Race Against Time Page 11

  “The photographer who took these snapshots has pictures that showed up at every crime scene.”

  “So he’s the murderer? The person who took these pictures is the Suicide Bandit?”

  Brody raised a brow. “The Suicide Bandit?”

  “That’s what they’re calling him on the news.”

  Great, the media had gotten ahold of this story. Things were about to get even more fun now. “No, the person who took these pictures isn’t behind the crimes. In fact, she’s one of the killer’s victims. Only she survived.”

  Victor’s mom gasped. “What a horrific experience she must have gone through. I can’t imagine. Do you have any persons of interest in the investigation yet?”

  “No, ma’am. Not yet. But we’re working on this around the clock. I assure you that we’re nowhere close to giving up on this investigation.”

  “I don’t know that I’m going to be able to sleep at night anymore. Not knowing that this man is out there.”

  “I understand your concern. Lock your doors. And thanks for your help. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  The woman reached for his arm before he could turn to leave. “Brody, find my son’s killer. You’re a kind man. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t let this man get away with killing my son.”

  “I won’t.”

  Victor had been a good man. A little naive and prone to drama, like many young people were. Brody remembered Victor’s wife of only a few months had left him and sent the man’s emotions into a tailspin just before his death. But Victor still had so much to live for. Just like that, life could slip through your fingers.

  He thought about what Madison had said about God. He hadn’t given much thought to God in years. He’d been too busy living for himself to think about anything else or any greater purpose.

  How would his life have turned out differently if he’d been a believer? Madison certainly found a measure of comfort in her faith during this trying time. He could still see the peace in her eyes and he admired her for that.

  But God wasn’t for him. He’d lived long enough and seen too much to believe in a higher power.

  He put his car into drive.

  For some reason, that final thought rested heavy on his shoulders. But it lay even heavier on his heart.

  * * *

  The next morning Brody woke up from a restless night of sleeping on the couch at Kayla’s house. He’d barely gotten any sleep, but he’d trade that for a little peace of mind in knowing that Madison was okay.

  She had told him last night when he’d arrived at Kayla’s about the reporter who’d shown up at her door. Anger surged through him at the nerve of the man. It was a good thing Brody hadn’t been there. He would have definitely given the man a piece of his mind.

  But more than that, he thought about what Madison had said about Mark having access to her photos. The killer had to have gotten ahold of Madison’s work somehow. Brody had assumed that the photos had been published somewhere and that’s how the killer had gotten them. But Madison said these were all nature photos that she’d never sold, that she’d taken for personal pleasure.

  The web became even more tangled.

  Finally the rest of the gang at the house woke up and saved Brody from his ever-churning thoughts. Kayla whisked Lincoln off to preschool and Madison didn’t even have to ask about their schedule for the day. She’d dressed prepared to go to work with Brody again today, to abandon her life until this guy was caught. They barely spoke until they reached the station.

  “You’re quiet,” Madison said as she perched in the chair across from his desk there.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About the Suicide Bandit?”

  His eyebrow twitched up. “You watched the news, too, I assume?”

  She nodded while frowning. “Yeah, talk about sensationalism.”

  “More like fear mongers.” He shook his head. “People may have a right to know, but now we have everyone in town terrified.”

  “Maybe they should be scared. Fear keeps people sharp. Maybe now that people are aware, someone will see something or remember something.”

  “I talked to Detective Blackston last night and he said they’d gotten more than one-hundred calls ever since the story aired. Most of them are useless. People with good intentions, but faulty memories. I just hope chaos doesn’t break out.”

  They stopped their conversation as Sheriff Carl approached Brody at his desk. He squeezed Madison’s arm in greeting before his serious eyes fell on Brody. “Found out what caused the explosion yesterday at Alfred’s.”

  “And?”

  “A tampered gas line. Someone installed an illegal line to the gas meter at the building and allowed natural gas from a street line to enter the air at an excessively high pressure,” Sheriff Carl said. “When they did that, the gas line bypassed the meter’s shutoff valve and its regulator. That’s what caused the explosion.”

  Brody shifted his stance. “So was Alfred trying to steal gas or did someone else orchestrate all of that just to make the grocery store explode?”

  “By all appearances, Alfred was up to some illegal operations,” the sheriff said. “There have been rumors around here for months that he was selling that new drug Spice behind the counter and that he’s had some involvement with illegal gambling operations. It looks like he probably ran that line himself.”

  “It just happened to explode five minutes after we left?” Madison asked.

  “I know the timing seems crazy, but that is what appears to have happened. We’re still investigating, though. There could have been foul play involved.” Sheriff Carl leaned against Brody’s desk and crossed his arms. “Here’s the more important part, though. I sent a team to Alfred’s house this morning, as soon as we got a search warrant.”

  “And?”

  “We found everything there. Drafts of the suicide letters, leather gloves, syringes, the same rope used to make the noose, razors, drugs. Everything. It looks like Alfred was our man, that he was the Suicide Bandit.”

