Page 26 of Deception

“Look, you’re in no shape to drive. Let me take you.”

“Then I would be stranded.” Madison opened her car door and hesitated. “But you can follow me, if you’d like.”

He’d take that. “Give me a second while I get my SUV.”

Clayton knew where the judge lived, but he followed behind Madison. They met an ambulance with red-and-white lights flashing just minutes away from the judge’s two-story antebellum house. Madison braked as though she might turn around and follow them, then continued on to the circle drive, where Police Chief Nelson’s SUV idled empty beside a slew of other Natchez police cars. At least the white Adams County Coroner van was absent.

Clayton frowned as he parked on the street. Two attacks in one night were not the norm for Natchez. Then he corrected his thinking. The judge’s shooting could be an attempted suicide, but he found that hard to swallow. Anderson had been fine when he saw him at the coffee shop earlier today.

Or had he? The meetings he had with the two women hadn’t appeared to be happy meetings—the first woman left with what looked like an unresolved issue, and the judge had seemed wary with Judith.

He climbed out of his SUV and met Madison in front of the house. Before he could bring up seeing her grandfather at thecoffee shop, she said, “Maybe I should follow the ambulance back to the hospital.”

“You wouldn’t be able to see him—if there’s a bullet wound, he’ll go straight into surgery,” Clayton said. “Why not find out what happened and then go?”

“Good idea. I should have thought of that.” Still she hesitated.

“Would you like me to come in with you? You look like you could use a friend.” What was he thinking? He didn’t need to get involved in Madison’s problems. He had enough of his own. Evidently from the way she pressed her lips into a thin line, she felt the same way. So, what was he doing invading her space and patting her arm?

Her eyes searched his face, looking for ... he didn’t know. Maybe that friend?

“I know we only met today, and I gave you a warning ticket for speeding, but...” He gentled his voice. “I hope you’ll let me be the person who stands in the gap for you like when we were kids.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and she gave him a wan smile. “I suppose I’ve had worse friends. But thanks, and you’re welcome to come with me.”

It was a starting point. To what? Clayton didn’t know, but he felt inexplicably better than he had a few minutes ago.

He followed her up the steps to the house and waited while she explained to the officer standing guard that she was the judge’s granddaughter. Clayton recognized the older man—Jim Burney, who’d been a patrol officer when Clayton was a teenager. When he shook his head, Madison showed her ISB credentials.

“Little lady, I don’t care who you are. Chief Nelson said no one was to get past me, and until he says otherwise, you’re not getting in.”

Clayton winced when the officer called Madison “little lady.” He figured that was like baiting a mama bear. She pulled herself up to her full height, which couldn’t be more than five six.

“I’m an ISB special agent with the National Park Service, and I don’t need your permission to enter a crime scene. I only asked out of professional courtesy,” she said through gritted teeth. “Get Chief Nelson out here now, or I’m walking through that door.”

The older man tried staring her down.

“You have one minute.”

Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone and called the chief.

“I have a lady who wants in. Says she’s some sort of special agent with the National Park Service.” He listened for a minute before he hung up. “Chief Nelson will be right out.”

The look he gave them said it wouldn’t do her any good. In less than a minute, Chief Pete Nelson came through the door, and they followed him to the other side of the wraparound porch. As always, the chief’s white shirt and khaki pants looked as though they’d just been pressed. Clayton didn’t know how he did it.

He looked from Madison to Clayton. “What’s going on?” the chief asked, addressing Clayton.

“This is Special Agent Madison Thorn with the NPS, and she’s Judge Anderson’s granddaughter.” Clayton had known Pete ever since high school when he was a quarterback for the Natchez Bulldogs, and he was a fair man. “She wants to know what happened to her grandfather.”

Pete Nelson rubbed his shaved head. “Agent Thorn—”

“Call me Madison.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry for the confusion. When Officer Burney called, he didn’t say you were Judge Anderson’s granddaughter.”

Seconds ticked off as she seemed to process his apology before she gave him a curt nod. “What was his condition when he left here?”

“Critical. Gunshot wound to the chest. Apparently, he shot himself.”

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