Simon Says Die (25 page)

Pierce, Lieutenant Hamilton, and half a dozen police officers stood guard thirty feet away. Damon held up his handcuffed hands, which had a length of chain running from them to his wheelchair.

“Your boyfriend is a bit paranoid, don't you think?”

Pierce was definitely paranoid. He'd left nothing to chance. In addition to cuffing both Damon's hands and legs to the wheelchair, Pierce had cuffed Madison's hands to her bench.

As she stared at the man who had taken so much from her, she had to agree that Pierce had been wise to cuff her. Because right now all she wanted to do was leap across the clearing and strangle her former husband.

The sunlight glinted off the ring on Damon's left hand, making Madison start in surprise. It was a wedding ring—the ring she'd given him.

He noted her interest, and held up his hand, a sardonic smile on his lips.

“Why?” she asked.

“I take my vows seriously.” He leaned slightly forward. “Until death do us part. Neither of us is dead. Yet.”

She glanced sharply at Pierce, positioned well behind Damon. He nodded reassuringly. She drew a deep breath. “Why did you kill my father?”

Damon raised a brow. “Now, why would I kill my esteemed father-in-law? Shame on you for even thinking that.”

She yanked her fist, but the chain kept her from moving more than a few inches.

He laughed. “You still haven't learned to control your temper. That's going to get you killed someday.”

“Is that a threat?”

“With all these guns trained on me? Of course not. I have far more self-control than that.”

“You wanted to talk. So talk.”

His grin faded as he leaned forward as far as the chains would allow. “You want me to get right to the point? Fine. I left you with a million dollars of my money. Honestly, at the time, I had other resources and thought you might need the money, at least until your father's money came through. But things have changed. I want it back.” He spoke in a low voice, so low that she almost couldn't hear him.

She leaned forward too. “You aren't getting a single penny. I'm not paying my father's murderer.”

He glanced at the policemen watching them. “I suggest you lower your voice, my dear, and be very careful what you say. I didn't roll in here without making sure I held all the cards. What did you think all those photographs meant when I held you in that room?”

She curled her hands together in frustration. Damon was openly admitting he'd abducted her, and no one else could hear him. “You can't hurt my family. They're all in protective custody.”

“How
is
that wonderful mother-in-law of mine?” he asked. “And my new sister-in-law. Amanda, isn't it? She's quite the stunner, if you only look at her from the left side of course.” He winced. “That jagged scar down the right side of her face is a bit off-putting, but I suppose I could warm up to her in a pinch.”

Madison jerked against her restraints. “What do you want?” she hissed.

“One million dollars.”

“I'm not paying my father's murderer,” she repeated.

“Either pay, or your mother dies, along with her new husband. Then Amanda. And, lastly, that precious brother of yours. They can't stay in protective custody for the rest of their lives.” He smiled. “Then again, maybe they will. Because the minute they're out of custody, their lives are over. Unless you pay me.”

“Why are you doing this? Why did you choose me as your target? Did you ever care about me at all?”

“You were struggling middle-class when I met you. Of course I cared about you or I wouldn't have bothered with you. But the money started to run out. I had to make alternate plans. The only reason you're still alive is
because
I care about you. I could have killed you and kept your money, all of it. A million dollars isn't much to ask when you have far more than that, and your life, because I allowed you to keep both.”

She squeezed her hands together. “And my father? Why did you kill him?”

He frowned. “Lower your voice.”

“Tell me, please,” she whispered. “I need to know.”

He glanced back toward Hamilton and seemed to consider. “If I, hypothetically, were involved in your father's death, it would have been because I knew you would come into millions when he died.” His face twisted into a snarl. “But you were suspicious, even back then. You couldn't leave well enough alone, and you confronted me with your damned suspicions. Because of you I had to run.” He rolled his shoulder. “I should pay you back for that little nick you gave me. Hurts like hell in the winter.”

She gritted her teeth. “I'd shoot you again if given the chance. And this time I wouldn't aim for your shoulder. If you didn't want to kill me, and that's why you left after I confronted you, then why fake your death?”

“I didn't want you to convince your cop brother to go on a hunt for me. I knew you'd tell him your suspicions if I stayed. I have an aversion to prison my dear. Been there, done that. I'm not going back again, no matter what.”

“You've been in prison?”

His nostrils flared. “Well, I didn't exactly mean to tell you that, but yes.”

