Free Race Against Time by Christy Barritt Page A

at the time.”
    “What would that be?” She lowered herself onto the couch across from him.
    “An egg timer.”
    Her eyebrows flicked up. “An egg timer? The kind you wind up? The old fashioned sort?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    She nodded. “Of course, I have one. I have a couple, actually. I use them all the time when I’m cooking my pies.”
    “Can I see them?”
    “I’ll grab them from the cabinet.”
    He glanced at the house, a clean, sparsely decorated space, as she disappeared into the kitchen. He tried not to tap his foot impatiently as he waited. He wanted answers and they seemed to be within his grasp. A moment later Victor’s mom reappeared with two white timers in hand.
    She held up one. “This is my old one, the one I always use.” She held up a second one. “This one we got in the mail. It doesn’t work very well, but I kept it as a backup.”
    “May I?” He reached for it.
    “Of course.”
    He turned over the timer, his heart racing. This was the same timer that someone had mailed to Madison. There was no such company on the record in York County or the surrounding areas.
    “Was there anything strange about this timer? Do you remember seeing it anywhere unusual after Victor’s death? Think carefully because this is very important.”
    “I don’t even have to think about it—I know the answer. I found this timer in the bathroom. I thought it was strange, but no one else did. I always keep my timers in the kitchen and Victor never used them for anything. He’d have no reason to have it in the bathroom. I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d used it so he wouldn’t be late for work or something. I had no idea.”
    “This was a huge help, Mrs. Hanson. Do you mind if I take this with me?”
    “If it will help to prove my Victor didn’t commit suicide, then you can have it and anything else in this house, too. Just clear my boy’s name.”
    “I’ll do my best,” he promised.
    * * *
    After Madison got Lincoln to sleep, she went into the dining room. She’d been so keenly aware of the note in her back pocket, that it seemed like the paper seared through her denim into her skin. Kayla had disappeared into her own bedroom, so Madison guessed she had a few minutes of privacy. She wanted to read this note again when she was sure she was alone so she’d have some time to process the words there.
    She lowered herself onto a chair at the dining-room table, feeling like she was bracing herself for bad news. Her hands trembled as she pulled the paper from her pocket. She took several deep breaths before unfolding the note. With slow, steady movements Madison spread it smooth across the table. Before her eyes even focused on the words, she soaked in the handwriting. Usually she wrote with flowing loops. Reid had always said she had artistic handwriting that was as pretty to look at as her words were to read. The handwriting on this paper looked uneven. It told the tale of her distress while writing it.
    She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, knowing she’d need divine strength to relive the nightmare she was about to unveil. Slowly she pulled her eyes open and, ignoring her rapidly beating heart, looked at the words she’d scribbled.
By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. Really, this whole event was a long time coming. On a brighter note, I love my family very much. One of the most precious things in life. Know I loved you, Lincoln. Love wasn’t enough, though, to get me through my heartache after losing Reid. You’re better off without me. No more pain for me.
    Tears sprang to her eyes, but she tried to pull them back. She’d never leave Lincoln. Never. He was her whole world.
    Her pain turned to anger that the man had forced her to write those words. If Brody hadn’t found her before she’d died, then her son would always have thought that she’d abandoned him and taken her own life.
    It was enough to make her want to track down her would-be killer herself and hand him over to the