeated while shifting her weight to her right hip and jutting out her chin.

“While you’ve been off doing whatever, we had a double homicide land in our lap.” Terry tapped the paper he was holding, and it sank in that it was likely a search warrant. “Quite a high-profile case at that,” he added.

He already had her attention with “double homicide.” As a city of about half a million, Stiles saw its share of murders, but rarely were two bodies found together at the same time. “I’m listening.”

“A man and a woman. Don’t have an ID for him, but she’s Lorene Malone.”

“The Lorene Malone?” The Malones were a wealthy family that founded Malone’s, a chain of furniture stores that catered to middle-income families. They had three locations—one in Stiles and two in surrounding communities.

“The one and only,” Terry said briskly. “Both were shot in the head and found naked at the bottom of the Malones’ indoor swimming pool.”

“Naked? And we don’t know who the man is? Was Mrs. Malone having an affair?”

“Too early to say.”

“Who found them?”

“The Malones’ eldest, Kimberly Olson-Malone.”

“Does she live in the house?”

“Nope. She’s forty-two, divorced, and has two young kids.”

“What was her reason for being at her parents’ house this morning?”

“Says she was there to pick her mother up for a seven-thirty yoga class.”

“Early for yoga,” she said. “What time did she show up at the house?”

“Around seven ten.”

“Does the daughter know who the man is?”

Terry shook his head. “Claims not to.”

The picture forming in Madison’s mind wasn’t a pretty one. If Lorene Malone was having an affair and that was what had driven the murders, one person would have more motive than anyone. “What was Mr. Malone’s reaction to the murders?”

“Don’t know.”

The skin tightened on the back of her neck. “How can you not—”

“I can’t reach him,” Terry cut in. “Kimberly doesn’t know where he is but told me that her parents just celebrated their forty-seventh wedding anniversary.”

“That hardly excludes him as a suspect. We’ve got to find him and fast,” she said. “I assume that’s the signed search warrant you’re holding?” They’d need one before the house could be processed, as Lorene Malone wasn’t the sole occupant.

Terry lifted the paper in his left hand. “Yep. It just came through. I’m headed back to the Malones’ now, but thought I’d look for you first.”

A moody partner, a high-profile double homicide—oh, this week would be getting a whole lot worse before it got better. “Let’s go,” she said.