“Why are you back now? You faked your death. Now you're faking your injury. Why announce to the world that you're not really dead? Especially if you're concerned my brother would go after you to prove you killed my father.”

He shrugged. “Simple. My money ran out. You forced me to leave New York before I was ready. I tried to look you up several months ago and tracked you, along with your
lover
, to Jacksonville. Later I followed you to Savannah, where you bought your very nice house. Then you were accommodating enough to go back to New York, leaving that luxurious house empty for me. I decided to give you another chance. Instead of killing you, I moved in.”

He tapped the arm of his chair. “I must say, I was thoroughly enjoying my . . . pleasures here, when you decided to come back, and ruined everything. So it's only logical that I get my money from you. You want to live here in Savannah—fine. I'll go somewhere else, but I will not be a pauper again. I left you sitting pretty with my own money, not to mention what you got from your father. I think you should be grateful that I'm only asking for
my
portion of the money. I could demand
all
of your money.”

She frowned. “What do you mean, you had to leave New York before you were ready? Have you done this before? Ruined someone's life the way you ruined mine?”

He scrunched his mouth together and glared at her. “I've changed my mind. The first to die won't be your mother. It will be your new boyfriend. Get a cashier's check today and meet me tonight at your house. If I see any cops, I'm gone and your boyfriend dies.”

She shook her head. “No. I won't do it. And you can't hurt Pierce. He can take care of himself.”

He arched a brow and snorted. “Really? How sure are you he can protect himself twenty-four hours a day? You aren't the only one who's an excellent shot. I happen to be quite lethal with a rifle. I can reach your boyfriend from a long ways a way. I promise you. If I want to kill him, he's as good as dead.”

She started shaking so hard her handcuffs rattled against the bench.

The sound of footsteps against concrete had Madison and Damon both looking back at Pierce. He stepped over to Damon's wheelchair. “This meeting is over.”

Damon smiled up at him. “I got what I wanted.” He held up his hands. “Now take these wretched cuffs off.”

Pierce ignored him and took Madison's cuffs off first. He led her over to one of the uniformed police officers. “Take her inside.” To Madison, he said, “Wait for me.” Then he turned around and strode back to Damon.

“W
HAT DID YOU
say to her?” Pierce demanded as he sat on the same bench Madison had been sitting on a few minutes ago.

Damon raised a brow. “That's between me and my wife.”

“She's not your wife. She divorced you, right after you killed whoever died in that car in your place. So if your plan was to frame her and put her in prison so you could get the courts to award you her money, think again. You'll never see a dime.”

Damon blinked, his face reddening. “She divorced me? Truly?”

Pierce nodded.

Damon cleared his throat and shrugged, back in control. “Doesn't matter. My plans, whatever they may be, are not affected by the state of my marriage.” He yanked on one of the handcuffs. “I have nothing more to say to you. I suggest you release me, now, before I call a lawyer and sue you and everyone else in this station.”

Pierce gave a harsh laugh. “I don't think your background can stand up to the scrutiny of a drawn out lawsuit. If you want to try, go ahead.” He leaned forward. “I don't know what game you're playing, but it ends here. If I ever see you anywhere near Madison, I'll throw your ass in jail.”

Damon gestured to his chair. “Come now. What could I possibly do to hurt my dear sweet wife? And why would I want to?” His lips curved up in a taunting smile. “Maybe I'll strike up our relationship where we left off. She really is a little firecracker in bed, as I'm sure you know. I wouldn't mind having some of that again.”

Pierce jumped off the bench and grabbed Damon's shirt, lifting him out of the chair as far as the handcuffs would allow.

“Let him go!” Hamilton and two other police officers grabbed Pierce and tried to pull him back.

Pierce shrugged them off. “Stay away from Madison.” He let Damon fall back into the chair.

Hamilton grabbed Pierce's arm. “Get your temper under control before I arrest you for assault.”

“Get your hands off me. Now.”

“Only if you promise not to touch Mr. McKinley again.”

“Scouts honor,” Pierce gritted between his teeth, not bothering to mention that he'd never been a scout.

“I've changed my mind about speaking to you any further, Lieutenant,” Damon said. “I insist you let me go, or I will sue you and your department for assault. I'm ready to leave.”

Hamilton glared at Pierce and motioned to one of the police officers. “Un-cuff him, and get him out of here.”

“What are you doing?” Pierce demanded. “You can't let him go.”

Hamilton waited until Damon had been wheeled back into the building.

