Page 3 of Deception

She hung up and quickly shed the holster at her side, breathing a thanks that there hadn’t been time to dress in her NPS uniform when the informant called.

Madison slid her backup gun into the holster at her back and pulled her T-shirt over it. With more bravado than she felt, she sauntered past the concrete barriers on legs that felt like overcooked noodles and tried not to think what would happen if the pilot had a photo that identified her. With the safety of the barriers behind her, she forced her legs closer to the runway.

The door near the cockpit dropped down, with steps leading into the plane. A bearded man appeared with an AK-47 in his arms.

“Chad Turner sent me to pick up his son.” She was surprised at how strong her voice sounded. “Did you bring him?”

At his side, a woman appeared with a sleeping boy in her arms. Madison recognized Noah’s red curls. “Who are you and where is Turner?”

“He had car trouble and sent me. I’m his new wife.”

“You’re lying. Turner would have let us know if he had a wife.” In a smooth motion, Bearded Man swung the AK-47 around and fired.

Madison dove for the ground and rolled, barely dodging the bullets that sprayed around her. She fired, and Bearded Man pitched forward on the tarmac just before the cabin door closed. Seconds later the engines screamed to life.

They still had Noah. She had to stop them. Madison rolled over on her belly and aimed her gun at the jet’s tires. Two quick shots, and the plane settled on the tarmac.

They were going nowhere.

2

MARCH, FOUR YEARS LATER

Every mile south that Madison drove on the Natchez Trace brought more dogwoods in bloom due to the early spring. Even more than had been in Jackson, Mississippi, where she’d spent most of Tuesday with the Ridgeland district law enforcement ranger and Hugh Cortland, lead for the FBI team she would be working with on this new case. They’d all been so helpful, especially the analyst, Allyson Murphy. It was a bonus to be on good terms with someone who could get information quickly.

For the past four years she had buried herself in fraud and theft cases, sifting through hard drives and recovering deleted files—anything that wasn’t a violent crime. Both Madison and the Investigative Services Branch had been surprised to discover she was even better at solving white-collar crimes than she had been the other.

Madison shuddered, remembering her last violent-crime case that ended with the FBI agent she’d partnered with dead. The same agent she’d fallen in love with. At least she’d saved his little boy.

She brushed the thoughts away and concentrated on driving the lonely road. Huge trees arched their limbs across the two lanes, creating a canopy that allowed little sunlight through. Shecould only imagine how spooky it would be at night. No way did she ever want to drive the Trace after dark.

In the distance, Madison noted a white SUV approaching from the south. It was the first vehicle she’d met in five miles. Once it passed, she dismissed it and shifted her thoughts to the case in Natchez. It was her first in this area, and she was anxious to dig into a possible theft and kickback scheme. Not to mention spending time with her grandfather.

A minute later, she glanced in her rearview mirror, and her heart seized. Blue-and-white lights flashed in the grill of a quickly approaching white SUV, probably the one she’d just met.

Immediately she let off on the gas pedal and glanced at her speedometer.Oh rats.She hated getting tickets, but sixty-five on the Natchez Trace was a no-no, or so someone had said yesterday.

Madison always kept her creds in the inside pocket of her uniform jacket and felt for them before remembering she wasn’t wearing it. This was an undercover assignment, and she was dressed in business casual—black pants and a white blouse. She’d stashed her ID in her bag.

Why was the park ranger checking speed at eight o’clock in the morning, anyway? Didn’t he have staff meetings or something? Grudgingly she flipped her right signal light and pulled the Chevy Impala rental to the shoulder of the road. Madison found her bag and took out her credentials along with her driver’s license while the ranger walked toward her vehicle.

The scowl on his face raised her defenses. For miles and miles, the road had been perfectly empty until she met him. By the time she lowered the window, Madison was ready for him, but he didn’t give her a chance.

“Ma’am, I clocked you at sixty-five miles an hour.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Going to a fire?”

His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her, but to refer to her as ma’am? She was only thirty-five and probably the same age as he was. She swallowed the retort on her tongue. Madison had learneda long time ago that a chip on her shoulder begged for someone to knock it off. She pasted a smile on her lips.

“I can explain.” She held up the wallet with her ISB credentials.

“Is that supposed to mean something? Unless you’re in hot pursuit ...” He glanced up and down the road before returning his scowl back to her. “Since I don’t see any vehicles for you to pursue, that badge doesn’t excuse you from breaking the law. You of all people should know that.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. He was right, but Madison didn’t have time for this. She glanced at the name plate over his left pocket. Clayton Bradshaw. “Officer Bradshaw, I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry,” she said and glanced pointedly at her smart watch.

“Then I better get to writing your ticket,” he replied. “License, please.”

Madison handed over her driver’s license and fumed while he painstakingly wrote out the ticket. Clayton Bradshaw. No ... it couldn’t be the same Clayton Bradshaw who hung out with her cousins when she came to visit her grandfather in the summers. The same one who’d bullied her along with her cousins every summer? Never would have figured him to become a cop. Madison eyed him again, noting his square jaw and fit body. He’d certainly grown into a fine specimen of a man.

The heat in her face intensified. Had she really thought that? But nothing else about him had changed—she imagined he took great delight in pulling people over and handing out tickets.

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