Cold feet (32 page)

Caleb set the coffeepot on the counter. "But a note from Tye doesn't make sense. I thought you just said his blood type doesn't match the blood found on the sheet. Yet suddenly we have proof that he and Susan knew each other?"

"I'm as confused as you are."

Something didn't feel right. Caleb shook his head.

"You wanna meet me at Margie's house?" Gibbons asked.

Caleb changed the phone to his left hand so he could button his jeans with his right. "Are you
asking
me to come? When you found Susan's car, I had to twist your arm to let me join you."

"Yeah, well, you know I'm not supposed to bring civilians. An ex-cop is one thing. Holly's another. But Holly claims this woman won't talk to me tonight unless you're there. And I'd really like things to be easy for a change. If Tye
is
our killer, we've got to close in before he runs or hurts someone else."

"Why won't Margie talk to you without me?" Caleb asked. That didn't sound right, either. He'd only met her once, and they hadn't spoken since then.

"Who knows? Holly said Margie trusts you because she's met you before. I told her Margie shouldn't have any problem trusting me, but she repeated that she'd promised Margie you'd be there. You know how a woman thinks. If telling you once is good, repeating it fifty times is better, even if it doesn't make sense from the get-go."

"Where's Holly now?" Caleb asked.

"At home. She wanted to come, too, but I told her there was no way, not after the kind of behavior she exhibited at Lance Perkin's the other night."

"Did she give up?"

"Yeah. She said she'd stay out of it so long as you're going to be there. And believe me, I'd much rather have you present than her."

"Thanks, but I'm not dumb enough to believe that's much of a compliment," Caleb said dryly.

Gibbons chuckled. "We'll get this woman's statement and the note. That's it. If I need to arrest Tye, I'll take a couple of uniforms. When we questioned him today he nearly went ballistic."

"This note doesn't add up," Caleb muttered again.

"I've got to check it out whether it adds up or not," Gibbons said. "Are you coming?"

"I'm on my way." Lord knows he wasn't going to be able to sleep anymore tonight.

M
ADISON EXAMINED
the sketch she'd just finished of Caleb's chest and shoulders, and scowled in frustration. His sculpted body easily lent itself to an artist's pencil. So did the raw-boned beauty of his face. But she'd been drawing for more than two hours and simply couldn't match the vision of him she held in her head.

She was still such an amateur, she thought in disgust, and dropped her pencil. But she'd drawn Caleb's mouth earlier, and felt she'd done a better job there. That sketch sat on the table at her elbow, tempting her eye again and again because his lips looked almost as sensual on paper as they did in real life. Almost. With Caleb, it was pretty tough to compete with reality.

Why she continued to torture herself by sketching him, Madison didn't know. She had so much work she needed to do. But drawing was the only thing that kept her from thinking too much about Tye and whether or not he'd be going to prison--or facing an even worse punishment.

Tomorrow would probably tell....

Pushing away from the table, she stood and stretched. She'd stayed up far too late. Her life might be in upheaval, but responsibilities didn't disappear. Tomorrow was Monday. Brianna had school, and Madison had to work. She'd checked earlier and already knew her voice mail was loaded with messages. Which was good. If business didn't pick up soon, she'd have a lot more to worry about than Tye getting arrested, or moving on without Caleb in her life.

Gathering her pads and pencils, Madison piled them neatly on the counter. Then she lingered in the kitchen, wiping off the faucet, cleaning the microwave and watering her plants, dreading the moment she actually had to call it a night. Everything seemed so quiet, so still, like the calm before a storm.

When she ran out of things to do, she started down the hall. But the crunch of tires on gravel outside drew her back. She'd heard Caleb leave about twenty minutes ago. She couldn't help hoping he was back. She liked knowing he was around.

Or maybe it was someone dropping off Johnny....

Standing to the side of the window, Madison watched a tall blond woman climb out of a familiar white Honda.

It wasn't Caleb or Johnny. It was Holly.

