Madison wasn’t buying it. Serial killers confessed to everything to embellish their legacy and incite fear in others. Beth Crane and, three years later, David Pace had exposed the security breach by asking Talbot for confirmation of the Nest’s existence, and Madison was sure that’s how they’d ended up dead. “You know no one here would—”
Grant leaned back against the counter, and crossed his arms. “What I know is that if you get caught out there spying, you’ll lose more than your career.”
The finality in Grant’s tone signaled he was finished talking about this, and so was she. How could she convince him with no more proof than her instincts? Her challenge was that simple.
And that complex.
* * *
Madison showered, then dressed in black slacks, a teal sweater and flats. She left her hair down, applied lotion to her wind-chafed skin and then returned to the kitchen.
Grant sat at the table drinking a cup of coffee from a camouflage-print mug. He cast her a weary, pensive look but said nothing.
Her favorite Minnie Mouse mug sat on the counter beside the coffeepot—he noticed and remembered everything about her, even her preferred coffee mug—and she filled it, then joined him at the table. Did he remember details about her because of professional or personal reasons? His profiling training or a genuine affection for her? Unsure, she sipped, then said, “You’re pretty steamed at me, aren’t you?”
He shook his head. “I’m worried. I want you to promise me you’ll stay away from the Nest.”
“I can’t do that.” She wouldn’t even stay away if she trusted him with all her heart. “I’ve made my reasons clear. I’m stalled on my case until I find new information or until Talbot releases the satellite images under the Freedom of Information Act.” Hopefully, he’d do that before she died of old age. She’d requested them two months ago, during the Christmas cruise she and Grant had taken with a group of friends.
Grant knew as well as she did that those images of David Pace’s exploded car would prove whether or not it had been placed where it had been found before or after the explosion, which would prove whether or not David Pace had been in it when it had blown up. His medical file was sealed. Why? Right after Gary Crawford’s arrest and confessions, she’d received a tip that Pace’s body hadn’t been burned. Why that tip? Why to her? People didn’t take those kinds of reporting risks without reason.
Grant lifted a hand. “The man died from natural causes. An embolism. You saw the coroner’s report.”
“So did you. It was a lie. It had to be a lie, or the embolism had to be induced.” Grant couldn’t be buying into that report. “There were no signs of anything like that in his medical history—nothing that points to there being any problem. He was young and healthy.” And Grant knew as well as she that inducing an embolism was a military tactic. Carrying out a kill order? Emergency termination? She shuddered.
“For pity’s sake.” Grant lifted his cup. “You talked to the coroner.”
“No, I didn’t,” she disputed him. “I tried to talk to him, but the coroner refused to take my call or to meet with me. His assistant referred me to the public report, informed me that the case was sealed, and then she totally shut down. Why would the case be sealed unless he’s hiding something?”
“Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because Crawford was a serial killer working for Homeland Security and that knowledge would undermine public trust in the entire agency? Remember, Homeland Security sealed the file, not the local authorities, and Crawford hasn’t yet been tried for his other victims’ murders. Or maybe the coroner just didn’t want to waste his time on a closed case when he has a ton of open ones to work on.” Grant dropped his voice. “Or it could be that the coroner has known you all your life and he’s trying to keep you from putting yourself in the crosshairs of people who will hurt you.”
“That sounds as if you think there might be some validity to my theory.”
“I’m trying to be fair. The case is closed. Crawford did confess to both murders. The coroner did sign off on the Pace report. But if on the outside chance you’re right about this—and I don’t believe you are—then for this conspiracy and cover-up to work, the coroner would have had to sign off on a false report, and I don’t think he would.”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d say no.” She’d known the man her whole life. He’d given her and her best friend, Maggie Mason, pony rides at the annual town festivals when they were children, and when they’d tried smoking cigarettes as teens and had gotten sick and gone to the morgue to save him a trip to pick up their bodies, he’d assured them they weren’t dying—but if he caught them smoking again, they’d wish they were. “Yet these circumstances are not normal. With Homeland Security involved... They, or the commander, could have pressured him.”
“Through Homeland Security, the commander might have exerted influence,” Grant conceded. “But it’s highly unlikely.”
Grant defending his former commander wasn’t surprising. She well recalled her own defensive posture right up until the moment she realized she’d been abandoned. “It’s not impossible.”
“No, it’s not impossible.” Grant sipped from his mug, then set it on the table and reached for her hand.
She laid it atop his and he curled his fingers, pressing their heated palms. “Madison, what if you’re right? Say Talbot or Dayton were involved in the murders and cover-ups. Say they did exert influence and the coroner did forge the report. Would people with the power and authority to do those things hesitate to kill again?” Grant gently squeezed her fingertips. “Don’t you see that by pushing this, you’re putting yourself in danger?”
His hand trembled. She loved that, and wished she didn’t. “I know—”
“Have you forgotten that just for investigating a classified project to which you once had authorized access, you can be declared a security threat—and the charges will stick? They can declare you a domestic terrorist and detain you indefinitely.”
“That’s absurd.” She grunted. “They can’t—”
His expression turned flat. “Check recent legislation. They can and will.” He clasped her arms. “Forget this, Madison. Please. You know the lengths they’ve gone to since inception to keep the Nest off everyone’s radar. If the security breach and your two murders are connected...” He swallowed hard, clearly conflicted. “Do you think for a second they wouldn’t stop you from exposing them by any means necessary?” He rubbed at his neck. “Good grief, the entire government’s behind them.”
Whether or not the people in most of those positions knew it, the government was behind them. And the measures taken to hide the project had been extraordinary. The need-to-know loop on the Nest was extremely tight. “I know all this, okay?” He cared. He might have to spy on her, but he also cared. It showed clearly whenever he got emotional, and right now Grant Deaver was extremely emotional. She softened her voice. “The bottom line is I believe they’ve buried the truth on two civilian murders. I believe it, Grant. And if they did and I do nothing, and the need arises, they’ll murder again. How many have to be lost before—”
“For the tenth time, the victims in this case are not lost, they’re dead.”
“The truth about them is lost,” she repeated, stroking his arm.
His
