Guarding the Truth Page 2

  “Look, this is ridiculous.” Madeline struggled to calm herself and think rationally. “I’m not the one who committed a crime here. While my attacker is running the streets free, I’m the one going to jail.”

  Anger boiled Madeline’s blood. She was being forced to run and hide, robbed of her own freedom while Reginald Jones roamed the streets a free man. She’d barely recovered enough of her sanity to even leave the house again when Jones had escaped from the minimum-security prison holding him until his arraignment.

  A chill ran down Madeline’s back as she recalled the night of her attack three months ago. She’d been fortunate, if one could call it that, that he hadn’t been successful in raping and perhaps even murdering her that night. If it hadn’t been for the officer from campus security who happened to wander by at the right moment, Madeline would be in a lot worse shape, probably dead.

  Luckily, her assailant had stormed off, leaving behind his knife, conveniently covered with his fingerprints. As it turned out, good old Reginald Jones was wanted on twenty counts of rape and fifteen counts of murder. It was all over the news. Madeline identified him from a series of mug shots. Very few of his victims had survived to ID him, and those who had were too scared to talk. Madeline couldn’t blame them, but she simply wasn’t one to be bullied like that.

  “How long do you think this is going to take? Is anyone out looking for him?” Reginald had been picked up coincidentally during a routine traffic stop just days after attacking Madeline. His escape had everyone on edge because there would be no doubt who had identified him. Perhaps she was being naïve, but she knew this rare breach in her otherwise secure life would never happen again. Her father would see to that. Actually, that’s just what he’s doing…

  Detective Reynolds straightened to his full height and stepped forward to address this new line of questioning. He was sweating. Large circles formed in the armpits of his blue oxford shirt—a shirt that had been most certainly starched and creased to perfection when he’d left the house earlier this morning. A few minutes alone with Madeline Cooper and the formidable Dr. Cooper, had caused Detective Reynolds to wilt. It was only ten a.m. and he looked like he could use a nap or a stiff drink.

  “Ma’am, I can assure you my force is doing everything in its power to apprehend Mr. Jones. The world is a big place, and he has a lot of contacts. He could be hiding in any number of locations, possibly even outside the city limits… In the meantime, your safety is our number-one priority.”

  “Sure.” Sarcasm oozed from Madeline’s mouth. At twenty-four years old, Madeline Cooper had spent her entire life under the sheltered supervision of her extremely overprotective father. Since her mother’s sudden death when Madeline was just three years old, Madeline had barely even breathed without the knowledge of dear old dad. Not that she didn’t love her father, but sometimes she felt smothered.

  “Ma’am, you’re our star witness in the prosecution of Mr. Jones. As drastic as all this sounds, it’s the safest course of action. It’s not forever. Just until we can apprehend Reggie again. I promise you we’ll have you back in your life as soon as possible.” Detective Reynolds tapped his fingers on the back of the chair in front of him.

  Madeline glanced over to see her father dominating the room with his broad shoulders pushed back and a look on his face that demanded respect. Not one gray hair on his head was out of place, and she shivered with the knowledge that this sterile room was no different to him than an operating room. Like marionettes, he would guide everyone to do his bidding. The detective was handing her father a new life for his daughter in the same way he would hand him a scalpel.

  The only problem was the patient, Madeline herself, was not sedated. She felt like yelling “ouch” as though her father had sliced into her skin to begin “fixing” the problem.

  “Isn’t witness protection a little overboard here?” she asked.

  “Overboard” was Dr. Cooper’s middle name when it came to Madeline. Besides the fact that her father made an excellent salary as a well-known surgeon, her mother had left her a sizable inheritance from her maternal grandparents. And Dr. Cooper had dedicated his life to ensuring the money was well spent. She had never wanted for anything. Always had everything money could buy, including nannies and tutors. She’d been homeschooled by the best in the education world.

