Race Against Time Read online

  “What did he give me?” she asked.

  “We’re still doing a tox screen now. We’ll know soon.”

  She sucked in a breath, wanting to block out the memories, but knowing she couldn’t. The sound of the man’s voice, the feel of his gloved hands grabbing her wrists, the image of his glistening knife all flashed back.

  “I didn’t have much energy after that. He grabbed me, wrapped the noose around my neck and put that stool under me just to taunt me. My feet could barely touch it, just enough to suck in a breath every once in a while. Plus the drugs were knocking me out. It was just a matter of time. I knew I was dead.”

  “What did the man do next?”

  “I heard a crash from the front of the house. It must have been you. The man ran to the bathroom. Must have jumped out the window.” She wiped the tears from her eyes again. “Have I said thank you enough?”

  “I’m glad I was jogging when I was.”

  “You’re a godsend.”

  “No one’s ever said that God sent me before. Usually the opposite.” He smiled mischievously.

  “I don’t know about that.”

  His smile disappeared. “Madison, think about this carefully. When the man ran, did he look panicked?”

  She thought about it a moment. “Not really. He seemed relatively calm. Of course, I was fighting for my life, so I wasn’t paying as much attention to him at that point. Is that really important, detective?”

  “It gives me insight into the man’s mindset. Every detail helps.” Brody met her eyes. “You have no idea who this man was, do you? No enemies or anyone who would want to harm you?”

  She shook her head. “No, not that I know of.”

  He shifted his weight to his other foot. “Tell me about this timer.”

  “There’s not much to say about it. My attacker seemed to be taunting me with it. At first I assumed the ticking was coming from one of my son’s toys or that Lincoln had been playing with the timer and left it on. I knew deep down when I heard the ticking the second time that something was wrong.”

  Brody started to ask another question when the doctor burst into the room. “Detective, I don’t recall giving you permission to come in here.” The doctor scowled at Brody as he walked briskly to Madison’s bedside.

  “I dropped something and he came in to help,” Madison jumped in, feeling a strange need to defend the man who, up until today, had seemed opposed to even giving a neighborly hello. “He did nothing wrong.”

  The doctor didn’t look convinced as he stared at Brody through his wire-framed glasses and tapped his finger impatiently against a clipboard. “I need a moment to examine my patient.”

  Brody nodded and looked back at Madison. “Thanks for your time. I’ll be in touch. And if you think of anything in the meantime…”

  “I know where to find you.”

  With another clipped nod, he left the room. Madison immediately missed his presence. Something about just having him in the room made her feel safer, as if everything would somehow work out. That same chill from earlier returned and she again faced the situation…alone.

  * * *

  Something about what Madison told him nagged at Brody. As he left her hospital room, he mentally replayed the conversation with her, trying to pinpoint whatever it was that seemed to be clamoring at him to take notice. Whatever it was remained on the edge of his rationing, taunting him.

  Brody waited in the hospital hallway until a deputy showed up to guard the door to Madison’s room before he went home to shower and dress. Most likely the killer wouldn’t be foolish enough to come to the hospital and finish what he’d started, but Brody wanted to be safe. Until they had a profile of this man, he’d take every precaution necessary.

  He needed to get to the station and talk to the sheriff, but first he needed to change out of his shorts and T-shirt. He gripped the steering wheel of his sedan as he turned off the highway and onto a more rural road leading toward his home. The glaring sun, unhindered by his visor, only further served to agitate him. What was it about Madison’s story that nagged at him?

  As he pulled into his driveway, he saw that the emergency crew was gone from Madison’s. Looking at her home now, one would never have guessed the tragedy that had almost transpired there. Inside would certainly be a different story. He intended on reviewing the evidence inside her home himself after he checked in with the sheriff.

  He quickly showered and changed into khakis and a blue, button-up shirt. Twenty minutes later he arrived at the neat, two-story station, his car crunching the gravel in the parking lot. As he looked at the brick-fronted building, he shook his head. What a change this place was compared to the precinct he worked at in Brooklyn.

  “The sheriff in yet?” he asked Miranda, the deputy working the front desk.

  She glanced up over the red frames perched on her nose. “Not yet. They’re finishing up that accident on the highway. Should be back anytime now.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, grabbing a cup of stale coffee on the way past.

  He nodded an aloof greeting to his colleagues before reaching his office. Once in his well-used swivel chair, he stared at his desk a moment. Where to start on this one? With typing up the police report, he supposed. Then he’d have to check in with the crime-scene crew to see what they’d found. Hopefully any additional evidence hadn’t been trampled.

  Halfway through typing his report, he stopped. There’d been two other suicides in York County in the past few months. York County wasn’t a huge place. What was the probability that the area had had two suicides within a four-month period?

  He wanted to look through those files again. They’d seemed open-and-closed enough at the time. But what if there was more to those cases than they’d first assumed? Brody found the reports he needed and began reviewing the information.