  Brody’s heart rate didn’t slow for some reason. “Alfred was the Suicide Bandit?”

  Sheriff Carl nodded. “That’s what the evidence says. We did a background check on him. It turns out he’s done time for assault and battery. A former girlfriend filed the charges somewhere around ten years ago. His mama committed suicide, also. Overdosed. Still, it gives him a possible motive.” He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “We’ve got means. Now we’re just trying to account for his time during the murders to make sure he had opportunity.”

  “He fits the size of the person who attacked me,” Madison muttered.

  Sheriff Carl nodded. “It seems like a slam-dunk case.”

  Brody narrowed his eyes. “Almost too much of a slam dunk.”

  The sheriff shrugged. “We just have to trust the evidence—and the evidence makes Adams look guilty right now. I’m looking forward to telling the fine people of York County that they can finally live without fear.”

  But could they, Brody wondered? Could they really?

  * * *

  Madison watched the sheriff walk away and shook her head. She should be grateful that the killer had finally been discovered. Instead, she felt even more concerned. Perhaps her heightened emotions wreaked havoc on her logic? Or was it her gut trying to tell her something else?

  Brody turned toward her. She tried to read the expression in his eyes. Wariness? Or relief? “I guess it’s like the sheriff said. You can finally sleep at night.”

  She nodded slowly, uncertainly. “I guess I can.”

  Silence fell for a moment. Madison didn’t know what to say. So much of her and Brody’s conversations had revolved around finding this killer. Both seemed to be in shock over the news about Alfred.
Of all the things that Madison expected to discover after the grocery store explosion, finding out that Alfred was behind the crimes was the least of them. Now that she thought about it, she did get her house key made at his place. He could have somehow gotten a copy of her key that way. Still, everything felt surreal.

  Brody stood, glancing around at the scurry of activity occurring at the station. He looked back down at Madison. “How about if I drive you back to Kayla’s? No need for you to be here while we comb through everything.”

  She nodded again. “Of course.” She could have directed him to take her to her actual home, but she didn’t. Why did fear still course through her at the thought of being home alone? She had nothing to worry about anymore. It would take time to reprogram her thoughts, though.

  The ride back to Kayla’s house was mostly quiet. A strange disappointment filled her when she realized that she’d have no reason to talk to Brody anymore. They’d go back to merely being neighbors and ignoring each other whenever possible. She had to admit that she’d enjoyed getting to know him a little better. He’d surprised her with his sensitivity and concern.

  But on the other hand, she had so much to be grateful for. This nightmare was finally over.

  When they pulled into Kayla’s driveway, they both sat in the car for a minute in silence. Finally Madison turned to Brody. “Thank you for everything.”

  “I’m just glad that you’re finally safe again.”

  She nodded uncertainly before finally putting her hand on the door handle. “Me, too. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

  “Let me just walk you inside.” He shrugged. “Just to be a gentleman.”

  They slowly walked side by side to the front door. Even though it was already past six o’clock, Madison knew that Kayla had taken Lincoln to the park. Kayla had been such a godsend during this whole ordeal, and Madison was thankful that her friend had helped pick up the slack some. Now Madison would be able to resume her normal routine again, which meant spending more time with Lincoln.

  Madison unlocked the door, unusually aware of Brody behind her. Why did she suddenly feel flustered? The emotion made no sense. When she opened the front door, Brody stepped inside behind her. Madison turned, ready to say goodbye.

  The words caught in her throat, however.

  Something ticked in the background.

  TWELVE

  “Stay where you are, Madison.” Brody pulled his gun out.

  Madison nodded, appearing glued to the spot whether she liked it or not. Her face went pale and her hands gripped the chair molding against the wall.

  Brody inched forward, crept toward the sound.

  Tick, tick, tick, tick.

  The killer couldn’t have come back. He was dead—wasn’t he? As Brody skulked down the hallway, the ticking became louder. The sound pulsated in time with his heartbeat.

  He paused by the door to the room where Lincoln slept. The ticking appeared to be coming from there. Brody put one hand on the knob and slowly turned, keeping his other hand poised on the gun.

  The sound, now louder, clearer, was definitely coming from this room.

  Brody’s gaze scanned his surroundings. He saw nothing. Just a messy bed, some strewn clothes and a pile of toys.

  His gaze searched for a white egg timer along the surfaces—the dresser, the window sill, the bedpost. Nothing stood out.

  He inched along the wall, listening for any telltale sounds of an intruder while trying to find the timer. The ticking was loudest in the corner, amidst a pile of toys and stuffed animals. He kicked a few out of the way. Had the killer buried the egg timer in the middle of this mess?

  He didn’t see one. One of the toys caught his eyes, though. After one more swipe around the room, he bent down and picked up a dragon. He didn’t know whether to chuckle or groan. The ticking had been coming from the toy the whole time.

