The neat neighborhood made up of late-model mobile homes and landscaped yards lay far out in the country, closer to Adel than Moultrie. Tall woods rose on either side of the highway, the area familiar to Madeline from her childhood when her grandpa had taken her to Reed Bingham State Park for fishing expeditions. Tiny remnants of grief pinched at her heart. She’d been happy then, even at home, in the days before Mama’s moods grew more and more unpredictable after Madeline’s brother had been born.
She rubbed a thumb over the door handle, gazing out at pines and scrub oaks while Tick drove. Were there other good memories, times with her father and mother, that she’d buried away under the pain of separation and loss? If so, they were so far beneath the bad memories she couldn’t find them any longer.
But the minutes and hours spent with her Grandpa Holton remained clear and strong in her head. She could almost feel what it had been like to be wrapped in one of his bear hugs, whiskers scratching her cheek, Old Spice and peach snuff surrounding her, while her entire being was blanketed by the assurance that she was loved, treasured.
Valued. Accepted. Wanted.
The way Ash made her feel. She scraped a fingernail across her lips. He said he loved her. God, she believed him.
That made her happy on a level that scared the cold living shit out of her.
What was she going to do about him?
“Do about who?” Tick’s soft laugh pulled her from the reverie, and she stared at him. Shit damn fuck, had she said that
aloud
? He slanted an amused look in her direction. “You were mumbling.”
She folded her arms. “I was thinking.”
He was quiet a long moment. “So what are you going to do?”
Her gaze flew to his face. How did he…?
“I mean, are you still planning to go back to Jacksonville?”
She finally caught her breath and snapped her mouth closed. “I-I don’t know. It’s moot right now, anyway. They haven’t cleared up Jack’s…the shooting.”
“I owe you an apology.” He cleared his throat, a raw sound. “I was really hard on you about that when you came, and I shouldn’t have been running my mouth.”
That floored her about as much as Ash’s declaration of love. She stared at him. Having him apologize would have been like having her daddy admit he’d been wrong—something she’d never expect to hear.
She swallowed. “Thank you.”
He flashed a quick grin and swung into a right-hand turn, taking them into Nick Hall’s neighborhood. “How was Ash this morning?”
“Good.” She ran her thumbnail along the seam of her tweed slacks, remembering the sweet sleepy smile he’d graced her with when she leaned down to kiss him goodbye. “The swelling’s down enough they can make the repair to his knee, according to Dr. Mackey. It’s not supposed to be a major procedure.”
Tick shook his head, squinting at numbers on mailboxes. “It’s not. One of our deputies had it done last year after he twisted his knee during training. They did his as an outpatient procedure, and he was only off duty for two or three weeks afterward.”
She nodded, the minor worry still twisting through her. Maybe she should have stayed with him, but he’d assured her he’d be fine. Besides, it wasn’t like she was his wife or they had a real commitment between them anyway.
But he’d said he loved her. All of it kept tumbling through her head, including Tick’s question about her intentions regarding Jacksonville. What would she do, if or when they called her back to duty?
Tick braked. “This is it.”
Madeline looked across the wide yard at the white doublewide. A neat porch had been added on the front, providing a welcoming haven with wicker furniture and winter-hardy plants.
Tick pulled to a stop behind a beige Ford SUV. “Ready?”
To find out what had happened to Kelly, to give her justice? More than ready. “Let’s go.”
She strode with him up the stepping-stone walkway. The screen door squeaked as Tick pulled it open. Madeline reached forward to knock at the glass-paneled door. Moments later, a lean bald man appeared and swung the door open.
“Nick Hall?” Tick asked.
“Yes.” The man frowned. “Can I help you?”
Tick held his credentials aloft. “Investigator Calvert, Chandler County Sheriff’s Department. This is Investigator Holton.”
Knowledge and recognition flared in Nick Hall’s eyes. He knew. Madeline watched him, the way his slight body tensed before his shoulders fell. Intuitive realization trailed through her. This was the person who’d murdered Kelly.
