Ties That Bind

Chapter 8

MADISON PULLED THE CAR TO a stop in front of Mr. Hill's house and stepped onto the sidewalk. "How is it that I walked from the driver's side, and I still made it here before you?"

"Is it my fault you have nitros attached to your ass?" Terry scowled. "Or maybe they're up your—"

"Stop there." Madison held up a hand. She could tell by his tone, he wasn't joking. "If you're having problems at home, leave them there."

"Nice."

"Well, if I mention anything about it, you clam up, and tell me it's none of my business."

"Well, not everything is there for you to pry your little investigative nose into. And don't you dare give me your speech about how vital communication is between partners." He glared at her, almost daring her to, yet she remained silent. He started up a walkway to the house located across from the victim's home. He stopped short and spun. "You coming?"

She flailed her arms in the air. "Yeah, I'm coming."

Mr. Hill stood in the middle of the lawn braced over a lawn mower. "Damn contraption." He pushed it over on its side and hunched down to look closer at the blade. He seemed oblivious to their approach.

Madison raised her eyebrows. "I'm going to kill Walsh." The report stated he had information to offer but would only share it with the investigating detectives. "Mr. Hill." He didn't acknowledge his name but kept cursing under his breath. She spoke a little louder and enlarged her eyes at her partner, who shrugged his shoulders. "Mr. Hill!"

The man fell back on his ass and sat there with a hand over his heart. "Holy crap! You scared me. You can't sneak up on people. Holy—" His eyes caught Madison's, and his words fell short. He struggled to his feet. "Excuse me, Miss."

Mr. Hill was a tall, lanky man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. A razor hadn't touched his face in days. Black grease marked his t-shirt and every crevice in his hands seemed stained with it and a hint of dark green, which was probably from the mulched grass built up in the mower. He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans before holding one toward Madison.

She instantly felt herself recoil at the thought of coming into physical contact with him, but she feigned a smile and extended her hand. She had hand sanitizer in the car. She made the introductions and got to the point. "We understand you might have some information that could help us regarding the murder of Laura Saunders."

The man's shoulders visibly sagged. He pulled up his t-shirt and wiped his forehead with it. Madison averted her eyes momentarily. "Don't know nothin' about her murder. Other than it's a damn tragedy. She was a beautiful woman."

"Officer Walsh came by earlier. He said you had something to share with us."

"Yeah, that's what I told him." He touched at the corner of his eye as if an eyelash or piece of dirt were there.

"Were you good friends with Laura?"

"I don't know if you'd say friends although I'd like to think of her that way." His voice turned a little gravelly. "She understood what it's like to make a livin', work hard for what you have. Some folks are handed everything these days. Laura worked as hard as anyone, yet strived to make a difference even if it was a small one. She said people don't hold doors open for others enough anymore."

Terry said, "Hold doors?"

Mr. Hill turned to face him. "Yeah, doors. You know what you go through to get in and out of a building." He made a walking movement with his fingers. Madison noticed the twitch start in her partner's cheek and, due to their earlier disagreement, took some satisfaction in it.

"She said people used to hold the door for a woman more before. And I know what she was talking about." He turned his attention back to Madison and smiled. "Although an old-fashioned guy like me would be honored to hold a door open for you, Detective."

Her patience had run out. "You have something to tell us?"

"Just about this guy she used to see. He wouldn't take the hint. He kept coming around. Last week, I believe it was Friday morning, he was at her house. She yelled at him from the driveway to get lost."

"Was that the last time you saw him?"

"No. Saturday night."

"What time Saturday?"

"Man, I don't know. Late." He rubbed his jaw. The stubble must have made his face itchy. "I was brushin' my teeth and getting ready for bed. Would have been somewhere near midnight."

That was close enough to the estimated time of death, the wee hours of Sunday morning.

Terry said, "Why were you watching out your window at midnight?"

"Am I being interrogated? I'm trying to help."

Against her best judgment, she decided to play her woman card—anything to get this conversation moving. She smiled at Mr. Hill. "You were looking out for Laura, weren't you?"

He crossed his arms but conceded with a nod of his head. "I knew that guy would never give up. He was obsessed with her."

"So, what did you do when you noticed his car?"

His gaze shifted to the grass. "My looking out for her can't be misconstrued. I had nothing to do with her death. I would never have hurt her or pulled a hair from her head."

"When you saw him, what did you do?"

"I ran out of the house yelling at him. Told him to get out of the neighborhood."

"And how did he react to that?"

"He started swearing at me and telling me to mind my own business. I noticed something else though."

"What's that?"

"There was another car in her driveway. Never saw it before."

She felt a little victory and glanced at Terry. "Do you remember the kind of vehicle?"

"Well, it was pretty dark, but I'd say it was a foreign car. But nothing fancy. Old."

"Do you remember the color of the car?"

"Like I said, it was dark. But I'd say a lighter car, white or silver."

Hearing those words from Mr. Hill gave her some vindication. At least two people were confirmed there in the TOD window, and one of them could have been the man from the photo. It would support her jealousy theory. They thanked Mr. Hill and got in the car.

She put the Crown Vic into gear and pulled away in the opposite direction to the station. "You're not going to give it to me, are you?"

"What? Two cars outside her house. It doesn't prove the one in the driveway belonged to this Photo Guy of yours."

"Sounds pretty good for it."

"Where are you going now?"

"We've just started this investigation. You know how crucial the first twenty-four are."

"Any other time."

"Listen, I can do this by myself, but we won't be talking. Ever again. Tell me what's going on."

"I need some time with Annabelle."

She could tell that's all she was getting for now. "There's one thing we have to take care of first."

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