  He kept the dragon in his hand as he went to find Madison. As he rounded to the corner toward the entryway, Brody saw that she was still pressed up against the wall, anticipation seemingly freezing each of her muscles.

  He held up the dragon. “Just a toy.”

  Immediately her body slacked. She shook her head. “Lincoln’s dragon. I should have known.” She let out an airy laugh and pinched the skin between her eyes. “Wow, am I paranoid or what?”

  “Not paranoid. Just cautious. There is a difference.”

  The two of them stared at each other another moment. What else was there to say? The case was over and effectively so was their reason to spend any time together. Why did he feel saddened by the thought? And why did he still feel suspicious that the case wasn’t truly over?

  The conclusion that Alfred was the killer still seemed too easy. Brody was going to keep investigating, even if he had to do it on his own time. He couldn’t rest until he was completely sure that Madison and little Lincoln were in no danger.

  Madison tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and offered a tight smile. “Well…I guess this is it.”

  He shuffled his feet, feeling a bit like a schoolboy with a crush at the moment. “I guess it is.”

  “Thanks for everything you’ve done. I wouldn’t have…” She bit her lip a moment in thought. “I wouldn’t have survived without you. Literally.”

  He stepped forward to leave. Or did he do it to be closer to Madison? At once, the scent of fruity perfume filled his senses. “I’m glad I could help.”

  Her cheeks turned rosy a moment until finally she moved aside and cleared her throat. “I’ll see you around.”

  He nodded resolutely, breaking from his daze. He cared about Madison. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. “Right. I’ll see you.” He gave her one last glance before putting his hand on the doorknob. He made sure he twisted the lock in place before he shut the door behind him.

  Why did he feel like he was walking away from a piece of his heart?

  * * *

  Madison leaned against the door after Brody left. Her pulse raced out of control. Was it because she’d seen something in Brody’s eyes that made her wonder if he was developing feelings for her? Or was it because for the first time since the incident, she was alone? Her heartbeat filled her ears and her throat went dry even thinking about moving from the door.

  Madison found it hard to believe that this was truly over and that she was able to return to real life again. Why was her guard still up, then? If Alfred was the bad guy, why did she still feel frightened? She supposed it would take some time to get over everything that had happened to her. She needed to accept that instead of continually fighting it.

  She needed to stay at Kayla’s tonight, she decided. She wasn’t quite ready to return to her house again, though she knew that Lincoln was. She’d work up to it and hopefully, in a couple more days, she’d be ready to face the place where her nightmare had occurred.

  Alfred—how could Alfred have been behind all of this? Sure, he had a criminal record and he’d always been a little strange and kept to himself. But a killer? It just didn’t make sense to Madison.

  She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the door.

  Faith, not fear. That was the lesson she’d heard whispered to her lately. She couldn’t make decisions based on her own fears and worries. Instead, she had to live by faith that God was going to take care of her. Though this situation seemed impossible, she had to trust that God was still in control and that He still had a plan. Why was it so much easier said than done sometimes?

  Lord, I can’t get rid of this fear on my own. Help me to trust You.

  Thankfully at that moment she heard a car door slam outside and the sound of little Lincoln giggling as he raced to the door. She smiled. Was he finally safe again? She prayed he was.

  * * *

  The next morni
ng Brody found himself thinking about Madison again and wondering what she was doing. Brody was sure she was probably excited to get back into work and put this whole experience behind her. She’d probably never want to see him again and be reminded of everything that had happened, for that matter. He couldn’t blame her.

  Brody decided to go back to Alfred’s house again. He wanted to survey the scene himself. Something just didn’t feel right to him. It was like all the clues were laid out too perfectly. Someone who’d been that careful when planning his crimes wouldn’t leave all the evidence of his guilt out in plain sight. But all Brody had to go on was a gut feeling. Was there any evidence they’d missed that might back up his claim?

  Alfred’s house was a small brick ranch that was overrun with bushes and trees around the perimeter. One could barely see the place through the foliage. The inside was equally as cluttered.

  Brody stood in the middle of the living room and let his gaze circle it. This was the place where they’d found the noose, the pictures, razors, the rough draft of the letters. They were such simple items, items that could have been hidden in a trunk or a dresser drawer. Why would he leave them out the way he did? Something just didn’t fit.

  Brody flipped through various items in the house. Old magazines, bottles with miniature boats inside, discarded fast-food wrappers. He found nothing to give him insight into the case.

  A light knock sounded at the door. Brody glanced over and saw a middle-age woman there, a worried expression showing in the lines around her eyes. Brody motioned her to come in.

  “I’m Alfred’s neighbor,” she introduced herself. “I’ve heard about everything happening in town, about the murders. I also heard that people are saying Alfred was behind them. Rumors are that the killer made it look like suicide. I heard he used a noose on one of his victims.”

  “I can’t confirm anything right now, ma’am.”

  “I’ve been his neighbor for twenty years.” She rubbed her hands together, as if nervous. “I keep thinking about the allegations against Alfred, and I felt like I needed to say something.”