“I don't exactly owe you or Mrs. McKinley anything, not after being lied to for so long. I'm not going to put myself on the line for either of you when I don't have any physical evidence against Damon McKinley. The FBI will have to take it from here, see if they can build a case. However, I have already instructed my men to keep him under surveillance. When Casey has enough evidence for a warrant, I'll haul McKinley back in, but not before then.”

“You've already got probable cause to hold him on any number of crimes.”

“I can only hold him for forty-eight hours. If I don't have forensic evidence against him by then, he's out.”

“He's out anyway.”

“You want me to hold him, then help me. Explain how a paraplegic could have abducted Mrs. McKinley and placed her in the trunk of her car like she said? She never mentioned a wheelchair when she talked about her abduction.”

Pierce raked his hand through his hair. “He has to be faking the paralysis.”

“How? Why?”

“The
how
is beyond me, for now. But the
why
will be clear as soon as we talk to Madison and find out what Damon said to her. ” He strode past Hamilton toward the building.

He yanked the door open and headed inside. When he reached the squad room it didn't take him long to realize that Madison wasn't there. He stopped at the desk of the detective whose letter opener Damon had used earlier.

“Where's Mrs. McKinley?”

“She said she had to run an errand.”

“You let her leave? Knowing Damon McKinley is out there?”

The detective's eyes widened. “Was I not supposed to?”

Pierce swore and sprinted through the squad room to the elevator. What was Madison up to this time? He prayed he caught up to her before she caught up to Damon.

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

M
ADISON PULLED UP
short when she stepped out of the bank and saw Pierce lounging against the side of his car, illegally parked. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he looked like he wanted to strangle her.

“Explain.” One hoarsely uttered, clipped word.

She clutched her purse as she stopped in front of him. “I had to get out of the station, clear my head. And it dawned on me, that with all the craziness going on lately, I hadn't made my mortgage payment this month.”

He looked up at the sky, as if he were praying for divine guidance. “You went to the bank to pay your mortgage. You expect me to believe that?”

“Of course. It's the truth.”

He held out his hand. “Give me your purse.”

“Excuse me?”

He raised a brow. “If all you were doing was making your mortgage payment, you've got nothing to hide.”

“If you want it that badly, take it.” She slapped the purse into his hand. “But it's really not the right color for your outfit.”

He rolled his eyes and plopped her purse on the hood of his car. When he found her mortgage payment receipt inside, he looked at her in surprise. But when she held out her hand for her purse, he ignored it and finished his search.

Once he was done, he shoved everything back inside and held the purse out to her. “My mistake. I thought Damon might have asked you for money, and you got a cashier's check for him.
Did
he ask you for money?”

Her pulse leaped in her throat. “Yes, he did. He wants a million dollars. But I'm not paying him. I will never pay the man who murdered my father. Not one cent.”

The anger faded from his eyes, replaced by a look of approval, and relief. He gave her a tight nod. “Good to know. You can't bargain with people like him. Any agreement he made he'd back out on. He's dangerous. The only way to deal with him is to get evidence and put him away. Speaking of which, Logan called. He's in Montana and has some news to share on the investigation he's been conducting into Damon's past.”

Once Madison was inside the car, Pierce crouched in the doorway. He gently pushed her hair out of her eyes, his fingers lingering on her skin in a gentle caress. “You scared years off my life when I thought you'd gone chasing after Damon. What else did he say to you back at the station? What had you looking so scared?”

The memory of Damon's threats, the calm certainty in his voice, had her curling her fingers against the edge of the seat. “He said . . . he'd hurt my family . . . and you . . . if I didn't pay him.”

His gaze softened. “I won't let that happen. Your family is safe. A private security firm is watching over them.”

“Including Logan? What about you? Who's protecting you?”

“Logan and I can take care of ourselves.”

Moisture filled her eyes. She swiped the tears away and shook her head. “You can't watch over your shoulder all the time. What if he . . . has a rifle or something.”

He tenderly cupped the side of her face. “Don't worry. This will all be over soon. I have a feeling that whatever Logan is going to tell us will be good news. If he's found something we can use to put Damon away, then everyone will be safe.”

Since he seemed to be waiting for her agreement, she nodded. But she very much feared he was wrong. Pierce didn't know Damon the way she did. And he hadn't seen the look of pure evil in Damon's eyes when he'd promised to kill everyone she loved if she didn't pay him.

