Three Brides, No Groom (16 page)

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” he said, gesturing for her to
continue. “I won’t interrupt again.”

“Do… How comfortable are you with math?”

His gaze searched hers. “Comfortable enough to balance my
checkbook.”

His smile caught her off guard, and for a moment, perhaps
longer, she was held captive by it. Men often grinned at her, but generally they
were looking for something she wasn’t willing to give. Brent’s eyes held warmth
and genuine concern. Friendship.

“As it happens,” she said, forcing herself to look away, “I’m
quite good with numbers.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“I’m more than good. I’m competent enough to have solved the
quadratic quandary.” She waited a moment for that to sink in. Either he believed
her or he didn’t. She had no way of proving it. No way of supplying irrefutable
evidence that would convince him, the school or anyone else.

He frowned, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His left hand tightened around his
coffee cup until his knuckles whitened.

“Yes. It was me who figured out the correct answer, not
John.”

“And he claimed the credit.” Brent flexed his right hand as if
itching to plow it into the professor’s face.

“You believe me?”

“Yes.” His emphatic reply removed all doubt.

“Why?”

“Why not?” He met her gaze steadily. “You said it, and that’s
good enough for me.”

If she ever fell in love again, she thought, it would be with a
man who cared this deeply that she’d been wronged. A man whose belief in her
didn’t waver.

“That was the reason he…he asked me to marry him. But it was
all a ruse. With my head and my heart preoccupied, I paid no attention to
anything else. John knew he couldn’t allow a word of ‘his’ accomplishment to get
out until after graduation. He counted on my not knowing what I’d done.” She
explained the circumstances, how she’d arrived late for the exam and so hadn’t
understood the significance of the last problem.

“It isn’t just that he’s taking credit,” she said. “It’s that
he used me, hurt me. I’m convinced he never loved me, never intended to marry
me. He played me for a fool.” Her voice shook with the fervor of her emotions.
“I want him to know what it’s like to be embarrassed in front of one’s peers. I
want him to feel the same humiliation I did.”

“And you think I can help?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He didn’t look convinced. “How?”

“You know people. You have connections. Surely if I talked to a
detective, he might be able to do something. If nothing more, I’d like to file a
complaint.”

“And claim what? That he stole your thought process?”

“He took a lot more than that,” she returned heatedly.

“I’m sorry, Maddie.” He sounded as frustrated as she felt.

“I know.”

“Did you talk to Dean Williams about this?”

“No.” It would do no good, for it would be John’s word against
hers, and it went without saying who the dean would choose to believe. “I want
him to suffer,” she mused aloud.

“I wish there was something I could do.”

Maybe it had been a mistake to tell Brent, but telling someone
else what had happened had eased the tension in her stomach considerably. She’d
known for a long time that life was unfair. Not only had John Theda hurt her
pride and her heart, he’d stolen her work and claimed it as his own. And now he
was responsible for what she was sure would end up as a stomach ulcer.

“Well, I appreciate being able to talk to you about it,” she
said. “So in a way you’ve already done something.”

“Who else have you told?”

“No one.”

“No one?” He sounded incredulous. “Why did you choose me?”

The answer to that wasn’t as simple as it sounded. “I’m not
sure. Because…well, you seemed approachable when we met at the church.
Nice.”

“Hey, don’t sound so shocked.”

She laughed softly.

“What made you—” he studied her for a moment “—you know,
change…clothes.”

“I didn’t want to be stupid any longer.”

“Stupid?”

“The woman you knew in college was playing a game. I’m through
being the bad girl.”

His gaze held hers. “You never fit the part.”

Oh, but she had, Maddie thought. She’d grown comfortable with
the role, high on the attention she received. Daring and bold, wild and fun.
That was her, willing to try anything once. Twice if it caused a commotion.
Three times if a crowd gathered and someone phoned the police.

“I knew otherwise,” he continued, “and that was what troubled
me most. I wanted to shake you, demand that you stop and reveal the real you.
Let go of the outrageous persona and that hard-edged facade.”

She couldn’t stop staring at him. He’d believed her when she’d
laid claim to the unbelievable, and she could offer him no less than her trust.
Which meant that what he said was equally true. He’d known. He’d always
known.