  The first suicide had happened in May. The man, Willie Fisher, was a mechanic. He worked for a local auto repair shop off Route 17, the main highway through York County. Two weeks before his death, Willie had been fired from his job for supposedly stealing money from the company. He’d claimed his innocence, but his reputation had taken a beating. He’d even gone to the doctor and been prescribed medicine for depression only three days before his life ended through carbon-monoxide poisoning.

  The second suicide was a young sheriff’s deputy named Victor Hanson who’d died in June. He’d just graduated from the academy a year earlier and seemed to have a promising career within the department. His wife had left him prior to his death. Victor’s suicide note alluded to the pain of her rejection being too much to take. He’d taken a gun to his head.

  Brody had actually bought his truck from Willie and he’d seen the man on occasion at the gym he frequented off Route 17. And, of course, he knew Victor from the Sheriff’s Department. Brody marveled how connected everyone was in a small town. This place was so much different than New York.

  He stared at the reports. Was there something here that he was missing? Could these deaths have been more than suicides? Could those men have been murdered? And, if so, what was the tie between their murders and the attempted murder of Madison?

  He couldn’t get the agonized look she’d had out of his mind. She’d handled the situation well and drawn from a deep strength within herself, one that impressed him. Even as she’d recalled the horrid details of what had happened, she’d seemed to have a peace about her. The woman, even in her battered state, was certainly beautiful. She was the type of woman who could turn heads and not even realize it. Petite and trim with blue eyes that matched the bay. Not that he’d noticed, he told himself.

  “How’s Madison doing?” Sheriff Carl appeared behind him, his brow still damp with sweat from being in the stifling heat outside. Brody often marveled that Sheriff Carl looked exactly like Andy Griffith f
rom his later years on the TV show Matlock.

  Brody swiveled in his chair and decided not to mince words. “Sheriff, this wasn’t a suicide like we first assumed. Madison said a man attacked her and forced her to write that suicide note before attempting to murder her.”

  The sheriff’s eyes widened, as if in shock, before he slowly nodded. “I knew she wasn’t capable of suicide, especially not with that boy of hers. He means everything to her. She wouldn’t leave him.”

  “This crime was calculated, Sheriff. Every last detail was planned, all the way down to using her egg timer to count down the minutes until he attacked her. He had a suicide note already written and the noose stocked under her bed. The only thing he didn’t plan on was that I’d be jogging and hear Madison scream.”

  Sheriff Carl, a man whom Brody had come to respect because of his even temperament and measured wisdom, nodded again, obviously soaking in all of the information Brody threw at him.

  “Do you usually jog at the same time every day?”

  “No, sir. I usually jog as the sun comes up. But since today was officially my day off, I decided to sleep in.” Not to mention that he couldn’t sleep last night because he’d had nightmares of Lindsey, about his old life back in New York. And like every nightmare he’d beaten himself up through, the ending was always the same. He’d woken up covered in sweat, laden with guilt and uncertain of his ability to ever change into a better man.

  “So your routine was off. The suspect was probably counting on you jogging this morning as you always do.”

  “Sounds accurate to me.”

  “Madison’s a sweet girl. I hate to think of her going through this. Her husband was a good man, a true patriot. For someone to target a widow with a young child is just beyond me. Of course, sometimes I think this whole world has gone mad.”

  “Sometimes it feels like it has, sir.”

  Sheriff Carl glanced at the papers and files covering Brody’s desk. “What are you looking at?”

  “Those other two suicides we’ve had here in York County recently.”

  “You think there’s a connection?”

  “I need to investigate the cases, Sheriff. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “You’ve got a good instinct. Go with it. I have to say, I hope you’re wrong. If you’re not, that means there’s a serial killer on the loose here in York County.” He sighed heavily. “The whole county will go crazy if that leaks out. Let’s not say anything until we know for sure.”

  “Got it.”

  Brody couldn’t help but think that maybe the whole county should be going crazy. Until this man was caught, no one was safe.

  Especially not Madison.

  FOUR

  A sheriff’s deputy drove Madison to Kayla’s house. Madison was forever grateful to Bonnie, Sheriff Carl’s wife, who brought her some clean clothes and a few toiletries. The last thing Madison had wanted was for Lincoln to see her in her previous state: torn shirt, disheveled hair, busted lip. He’d already been through enough. No need to traumatize him further.

  She sat silently in the front seat as the rookie deputy rolled down the quiet streets toward Seaford. How could such an attack have happened in such a peaceful little fishing community? She’d always felt safe here. It was against her instincts to leave her doors unlocked, but she knew people who did and she understood their reasoning. The worst crime that usually happened here was a drunk driver or a brawl between neighbors. Nothing like what had happened to her today. As soon as the news media found out it wasn’t an attempted suicide, they’d be on the story like a crab on seaweed. The fact that she freelanced for the newspaper wouldn’t give her any immunity.

  “Can I stop and get you anything, ma’am?” Deputy Young asked kindly.

  She shook her head. “No, I just want to see my son. Thank you, though.” She twisted the tissue in her hand until it ripped. Looking at her lap and the evidence of her anguished thoughts, she collected the scraps of tissue and stuffed the pieces into her pocket.

