“Your fur is everywhere,” Grace said, wrapping her robe around her and tying the belt as she passed her bed. Buster followed her to the kitchen, and as she poured herself a glass of wine, her cell phone vibrated against the counter.
Mac.
“Tell me something good,” she answered.
“Good news first then,” he said with a light tone to his voice. He’s smiling that charming smile of his. “I found the two men who were smoking cigars at the time Todd was out there. Bad news is, only one of them even remembered Todd, but had no idea how long he was out there for, or even what he was doing. They remembered offering him a cigar as he came out the front doors and that he headed in the direction of the limo with a bag, but that’s it. They admitted they were drunk by that time.”
“And the shoes?”
“Malone’s had a long day,” Mac chuckled, and she smiled before taking a sip of wine. “He made prints from all the guests’ shoes, checked ‘em for blood at the same time. No blood and nothing matches the trail to the back yet. He’s going home for a break, and we’ve got Vila trying to match up the prints to the photos in the snow. Please tell me you got something.”
“I went by Cory’s store, Slap Shot, hoping to find his business partner, but the shop’s closed.”
“We’ll go back tomorrow, then?”
“No, closed like gone out of business. His name is Brad Hansen, and he played hockey with Cory back in college. They both own the store. I checked with the land owner for the space. I got his address and number, left him a message, and I’m waiting to hear back.”
“If Cory had money troubles, it would have affected Brad. Now that the store’s closed… we need to talk to him.”
“That’s why I called and left—“
“Let’s go to his house tomorrow—after seeing Lockwood.”
“Yeah, sure,” Grace said, between a sip of wine. “Tarek’s still going through the photographer’s digital pictures from the wedding. He’ll have them printed for us tomorrow too.”
“Sounds like a plan. What are you up to?”
“Just about to reheat leftovers from my dinner.”
“How come?”
“Madigan should be home from work shortly.”
And I want to get to the bottom of what’s troubling her.
Lights flashed through the living room window as the motorcycle’s engine growled up the driveway.
“Speak of the devil.” Grace pressed the start button on the oven. “Are you still working?”
“I’m just cleaning up my place. Kenzie’s coming this weekend.”
“Very nice.”
“I still have a bunch to do to get ready, so I’m off. See you tomorrow.”
The front door opened, and Buster ran to it, greeting Madigan as she set her helmet and bag down, kneeling in front of him.
“How’s my boy?” she cooed.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Grace called.
“You’re still awake.”
“Yeah, you’re late.”
“Sorry, I got hung up,” Madigan said as she stepped into the kitchen. “Hey, smells good.”
“It’s just take out.” Grace took another sip of her wine. “I was getting worried.”
Madigan made a face and rolled her eyes as Buster followed her to the fridge.
“Hey, have you put your interest in for the next self-defence class at the gym?” Grace asked.
After her attack the previous fall, Madigan had changed. Although she never told her, Grace knew she didn’t like to be home much when she wasn’t there too. No security system, dog, or time had helped. After she’d been involved in her own investigation in South Bend, she had come back changed again, and Grace was determined to close the gap that had grown between them and get down to the bottom of the issue.
“I haven’t,” Madigan said, pouring herself a glass of red wine, “but I will. I promise.”
“You promised me you would when you got back after South Bend,” Grace said. “If you’re going to be taking on cases and helping people, you need to be able to—“
“Protect myself,” Madigan said, sighing. “I know. Consider it done, alright?”
Grace pursed her lips and nodded once before sliding on oven mitts and taking the food out.
“Thanks for this,” Madigan said, grabbing two forks.
“Oh, I’m still full,” Grace said, but Madigan grinned and set the fork down in front of her before sitting on the stool by the counter and stabbing at a few pieces of pasta.
“So, I heard some things at work you might be interested in,” Madigan said before shoving the fork into her mouth.
“About my vic?”
Madigan nodded as she finished chewing and told her about what the patrons at Roy’s had said about his gambling and debt.
“Didn’t say who he owed,” she finished, “but there’s at least one witness who saw him at the casino every weekend.”
“Okay, I want to check into that, then,” Grace said. “Anything else?”
Madigan shook her head and continued to stab at the pasta. “I went to see my parents today. The Holdens came over. I guess Doreen and Kurt aren’t taking their honeymoon.”
“No, and it’s probably for the best. We’ll get to talk to them if we need to. They can help support their friend through this difficult time and honeymoon when some of the dust has settled. Then it can be a memory created apart from all this.”
“Sounds nice when you put it that way,” Madigan said, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
“Mhmm, so you finally visited your parents?”
