AKASHA.
Pulse galloping, she photographed the name. But just as she fired off a rapid succession of clicks, another car—a white Audi—pulled into view and came to a stop under a streetlight several meters short of the driveway entrance. Merry slid down in her seat, peering up over the edge of the window. There was a man and a woman in the front of the Audi. The man leaned over, and the two engaged in a long, passionate kiss. Slowly, Merry raised her lens, clicked. Again. And again. The Audi windows started to steam up. Then suddenly the interior light flared on as the passenger side door opened. A woman got out. Merry’s heart stalled as the woman leaned down into the car to say something while holding the door open.
The man was Jack Killion. The freaking city mayor. And the woman was ADAG Joyce Norton-Wells.
Staying low, hands trembling with excitement, Merry fired off another series of shots. The ADAG shut the passenger door. The Audi pulled off, and Joyce Norton-Wells walked up the AKASHA driveway carrying her briefcase.
CHAPTER 54
SATURDAY, DECEMBER16
It was 5:30 a.m. on Saturday morning. Maddocks had come in early, knowing things would be quiet at the station, just a handful of Operation Limpet guys coming in. Primarily, Fitz and the rest of management would not be there. And he didn’t want Fitz around for what he was about to try—bringing Jayden Norton-Wells in to give avoluntaryDNA sample.
The plan had come to him last night, as he’d lain in the grip of insomnia aboard his yacht, fretting about Angie and the case. She’d not returned his calls, and he’d not tried to go around to her place, either. He’d decided last night that whatever course of action she took, if it was to be of any value, if it was to work long term and be inherbest interests, he had to do the most difficult thing of all—wait for her to come to him.
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he stood in front of the whiteboard. Chewing lightly on the inside of his cheek, he studied the new lines he’d drawn linking victims Drummond and Hocking toBlack-Haired Male One,Black-Haired Male Two, andBlond Male.
A cough sounded behind him, and he spun around.
Holgersen. Quietly watching him.
“How long you been standing there?” he said, slightly rattled—hadn’t heard the guy come in at all.
Holgersen came forward. Under the harsh fluorescent light this morning, the hollows beneath his eyes looked deep, and his cheeks gaunt. “You called, boss,” he said, referencing Maddocks’s new position on the task force. “You left me a message in the middle of the night. Told me about the black hair DNA profiles, told me to come in this morning to help with your plan. Remember?”
“I didn’t say five thirty a.m.”
He gave a halfhearted shrug. “Thought I’d come take a look at things and give it alls a think in the quiet myself.” He tilted his chin toward the whiteboard. “But you gots here first.”
Maddocks regarded the man in silence for a beat. “You get any sleep at all, Holgersen?”
Another shrug. “Ah, yanno, a case eats away at a person sometimes. So ... you gots the DNA profiles up there, I see.” He came close to the board, studied the new links and information. Without turning around, he said, “So, Fitz, eh. Buziak. You the new man-in-charge.”
Maddocks remained silent.
Holgersen turned, crooked a brow. “How’s Pallorino?”
“Don’t know.”
He nodded. “And I reckon Fitz isn’t gonna be on board with this plan of yours?”
Silence.
“So what makes you think our Jayden-pretty-rich-boy is actually gonna wanna offer us up his body juices by choice today?”
Maddocks walked over to the counter where he’d put a pot of coffee on to brew earlier. He poured himself a steaming mug and held up the pot. “Want?”
“Nah, I’ll get me some real shit later, thanks.”
Maddocks returned to the board and sipped as he considered the photo of Jayden Norton-Wells. He pointed his mug at it. “He’s the weak link. And the key link. The Lexus. The Saint Christopher medallion. Him fleeing to Raddison, who has a matchbook in his office with Drummond’s cell number on it. He’s connected. Don’t know how—but he is. We nail him, I figure the dominoes will start falling.”
“See, here’s the thing,” Holgersen said, fishing into his breast pocket for his pack of nicotine gum. “If Norton-Wells is connected, he’s not gonna give us a DNA sample voluntarily. Plus, even if he’s not connected, he’s a law student. Them guys are big on shit like the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, privacy laws, personal rights—full of braggadocio blow and all.”
Maddocks cocked a brow. “You been doing the daily jumble with Leo now?”
A grin slashed his tired face. He popped a tablet of green gum between his teeth, held it there, and said around it, “I do know some shit, boss.”
Recalibrating. That’s what Maddocks felt he was doing with each new interaction with Kjel Holgersen. The cop intrigued the puzzle-solver in Maddocks. What, he wondered, was Holgersen’s motivation in becoming a detective? What made him tick? What was his motive in trying to tip him and Angie off about Fitz? It was part of the reason he’d picked Holgersen to go with him today. Keep your friends close, as they say, but your enemies even closer—and he wanted to figure out which Holgersen was. Friend or foe.