Or he knew who had.
The knowledge flashed through her mind in mere seconds.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Tick said in a quiet voice.
Hall nodded. “I know why you’re here.”
Madeline sensed the jolt of surprise that ran through Tick’s tall frame. She could relate. She’d never had a possible suspect come out with something like that.
“Why are we here, Mr. Hall?” Madeline asked.
“You’re here because of the girl.” Hall seemed to fold in on himself. “The one under the house.”
Madeline lifted her eyebrows at Tick. His mouth tight, Tick held up a hand. “Please don’t say anything else, Mr. Hall. I would like for you to come back to Chandler County with us to answer a few questions and possibly give us a statement, but first I need to apprise you of your rights.”
Hall nodded, listening in silence while Tick rattled off the Miranda warning. Hall’s expression of quiet acceptance never altered. Confusion twisted Madeline’s brow into a frown. In her experience—and she’d had plenty—suspects didn’t do this.
“Do you understand each of these rights as I’ve explained them to you?”
Hall’s chin moved in a short nod and his Adam’s apple bobbed in a hard swallow. “Yes.”
“Bearing these rights in mind, would you like to talk to us now?”
Hall nodded once more, and this time, before his lashes fell, Madeline caught the glitter of tears in his blue eyes. “Yes, I want to talk to you.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Should I get my keys or do I have to ride with you?”
“You’re not under arrest,” Madeline said. She met Tick’s shuttered gaze, and he nodded. “You can drive if you like, and we’ll follow.”
Within minutes they were on the highway again. Tick’s attention locked on Hall’s SUV before them, traveling at a moderate speed. “Madeline, have you ever…?”
“No. Never.”
“Me, either.” He dragged a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling on his forehead in disarray. He really needed a haircut. “It’s too easy.”
“He didn’t mention a lawyer.” Madeline brought up the point that niggled most with her. The guilty ones always screamed for a lawyer first. It was the ones who believed themselves innocent who often did not.
Back at the sheriff’s department, they escorted Nick Hall inside. In the squad room, on their way to the small interview room, Tick paused. “What the hell?”
“Son of a bitch! You fucking asshole!”
Madeline frowned toward the stairs. A woman’s voice screaming obscenities trailed up from the jail level.
A familiar female voice. Madeline caught Tick’s eye. “That’s—”
“Yeah.” As Cookie’s voice joined Allison’s incensed screaming, a grin hitched up one corner of Tick’s mouth. “That’s from the booking area. Guess that warrant came through, and he turned up enough for an arrest. This way, Mr. Hall.”
In the small room, Madeline reviewed the Miranda warning with Hall again and procured his signature on the release while Tick set up the video camera to record the interview. Madeline waited, impatience trembling through her. Finally, Tick settled into the chair farthest from the table and jerked his chin at her, tacit permission for her to take the lead in the small gesture.
She folded her hands on the table. “Mr. Hall, tell us about the girl under the house.”
He buried his face in his hands, a rough sound—almost a sob—shaking his body. “I tried to forget about her. I knew this would happen some day, but I tried to forget. In the last few months, since I came to the Lord, I knew I should come forward, tell someone, but I was afraid.”
“We’re all afraid at times,” Tick said in a soft, almost expressionless voice. “Were you afraid of someone? Was there someone else involved?”
“No. No.” Shaking his head, Hall lowered his hands. “Just me. I did it.”
Madeline caught Tick’s eye again, read her own surprise reflected in his dark gaze. Just him? Had they been wrong?
She leaned forward. “Tell us what happened, please.”
“I’d been at a party—”
“One second, please.” Tick grimaced and scratched a note on his pad. “What month was this?”
