Free Dark Truth by Mariah Stewart Page B

lashes, the panic replaced with a wariness. Looking at her now, he could see the young girl she’d been.
    He had remembered her because that day was so strong in his memory. He’d been on the force for exactly ten days when the last victim of the Stone River Rapist had been found facedown in her bed in her tiny off-campus apartment. Hers had been the first dead body he’d gotten up close and personal with, and he’d never forgotten. Just as he’d never forgotten being in Celestine Hall when the detectives had led Dr. Stephen Madden through the lobby, hands cuffed behind his back.
    Wes had thought at the time that he’d never seen anyone so defiant. In the years since, he’d not seen anyone who’d worn the mantle of guilt as completely as Professor Madden had that day.
    And now, here was Madden’s daughter, the pretty young girl he’d reached out to catch as she crumbled to the floor.
    An uneasy thought occurred to him.
    “Any particular reason you’re wanting to look at those reports now?”
Please God, don’t let her be taken with the notion that her old man might have been innocent.
    Stephen Madden’s daughter exchanged a glance with the woman who accompanied her, then looked at Wes and said, “I’m thinking about writing a book about my father.”
    “A book,” he said flatly. Of course. Didn’t everyone want to write a book these days?
    “Detective . . . Powell, was it?” The Madden woman’s friend was petite and had a mass of light auburn curls that framed her pretty face. She smiled and extended her hand. “I’m Regan Landry. I write true crime, and am currently looking into the Stone River Rapist story. Ms. Madden has kindly offered to assist me.”
    “Landry.” Wes nodded. Of course he knew the name. “Josh’s daughter.”
    “You knew my father?”
    “We’d met on several occasions. He was quite the character.”
    “That he was.”
    “So, about those reports,” Madden’s daughter reminded him.
    “Sure.” Wes sighed. He was late for a meeting with his chief; he’d been in Baltimore for the past thirty-six hours trying to connect the dots on a case that had been driving him crazy for the past three weeks, but he’d have to play nice. Regan Landry was a VIP, and he’d have to treat her like one. “I’ll be happy to have the files brought out from storage and copied, but I’m afraid I can’t promise it will be today. A lot of the old files were moved about five years ago, and it may take some time to locate them.”
    “That’s fine. Just call and let me know when it’s ready. My name is Nina Madden, by the way. Let me give you my cell phone number. I just realized I only put my office and home numbers on the form I filled out.” She searched in her purse for a small leather case that held business cards. On the back, she wrote her number.
    “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.” Wes glanced at the front of the card.
Nina E. Madden, Senior Editor. Griffin Publishing, New York, New York.
    “Thank you, Detective. I appreciate your help.” There was a trace of coolness in Nina’s smile.
    “My pleasure.” Wes held the door for the two women.
    “Wes, the chief . . .” Janice Mayfield, the sole woman detective on the force, stepped into the hallway.
    “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m coming.” Wes looked over his shoulder at the desk sergeant. “Would you mind putting in the request for all the files on the Madden case? You can have them delivered to my office.”
    “You gonna be copying them yourself, then?”
    Wes flashed a dark look.
    “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” the sergeant muttered as Wes closed the door behind him.
    “What do you think?” Nina asked after she and Regan had gotten into Regan’s Land Rover. “Do you think we’ll ever see those files?”
    “No question,” Regan assured her. “He’s been around long enough to know how to play the game.”
    “What’s the game?”
    “We get what we asked for, or I go over his head,” she said. “I