Ties That Bind

Chapter 38

THE NEIGHBORHOOD WAS WELL OUT of Madison's financial bracket. She could only hope to afford such a neighborhood if she won a lottery. And her chances there were nil as she never played. Maybe after seeing this affluence, she'd rethink that.

There were two cruisers out front, and one officer stood at the door. He nodded a greeting to them.

Terry addressed him. "Specs?"

"All I know, Detective Grant, is that it's a woman in her sixties. Her son found her. Her name is Evelyn Younge." He hitched a thumb toward the door.

"Younge?"

"He's still in there. Found his mom lying on the floor, a huge welt on her face, and a tie around her neck. Officer Weir is in there. We were the first at the scene."

Enough time was wasted. Madison needed in there now. She pushed past Terry.

Inside the front door, it felt more like a museum or gallery, not a home. An oriental, oval-shaped rug was beneath her feet. The rest of the flooring was marble. The ceilings were high and vaulted. A large staircase wound up one wall and ended at a landing that extended the width of the expansive entry. The banister was maple. There was a round table in the middle of the room with a black marble top. An urn, about three feet tall and one foot wide, full of Boston ferns sat on it.

Beyond that, an oil painting hung on the wall, a picture light mounted over it. Three arched doorways came off from the entry. One went to the back, beside where the painting was, one went off to the left, and the other to the right. The doorway at the back led to the kitchen, as Madison noticed the cabinetry. It was also maple. She peeked through the door to the right to find an intimate sitting room.

"In here, Detective." The voice sounded distant. It must have been deflected due to the high ceilings.

She followed the sound of the voice and went through the door to the left, entering another massive room. The ceilings weren't as high as the entry but easily ten feet. The flooring was maple hardwood. There was a huge fireplace with a custom built mantle centered on the back wall. A faux fur rug sat on the floor in front of it, a maple coffee table on top of that. On each side of the fireplace, two more oil paintings were displayed with more lights above them.

A bay window filled the room with light. Sheer curtains hung from rods and were drawn open. Yet that didn't stop the killer. He was continuing to escalate. Would they stop him before he reached yet another victim or was this his last one?

To her left she saw an antique bar cart against the wall, and then she allowed her eyes to take in the victim. She was lying on the floor, her arms to her sides. The murder must have been recent. Her eyes weren't clouded over yet. Madison could envision her chest rising with air.

The tie was twisted over, the tag evident. Another G & C. She kept her eyes on it. It was the way Evelyn rested there, the way the tie was sitting. There didn't seem to be any posing with her body, almost like the killer was in a hurry to leave.

"Detective."

For the first time, she focused on the man standing beside the officer. It caused her to lose her breath and her balance.

Terry walked in and came to a halt. "Ethan Younge?"

*****

"I AM."

This was him—the elusive Photo Guy standing only feet away from them. Photographs did this man justice. He was equally attractive in person as he was on the printed page. His complexion, tanned like a roasted almond, offset the dark hair salted with gray. His eyes held a silent emptiness.