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Fifty-One

You’re not going to believe where Carter’s phone traced back to.” Terry was doing the driving and speeding through the city streets.

Yet he gives me a hard time about my driving.

“So you’ve said, but I’m really not in the guessing mood,” Madison fired back. She smelled like a damned powder puff with a hint of vanilla. She sniffed down her arms, then her hands. The fragrance was probably coming from the makeup and lotions, but it was filling her head. On some days, it would be easier if she’d been born a boy.

“You look nice, by the way.”

She scowled at him.

“And smell good.”

She balled a fist and waved it in his face. “Take it all back.”

Terry started laughing.

“Where are we going?” She was on the road to a painful, agonizing death.

“Marie Rauch’s.”

“Say what?”

“Yep. I did some more digging into the Boyd investigation files. Rauch’s name came up as someone who was questioned. It turns out she lived two doors down from the Boyds at the time of their murders.”

“Holy shit.” She’d known that Rauch had lived close to the Griffins as a girl, but she didn’t know she’d lived near the Boyds as an adult, but then again, she hadn’t had a reason to go looking for that.

Terry continued. “Rauch lived there by herself until she got married ten years ago to her current husband.”

“Yet, she didn’t bother telling us any of this.” She turned to Terry and held out her hand. “My gun?”

“Back seat.”

She undid her belt and reached back for her gun and holster. She worked to get it all in place. “What are your thoughts on why Carter’s phone is at the Rauches’ house? Are they having an affair?” Madison tossed out.

“Exactly what I’m thinking. I called the Colton detective about the Boyds after finding Rauch in the file, and he remembered her being sort of twitchy. He thought she was hiding something but had no way of proving his suspicions.”

“She knew her boyfriend had killed his biological parents,” she concluded.

“Could be.”

“Anyway, Carter’s phone traced back to the Rauches’ home as of thirty minutes ago. Units are watching the house at a distance. Back and front are covered, so we’ll know if anyone comes out.” Terry took the turn down the Rauches’ street, and they passed a couple of patrol cars.

Terry continued. “The warrants came through just before I picked you up, but remember, it will be SWAT that breaks down the door.”

Standard procedure, so she wasn’t sure why he was telling her.

“I thought you’d have more to say. Something along the lines of, ‘Thank God, I won’t break a nail,’” he teased, playing the role of a diva, then burst out laughing.

She glared at him and stuffed her hands into her coat pockets.

“They look nice, too, by the way.”

She snarled at him. He laughed again.

Madison saw the SWAT command vehicle. Troy and his men were approaching the door. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one being waylaid from today’s plans.

Terry slowed the car, and she got out.

“Where are you—”

She slammed her door and started advancing on the house.

Terry caught up to her and nudged her in the back, extending a bulletproof vest toward her.

She was wearing a bulky coat. There was no way she was getting the vest on over it. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Put it on. Ditch the coat. I don’t care.”

“Fine.” She snatched the vest and lost the coat, just leaving it to lie on the Rauches’ front lawn.

“And where do you think you’re going, anyway? SWAT’s got this.”

“I left Cynthia to get this clown, and I’m bringing him in.” She kept her eyes forward, realizing that was probably why Terry had reminded her of the protocol.

Nick Benson, a member of Troy’s team, was knocking on the door, announcing the Stiles PD’s arrival. He was armed with a shield, which he retreated behind after knocking.

“Recap on our jobs,” Terry interjected. “SWAT goes in first, clears the scene, then you and I sweep in, save the day. Voilà. Textbook. Heads stay on shoulders. Everyone goes home.”

She stormed up to the sidewalk to Troy and stood behind him.

Troy kept his face straight forward, but he must have felt her presence. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking down a killer.”

“You keep her back until we’ve done our thing.” He must have sensed Terry, too.

“As if I can control her.”

“Stay behind me,” Troy directed her.

She did as he asked.

Benson knocked on the door once more, and then quickly lifted the shield in front of them again.

“Stiles PD!” Troy roared.

There was shuffling in the house, and Madison was close enough to Troy to hear a voice coming over the comm in his ear.