H
OLLY SMILED WHEN
Madison passed the window on her way to the door. She hadn't even had a chance to knock. Obviously Madison wasn't afraid of her. Not that Holly had expected her to be. Women weren't typically afraid of other women. Even during the media blitz following the other murders, Holly had never had trouble getting young women, complete strangers, to meet her somewhere or even come to her apartment. She'd bumped into Tatiana Harris at the grocery store and, simply by striking up a conversation and laughing at the stupid little comments Tatiana made about her husband, had talked her into going to a movie with her instead of straight home. Rosey Martin had gone home with her from the Laundromat to watch a video. Lori Schiller had agreed to meet her at a park. And there were others, including Anna Tyler, who'd lived next door.

Want to come over? We can do makeovers...manicures...have a drink...grab a bite to eat....

Women were so gullible--and catty and deceitful. They pretended to be your friend only to stab you in the back the moment you confided in them. Just like Rosie Wheeler and Paige Todd had done to her in high school.

Holly winced at the memory of the morning she'd shown up at school to find Baby Killer and Whore written in nail polish across her locker. She could still hear the whispers and muffled laughter, still feel the scorn that had nearly smothered her for months afterward. The other girls wouldn't include her, or even speak to her. But she'd show them.

She'd show Madison, too. Madison wouldn't take away the one person who made her feel complete. She hadn't felt the same anger when she believed Caleb loved her, hadn't bothered anyone the whole time they were married. There wasn't any reason to. When she had Caleb she had what all the other girls wanted and could simply laugh in their faces.

But if she was going to hang on to Caleb, she had to move fast. He wouldn't stay gone forever.

She reached the front step and heard the scrape of the deadbolt as Madison unlocked the door. "Is something wrong, Holly?" she asked, opening it slightly.

"Sorry to stop by so late," Holly said. "I wasn't going to bother you. I was just hoping to catch Caleb. But I don't see his car. I guess he's not home, huh?"

"He left about twenty minutes ago."

"That's too bad." She laughed. "I'm so out of it. I forgot my purse at his place again. Do you have any idea when he'll be back?"

"I'm afraid not. It might be smarter to call him tomorrow." She started to close the door.

Holly quickly put out a hand to stop her. "I'll do that. But before you go, I have something to tell you."

Madison seemed to hesitate. Holly could see only a slice of her face and body through the door, but it was enough to know she was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a cropped T-shirt. The T-shirt was faded and worn, but the way it hugged Madison's small breasts made Holly even angrier. She was trying to steal Caleb, tempt him. Women--they were always up to something.

"Holly, I don't think--" Madison began, but Holly cut her off.

"It's nothing like before. I would like to come in for a minute, though, if you don't mind. It's a little cold and damp out here." She rubbed her arms and shivered for added effect.

Madison still seemed skeptical. "Tomorrow would be better."

Holly backed up as though she was about to leave, purposely acting as nonconfrontational as possible. "Okay. I understand. I just wanted to tell you I've been out all night thinking. And you should know you were right earlier. I have to let go of Caleb. It's time. Past time, really, but--" she let her voice break, and swiped at the false tears gathering in her eyes "--sometimes it just hurts so badly. I still love him. I'll always love him. And..." She gulped as though the words were difficult for her. "And I'm afraid if he can't love me, no one else will be able to, either."

Compassion softened Madison's features. "I understand how you feel. Anyone who's gone through a divorce experiences some of the same insecurities. But you'll get over it and find your feet again."

"I'm not so sure of that," Holly said, and buried her face in her hands, sobbing brokenly.

Madison opened the door wider. "It takes time, Holly."

"You're probably right," she muttered. "I'm just so alone."

"You're not alone.... Why don't you come in, and I'll make us both some tea?"

"I wouldn't want to wake your little girl." Holly sniffed, finally lowering her hands from her face. "Or anyone else who might be staying with you."

"There's no one else, just Brianna. And we won't wake her."

Wiping her eyes, Holly followed Madison inside. The house smelled like homemade cookies. Madison was
so
domestic, with her pretty little girl, her natural beauty and charming house.

"Maybe Caleb will be home by the time you finish your tea, so you can get your purse," Madison was saying, her back to Holly now.