After pressing a whisper soft kiss on Madison's lips, Pierce closed her car door and headed around the front of the car toward the driver's side. Madison desperately hoped he was right, that Logan had discovered something that would help them put Damon behind bars. Because if he hadn't, she would have to fall back on plan B—the million dollar cashier's check hidden inside her bra.

“W
E'RE HERE,
L
OGAN
—Madison, Lieutenant Hamilton, and me,” Pierce said. “Casey and Tessa had to go back to the office. I'll fill them in later.” He turned the computer monitor around on the conference room table. He centered it so the built-in Webcam would hopefully capture all three of them. “Can you see and hear us okay?”

“Yes.” Logan looked at Madison. “How are you holding up, trouble?”

She squeezed Pierce's hand beneath the table. “Pierce is taking good care of me.”

“Good. I don't want to have to teach him his manners again when I get back.” The teasing expression on his face turned serious. “You should have told me about Dad.”

She nodded, blinking her eyes rapidly as if to hold back tears. “I know. I'm so sorry.”

“What do you have for us?” Hamilton asked, sounding impatient.

“More than I expected, but it took some trickery to get the information. Bigfork is a tight-knit community, and no one wanted to share anything about their former benefactor. I told them Damon had died in a car accident in New York, and that I was trying to find out if he had any family or friends that needed to be notified. They suddenly became quite friendly.”

“I'll bet,” Pierce said. “They were hoping for a cut of his estate.”

“I've already e-mailed softcopies of this information to Lieutenant Hamilton and you. I'm overnighting the hardcopies, which are mostly pictures.”

Logan shuffled some papers on the table in front of him. “Damon was born here and had few friends, but he was generous to the local community. They named a high school, and even this library after him”—he waved toward the building he was sitting in—“because of a large donation. But he was sick, a lot. He had failing health for the last couple of years that he lived here. No one seemed quite sure what his diagnosis was. The local doctor refuses to give me any information without a warrant. He had a full-time nurse during most of those two years. Then, all of a sudden, he picked up and moved away. He had the house sold and liquidated all his assets in Bigfork. That was around the time he went to New York.”

Madison frowned. “Damon was always healthy. I can't remember him ever being sick.”

Logan's lips thinned. “That thought occurred to me too. The man I heard about didn't sound like the man I'd met.”

He held up a picture in front of the camera. “Trouble, tell me if you recognize this man.”

Madison studied the black-and-white photo of a man sitting on a bench in a garden. His hair was dark, streaked with gray, and his eyes were slightly sunken in as if he was ill. She shook her head. “He doesn't look familiar. Should I know him?”

“I would think so. Since you married him.”

“What?”

“This is Damon McKinley, the real one,” he said, picking up another photo and holding it up. “And this is the male nurse who used to take care of Mr. McKinley.”

Madison made a choking sound and pressed her hand against her throat. “That's Damon,” she whispered.

Logan put the picture down. “No, that's Simon Rice, the man I believe stole Damon McKinley's identity and married you.”

“Simon?” Pierce and Hamilton both said at the same time.

“I thought you'd catch that,” Logan said. “What are the odds he's your ‘Simon says' killer too?”

Madison held her hand against her mouth, as if she were trying not to throw up.

Pierce put his arm around her shoulders. “We had always assumed the ‘Simon says' killer was actually named Simon, making it easy to rule Damon out . . .”

“What was the point of leaving those notes?” Madison asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “And killing all those people?”

“To throw us off track,” Hamilton said. “And to keep my men busy, to distract us from following up on your stalker.”

“I disagree,” Pierce said. “I've worked enough serial killer cases to know how their minds work. If Damon is this ‘Simon says' killer, it's a compulsion. He's a psychopath. He kills for the thrill. Even if part of his plan was to distract the police, he killed because that's just what he does. He can't stop. I'll bet if we look for similar cases in New York, we'll find he killed others while he lived there.”

“While he was married to me,” Madison said, her voice breaking. She was so pale Pierce wrapped his arm around her shoulders, afraid she might faint. But she drew a deep breath, and seemed to brace herself. “Go on,” she said to Logan. “Finish this. What else did you find out?”

“The real Damon McKinley is missing,” Logan continued. “Unfortunately, without a body, we don't have anything against Simon, not even identity theft.”

Hamilton frowned. “What do you mean? Seems pretty cut and dry to prove that he passed himself off as McKinley.”

Logan held up another document. “He legally changed his name to Damon McKinley when he moved to New York. The man crossed every t, dotted every i. There's nothing illegal about changing your name.”

