The Silence That Speaks (Forensic Instincts 4)

John shook his head as he headed back out to the foyer. “You call whomever you want to. I’m contacting Patrick.”

Madeline didn’t argue further. She just walked over to her bedside where her handbag was sitting. She picked it up and opened it, groping inside until she found what she wanted—the agreement she’d signed with Forensic Instincts. She unfolded it and turned to the last page. As she recalled, all their cell numbers were listed at the bottom.

For a long moment, she stared at the sheet of paper.

Then she did what she’d wanted to do since she’d hired the team.

She called the person who had prompted her to seek out Forensic Instincts to begin with—the person she trusted most with her life.

The phone rang three times before he answered.

“Devereaux.”

“Marc, it’s me.”

“Maddy? What’s wrong?” He sounded worried.

She told him what was going on.

“John is calling Patrick,” she said. “But I’d feel better if you were here. I’m scared. I need someone I...” She paused. “I need you.”

“I’m on my way.”

19

MARC AND PATRICK reached Madeline’s building at the same time. Patrick had driven his car over, and Marc had grabbed a taxi, paying him double to get him to East Eighty-Second in record time.

Patrick was talking to the doorman, flashing his P.I. credentials and asking the uniformed man to watch his car, when Marc’s cab came screeching up to the curb.

Marc jumped out, threw a bunch of bills at the driver and almost collided with Patrick in the doorway.

“Hey.” Patrick’s brows rose in surprise. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Madeline called me,” Marc said simply. “You check down by First Avenue. I think that’s where the car must be parked because Madeline’s apartment faces that side. I’ll go upstairs.”

Patrick didn’t ask any more questions. He simply nodded.

Marc flashed his ID as he blew by the doorman. Three minutes later, he was standing in front of Madeline’s apartment.

He knocked, and waited while John checked him out through the peephole.

The door opened. “Hey, Marc.” John stepped aside so he could enter. “Madeline mentioned that she was calling someone at FI. I think she’s overreacting. We’ve got things under control. I’m here with her, and Patrick is outside. He just texted me. If there’s someone watching this apartment, we’ll find out who it is and why they’re here.”

“Go help Patrick. I’ll watch Madeline.” Marc tossed his coat on the side table. “Where is she?”

“I’m right here.” Madeline walked out, having heard Marc’s voice. “Thank you for coming.”

Marc’s gut twisted. It wasn’t just seeing Maddy again. It was seeing her like this, still bruised, pale and thin and, despite the cashmere turtleneck she was wearing, shaking violently. He wanted to kill the perp himself.

John had already put on his jacket. “I’ll join Patrick and get going on this.”

The front door shut behind him.

With obvious effort, Madeline met Marc’s gaze and forced herself to speak candidly. “Whether or not I’m overreacting, this whole nightmare has become too much. So I don’t want a stranger sitting with me while we find out if a killer is parked outside my door, ready to finish what he started. I want the man who led me to Forensic Instincts to begin with.” She paused, wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “As I said on the phone, I want you.”

Marc’s jaw tightened. “This is a mistake. I heard your voice and I just reacted. Old habits die hard. I’ll leave when John gets back.”

“No. You won’t. Nor do you want to.” Madeline didn’t back down. “You’re putting up that wall of yours again. Don’t. You’ve never been a coward. Don’t become one now.”