“So, what about an attorney?” he said now.

She’d thought of that, too. “I’d need the money to pay a
retainer, money I don’t have. Besides, I don’t have any proof.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully. “The guy’s a
slimeball.”

“I appreciate you hearing me out, Brent, I really do. It’s
helped tremendously.”

“I’m glad. I know it’s going to be difficult for you to let
this go.”

“Let it go?” She had no intention of doing that.

His gaze narrowed. “You
are
letting
this go, aren’t you?”

“No way!”

“What do you intend to do?”

“I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Why not?”

She grinned, hope stirring her senses to life once again. “It’s
illegal.”

Chapter 3

“I
’d be more comfortable if I knew what you
were thinking,” Brent said, frowning darkly.

Maddie shook her head. “It’s better that you don’t.”

Despite her protest, he picked up the tab for their coffee and
followed her outside. The night was warm, despite the breeze coming off Lake
Washington. She had taken the bus to the Java Joint, and now she walked toward
the stop to catch one home.

“Maddie!” He was beginning to sound irritated as he caught up
with her. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

She giggled, and oh, how good it felt to laugh again! “You
don’t know where I live.”

“You can tell me.
And
you can
explain what you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Really, Brent, it’s best you don’t know.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Putting her hand in the crook of
his elbow, he led her across the street to where he’d parked his car, then
unlocked the door and helped her inside. Such a gentlemanly thing to do, Maddie
thought. The men she’d dated hadn’t been inclined to open the door for her. Not
even John.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of doing,” he demanded once he
was in the driver’s seat. He put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it.

“I’m going to break into John’s house and find my test
paper.”

His hands folded around the steering wheel, and he glared
straight ahead. “You’re right, I don’t want to hear that.”

“I won’t involve you.”

“Maddie, this is craziness. Pure craziness. You could get
thrown in jail for a stunt like that.”

“I know.” It was incredible how good she felt now that she had
a plan of action. It felt as if the heaviest of burdens had been lifted from her
shoulders. For weeks she’d wallowed in self-pity, moping around, crying about
how she’d been misused and abused. Well, no longer. She would find a way to
prove John was a thief and worse. Even if that meant risking jail time.

“Maddie—”

She interrupted him. “Don’t try to talk me out of this. I’m
serious. I’m going to find that test paper. John must have it somewhere. I know
him.”

“He’d be a fool to keep it.”

“My point exactly. John Theda
is
a
fool.” Brent didn’t understand. The least she could do was try to prove her
case. She would never be able to live with herself if she stood by and did
nothing, which was what had made her so miserable until now.

“When do you plan to do this?” he asked, heaving a huge sigh of
resignation.

“Tonight,” she returned, giving no thought to the matter. Why
not? She’d waited this long, and now that the decision was made she could see no
reason to delay it. As for her odds of locating that test paper, she hadn’t a
clue. More than likely Brent was right, but she had to discover that for
herself.

“How are you going to get there?” he asked, starting the
ignition.

“Bus.” It was the only means of transportation available to
her.

He turned and stared at her. “You’re going to take Seattle
Transit to commit a felony?”

“That’s what I said.”

He wiped his hand down his face. “I can’t believe I’m hearing
this.”

She giggled, feeling almost giddy with happiness.

“What if he’s home?” Brent asked, as if this hadn’t occurred to
her.

“On Thursday night? Nope, I know him. He’s with his
card-playing buddies, unless, of course, it’s his turn to host.”

Brent pounded his forehead against the steering wheel. “You
can’t do this.”

“I don’t have any choice.”

He exhaled a deep breath as if he’d reached an important
decision. “Then I’m coming with you.”

Now it was her turn to be concerned. “Oh, no,” she said, and
shook her head. “No way.”

“You can’t stop me any more than
I
can stop
you.
” His grin was wide, triumphant and
sly. The kind of grin that demanded a response.