Madison clutched Pierce's hand beneath the table. “But, what about the money? He only had a million dollars left when he supposedly died in the car crash, but when we first got married, he had several million dollars. He had to have stolen that money from the real Damon McKinley.”

“I'm sure you're right,” Logan said. “But we have no proof, and there's no dead body to prove he killed the real McKinley. The real McKinley apparently transferred all his money to Simon Rice before leaving Bigfork. Naturally, I assume it was either done under duress or fraudulently by Rice. But, again, I have no proof. I think the FBI needs to dig in on that, but for now, we have nothing.”

Pierce leaned forward. “You said Rice was a nurse?”

“Yes.”

“Then it's not much of a stretch to think he'd have knowledge of what drugs to use to cause temporary paralysis if he wanted to fake an injury. I assume that could be done.”

Madison grabbed his arm. “It can. I remember Austin telling me the drugs his doctors have him on right now cause temporary paralysis. If Damon . . . ”—she swallowed and cleared her throat—“or
Simon
, was a nurse, he would have known what to use.”

Logan frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Damon was here, at the station today,” Pierce said. “In a wheelchair, pretending to be paralyzed.”

“Clever,” Logan said. “Got to admit, that's a first in my experience.”

Pierce nodded. “Mine too. As a former nurse, he'd also have a thorough understanding of the kinds of drugs, and timelines involved to fake a heart attack. Heck, he might have kept all the drugs he used while taking care of the real McKinley and has his own little pharmacy of meds to use if he wants.”

Hamilton shook his head. “Or he got them from the woman he killed and buried in Mrs. McKinley's backyard. She was a pharmacist.”

Logan looked grim. “You're probably right. He had the opportunity to kill my father, and the knowledge. I can't think of a motive though, why he'd want to kill him. If it was the money Madison would inherit, then why would he fake his death and disappear when he could have stayed and had millions more?”

Madison swallowed hard. “Damon said he left because I was suspicious about Daddy, and that he knew I'd tell you if he stuck around. Supposedly, the only reason he didn't kill me . . . was because he loved me.”

“When did he tell you all this?”

“Today, when he came to the station.”

A knock sounded on the door.

“It better be important,” Hamilton said, as a police officer opened the door and stepped inside.

“Yes, sir.” He looked at the others and hesitated.

“Don't worry about them. What's up?”

“There's been a murder, sir, outside of town off I-95. The man's name is Joshua MacGuffin.”

Madison gasped and stared at the policeman in horror.

“Do you have any more details?” Hamilton asked.

“The medical examiner is on the scene, says the C.O.D. is most likely strangulation. Mr. MacGuffin has been dead for several days. And, Lieutenant, we found a room in the basement of his house with a mattress. The ceiling had all kinds of pictures on it. One of the officers on the scene said he e-mailed some snapshots to you from his phone.”

Hamilton clawed for his cell phone and opened up his e-mail. He turned the phone around toward Madison. “Are these the pictures you saw when you were abducted?”

She nodded, her heart breaking at the thought of poor Mr. MacGuffin being killed just because he'd wanted to help her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Those are the pictures I saw.”

Hamilton shoved the phone in his jacket. “Thanks, officer. I'll head out there in a few minutes.”

The officer nodded and closed the door.

“Several days,” Pierce said. “I bet he was killed the night he called to tell Madison he'd seen her husband. When he saw Damon in the restaurant, he must have reacted somehow, and Damon realized the man had recognized him.”

Madison blinked back tears. “Mr. MacGuffin was so nice to me, so concerned about me.”

“Hamilton,” Logan said, from the monitor. “I heard you have Madison's computer. We'll need a look at that, to see if the files she had on Damon can help us prove his crimes.”

“Of course.”

“And,” Logan continued, “you need to have Damon tested to prove he's faking the paralysis. That will take away his main defense, and you can investigate from there.”

It was Hamilton's turn to redden slightly as he shifted in his chair. “I'm afraid that's not possible.”

“Why not?” Pierce and Logan asked at the same time.

“I had a tail put on McKinley when he drove off in his van. But I think he must have realized he was being followed. He shook the tail. I don't know where Damon McKinley is.”

M
ADISON RUBBED HER
hands up and down her arms and paced the length of Pierce's bedroom. They were back in the bed-and-breakfast, because once again Pierce had wanted to stay in town to be close to the investigation, and the search for Damon.