Page 28 of Deception

“I have to see the crime scene for myself,” she said, standing taller. Somehow she had to find something that countered the note because someone had killed her grandfather and made it look like suicide. She turned to the chief, who had joined them. “No offense, Chief, but there may be something you’re missing.”

“No offense taken, but this is family,” Chief Nelson said gently. “Can you treat this like you would any other investigation? Otherwise, I can’t risk you destroying evidence. Only way I’m letting you inside that room is if you can detach yourself and not think of the victim as your grandfather.”

“I can do that.” She had to.

He nodded. “Just remember you’re doing this as an officer of the law.”

She inhaled slowly, hesitating. Now that Madison had thego-ahead, doubt crept in. It’d been four years since she’d investigated a violent crime—instead, she dealt with numbers, embezzlement, and kickbacks, not death. Could she go through that door and look at the room where her grandfather was shot without falling apart? The room that had been her special place in his house?

Even though she’d only seen him in the summers and occasionally at Christmas, William Anderson had been a big part of her life. The time he’d spent writing short notes and calling her at least once a week was more time than she got from her dad.

Like a photo album, memories flipped through her mind. The summer he’d taught her to swim ... and to fish ... reading in this very room ... the martial arts training he’d encouraged and paid for ... the times he’d driven to Memphis just to see her. And then after she quit coming to Natchez, he’d driven to Memphis or wherever she was showing her horse to cheer her on.

A tight band pressed her chest until she almost couldn’t breathe. There was no way her grandfather tried to kill himself. He wouldn’t do that to her.

She could do this. If he didn’t make it—and Madison didn’t think she could bear that, but if he didn’t—it might be the last thing she did for him. She would make sure nothing was overlooked. With another deep breath, Madison straightened her shoulders. “Do I need some type of booties for my feet?”

“Hold on.” A black case sat outside the door, and the chief pulled out three pairs of disposable foot covers. “My crime scene investigators were vacuuming when I left to talk to you. I don’t hear them, so they must be finished, but it’s still a good idea to wear these.” He replaced the ones he’d worn to the porch with a new pair as they donned theirs.

Madison’s shaky legs appreciated Clayton’s steadying hand under her arm as she walked inside her grandfather’s study. The crime scene tech dusting for fingerprints on the bookcase looked around and nodded.

Her gaze immediately went to the desk where she’d seen her grandfather sit so many times. A pool of blood circled the floor under his chair, and to her left as she viewed the scene lay a revolver. The room swam, and her knees threatened to buckle.

“I’m here.” Clayton’s arm steadied her again.

She had to get a grip.Look at it like any other crime scene.Except now her crime scenes were records instead of actual places where someone had been shot. Madison flexed her calf muscles to get blood to her legs and forced her gaze away from the desk and around the room. She ticked off every piece of furniture, every painting, even the articles on his desk, settling last of all on the table where their bowls and his coffee cup had not been moved.

“When I left him, he was sitting here.” She touched the leather chair that was to the right of the table. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “He had coffee, and we both ate some of Nadine’s bread pudding.”

Chief Nelson leaned forward. “And then...?”

“I received a call from Clayton about my doppelgänger and went to the hospital to see for myself,” she said, turning to the chief.

“Excuse me?”

“There was a shooting at Coles Creek around seven thirty,” Clayton said. “When I arrived, I identified the victim as Agent Thorn. But as you can see, I was wrong. They could be twins, though.”

Pete Nelson snapped his fingers. “The BOLO.” He turned to Madison, frowning. “You’re involved in two different crimes tonight? That’s a mighty big coincidence.”

She didn’t believe in coincidences, but neither did she think the two separate incidents were connected.

“Have you identified the victim?”

Clayton shook his head. “And as far as I know, the girl traveling with her hasn’t been found, either. If the victim doesn’tregain consciousness by morning, I’ll get her prints and see if she’s in AFIS.”

“You think she might have a criminal record?” Madison asked. The Automated Fingerprint Identification System would give them her name—if she was in the system.

“It’s possible. I’ll also shoot them to Hugh. If she’s ever had a background check, then the FBI should have her prints stored.”

“I could—”

“Let me take care of that for you,” Clayton said.

After a hesitation, she nodded. “I believe we’ve gotten sidetracked.”

“I believe we have too,” Pete Nelson said. “You left him sitting in the chair ... at some point, he walked to his desk, took out his .38, and pulled the trigger.”

“No! That did not happen.” Madison turned and stared at the empty chair beside the table with a coffee cup and their bowls.

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