Cold feet (21 page)

"Just as friends," he said.

"If Johnny's still living in the garage and won't leave, or my mother finds out he's ever been there, today might not go as smoothly as I'd like," she responded.

"Why don't I go there with you, make sure you don't run into any problems?"

"You really want to risk getting involved?"

He didn't want to risk having Johnny recognize him from that long-ago interview, but he couldn't let Madison go over to her mother's place alone, just in case her brother gave her trouble. On the hopeful side, Caleb had a hard time believing Johnny would be sitting inside the Purcells' garage in the middle of the day. "I'm not worried about it."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure." He reached the Grateful Bread Company on 24th Street and could see Detective Gibbons, wearing his customary cheap suit, sitting inside with a cup of coffee. The detective got up and started toward him as soon as he spotted Caleb pulling into the small lot.

Caleb waved him away until he could hang up with Madison. "So will you come?"

"What time?" she asked.

"My parents usually eat around six, but I'll need to confirm. Do you think we can be finished at your mother's by then?"

"Unless we have Johnny problems."

"We'll hope for the best. I'll see you in a couple of hours." He ended the call and hopped out to find Detective Gibbons already circling the truck, checking each tire. "What do you think?" he asked. "Do they match the track you found near Susan's body?"

Gibbons had him get back in the truck and back up, then circled it again. Finally, he straightened and scratched his scalp. "I don't think so."

Caleb was surprised by the relief that flooded through him. He wanted to find Susan's killer, but he wanted that killer to have no connection with Madison. "You're sure?"

"I'm positive."

Crossing his arms and leaning against the truck, Caleb let some of the tension leave his body. "Then what do you make of the blue Ford that was spotted outside the pizza place?"

Gibbons waved his hand in a dismissive motion. "The make and model of Purcell's truck has been in all the papers. Our copycat's playing games, that's all."

"Our copycat doesn't have to read the paper for information, remember? From the way Susan's body was positioned, he already knows more than we ever revealed."

"I'm afraid our killer is close," Gibbons said. "Close to the investigation. Close to us."

Caleb thought of the trophies Madison had found under her mother's house. Johnny was close. So was Tye. "What about Madison's brothers?" he asked. "Have you learned any more about them than I was able to dig up?"

Gibbons shook his head. "Not really."

"They have alibis?"

"Tye's wife said he was home with her the night Susan was killed."

"When did you talk to her?"

"Two days ago. I talked to him, too. Showed him a picture of Susan. Said he's never seen her."

"Of course he'd say that."

"My thought exactly. So I visited some of the guys where he works, and some of the people who hang out at the same bar he does on weekends, just to get a general feel for what he's like."

Caleb knew Tye worked in construction the way his father had, and made a decent living as project manager for Stoddard Construction, one of the larger developers in the area. "Anybody have anything interesting to say?"

"Seems he has an explosive temper. Gets in fights all the time. But he's a hard worker and good at what he does, so they put up with him at Stoddard. Anyway, I don't see our perpetrator letting others see his temper."

"What about Johnny?"

"I still haven't tracked him down, but he's an unlikely suspect. I've confirmed that he was behind bars when at least two of the strangler's victims were killed."

Caleb considered this piece of information. "Are we sure they were the strangler's victims? The remains of some of those women weren't discovered until months after they died."

"Either way, I've decided he doesn't fit the profile." The detective straightened his tie, which was too short for a man his size. "His parole officer says he's not capable of executing such an organized, methodical murder."

Caleb had to agree. "What about Susan's autopsy? Have we learned anything there?"

"Asphyxiation was the cause of death, just as we expected. She was sexually assaulted with a broom handle or something similar. Only surprising thing was that the coroner couldn't find any Rohypnol in her blood."

"So she wasn't drugged like the others."

"The question is why."

"Maybe she wasn't an intended target."

"Or our copycat isn't as worried about his ability to overpower his victims as the original strangler was."

Pushing away from the truck, Caleb climbed behind the wheel. He hated that they weren't any closer to solving Susan's murder. He could barely think of her without feeling a terrible heaviness in his chest. But at least now he didn't have to worry about taking Madison to meet his mother. The investigation was heading in another direction entirely. She wasn't going to feel the heat of it. Which eased some of the guilt he felt about last night.

He rolled down his window. "So where do we go from here, Chief?"

"We keep searching," Gibbons said. "The news isn't all bleak. I found a message on my desk this morning from the lab. The DNA beneath Susan's nails is somewhat corrupted because of all the filth under there, too. Boy, did she put up a fight. But with time, they think they'll be able to create a profile."

"Really?" Maybe his promise to Susan wouldn't be an empty one, after all. Maybe, with a small amount of luck..."If they come through, we'll need the right suspect."

"Exactly." Gibbons thumped the door panel. "Thanks for getting the truck."

Caleb watched the detective heave himself into a nondescript beige sedan and drive out of the lot. They were making progress, but he was afraid it might be too little, too late. Their killer could strike again if he wasn't stopped soon. Where could they find the answers they needed?

Caleb's eyes lingered on the glove box before dropping to the floor, which was bare except for a crushed paper cup. If the truck held any secrets, he wasn't sure he wanted to know them. But he felt obligated to search while he had the chance. Obligated to himself, the investigation and Susan.

Opening the glove box, he quickly rifled through its contents: an owner's manual, a service record, a stack of napkins and several receipts for gas, all from several years ago. Beneath the seat, he found a sack that still contained some french fries. The fries didn't appear to be very old, which suggested they were probably Johnny's trash--along with the cigarette butts in the ashtray.

Now Caleb just had to check beneath and behind the seat. He pulled out a coat with a Chinese dragon on the back, but it was a size small; that meant it probably belonged to Johnny, too.