“But—”

“Turnabout is fair play,” he said. “If you’re going to risk
your future on something so incredibly—”

“You’ll stay in the car?” she demanded, cutting him off. Yes,
there were risks, she knew that, but she didn’t dare look too closely at them or
she would talk herself out of it, which she didn’t want to do. Although she put
up a fuss, she was pleased that Brent would be there, for moral support if
nothing else.

He backed out of his parking space, then finally answered,
“Probably.”

“Probably? Not good enough. You have to promise. Give me your
word that you’ll stay completely out of sight. Otherwise I’ll do it alone some
other time without telling you.”

From the intense color his eyes turned and the ferocity with
which he pulled out onto the road, she knew he wasn’t keen on the alternative.
Good. If he was caught with her or anywhere close to her, his career with the
police academy would be over. She didn’t need that on her conscience.

“All right, I’ll stay in the car and wait.”

“Give me your word,” she prompted.

“On my word,” he said. His promise seemed to lack sincerity,
and she was tempted to challenge him further, but she had other matters to
consider, including whether John Theda was home or not.

She borrowed Brent’s cell, on the theory that John wouldn’t
recognize the number if he was home and checked caller ID, and called his house.
The answering machine clicked on after four rings and, without bothering to
listen to the message, she replaced the receiver. Smiling triumphantly, she gave
Brent a thumbs-up. He looked almost disappointed.

As they approached John’s neighborhood, she had second thoughts
about involving Brent. She tried to talk him into simply dropping her off. If he
drove away now and she was caught and arrested, no one could accuse him of
aiding and abetting. Even if he was seen, all he would need to do was claim he
was unaware of her intentions. No one would doubt him. He was the son of a
preacher, and his word was good as gold.

Brent, however, would have none of it. He was not going to
leave her on her own.

He parked half a block up the street from John’s rental house,
where he could keep it in full view. He kept the engine running.

“John’s car is missing,” Maddie said. She started to open the
car door, but Brent stopped her by grabbing hold of her arm.

“Could it be in the garage?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It could, but I doubt it, seeing that the
garage-door opener has needed a new battery from the moment I met him. It isn’t
likely he’s changed it now.” Not when he was going to be moving within the next
couple of weeks.

He continued to grip her forearm. “How do you plan to get
inside?”

That seemed a silly question. “The key.”

“You have a key?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, not exactly, but I know where one is.”

His eyes widened even more. “You mean to tell me he keeps a
spare key tucked under a flowerpot?”

“No, it’s hidden in a fake rock in his flower bed.” Brent’s
fingers loosened enough for her to free her arm. She got out, then bent down to
look through the window and offer him a reassuring smile. “Wish me luck.”

“I wish you weren’t doing this.”

“Hey, this is gonna be a piece of cake,” she said, feeling
lighthearted in her eagerness to prove how easy this would be. Why, oh, why
hadn’t she thought of this sooner? She’d endured weeks of mental turmoil,
refusing to seek a solution. Brent’s support had empowered her, and she was
grateful.

“Come on, wish me luck,” she said again.

He offered her an all-too-brief smile. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

From experience she should have realized that the thing that
looks the easiest often proves to be the most difficult. She walked up the
cement pathway to the house, something she’d done a thousand times before. None
of John’s neighbors were out or about, and she was grateful. She was sure now
that she could nonchalantly slip inside the house without a problem.

It didn’t happen.

First she couldn’t locate the fake rock. Squatting down in the
flower bed, she picked up rock after rock, shaking each one. When she’d checked
them all, she made a second go-round, this time placing each stone close to her
ear, certain she must have overlooked the obvious.

She glanced up once to discover that Brent had eased down the
road and parked much closer to the house than was advisable. Not good. Now he
would be watching her every move. No doubt he’d already figured out that she’d
run into a hitch.

Okay, so maybe John had done away with his fake rock. There
were other ways to get into the house. As she started toward the back, she noted
that the lawn needed to be mowed. Perhaps he was out of town, which was all the
better. Stopping abruptly, she reconsidered. Before she changed plans, she’d
better tell Brent what she was doing; otherwise he might follow her. Bringing
along a silent partner was turning out to be a hassle. Muttering under her
breath, she trotted back to the car. When she approached the driver’s side, he
rolled down the window.

“Thank heaven,” he breathed.