“Move in, now,” Troy commanded.

The sound of wood tearing from the door frame in the rear cracked like thunder.

Troy, Benson, Madison, and Terry moved out of the way, and Mark Copeland, who was built like a tank himself, rammed the door. All of them went in, guns at the ready.

Madison’s heartbeat was pounding in her ears, adrenaline in full force. Everything seemed to take place in slow motion, including the sound of the heavy footsteps of the SWAT team heading in the back door and up the stairs.

Michael Carter stepped out of the sitting room into the front entry, holding a .375 S&W on them. “Just leave me alone.” His hand was shaking, as was his voice. Desperation in his tone, a plea more than a directive. But Madison noticed something more: a cut on the back of his hand.

“We can’t do that, Michael,” one of Troy’s men said in a soothing manner.

“One target acquired. There’s still another,” Benson said into his comms. “A female. May be armed.”

At the same time, Troy yelled to Carter, “Put your gun down now!”

As Madison watched the standoff, her mind raced. Where the hell was Rauch? With Troy’s men spread throughout the house, why hadn’t they found her yet?

“Clear,” one of Troy’s men shouted at the same time she heard a motor grinding.

What the—

Then the sounds of metal gave the source of the sound away—a garage door was opening. Madison wanted to bolt out the front door, but she couldn’t risk startling Carter. He seemed twitchy enough already for someone holding a gun.

Troy was advancing on Carter, one painfully slow step at a time, but Carter didn’t seem to notice. “Put your gun down, Michael, or—”

“What? Are you going to make me?”

“Things don’t need to go that way.”

If she slowly backed up toward the door, Carter might not notice. His focus was on Troy.

The motor stopped, which meant the garage door was open. Sure, there were other officers around who could stop Rauch, but—

Madison stepped backward out the front door, leaving Terry there in the entry, Troy and Carter still talking. She cleared the front steps without incident.

In the garage, the taillights of Rauch’s SUV were lit, and she was backing up.

Where the hell does she think she’s going?

Madison headed toward the driver’s side, and shots rang out the opened window.

Madison ducked and returned fire.

Rauch gunned the gas and the SUV barreled down the driveway in reverse, but Rauch wasn’t looking where she was going. She was looking ahead, her eye on Madison, her gun lifted.

Madison squeezed her trigger.

Direct hit.

Rauch fell forward. Her body slumped against the wheel, but her foot was still on the gas. The SUV swerved across the street, barely avoiding the parked cars and came to rest on the front lawn of the house across the street.

The wheels were spinning in the deep snow, spitting ice. Officers moved in on the vehicle—Now they show up—and Madison went toward the driver’s door.

“Put your hands up where I can see them,” she cried out to Rauch, running on the assumption that she was still alive. She couldn’t take the risk she wasn’t. “I said, ‘Put your hands up!’” Madison huffed to the door and swung it open, her gun on Rauch.

Rauch put her hands up, groaned in pain, and took her foot off the gas.

Madison cleared Rauch’s gun, handing it off to an officer who had come up behind her, and cuffed Rauch to the steering wheel.

“You’re under arrest for shooting at an officer and harboring a murderer.”

Rauch started to laugh, blood seeping from the corners of her mouth as she did so. Madison turned to call out for an ambulance and found a small army of Stiles PD officers there to assist. Finally, she thought again, but still experienced a moment of pride. This was the life she’d chosen, and she’d do anything to protect it.

A gun report shattered through the air, and Madison’s heart stopped. It had come from the Rauches’ house.

Troy! She ran across the street, taking the front steps two at a time. Her worst fear would be finding Troy shot and dead. She blinked the tears away when she came to find it was Michael Carter lying on the floor in a pool of blood—a bullet between his eyes.

Madison knew it wasn’t standard or even necessarily professional, but she threw her arms around Troy. “Thank God, you’re okay.”

“Yeah, well, you and I need to talk about your lack of listening.”

She touched his cheek. “Just happy we’re both around to talk.”

He leaned down, putting his forehead to hers, and for a moment, she forgot she was at a crime scene.