  “Ms. Cooper,” the detective continued, “I know you’d prefer to be in your own home, but this criminal is not to be trusted. He has an erratic record raping and murdering women. In his early days, he left a few women alive. However, we believe he returned to murder a woman who reported the incident to the police. The witness protection program has always done a stellar job of concealing victims and helping them build new lives—”

  “Build new lives. Are you kidding? You talk as though I’m going to be sequestered in the bowels of hell forever.” Madeline was steaming mad, nearly shouting. If it were possible, flames would’ve shot out of her ears.

  “Madeline,” her father sounded exasperated with her now, “Nebraska is hardly the ‘bowels of hell’ and no one expects you to be there very long.”

  “Nebraska! You have to be kidding. There’s nothing in Nebraska. What university could you possibly be sending me to in Nebraska?” At this point in her studies, all Madeline needed was a library. Research and writing were her main emphasis. But she certainly didn’t want to make use of a dinky little library in Nebraska instead of the huge modern facility at Yale.

  “The University of Nebraska, ma’am. My alma mater.”

  Oh…my…God. The good cop graduated from a school ten states away in a cornfield. This kept getting better.

  “Look, Detective Reynolds—”

  “Please, call me Mark. We’ll be talking to each other quite a bit in the next several months. I’ll be your point of contact here. You won’t be able to call anyone, including your father, to ensure no one is tracing your lines of communication.”

  “Okay…Mark, then…” Madeline had no intention of agreeing to let him call her by her first name, or God help her, Maddie. “No offense, but I’m not really a Nebraska kind of girl. I’ve hardly even been out of the state of Connecticut. I’m more of a…a…city girl.”

  At this the detective—Mark—chuckled, loudly. “The University of Nebraska, Lincoln, by the way, is hardly in the boonies, ma’am.”

  “Whatever. That’s not the point. I’m in the middle of my dissertation. I can’t just run off.” I’ve worked too hard to abandon my studies at Yale.

  Madeline had completed her undergrad and her master’s at Yale. It was fifteen minutes from home. Her father, always the worrier, could keep his “eye” on her, as he called it, and she could still live at home. It was a perfect compromise. And both were happy with the plan, most of the time.

  “Actually, yes, you can. It’s all worked out. Detective Reynolds was able to pull some strings so you can finish your research in Lincoln. And you won’t be totally alone. Detective Reynolds will be in contact with you secretly, from time to time.”

  Suddenly Madeline had a thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe it would be good for her to get away, out from under her father’s well-meaning, but often suffocating, clutches. Perhaps I could make some new friends, go on a date or two…

  “Okay.” She sagged her shoulders reluctantly. “What’s the plan? What do I do now?”

  Chapter Two

  “Maddie Kincade” took a deep breath of the crisp clean air around her and slowly spun in a circle to survey her surroundings, balancing the loaded box she carried against her hip.

  Lush green grass, tall shade trees, winding paths, and groups of pink and purple flowers surrounded the individual buildings of the apartment complex. For the first time in months, Madeline relaxed her shoulders. No way was Reginald Jones going to track her down to this place.

  A bouncy redhead who appeared to be about her age headed toward Madeline on the sidewalk.

  “Excuse me, could you tell me where to find
apartment two seventeen?” Madeline addressed the girl, while trying to juggle the box in her arms so she could peer at her more directly.

  Being completely unsure how far she would have to walk or where to park, she’d only carried the one box with her. The one filled with important papers concerning her new identity that she didn’t want to risk having stolen out of the car. It would be rather embarrassing to have to file a report concerning its contents.

  “Sure. These units are all a mess. It’s hard to figure out where anything is. I’ve lived here three years and I still have trouble finding my own sometimes.” She giggled, pushing her fiery corkscrew curls out of her face. “Are you new here?” Her shoulders drooped as she continued, “Duh,” and she rolled her pale green eyes. “Well, of course you’re new here. I mean, new to town? Oh…sorry, that’s none of my business. I’m always blabbing more than I should. Don’t mind me. Hmmm…”

  Madeline could scarcely keep up with the ever-changing conversational directions.