“Thank heaven for what?”

“You’re giving up, aren’t you?”

The man obviously didn’t know her very well. The phrase “give
up” wasn’t in her vocabulary. Good grief, how did he think she’d solved that
silly math problem? Anyone possessing the qualities of persistence, tenacity and
the will to succeed wasn’t going to let a little thing like a missing key
distract her from her goal.

“No way on earth,” she informed him, growing impatient with his
attitude.

“Then why’d you want to talk to me?”

“To tell you I was going around the back of the house and—”

“I could see that,” he muttered.

“—and to tell you to move the car,” she finished.

“Why?”

“Because you’re too close to the house. People can see you. Go
down a block, maybe two. I’ll find you when I’m finished.”

“Maddie—”

“Please, Brent. You promised, remember?” This wasn’t his
battle, it was hers, and she didn’t want him up to his armpits in trouble
because of her.

“All right, all right.” She could tell he didn’t like it.

She smiled and impulsively leaned into the car and kissed him
full on the lips. She hadn’t planned that, the action was purely instinctive.
Purely natural. A means of thanking him for giving her back a part of herself. A
piece of her soul. Her serenity. His immediate response surprised her, delighted
her. He took control of the exchange and threaded his fingers into her hair,
holding her a willing captive.

Bent over as she was, with her head inside the car, the kiss
was awkward. But even that didn’t distract from the pleasure of it. She was the
one who broke it off. For a long moment she kept her eyes closed and remained
silent. His fingers were still in her hair, and he propped his forehead against
hers.

“I…I won’t be long,” she promised when she found her voice.

“Be careful.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. Knowing John, he won’t be home
for hours. All I want is to see if he was stupid enough to leave my test paper
lying around. I’m not interested in anything else.”

“Get in and out as fast as you can.”

“OK, partner.”

He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Hurry.”

Her senses reeling thanks to Brent and the kiss they’d shared,
she practically staggered back to the house and went around behind. And then she
saw it. The fake rock was sitting on the top step of the back porch. She nearly
laughed out loud. Set off by itself, without the camouflage of the other rocks,
it looked exactly like what it was. John couldn’t have made it any more apparent
if he’d tried.

She picked it up and removed the key. The door lock clicked
open, and she went inside without a problem. Unwilling to risk any chance of
someone walking in on her, she locked the door behind her. She tiptoed two or
three steps, then paused and strained to hear any out-of-the-ordinary sounds.
Anything that would indicate she wasn’t alone.

She heard nothing.

The tension eased from her limbs, and she made herself at home
the way she had so many times before. The anxiety of the moment had made her
parched; she opened the refrigerator and removed a can of soda. The six-pack
she’d bought months earlier was still there. John wasn’t much of a soda drinker,
so she’d supplied her own.

She took a swallow, then, clutching the soda can, moved into
John’s office, or what he referred to as his office. Actually it was the formal
dining room, but he’d set up his desk and bookcases there.

For someone who routinely worked with numbers and the sense of
order that implied, John was incredibly disorganized. She’d tidied his desk a
number of times and devised a simple filing system for him. But in the months
since she’d been away, it didn’t look as if he’d bothered to file a single
paper. Clutter obliterated the top of the desk. Unopened mail was stacked in one
corner, and it looked as if he’d made only a halfhearted effort to sort through
it. Halfhearted and several weeks ago.

She eased herself into his leather chair and leaned back as she
had so often. She’d loved his office, loved sitting in it and reading. Loved the
smell of leather and old books. She felt a pang of regret, but it was brief. Any
genuine regrets she harbored had more to do with her own foolish behavior than
missing John, or the man she’d believed him to be.

She opened the bottom desk drawer and leafed through the files
she’d taken such time and care to organize until she found one labeled TESTS.
Her fingers froze, not because of the subject matter, but because the label was
one John had made himself. He wouldn’t keep her test there, she reasoned; that
would be much too obvious. Too stupid. But then again, maybe it was exactly what
he
would
do.

She reached for the file and held it in her lap, prepared to
sort through it, and she would have if she hadn’t been distracted by a loud
noise coming from the direction of the bathroom.