Constance’s long black lashes fluttered when she noticed me, and she touched her ear. Words slipped through her bright red lips, low and inaudible. She turned a fraction of an inch toward Maddox’s door. Her white-blonde hair fell behind her shoulder and then bounced back into its soft wave. She seemed to snap back to the present and smiled at me. “Please proceed, Agent Lindy.”
I nodded, noting that she never took her eyes off me as I passed her small desk. She wasn’t just Maddox’s assistant. She was his guard dog in a tiny blonde package.
I took a breath and twisted the brushed nickel knob.
Maddox’s office was made up of mahogany and lush carpets, but his shelves were bare and pathetic like mine, missing family photos and personal trinkets that could lead anyone to believe he had a life outside of the Bureau. The walls displayed his favorite memories, including plaques and awards along with a photo of him shaking hands with the director.
Three frames sat on his desk, staggered and facing away from me. It bothered me that I couldn’t see what was inside of them. I wondered if they held pictures of her.
Maddox was standing in his navy suit, one hand in his pocket, staring out his beautiful corner office view. “Have a seat, Lindy.”
I sat.
He turned. “I have a dilemma that you might be able to help me with.”
A hundred different statements could have come from his mouth. That wasn’t one I’d considered. “I’m sorry, sir. What was that?”
“I had a meeting with the S.A.C. earlier, and he feels you could be a solution to a recent issue,” he said, finally sitting in his chair.
The blinds let in the full light of the afternoon sun, creating a glare on the desk’s already glossy surface. It was large enough to seat six people, and I guessed it would be too heavy for two men to lift. I raised my toes to fit snuggly beneath the space between the wood and the rug. I let out a breath, feeling anchored enough to keep whatever unexpected thing Maddox was about to drop on me from blowing me away.
He tossed a file on the desk, and it slid toward me, stopping just short of the edge. As I picked it up and held the thick stack of papers in my hand, I was still too sidetracked by Maddox’s previous statement to open it.
“Special Agent Polanski, the S.A.C., thinks I’m a solution,” I said, suspicious.
Either I had seriously underestimated my value, or Maddox was full of shit.
“Just read it,” he said, standing up again and walking toward the window. Gauging by his stern expression and stiff posture, he was nervous.
I opened the thick card stock to the first page, and then I continued to look over the numerous FD-302s, surveillance photos, and a list of the dead. One report contained charges and court transcriptions of a college kid named Adam Stockton. He was an organizer of some sort, and he had been sentenced to ten years in prison. I skimmed over most of it, knowing that wasn’t what Maddox wanted me to see.
Several of the photos were shots of a man who looked a bit like Maddox—same height but with a buzz cut and arms covered in tattoos. There were more with a pretty young girl, early twenties, far more years of wisdom in her eyes than there should be. Some photos were individual shots, but most were of them together. I recognized her as the girl in some of the photos I’d posted on my office wall—Abernathy’s daughter. The kid with the buzz cut and Abby were obviously a couple, but the way they held on to one another led me to believe their relationship was new and passionate. If not, they were very much in love. He held a protective stance in almost all the photos, but she stayed at his side, not at all intimidated. I wondered if he even noticed he stood that way when he was with her.
They were all students from Eastern State University. Further reading told of a fire that had burned down one of the buildings on campus, killing one hundred thirty-two college kids—at night. Before asking why that many kids would be in the basement of a school building that late, I turned the page to find my answer—a floating fight ring, and the Maddox look-alike was a suspect.
“Jesus Christ. What is this?” I asked.
“Keep reading,” he said, his back still turned to me.
Almost immediately, two names jumped out at me—Maddox and Abernathy. After a few more pages, it all came together, and I looked up at my boss. “Your brother is married to Abernathy’s kid?”
Maddox didn’t turn around.
“You’re messing with me.”
Maddox sighed, finally facing me. “I wish I were. They’re renewing their vows at the end of next month in St. Thomas…so the family can attend. Their first wedding was in Vegas almost a year ago—”
I held up the paper. “Just a few hours after the fire. She’s a clever one.”
Maddox walked slowly over to his desk and sat down again. His inability to sit still was making me even more nervous than he appeared to be.
“What makes you think it was her idea?” he asked.
“He doesn’t seem like the type to let his girlfriend save him,” I said, recalling his posture in the photos.
Maddox chuckled and looked down. “He’s not the type to let anyone save him, which is why this is going to be particularly hard. Special Agent Polanski insists I need backup, and I have to agree with him.”
“Backup for what?”
“I’m going to have to break it to him after the ceremony.”
“That she married him to give him an alibi?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Abby might have married my brother for a reason, but that reason is because she loves him.” He frowned. “It will destroy him to find out the truth even if she was trying to save him.”