Ties That Bind

Chapter 44

"SURELY, TELL ME YOU'RE SLEEPING a full night by now, Maddy."

Sometimes Terry's attempts at small talk amused her. They were sitting across from each other down at the station. "Why are you so concerned with how I sleep? Has Younge had his pretrial?"

"You can be moody when you're sleep deprived."

She cocked her head to the side and considered a weapon of choice from her desk. An elastic—blue and thick, the kind a mailman uses. It would pack a sting. She'd aim right between his eyes. Instead, she sat back in her chair and let his comment go.

"Wow, impressive, you're learning self-control."

"Keep pushin'." She clasped her hands over her stomach.

Terry smiled. "About Younge. There's nothing to worry about. Two days from now he will be at his pretrial. We're this close." Terry pinched his thumb and index finger together.

She figured if everyone else could use clichés, she could sometimes. "That close doesn't count unless it's—"

"Horseshoes. Yeah, I know the saying, and I don't like it." Terry smiled at her. "And maybe you should use this little bit of in-between time to clean that mess of a desk you've got going."

"I've got?" She laughed.

But it was the truth. His side was bare except for his phone and paper tray, which had about a one-inch stack of paper and a folder or two in it. At least she could see the wooden top of the desk. Then she noticed hers and saw his point. Papers were scattered over it, a few file folders were strewn diagonally from being tossed on the way by. Her tray was brimming over the sides.

"Okay, I'm messy." She put some files in her tray, making the pile higher.

"How is that cleaning it up?"

"Hey, don't tell me how to tidy." She kept the papers moving.

"You're not doing anything except for moving it from one pile to another."

"See, that's how little you know. One neatly arranged stack is better than several."

"Uh-huh. Lazy man's way."

She was about to correct him, when he did it himself.

"Excuse me. Lazy woman's way. You're such a women's libber." He rose from his chair. "Going to get a coffee. Want one?"

"Sure, I'll have a Starbucks." It wasn't that far of a walk. Surely he needed a little break from his nagging.

"I wasn't going to go there." He jacked his thumb toward the machine in the bullpen.

"Yeah. No." She shook her head. "But I'll have a Starbucks." She smiled at him, trying to manipulate him. "Please, I'm working so hard here. Throw me a frickin'—"

"Bone. Another stupid saying." He turned to leave, shaking his head, and mumbling just loud enough to discern his words.

"Hey, now you know what you sound like." She called out to him, not sure if he'd hear her, but it still gave her some satisfaction. Her attention went back to the desk.

All these files, all this paper, represented something she had grandiose plans of accomplishing. Of course, some of them were old files that should have been moved over to record storage. She'd get them over there at some point.

Even with the paper moved out of the way, there was a small collection of pens and highlighters. She had the perfect place for them too—the top drawer on the side.

She opened it, planning to shovel everything in when she noticed what had already made it in there. Putting down the pens, she exchanged them for the photograph. It was the one of Laura and Ethan. It was looking a little worse for wear having been placed in and out of numerous pockets and scrunched into a ball by the chief.

All this time she had the killer on her person. At least now he was behind bars and would pay for his crimes. And they never did get the results back from the towel. She kept looking at the photo, trying to search for answers. They didn't know why he killed the other women, either. Maybe she would never know.

She kept looking at the photo, and then it hit her. If Laura was forged in, Ethan might have been. The minute thought scared her. Did they have the wrong guy? Then logic reminded her that the DNA was a match. She shook her head. There was no way. Ethan was the genuine article in that photograph.

But what would make a man like Ethan Younge do it? He had no criminal background. He had a wife and a daughter.

She hated how she always second-guessed the results. Everything could be aligned and she'd question things, sometimes even after a conviction. Terry teased her that it was a sickness.

As she scrutinized Ethan's face, she noticed how he must have posed for the photograph. The smile, upon real intent scrutinizing, revealed an underlying anger. The eyes were glazed over, hardened. But then she noticed a few discrepancies that momentarily stalled her breath. They were small enough that she excused herself for not noticing sooner, but at the same they could prove significant.

"Hey, whatcha doin'?"

Her thoughts were interrupted by Toby. "What, Sovereign?"

"Just passing by." He came to a standstill by her desk.

"Looks like you're standing, not passing." She went back to the photo.

"Heard you got the guy."

Did this guy not pick up on body language at all, or was he so insensitive that he didn't care to heed it?

"The Strangler case? Good job."

"So people keep saying."

"Hey, that's his photo, isn't it?"

Madison sighed in exasperation. "Yes." She gestured with her hand for him to move on.

"Fine, I get the point. Have a nice one, Knight."

"Uh-huh."

Before the interruption, she had gotten a glimpse of something potentially monumental. When she focused back on the photograph, she realized she hadn't imagined it. Everyone was going to kill her, but she didn't have any other option.

She rushed down to the jail cells and demanded to see Ethan Younge.

"You can't ask him any questions," the officer cautioned her as he unlocked the door leading into the cell area.

Madison glared at him. "I fully realize that, but I need to see him."

"Okay." The officer followed along with her. "Fifth door on the left."

As soon as she reached the bars, Ethan got up. He had been sitting on the steel bench that served as his bed. "You find the real killer yet?"

She remained silent as she studied his face trying to absorb all his features. All this time, she wondered how Ethan could have been stupid enough to put his own photo by Laura's bed. Now she didn't think he had.

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