THE SWEAT DRIPPED OFF HIS body like a marathon runner on the final stretch, who was reaching for the gold at the Olympics. He lifted his shirt to wipe his face, but it was a feeble attempt at best as it, too, was soaking wet. It didn't distract him, though. The hum of the treadmill and the pounding of his feet couldn't divert his attention from the televisions mounted in front of him.
The local news anchor was telling all who cared to listen that the death of Laura Saunders was a tragedy but an isolated incident. Then he proceeded to relate how the city had a decline in murders over the last ten years and most were executed by those who knew the victim. No one needed to live in fear.
Bullshit. No one was safe. How dare the police surmise what they were dealing with from one body? To be classified a "narrow" killer, one who targeted a specific woman, angered him. He was better than that. He looked forward to hearing the news anchor retract those words after they found the next victim.
*****
LAYTON CUPPED HIS FACE AND SOBBED, sucking in as if it was going to be his dying breath.
"Do you know who did this to Laura?"
He shook his head, his face still covered by his hands, and then looked at Madison and nodded.
"You know who? Was it him?" She put a finger on the photograph. "Did he kill her?"
He took a cleansing breath, and then said one word. "No."
Madison felt disappointed by his answer. "But you know who did?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe? The woman you loved was murdered. You know who did—"
"I don't know. For certain. What the hell good is it going to do? She's already dead." His eyes communicated more than his words.
"You're afraid of someone?" She thought back to Sandra, who feared for her life. "You speak to us, and we'll get you into protective custody."
"Yeah, I've heard all about that. People still get murdered. There are dirty cops."
"Why did you take off from work?"
"I needed to get away for a bit."
"If you're not going to be completely honest, this is a waste of time." She gathered up the photo, put it in the folder, and closed it.
"I have debts to pay."
"I'm not following you."
"Gambling debts."
"Talk to us. Our job is to solve Laura's murder."
He shut his eyes a moment and then lifted his glasses up to the fluorescent light. He moved them and as the light reflected off the lenses, Madison saw the smudges. Layton wiped his glasses and put them back on.
"I owe someone a lot of money."
"A bookie?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"Okay, well, why take off from work?"
"What aren't you getting? I owe this guy twenty-five grand. Do you have any idea how much money that is?" His face paled, and anger surfaced. "I took time off to try and gather money. He told me if I didn't have the money to him by last Friday, I'd be a dead man."
That would explain why Layton was selling his car. He needed the money. "Today is Tuesday. Why not speak up about this sooner?"
"Would you have believed me?" He let his rhetorical question hang there. "Besides, I'm probably safer in here."
"So you think he killed Laura because of your debt?"
"Yeah, I do." He tapped his fingers on the table and watched every one rise and fall. "He broke into my place, smashed up my television—"
"Did you report it?"
"What was I supposed to say? I owe a bookie for gambling illegally. I think he did it."
"If you had filed a report—"
"What good would it have done? It wouldn't have changed anything. But I knew it was him. He left a note."
"Do you still have it?"
"Yeah, of course." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a piece of lined paper folded into eighths. He handed it to Madison.
She read it out loud. "You have 'til Friday or you die." She looked at Terry. "Sounds kind of stupid, if you ask me."
"Maybe you wouldn't think so if you knew what this guy was capable of. I've heard stories. He's cut people's fingers off. Who knows all that he's capable of? That's why, when I heard about Laura, I panicked. I couldn't come to you. I was stuck in a corner. If I came to you, I figured I was as good as dead, too. My best chance was to come up with the money."
"What's your bookie's name?"
"Oh no, I'm not saying."
"We can't protect you from someone we don't know. Where do you meet him?"
"It doesn't matter. He'll have his money. Late, but he'll have it. I've already got fifteen grand in cash. I'm also selling my car and have some investments to draw from, but all that takes time to turn into cash. That's why I was crashing at Sandra's. He wouldn't know about her."
She had to take a pause and step back from the conversation. Analyze. She pulled out the photo again. "You said he was at the bar. Did you know if Laura was involved with him?"
Rage glazed over his eyes.
"Witnesses say he picked her up that night."
Layton laughed and shook his head. "She had this way about her, you know." He rubbed a hand over his mouth and let out a small laugh under his breath. "She liked the game. It could have been a setup. She probably spent most of the night kissing his nose after the old guy hit him." He raised his hands. "They could have been involved. Hell, if I know."
They released Layton, with an escort, back to Sandra's house. Twenty-four-hour protection was ordered until his bookie was found.
Madison and Terry were in the interrogation room when he turned to confront her. "I can't believe you let him off. We had everything lined up."
"You're missing the main facts, in this case, Terry."
"We'll be seeing him again. He did it. As far as I'm concerned, case closed. And if he's so concerned about his bookie, why not give him up?"
"You mean besides fear?" Her eyes widened. "And case closed? It wasn't Layton's DNA on the tie. Getting a little ahead of yourself, don't you think?"
"Well, maybe Layton didn't choke her, but I'd bet he was an accessory. He wanted to be there when she took her last breath."
"That's speculation."
"Now who sounds like a lawyer?"
There was a knock on the door, but the person didn't wait for a response. Sergeant Winston entered the room. "I must say, Knight, I'm disappointed."
"Disappointed?"
"We had him. You let him go."
"The evidence wouldn't have been enough to hold up to the DA."
"You let me worry about that. I know you like everything in order and want everything to perfectly line up, but real life isn't always like that."
Now he was trying to impart a life lesson?
"Knight, you did your job, what needed to be done. But maybe you have to stop leaning on your gut so much." He addressed Terry, "Or women's intuition, as you call it."
Her head snapped toward her partner, bringing with it a sting of betrayal. She mustered some control, directing her words to the sergeant. "Let me assure you it's that gut feeling and intuition that makes me who I am." They were forcing her to make a stand. "I'll go on record to the two of you right now. Layton didn't do it."
The sergeant's face hardened. "Doesn't mean he wasn't involved. We just haven't found forensic evidence. Otherwise, the guy's got motive and opportunity."
"Please don't talk to me like I'm an idiot."
"Knight, I demand respect."
"As much fun as this conversation is, I've got to go." She wanted to say, respect has to be earned. She shoved past Sergeant Winston and, despite protest from him and Terry, kept walking. She needed a drink, and she rarely needed one. She thought of the perfect place to go.