Page 8 of Deception

“Believe me, it’ll be right on the speed limit.” She took another sip of the coffee. “Do you know this Paul Davidson? Or Deon Cox?”

“I know Paul, and he’s a straight shooter.”

Hugh’s words confirmed what Madison had discovered in her research on the county supervisor. “How about Cox?”

“Never met Deon, but when I talked with Paul, he spoke highly of him.”

Cox, who was the National Park Service maintenance supervisor for the southern district, had been the one who made theinitial contact with the Ridgeland district supervisor for the Natchez Trace last Wednesday. Cox reported a theft ring that involved both the National Park Service and Adams County employees.

The maintenance division was based at Rocky Springs on the Natchez Trace, and normally the district ranger would handle the case, but because of Madison’s expertise in white-collar crimes, Evan McCall had called the Investigative Services Branch and asked for her to be assigned to the case instead of Clayton Bradshaw.

She nodded toward the supervisor’s office. “You ready to become an insurance salesman?”

That was their cover to anyone who was interested. When Hugh nodded, she turned and climbed the six steps to the gray-painted porch. Inside the building, a lemony scent mixed with the musty odor of an old building met her. It looked as though whoever renovated the old building used much of the original material and tried to keep the character of the Victorian building intact.

“I’d love to tour this place,” she murmured.

“Maybe you can before the case is over,” Hugh said. “The trapdoor where they hanged criminals is still in place.”

Madison shuddered. That, she didn’t want to see. When they entered the supervisor offices, a woman in her late thirties looked up from her computer, and the plastic smile forming on her lips froze.

“We’re here to see Paul Davidson,” Madison said when the secretary remained silent. She glanced at the name plate on the woman’s desk. Vivian Hawkins, administrative assistant. Where had she heard that name?

“Is he in?” Hugh asked.

The assistant’s perfectly shaped eyebrows lowered briefly, then she shook her head. Madison was beginning to wonder if the woman talked at all. “You’re sure?” he asked.

Vivian Hawkins thinned her lips. “I’m very sure.”

Shecouldtalk, but her tone made Madison want to hold her hands up and saywhoa. Instead, she tried again. “It’s just that we had an appointment with Mr. Davidson at ten to discuss insurance.”

“You were supposed to be here at nine. He probably assumed you weren’t coming.”

Madison had no intention of explaining herself to the woman, but Hugh cleared his throat. “The meeting time was changed.”

“Mr. Davidson didn’t alert me to that fact.”

Before either of them could ask when he would return, the door opened, and a lanky blond-haired man wrestled a rolling cart loaded with a carafe and mugs through the doorway. Madison recognized Davidson from a campaign photo she’d found on the internet.

“Sorry I wasn’t here to meet you. Somehow I thought it’d be a simple matter to make a pot of coffee for our meeting.” He towered over the cart as he straightened. “I never bargained on this cantankerous thing.”

Vivian Hawkins sprang to her feet. “I could have done that ... Let me help you.”

Davidson waved his secretary off. “I have it.”

Then he turned to the FBI agent and extended his hand. “Good to see you again, Hugh.” After the two men shook hands, he turned Madison’s way. “You must be Ms. Thorn.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, accepting the hand he held out. “Feel free to call me Madison.”

“Will do. Come on into my office, and we’ll get down to business.” He turned to Ms. Hawkins and gave her a warm smile. “Hold my calls, Vivian, and thank you for offering to help.”

“Anytime, Paul ... I mean, Mr. Davidson,” she said, her voice soft. Like flipping a switch, Vivian Hawkins’s striking face had transformed from guard dog to Southern belle, a feat Madison had never managed. “Do you have everything you need for coffee?”

The woman practically purred. Madison kept a poker face as Davidson asked if either of them wanted cream and sugar. “Black,” Madison said and Hugh echoed her choice.

“Then we’re good.” Davidson pushed the cart into his office.

She followed Hugh into the room. Once they were seated across from the Adams County supervisor, he poured coffee and handed each of them a mug. “Deon will be here shortly.”

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