  Her thoughts drifted to Brody. She wished he was with her now instead of the fresh-faced deputy. There was something she’d found comforting today about the man and his demeanor.

  She wondered about the torment she’d briefly seen on his face as she’d recounted the details of her attack. She’d thought, just for a moment, that she’d seen something very raw flash through his gaze. The grueling emotions she’d spotted seemed to be deeper than those of a compassionate detective. What about her attack made him look regretful?

  The man had a heart. She shouldn’t be surprised. Kayla—his cousin and Lincoln’s teacher—had expressed that much, saying that Madison shouldn’t let his aloofness bother her. She’d insisted he was going through some stuff that had left him in a bit of an identity crisis. Ignoring his typical blatant disregard of her was easier said than done, however. But now this new side of him emerged, and Madison didn’t know what to think about Brody Philips.

  Finally the car pulled to a stop in front of Kayla’s bungalow, a small yellow house that sat on a stretch of other similar houses on a lone country road. The deputy started to walk her to the door, but Madison politely declined. Before she made it even halfway up the sidewalk, the front door flew open and little blond haired Lincoln ran out to greet her. With his trim, lean frame and blue eyes, he was the spitting image of his father. The feel of his sticky hands around her neck made her forget everything else, even the searing pain that ripped through her ribs.

  He pulled his head back and looked at her from only four inches away. “Mommy, where were you? I thought we were going to the playground today.”

  The playground. She’d totally forgotten about her promise to him. “We’ll go this week. I promise. Mommy had a little…accident and isn’t feeling very well.”

  Her son studied her face with a frown. “Did you catch a germ?”

  Madison smiled. “Not quite. Don’t you worry, though. I’m doing much better now that I’m with you.”

  Kayla smiled from the doorway. As Madison carried Lincoln up the steps, she waved at the deputy and he drove away. Kayla extended her arm behind her, welcoming Madison inside. Still holding Lincoln, Madison stepped into the cool living room, grateful to get out of the smothering heat.

  Kayla closed the door and offered a warm smile. “I made some Boatman’s Stew, in case you’re hungry. Lincoln already had some pizza. I hope that’s okay.”

  Madison nodded and touched her throat. “Of course.” When would this stop feeling so surreal? Images continually flashed back into her mind, making her feel like she could hardly breathe.

  “Mom, can I finish my video game?”

  Madison nodded and the boy scrambled back to the TV, picked up a remote and began playing an alphabet game. Madison followed Kayla’s lead and settled on the couch, unsure of what to do with herself.

  Madison looked at the petite woman across from her. Kayla was probably only a few years younger than Madison and had a square face, a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks, and lovely, thick auburn hair. “How’s Lincoln been?”

  “He’s been great. He’s asked a lot of questions, but really he’s such an easygoing kid. I didn’t tell him anything. I figured you’d want to handle that.”

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done,” Madison said.

  “I just…I just can’t believe something like this would happen here…and to you.” Kayla shook her head. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”

  “I’m still in a state of disbelief myself.”

  A knock sounded at the door. Kayla disappeared and a moment later Madison heard a deep voice echoing from the front door. Her heart sped slightly when she realized it was Brody. She scolded herself for the reaction.

  He’d saved her life. Of course she might have the man at h
ero status for now. It wouldn’t last long. Soon he’d return to being her grouchy neighbor and she’d resume her routine as a single working mom. The only reason he showed so much concern now was because of his job—he had no choice but to be kind.

  She rose, rubbing her hands against her jeans, as his broad form filled the doorway. “Brody.”

  He nodded toward her, his posture stiff and professional. “Madison. I just thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

  “Kayla’s been a lifesaver.” She glanced back at Lincoln, who still played a video game, oblivious to anything that had happened. “We’re all hanging in, doing as well as can be expected.”

  His eyes caught hers, and he seemed to search her gaze for evidence of truth in her words. She looked away, afraid he’d seen her fear and exhaustion.

  He seemed to take the hint as the warmth left his eyes and an aloof professionalism replaced it. “I wanted to let you know that the crime scene has been cleared. You’re free to return home whenever you’re ready.”

  Kayla placed her hand on Madison’s arm. Compassionate eyes met hers. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”

  Madison nodded, relief filling her. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face her house yet. Though Bonnie had also offered them the chance to stay at her place, Madison knew that Bonnie’s ailing mother also lived there. Madison didn’t want to place any more pressure on the woman. Kayla’s place would be perfect, though, especially since Lincoln already felt at home here. “I appreciate it. I think I’ll go back to my house tomorrow after Lincoln is at school and try to straighten up. I don’t want him to see it in its current state.” The noose wrapped around the fan flashed into her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to erase the image.

  A firm hand came down on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw that Brody had closed the distance between them. The warmth returned to his gaze.

  “That’s probably a good idea.” His voice sounded kind and assuring. Her racing thoughts slowed. “How about if I pick you up in the morning to help out? You’re going to need a new front door. I’d be happy to help replace it, especially since I was the one who knocked it down.”