Heather Graham - The Unholy

“Of course,” Knox said. His voice was harsh, and Madison looked over at him. Maybe the hard-boiled just-the-facts detective was a little on edge himself.

Madison tried to define exactly how the tableau had changed. The police and technicians apparently hadn’t uncovered anything they considered evidence; they’d left the scene almost as they’d found it. But it had changed. And Dianna Breen still seemed to be staring at her with horrified eyes.

Last night, those realistic glass eyes had witnessed a murder.

“No sign of the weapon yet, right?” Sean asked.

“No. Before you arrived today, two dozen of our guys—the best at their jobs—went through the studio. We needed that many, which won’t surprise you. The place is a hotbed of fake weapons and fake blood and fake—well, you name it.” He shook his head. “But no, we don’t have the weapon yet.”

“So, how are you figuring that Alistair murdered the girl, fell in the blood, passed out, came to and got emergency help and somehow hid the weapon?” Sean asked him.

“Here’s the thing, Agent Cameron. The kid was here alone. We have experts still going through all the surveillance. He claims he raced toward Ms. Henderson and the ‘thing’ killing her and that he fell in the blood, went down and passed out. According to him, he regained consciousness, called the security guard and came back with him when the guard rushed in, followed by the cops. He claims he passed out. God knows what he was really doing or what really happened. And if someone else was here, why kill the girl and not him?”

“How can you have a scapegoat if you kill everyone?” Sean asked reasonably.

“That’s right,” Madison said. “If Alistair had been killed as well, he couldn’t have been blamed for the murders.”

Knox was quiet a moment. “I’m not discounting any possibilities. I’m just not emotionally involved. Are you done here for the day? We’re closing up until tomorrow and—”

“What about Colin Bailey?” Sean broke in. “Did you confirm that he was in the studio, in the security station, watching the cameras the whole time?”

“Bailey was the only other person on the property at all,” Knox said. “Everything pans out—and, of course, we verified his background. His record is clean as a whistle, he’s worked here twenty years and his story checks out. We’re not stupid local dicks, Agent Cameron. So, are you done here?”

“Yes, thanks, Detective Knox. Can one of your guys give us a ride to Archer’s place?”

“Sure. Go on out. There’s a fellow named Duffy in his car.”

“Madison?”

She nodded, said thank you to Knox, then followed Sean out. She noticed that Knox was behind them and had to wonder if he—hard-boiled L.A. detective—didn’t want to be in the tunnel alone.

“You’re going to Archer’s house?” Madison asked Sean. Her part was finished for today, wasn’t it? She felt as if she were in limbo. She had no idea what was happening with the studio the next day. Were they all on hold?

“I’ll go with you,” she said.

He looked down at her. “Why?”

She found herself bristling again. “Because Eddie asked me to be in on this. Because the studio is my life. Because I may be able to help.”

He stared back at her. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being assessed—and found wanting. He was going to tell her no, that she’d done her duty. To her surprise, he didn’t.

“Fine. We’ll both go,” he said.

She looked away, wondering how she could feel so attracted to a man and so hostile to him at the same time. He was physically impressive, she decided. That must be it. He was also a stranger, even though he’d become a legend at the studio, and it was too easy to admire what she’d heard about him. She had to remember: he was law enforcement here, and she was not.

Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she should go home and get out of this now, while she had the chance.

But she knew she couldn’t. She did have…an extra sense. And it was possible that she could help Eddie. She just hoped it wouldn’t mean sucking up too much to Agent Cameron!

“Is Eddie there?” she asked. “I thought he was going to go and stay with Alistair.”

“He’ll come home,” Sean assured her. “I need to get more of a feel for the lay of the land,” he added.

“You suspect someone close,” she said. “First, Bailey, who’s been the most loyal watchdog in the world. Bailey! And now, someone in Eddie’s household?”

“I suspect everyone,” he said simply. “And this isn’t your fight, not really.”

“Oh? Think again. I live here and I work here, Agent Cameron. The studio—and Eddie—are everything to me.”

He smiled suddenly and she had no idea what he was thinking. “Do you have plans for the day?”

“Yes, I’d planned to work. Now, I’m not working, so I plan to do everything I can for Eddie and Alistair. No, I’m not FBI or a cop, but Eddie asked me to help you.”

She didn’t want to tell him she wouldn’t have had any plans. Not social plans, anyway. Life had made her too much of a loner.

Except, of course, for her unearthly friends.

She straightened, trying to appear calm, confident—and determined.

“Officer Duffy is waiting,” Cameron said. “He’ll take us to Eddie’s. If you’re sure you want to plunge in.”

“I’m sure.” She glared at him icily. He seemed amused. That was even more irritating.

* * *

Officer Duffy was quiet as he drove. Sean didn’t try to engage him in conversation.

Instead, he glanced over at his escort, Madison Darvil.

She’s either certifiable, crazy as a loon or just like you. She talks to the dead, Eddie had told him.

She wasn’t crazy; she was talented. But if she talked to the dead, she might wonder if there was something inside her that wasn’t exactly normal. Most people learned early on not to admit that they could communicate with the souls of the departed. Madison was probably unaware that there were actually many people with her talent scattered around the world.

She was silent during the drive. Sean thought that Eddie had picked the perfect person to help him—even if he hadn’t meant to draw her in this far. She did know the studio and everyone working there now; she was in on meetings and certainly trusted if she dealt with major names in the business. And aside from all that, she was slim and well-proportioned, with large, dark-lashed eyes that were exceptionally expressive and beautiful.

He suddenly wished he’d met her at a party or a bar or anywhere that would allow him to ask her out. He liked her passion when she defended Eddie and even her hostility when he suggested she was no longer necessary. Something within her—integrity, honesty—ran very deep, and it was compelling and seductive.

He turned away, surprised. He hadn’t felt like this about anyone in a very long time. Work had been his escape for years now. It wasn’t that he’d eschewed people, women in particular, but he’d never had this sense of knowing them as he already felt he knew her. He’d functioned well enough when he and Melissa had split, even though he’d really loved her, and she’d loved him, too. He hadn’t hesitated to go back when she needed him, and it hadn’t seemed like any kind of chore or sacrifice to be with her.

Her death had changed him.

He shook off the unhappy memory. Another friend needed him.

Eddie’s place wasn’t far from the studio. He lived in an elegant home in a cul-de-sac where the houses started at the seven-figure mark. There was a high wall around the property and gates protected it, but when they were dropped off and Sean pushed the call button, they were answered immediately.