Holly felt in her pocket to make sure she hadn't lost the pills. She'd only be able to use them if she could get Madison to drink something. But Susan had proved that she didn't really need drugs. The shock would be enough.

"Maybe," Holly said. But she knew she'd be long gone by the time Caleb returned. She'd leave a surprise for him, though. And no one would suspect her.

No one ever suspected a woman.

F
RUSTRATED
, C
ALEB PUNCHED
Holly's number into his cell phone again. He'd already called twice since leaving Whidbey Island and had gotten her answering machine both times. Where was she? She'd obviously been awake when she'd called Detective Gibbons only a half hour or so earlier. Even if she'd gone to bed, she wasn't a heavy sleeper. He knew that from when they were married. There were plenty of nights he'd awakened to find her staring at the ceiling or gone, off to the corner convenience store or out driving.

He glanced at her purse in the seat next to him and considered delivering it to her tomorrow, then decided against it. Her place was on the way to this Margie White's house, where he was supposed to meet Detective Gibbons. Taking it to her now, while it was so late and he was in a hurry, would be perfect. They'd have no time to talk, and she'd have no reason to contact him tomorrow. Especially if the police ended up proving that Tye
was
the one who'd murdered Susan. Then Caleb's obligation to the relationships of his past would be fulfilled; his trip to Seattle would be over.

He could easily conjure up the smell of San Francisco's crusty sourdough bread and the crabs and other seafood sold along the wharf, could feel the wind coming in off the bay. If picturing himself in his new home also felt a little lonely, he refused to acknowledge it. He just had to get back to work. At that point everything would be good again.

Slowing for the next off ramp, he exited Interstate 99 at Mill Creek and turned toward Alderwood Manor, where he used to live with Holly. The house they'd shared, which he'd given her as part of the divorce settlement, was nothing like the big estates on Mercer Island. But it had been new when they moved in and comfortable for a young couple just starting out. They'd both had great hopes when they'd bought that house.

He gazed at the quiet streets he'd frequented on and off for so long, feeling like a stranger now. Funny how things changed.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID to see it was Gibbons before punching the Talk button.

"Where the hell are you?" the detective asked, nearly blasting out his eardrum.

Caleb jerked the phone back a few inches. Couldn't Gibbons say anything without shouting? "I've got to drop something by Holly's. I'll be there in a minute."

"I'll wait ten. Then I'm going to the door with or without you. I want to sleep sometime tonight."

"Good enough," Caleb said, and ended the call. But when he finally reached the small stucco, two-story home he'd shared with Holly, he found it dark. Evidently she'd gone to bed.

Shoving his phone in his pocket, he grabbed her purse and went to the door, leaving his car idling in the drive.

Susan's dogs barked as he waited impatiently for Holly to answer the bell, but seconds turned into minutes and she didn't appear.

He pushed the doorbell again, then knocked. Finally he tried the door handle. It was locked, but the small lockbox he'd bought to secure their spare key back when they were together was still right where he'd left it, inside the front flower planter. He doubted Holly knew how to change the combination. He'd always done that sort of thing. So he wasn't surprised when he pushed 1-9-4-3, the year of his mother's birth, and it opened.

"Holly, you home?" he called, poking his head inside the foyer as soon as he'd unlocked the door.

Susan's schnauzers growled low in their throats, but when he bent down and offered his hand for them to sniff, they remembered him. One even licked him. But there was no response from his ex-wife.

"Holly?" He stepped inside, immediately noticing that the house smelled different than it had when they were living together. He supposed that was normal, since his cologne, hair products and clothes were no longer part of the equation--since
he
was no longer part of the equation. But it didn't smell of perfume, like Susan's place, or feel-good food and crayons, like Madison's. Or even like the dogs. This scent was more...musty.

Once he flipped on a light, Caleb could see why. Piles of everything from clothes to magazines to books to papers covered all horizontal surfaces--even most of the floor--along with a thick layer of dust. The clutter seemed to be growing from the walls like some kind of space-eating plant, until only a narrow pathway remained, leading from room to room.