Shoving it behind the seat again, he finally put the truck in reverse. He'd done what he needed to do and, thankfully, Madison was still in the clear.

T
WO HOURS LATER
,
Caleb felt almost euphoric as he drove Madison over to her mother's place in Ellis's truck. The tires didn't seem to match the imprint left at the site of Susan's body. And Johnny and Tye were looking less like suspects than they had before. Which meant the shadow of violence that had so deeply affected Madison's life in the past probably wasn't going to overtake her again. It also meant that what Caleb had done in the name of justice should be forgivable, since there wouldn't be any negative consequences from his actions. He'd simply explain the truth to Madison and apologize. And make sure she understood that last night had nothing to do with any ulterior motives.

He'd tell her tonight, he decided, while there was still a chance she might forgive him.

"So who was the friend you helped move?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Caleb glanced over at her. She was dressed for business in a navy-blue suit, with her hair pulled back, and looked almost too cool and professional to be such a passionate lover. A grin tempted the corners of his lips as he remembered just how erotically she'd behaved. He'd never experienced sexual hunger like he had that first time at her place--unless it was later, at the cottage. But her question about the "move" he'd supposedly helped with this morning put him in an awkward position.

"Just someone I used to work with," he said, thinking of Gibbons. He didn't want to make up any more lies, but he couldn't tell her the truth right now. They were about to arrive at her mother's house, and the way Madison kept fidgeting with her purse strap told him she was nervous about what they might encounter. He'd wait until later, when he had her complete attention and plenty of time to convince her that last night was never part of his plan.

"When?" she asked.

"A couple of years ago."

"When you lived on Fidalgo?"

He cleared his throat. "No, I was just divorced and living in Seattle." He launched into another subject before she could press him for more details. "What do you think your mother will do if she finds out about Johnny staying in the garage?"

"She'll be furious with me for not kicking him out."

"But you didn't give Johnny permission to move in, did you?"

"No, his being there came as a complete surprise to me. But I should've made him leave right away instead of giving him time."

"He might not have taken too kindly to that," Caleb said.

"I know. I was a little uncomfortable confronting him. But I can't show the house if he's living there, and my mother's getting really anxious to move."

Caleb wondered if Annette had taken those panties and shoes. And that locket. Lately he went back and forth about whether or not Ellis Purcell was really the Sandpoint Strangler. Susan's murder was too similar to the others to be a new killer, but what about the sightings of Purcell's truck at the scene of two of the previous murders? Either way, Caleb longed to know for sure--at last. He wanted to find out
how
the strangler had done what he'd done and managed to get away with it.

But whether or not Caleb ever learned the truth, Purcell's story was one he'd never write. He knew now that he would never capitalize on his relationship with Madison that way.

Reaching across the seat, he let his fingers close around hers. "Whatever's waiting for us at your mother's, we'll work it out," he said, and hoped his words would prove prophetic about the future in general.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
HE GARAGE WAS EMPTY
.
Madison couldn't tell if Johnny was still living there or not. If he'd moved on, he certainly hadn't cleaned up after himself.

Caleb was in front of her. He'd insisted on going in first, and stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the mess. They'd entered from the alley so her mother wouldn't know they'd arrived. The autumn sun, streaming in behind them, warmed Madison's back, but she still didn't like the building's shadowy corners.

"What are you going to tell your mother about the broken window?" Caleb asked, using one foot to shove the glass into some semblance of a pile.

Madison frowned at the glittering shards on the cement. "Nothing. She won't come out here, so I don't have to worry about her seeing it before I have it replaced. I'm only trying to make sure a prospective buyer doesn't run into Johnny and mention him to her."

"How do you know she won't walk out here with someone who's taking a look at the yard?"

"Easy." She motioned toward the workshop and had to take a deep breath to be able to finish what she was about to say. "That's where my father shot himself."

The gravity in Caleb's gaze when it shifted to her face let her know that pumping her voice full of bravado hadn't concealed the fact that her father's suicide still hurt. If you'd loved someone who took his or her own life, did you ever really get over it? Did you ever get over the feeling of waste and betrayal?

"I'm sorry," he said. "You told me he'd shot himself in the backyard, or I'd read it somewhere, but I didn't realize it had happened in here."

She stared through the open door to the workshop, remembering the roar of the ball games her father had always listened to when he was there. "I never dreamed he'd be the type. My father made his share of mistakes, of course, especially when he was young. But he seemed so...stable. When I knew him, anyway."

"The investigation put him under a lot of pressure," Caleb pointed out.

She hiked her purse higher on her shoulder. "It upset him, sure. But not like it upset my mother and me."

"Maybe he just didn't let it show."

"That's what some people say. They assume he believed the police were about to arrest him and make him pay for his crimes. I..." She bit her lip and shook her head.

"You what?"

"I disagree. He didn't think the police were that close to an arrest. The D.A. was still refusing to prosecute because he didn't believe the state had a strong enough case."

"So why
would
your father do what he did?"

She shook her head again. "I guess he was just tired of the fight, or..." The ideas that had been percolating in her mind ever since Tye's visit bubbled to the forefront. "Or maybe he learned something he couldn't face."

"Like..."

"Maybe he stumbled on that box of underwear and shoes, found that locket and figured it had to be Tye who was killing those women."

Caleb walked back to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I realize it can't be easy to think your father could have committed such horrendous acts, Maddy. But I'm pretty sure Tye wasn't to blame."

"Why not?"

He seemed to search for the right words. "There's never been any evidence that it was him. At least that I've heard."

"What about the stuff in that box? He had access to my father's truck and...and the house, and he knows the area because he's lived here. He's also much angrier than my father ever was. As much as I'd rather not admit this, I could actually imagine him hurting someone. But the police have never even considered him."