  The bubbly redhead scanned the redbrick buildings scattering the area. “The unit you’re looking for is in the D building right over there, next to that big oak tree that has been there nearly a hundred years they say. Well, I guess several of the trees look like that, though, don’t they?

  “Oh…sorry again. Motor mouth. I’m Molly, by the way. Molly Davenport.” She shoved out a hand and then giggled again, pulling it back as she realized Madeline still held the box in her arms.

  The girl could talk, that was for sure. But Madeline found her somehow endearing in spite of this fact and was determined to make a friend out of her.

  “Mad…Maddie, Maddie Kincade.” She tried not to cringe at her near infraction and looked her new friend straight in the eye. “I just moved here. I’m working on my dissertation in English Lit. So, yeah, I’m definitely new.” Please don’t ask me where I’m from. Madeline still didn’t have quite all the details of her fake life memorized.

  Molly laughed again. She looked like the kind of person who did that a lot. Carefree. Fun. Curls bouncing on her shoulders and blowing in the breeze. “Well, never fear. You’ll find your way around quick. Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to run. I’m late for a dentist appointment, otherwise I’d show you around. But I promise to make it up to you later. Two seventeen, right? I’ll come by when I get free.” Molly backed away, disappointment at her need to run off lurking in her eyes.

  Madeline smiled to herself. No, this new identity was not going to be so bad after all. She’d never fit in well with the other rich girls in her neighborhood, and her peers at school thought she was unapproachable. This was the precise term she knew they used to describe her because she’d once heard several girls discussing her in the library when they’d been unaware she was one aisle over from them.

  She’d tried not to let it hurt her feelings. After all, it was true. She was sorely lacking in communication skills when she was with the other grad students. Oh, she could charm the pants off her father’s colleagues whenever it was necessary to play hostess to them for dinners or the theater when he took her, but relating to younger adults her own age was altogether different.

  Madeline still stood on the twisting sidewalk in the luscious green garden area of the apartment complex. The scent of various flowers wafted through the air. It was truly beautiful.

  Several large old trees, as Molly had pointed out, scattered around her, seemingly hugging the various buildings as if the oaks had been second to arrive, after the red brick structures, and had been meticulously planted in just the right spots to provide shade over the wandering paths and protect the flowerbeds from getting too much sunlight.

  Of course, that was ridiculous. Madeline knew the complex was only three years old. She had a sudden admiration for the architects who’d arranged the buildings without disturbing the natural habitat and even made it work on their behalf.

  With a smile on her mouth, Madeline continued in the direction Molly had pointed out to her, juggling her heavy box in one arm so she could pull open the door to her new home away from home. The hallway was stark and had four doors leading presumably to four separate units, two on each side.

  Madeline surmised rather quickly that two seventeen was on the second floor, and she proceeded toward the stairs to begin the first of what she assured herself would be hundreds of ascents.

  This is an opportunity, Madeline…Maddie. Take it and run with it. Make the most of it. Don’t waste a minute. Think of all the possibilities.

  With her thoughts running a mile a minute, Madeline bounded to the top of the stairs, turned the corner to the hallway, and ran straight into a brick wall. Her box of important documents flew through the air, creating a shower of papers that floated slowly back and forth to deposit themselves all over the hallway. No, it wasn’t a brick wall at all, but a gorgeous hunk of man. Where did that thought come from?

  Stunned, she stood there staring at him, warmth creeping up her body. He was beautiful. About a head taller than her, tan, built like he spent most of his days in the gym.

  “Oh, man, I’m so sorry…” he paused, looking at her, before continuing, “I… I wasn’t watching…where I was going,” he finally managed to mumble in a much softer tone than he’d started with.

  He was sorry? She was the one running all helter-skelter up the stairs, bubbling over with the excitement of her new life and all its possibilities. His gaze remained fixed on her. She felt her usual pink creep up her cheeks as he stared.

