Simon Says Die

Damon McKinley’s identity and married you.”
    â€œSimon?” Pierce and Hamilton both said at the same time.
    â€œI thought you’d catch that,” Logan said. “What are the odds he’s your ‘Simon says’ killer too?”
    Madison held her hand against her mouth, as if she were trying not to throw up.
    Pierce put his arm around her shoulders. “We had always assumed the ‘Simon says’ killer was actually named Simon, making it easy to rule Damon out . . .”
    â€œWhat was the point of leaving those notes?” Madison asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “And killing all those people?”
    â€œTo throw us off track,” Hamilton said. “And to keep my men busy, to distract us from following up on your stalker.”
    â€œI disagree,” Pierce said. “I’ve worked enough serial killer cases to know how their minds work. If Damon is this ‘Simon says’ killer, it’s a compulsion. He’s a psychopath. He kills for the thrill. Even if part of his plan was to distract the police, he killed because that’s just what he does. He can’t stop. I’ll bet if we look for similar cases in New York, we’ll find he killed others while he lived there.”
    â€œWhile he was married to me,” Madison said, her voice breaking. She was so pale Pierce wrapped his arm around her shoulders, afraid she might faint. But she drew a deep breath, and seemed to brace herself. “Go on,” she said to Logan. “Finish this. What else did you find out?”
    â€œThe real Damon McKinley is missing,” Logan continued. “Unfortunately, without a body, we don’t have anything against Simon, not even identity theft.”
    Hamilton frowned. “What do you mean? Seems pretty cut and dry to prove that he passed himself off as McKinley.”
    Logan held up another document. “He legally changed his name to Damon McKinley when he moved to New York. The man crossed every t, dotted every i. There’s nothing illegal about changing your name.”
    Madison clutched Pierce’s hand beneath the table. “But, what about the money? He only had a million dollars left when he supposedly died in the car crash, but when we first got married, he had several million dollars. He had to have stolen that money from the real Damon McKinley.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re right,” Logan said. “But we have no proof, and there’s no dead body to prove he killed the real McKinley. The real McKinley apparently transferred all his money to Simon Rice before leaving Bigfork. Naturally, I assume it was either done under duress or fraudulently by Rice. But, again, I have no proof. I think the FBI needs to dig in on that, but for now, we have nothing.”
    Pierce leaned forward. “You said Rice was a nurse?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen it’s not much of a stretch to think he’d have knowledge of what drugs to use to cause temporary paralysis if he wanted to fake an injury. I assume that could be done.”
    Madison grabbed his arm. “It can. I remember Austin telling me the drugs his doctors have him on right now cause temporary paralysis. If Damon . . . ”—she swallowed and cleared her throat—“or Simon , was a nurse, he would have known what to use.”
    Logan frowned. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œDamon was here, at the station today,” Pierce said. “In a wheelchair, pretending to be paralyzed.”
    â€œClever,” Logan said. “Got to admit, that’s a first in my experience.”
    Pierce nodded. “Mine too. As a former nurse, he’d also have a thorough understanding of the kinds of drugs, and timelines involved to fake a heart attack. Heck, he might have kept all the drugs he used while taking care of the real McKinley and has his own little pharmacy of meds to use if he wants.”
    Hamilton shook his head. “Or he got them from the woman he killed and buried in Mrs. McKinley’s backyard. She was a pharmacist.”
    Logan looked grim. “You’re probably right. He had the opportunity to kill my father, and the knowledge. I can’t think of a motive though, why he’d want to kill him. If it was the money Madison would inherit, then why would he fake his death and disappear when he could have stayed and had millions more?”
    Madison swallowed hard. “Damon