“Yeah. It was… intense.”
“I’m not surprised. After all these years…” Grace sipped the last of her wine and debated pouring herself another glass.
“They’re considering selling their homes and moving—probably to Florida full-time for retirement.” Madigan kept her head hung, studying her dinner. “We got into it because now, after all these years, like you said, they wanted to have a straight talk with me.”
Grace picked up her fork and scooped up a piece of pasta she’d been eyeing the whole time. “So?”
“So,” Madigan sighed, “I indulged them. It got real bad, real quick, and my mom admitted she wanted to get away from me when they finally left that winter. Specifically, me.”
“She did?”
Grace had always assumed that the Knoxes’ grief had clouded their judgement over the years after Drew’s passing, but she couldn’t quite believe Madigan’s claim that they didn’t want to be with her. That they didn’t care about her anymore, or they flat out blamed her for Drew’s death.
“She admitted it, but she wouldn’t tell me why,” Madigan huffed. “I mean, she said the stuff we’ve both assumed. She was consumed with grief; she was in a deep, dark, depression, and she was pretty much just in survival mode for herself—but then she actually said she wanted to get away from me.”
“Wow.” Grace shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mad. She’s got to have some sort of explanation, though.”
And I bet you didn’t hear her out.
“She said she didn’t want to hurt me, and my dad put an end to it, so I left. I wasn’t going to find out any more about it.” Madigan let out a loud huff and set her fork down on her napkin.
“There’s not much left to say to them, really. I guess I’m never going to get what I want from it.”
“Which is?”
Madigan swallowed audibly and rested her elbows on the counter.
“Tell me,” Grace said.
Madigan cleared her throat and avoided eye contact. “There’s not really an excuse for leaving me like they did. I don’t think anything can change the way I feel.”
“But you want…what?”
“I want to know what I’ve been hanging on for,” Madigan mumbled. “Is it that I want a family so bad that I’m just holding on to what we used to be? What I thought we were? Or is there really hope for things to get better?”
Grace poured a little more wine into her glass, and they both sipped at their drinks, sitting silently at the counter. Grace’s heart broke for her sister. It always had. Not pity—but from the hope for her that things could get better and the disappointment they would both face when they didn’t.
“You can’t let this torture you anymore,” Grace said in a soft voice. “It’s affecting you in ways we probably don’t even understand, but it’s eating at you. Hell, it eats at me too.”
Madigan looked up at her with wide eyes and a bit of a smirk.
“What?” Grace asked.
“You never swear.”
“Yeah, well…”
“I know you’re right,” Madigan said. “It’s just, if they tell me the truth—if I hear it from them—I don’t know if we can come back from it. Things could be worse between us, as crazy as that sounds. I know that for sure, but I don’t know if they could get better.”
“Mad, you know you’ve got to find out once and for all.”
Madigan twisted around one of the rings on her finger with her thumb.
This is part of what’s going on with her, but it’s not all of it.
“They’re going to make a big life change, and maybe you will too,” Grace said. “You better figure it out with them soon.”
Madigan stood with her glass and rounded the counter, squeezing Grace’s shoulder before shuffling toward the hall. “Come on, Buster.”
“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about…how you’ve been doing lately.”
“Oh-kay.” Madigan swiveled around. “I’m good.”
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
She nodded, fussing with her ring again. “I’m just tired.”
If she won’t tell me, I’ll just have to do my best to help her with what I think I know.
“I really feel like the self-defence classes will be great for you—“
“Grace?”
“Yes?”
“I got it. Thank you. Come on, Bust.” She turned on her heel, and he followed right behind her, wagging his tail, shaking hair all over the floor.
“Quite the pair,” Grace huffed and began the clean up.
I can’t nag her about it. If she doesn’t want to talk, then I have to respect it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.
Before getting to bed, she checked her email, and Tarek had sent her and Mac an attached file of all the wedding photos along with a short message.
Nothing out of the ordinary. No photos taken outside after the reception started but before the send off at the time of the crime.
Grace snuggled up in bed with her laptop and clicked through each of the pictures one by one, sipping at the last of her wine.
I’ll have to send these to Doreen and Kurt so they can tell me if anyone here doesn’t belong. If anything is odd to them.
I should give them the note Cory left them in the limo, too.
She stopped at the picture of Marie and Todd, then set her wine glass down on her nightstand. Just two people from the wedding party, standing by the table together.
I want to talk to Todd again. There’s something about him and his eagerness to help. Something off here, but what?
She fell asleep studying the picture.