  “No, no, it was me. I was… I mean I’m…just moving in and…” Why can’t I speak? I have a Master’s degree in English Lit, and I can’t make one simple sentence.

  “Really? Which apartment? Let me guess, that one.” Finally he glanced away, pointing at the first door to her right. “I mean, it is the vacant one, so I assume…”

  Every time he turned his head slightly, his silky brown hair that hung past his ears swayed, and Madeline found herself wanting to run her fingers through it. The slight curl made him look like a carefree college guy. Well, he surely is, Madeline. After all, this is a campus apartment building.

  “I live just next door,” he continued, pointing to the entrance past hers.

  Well, well, aren’t I the lucky one. This jaunt to cornhusker country kept getting better and better.

  “Cool.” Cool? Is that the best you can do, Maddie? Is that even a word people still use? She almost jumped out of her skin when he suddenly reached out toward her, the unexpected action causing her to flinch.

  “Sorry. I was just… You had a Post-it stuck in your hair. Here.” He handed her the tiny pink note. At the brief contact of his fingers against hers, electricity hummed through her system. His fingers were warm and rough, calloused, and for a moment, she wondered if it was from manual work or if he played a sport. Madeline couldn’t move.

  Finally, the spell was broken as Madeline’s new neighbor bent to begin picking up the scattered hurricane of paper. The act jolted her back to reality when it dawned on her that the information contained on those pages was extremely confidential.

  “Stop! I mean…” She brushed a hand through the air in what she hoped was a casual manner. “Don’t worry about this mess… I’m sure you have someplace you have to be… I can clean all this up myself.” Madeline stooped down beside him, nearly knocking her forehead against his in the process. “Don’t—don’t worry about it. It was my fault anyway. I was—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” He smiled at her with deep chocolate eyes that almost swallowed her up. “I ran into you.”

  He really did have perfect cheekbones that looked as if they were chiseled from stone. She wanted to reach out and touch his face to ensure he was indeed real.

  “What kind of neighbor would I be if I left you to handle all this after I practically ran you over? It won’t take but a minute.”

  In a panic, knowing she couldn’t stop him from his intentions, Madeline bent forward to help recover the documents, hoping that if she hurried and stuffed them
all back into the box, he wouldn’t be the wiser about any of the actual words on them.

  As she swept as many items as she could into her arms from her position on her hands and knees, she started rambling anything she could think of to keep him from paying attention to the papers they were collecting.

  “So, do you like it here? In this apartment building, I mean. Or at this school? How is the weather this time of year?” What the hell? He must think I’m an idiot. She’d spoken so fast, even she couldn’t keep up.

  He chuckled and handed her the stack of papers he’d neatly assembled. “Let’s see, yes, yes, yes, and warm.” From his squatted position facing her, the biggest grin lit up his face, showing off cute little dimples on each side that hadn’t been there for the simple smile she’d previously been granted. She stared at his perfect features once again, unable to pull away.

  “Okay, well then… It was so nice meeting you. Sorry, again. And thanks for, you know…” Get away from him this instant. You’re making a complete fool of yourself. She stood with as much grace as she could muster under the circumstances and edged toward the door he’d pointed out would be hers.

  “No problem.” Again with that gorgeous smile. “I’ll see you around again? Soon I hope?”

  What was that supposed to mean? Why would he want to see her again after what he’d experienced for the last several minutes? Surely he hoped he could dodge her for the rest of the semester and ask for an apartment change at the first opportunity. His next door neighbor was loony and scatterbrained.

  “I’m Parker, by the way,” he held out his hand, “Parker Phillips.”

  Madeline struggled with sweaty palms to grip the box with the haphazardly jammed papers sticking out. Seeing no alternative, she finally stuck out one pinky for him to shake. A flush heated her face at her embarrassment. “Mad…Maddie Kincade.” When would that get easier? She had to stop referring to herself as Mad Maddie soon or people would get suspicious.