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Four

The entry wounds are consistent with a .357-caliber bullet,” Richards concluded as he worked over the deceased. He was crouched next to John Doe.

Madison and Terry were getting ready to leave and pay Kimberly Olson-Malone a visit when the ME arrived.

“It’s likely we’re looking at a revolver then,” Madison said, applying her knowledge of firearms. “If that’s the case, there’d be no casings, no need for the killer to clean up behind him- or herself.” It would also be the ideal weapon for someone emotionally despondent. “Does Mr. Malone own any revolvers?”

“I’ll look it up.” Terry pulled a small tablet from a back pants pocket. It was one of the department’s latest gadgets and promised information at their fingertips.

Madison addressed Richards. “What are you ruling as cause of death?” It seemed apparent, but it wasn’t necessarily the bullets that had done them in.

Richards looked up at her, his dark skin pinching around his eyes. “I’d say it’s quite likely the gunshot to their heads, but I’d prefer to get them back to the morgue, run some tests, find out for sure.”

“What about time of death?” Terry piped up, pausing from his search efforts.

“I’d put the TOD window somewhere between seven and ten last night.”

Terry nodded and returned his focus to the tablet.

Richards added, “I’ll conduct their autopsies first thing tomorrow.”

“This afternoon,” Winston overruled as he walked into the room again.

Richards’s jaw clenched. “Unfortunately, with my schedule, that won’t be possible.”

“Make it possible or get someone who can make it happen, or I will.”

“I’ll get it taken care of,” Richards said with resignation and turned to Madison. “I’ll keep you posted on the time.”

Madison didn’t look at Winston but heard him hmph as if Richards had slighted him by addressing Madison instead of him.

“Okay, sooo…” Terry pulled his eyes from the tablet. “It turns out Mr. Malone has a .357 Smith & Wesson registered to him.”

“Discretion.” Winston wagged a pointed finger at her, and she had flashbacks to the former police chief who’d had a bad habit of doing the same thing.

“We’ll do our best,” Madison told him and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

If he was planned on micromanaging the investigation, there might be more bodies before it was all over. “We’re off to speak with Kimberly Olson-Malone.”

“Okay,” Winston stamped his approval. “Know that she has my cell number and that I told her to call me if she has any concerns about the way her mother’s case is being handled.”

Stated again as if Lorene Malone had been the only victim. Madison huffed it to the front door, wanting to put as much distance between her and Winston—as fast as possible. She could only hope the crisp winter air would cool her temper. She stepped out, prepared to take a deep inhale, and found Officer Tendum struggling with a gray-haired man of over six feet in a suit and trench coat. Behind them, a black luxury sedan was pulling away from the curb.

“This is my house. Let me in there,” the man said loudly.

“Release him,” Winston barked, and Tendum did as he was told. “My apologies for Officer Tendum here, Mr. Malone.”

Malone ran his hands down the sleeves of his coat. He was breathing deeply, nostrils slightly flaring, and a vein was bulging in his forehead. It was hard to align the man before her with the grinning grandfather figure presented in the ads for his furniture stores.

“What’s going on?” He looked squarely at her.

Madison disliked notifications under ideal circumstances, if there were such a thing. But there in the man’s driveway, in the cold, with curious neighbors peeking out their windows—potential suspect or not—she wasn’t going to deliver the news like this.

“I’m Detective Madison Knight, and this is my partner, Detective Terry Grant. Unfortunately, we can’t let you into your home right now, and it would be best if you came with us down to the station.”

“What’s going on?” Malone repeated and let his shoulder bag fall to the ground. He blinked slowly and made a move toward the door. Madison and Terry restrained him. Malone bucked against their hold. “I demand to be let into my house immediately!”

“Let him be, detectives,” Winston directed them.

Hairs rose on the back of Madison’s neck, but she released her hold on Malone.

“There’s been an incident involving your wife,” Winston started to explain.

“Just tell me what’s happened.”

“Why don’t you come with me down to the station?” Winston reached for Malone’s elbow, but the man moved out of reach.

“Please, I can imagine it’s next to impossible to walk away, but go with the sergeant, Mr. Malone,” Terry pleaded.

Malone remained immobile and silent for what felt like a minute, then conceded. “Fine. I’ll go—” he jerked his head toward Winston “—with you.”

As the two of them walked to the sergeant’s SUV, Madison turned her attention to Tendum. “Did Mr. Malone say anything to you? Where he’d just come from?”

“Nope. Just that he wanted to know what was going on. As you could see, he didn’t take too kindly to my blocking access.”

In a way, Madison understood Malone’s aggravation. In another, had he planned the timing of his arrival to help cast the shadow of suspicion away from himself? She couldn’t afford to let her guard down.

She and Terry got into the department car, she behind the wheel again and Terry in the passenger seat. She started the vehicle, and cold air blasted from the vents. A feeling of foreshadowing ran down her spine and knotted her stomach. Winston had been so quick to intervene on Malone’s behalf, it was nauseating. So was all his admonition to use discretion. She turned to her partner. “If that man killed his wife, is the sergeant going to turn the other way because of who he is? One of the PD’s largest contributors, highly respected in the community,” she mimicked the sergeant.

Terry cocked his head to the side. “Play nice.”

“Oh, this is how I play nice. I play fair. Steven Malone needs to be treated like any other suspect. He acted like he had no clue—”

“He might not.”

She shook her head, her mind starting to lock in on a theory: jealous husband exacts revenge. It seemed the more the sergeant wanted to push her focus away from Malone, the more inclined she was to look at him. “I don’t think I’m buying that, Terry. His wife was inside with another man, naked with said man. By all accounts, it would seem she was having an affair. Jealousy is a motive as old as time.”

Terry’s brow drew downward. “What’s it like living in your black-and-white world?”

She held eye contact with her partner, admitting to herself that personal experience could be tainting her perspective. “I’m just looking at what’s in front of me,” she defended and put the car into drive.

“We still headed to speak with the daughter? See what she has to say about her parents’ marriage?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, crap, and it begins.” Terry snapped his belt into place.

She stared at her partner. He was more combative than normal. His normal she could handle. It bordered more on sarcasm and lent itself to a sister/brother relationship. This attitude was something else entirely. First, the blow about her living in a black-and-white world, now his sharp remark. “What do you mean by ‘it begins’?” Heat licked her tone.

“Just that. You tend to latch on to one scenario so tightly that you become blind to any other possibilities.” No preamble or tact, straight for the gut.

“And I’m a damn good detective. My close record—”

“Our close—”

“Attests to that. We rule out things as we go.”

“Mr. Malone, though? You always lean toward the cheated-on spouse. Actually, correction, it’s usually men you lean toward.”

“That’s not true.” The claim made her feel hypocritical. She did tend to look at men first. “The husband could be good for this,” she added.

“So could the daughter,” he served back. “We don’t even know that Mrs. Malone and John Doe were having an affair.”

“Why were they naked, then?” Her voice rose in pitch with each word.

“The killer could have had them strip for some reason,” Terry countered matter-of-factly.

“Very well,” Madison conceded. “Does the daughter have any guns registered to her that fire .357-caliber bullets?”

Terry pulled out his tablet. “Let me find out.”

Madison shook her head and headed in the direction of the station. The daughter may have found the bodies, but the husband needed to account for his whereabouts.