“September. After Labor Day.” Hall rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’d been at this party and I met this girl. Shoot, I never even knew her name. She’d been drinking or something, like she was high or something, right? Stumbling, slurring her words. I wasn’t sober, neither. She was real cute and I thought… Well, she didn’t fuss any when I kissed her. She even went to the car with me, and I took her home, back to my place.”
“The house on Miller Court,” Tick clarified.
“Yeah. That one.” Hall paused, staring down at his hands splayed on the tabletop. “We came in the back door, into the kitchen. Once we were inside, we, um, I started to touch her. I thought she was into it, you know? Except then she starts crying, and she’s trying to push me back. I grabbed her, shoved her into the counter and cussed at her for playing hard to get. I was a different person back then, you know?”
Tick scratched another note and flicked a glance at him. “Go on.”
“So she picked up this knife I’d left out on the counter and tried to cut me. Like I said, she was drunk or high or something, and she barely scratched me, but it pissed me off. I took the knife away from her and…and…”
Eyes clenched shut, he bit down hard on his lip. His shoulders shook. Madeline stared, no sympathy stirring in her. But she had plenty of questions swirling around. Something about his story didn’t sit right.
She leaned back in her chair. “And? What happened?”
Even she could hear the chill in her voice. Yes, bitch-cop, as Jack had so often called her, was back in full force.
“I just went crazy. I snatched the knife, and I stabbed her, over and over.” Hall’s voice broke. “And then it was done and she was lying there on the floor and there was so much blood…I panicked. I hid the body under the house and cleaned up and waited for the police to catch up with me. Sometimes I’d forget for days at a time, but then I’d dream of it and all of it would be right back in my head.”
Madeline focused on his face. “Is that all?”
“Yeah.” Hall nodded, a sick look twisting his features. “That’s all.”
Tick looked up. “You’re sure?”
Obviously, he’d noticed the same thing she had.
“I’m sure.”
Tick gave a slow nod. “I want to get your official statement. Investigator Holton and I will be right back.”
In the hallway, Tick leaned an arm on the wall. Madeline gazed through the two-way glass. “Notice anything odd?”
“Like how he didn’t mention anything about Allison?”
“Maybe she wasn’t involved.” As much as it pained her to articulate it, the detective in her had to face the fact—it was entirely possible Allison hadn’t been involved. “He didn’t say anything about a head injury.”
“Ford said she’d taken a hit to the skull hard enough to kill her.”
“Know what else bugs me?” Madeline rested her shoulders against the wall and stared at the map of Chandler County hanging opposite. “He keeps talking about her being drunk or stoned…and Kelly didn’t drink, ever. No drugs either.”
“She’d been gone a long time, Madeline. People change.”
“But she was moving forward with her life, Susan said so. Why would she have been drinking or using if she came up here to confront Allison?”
“False courage, maybe?”
“No.” That much she was sure of. “I don’t think so.”
Tick frowned. “He said she was stumbling, slurring her words.”
“Yes.”
His eyes glinted. “So what else causes that?”
“You mean something like a slow subdural cerebral hemorrhage?” Madeline tilted her head. “From a head injury that she suffered at or before that party?”
Tick cleared his throat and passed a hand over his jaw. “We need a time frame.”
“Yeah. Go call Ford. I’ll take his statement, find out everything I can about the location of that party, who might have been there.”
“Madeline…the guy confessed. He killed her. She was alive when she got to his house. That makes him the murderer.”
“Yes, and I don’t believe Kelly would have gone with him if she’d been in her right mind. I want to find out what happened to put her in that situation. She deserves the truth, Tick.”
“Yeah. I know.” His voice lowered, roughened. “I’ll go call Ford.”
“Man, you really know how to pick ’em.”
At Cookie’s dry remark, Tick looked up. He’d been on hold with the GBI lab longer than he wanted to think about. “What are you talking about?”
“At least your taste improved.” Cookie dropped into the chair facing Tick’s desk. A wicked grin curved his mouth. “I don’t think Falconetti ever referred to me as a ‘fucking asshole’.”