Cold feet (33 page)

With Susan's murder, he could certainly understand why Holly wouldn't be worried about cleaning. But what he saw wasn't the result of days or weeks of neglect. It would take months, maybe even years, to collect so much junk. Holly must not have thrown anything away since he'd left her.

"Jeez, Holly," he muttered. She'd always been a pack-rat. They'd had a million arguments over cleaning out the garage and the closets. But now that she was living alone, without anyone to check her tendency to hang on to absolutely everything, she seemed to be taking it to new extremes.

He pulled a newspaper from the bottom of a stack of papers and grimaced at the date. It was thirteen months old.

Setting her purse on top of a box of envelopes and copy paper on the dining room table, he turned to go, counting himself lucky that he'd managed to miss her. But it seemed odd that she wouldn't be home when she'd told Gibbons she would be. There was something strange about the house in general. The mess, the shut-up feeling...What was going on with her?

Grudgingly, he turned back. He should at least let her know he'd returned her purse. He'd placed it in a prominent spot, but there was still a good chance she'd never see it in the mess.

"Hello?" He rapped on the walls as he made his way up the stairs and down the hall toward the master suite.

Again, no answer.

The bedroom door stood ajar. "Holly?" He turned on the light, just in case she'd managed to sleep through the dogs barking, the bell-ringing and calling.

The bed was empty. Clothes were piled everywhere, and boxes of God-only-knew-what were stacked on the dresser, the nightstand, the cedar chest and the floor, making her room as difficult to navigate as the rest of the house. Next to a heap of what looked like clean laundry, he even found toys--a giant box of dolls and jump ropes and roller skates.

What was Holly doing with children's toys? And why was there so much paper, wadded into tight balls, strewn across the floor?

Curious, he picked one up and smoothed it out. Holly had written "Madison" over and over in red ink, scribbled it out until the paper tore, and started again. He ironed out another one to find more of the same. And another. And another. He was just wondering what the hell this was all about when Susan's dogs caught his eye. Growling playfully, they were fighting over some kind of leopard-print fabric.

Caleb's blood suddenly ran cold. That fabric looked like...

Bending closer, he took the article away, and saw that it was exactly what he'd feared--a halter top. Exactly like the one Susan had been wearing the night she disappeared. Exactly like the one Holly had said she'd never seen before.

Caleb's phone broke the silence. It was Detective Gibbons. "I don't know what's going on here," he said, "but I just dragged Margie White out of bed for nothing. She claims she never called Holly and doesn't know anything about a note from anyone named Tye."

C
ALEB'S HEART
jackhammered against his chest as he dashed out of Holly's bedroom and pounded down the stairs. He took the halter top with him, but didn't bother locking the front door. Slamming it behind him, he jumped into his Mustang, popped the transmission into reverse and squealed out of the driveway.

He was at least thirty minutes away from Madison's, and Gibbons was even farther. Gibbons had just contacted the station. A car was on its way. But fear that they were already too late made it difficult for Caleb to breathe.

Holly says this woman won't talk to me tonight unless you're there....

She'd purposely drawn him away.

It's Madison, isn't it? You've fallen in love with her....

Madison...Madison...Madison,
written all over those sheets in red ink...

Holly was crazy, obsessed.

He rounded the corner, then looked both ways before running a stoplight. "I'm coming, Maddy. I'm coming," he muttered, but he couldn't avoid the images dancing in his mind--images of finding Madison like Susan had looked.

Holly had seen pictures of the crime scene. She'd poured over every bit of evidence, right along with him. She could definitely have copied the Sandpoint Strangler, but now that he saw her as capable of doing what she'd done to Susan, bits and pieces of memories assaulted him one after the other, making him sick. He had a terrible feeling that Holly had been lying and manipulating him and everyone else for a long, long time, using the fact that she was a woman to evoke sympathy instead of suspicion.

He was driving a blue Ford truck with a white camper shell....

Holly had said that the first day they'd met. Now Caleb wondered if she'd been lying from the start. All the papers had mentioned the Ford. Cunning as she was, she could even have tracked down Purcell in order to come up with the partial plate number. She'd been the main reason the investigation had focused on Purcell.

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

Holly was close, all right. She'd stuck to Caleb like glue since he'd first knocked on her door about Anna Tyler's murder. Anna, the ninth victim, had been living next door to her. Talk about opportunity.

I think I was wrong about you. I don't think you're going to find this killer. He's much too smart....

Such calm, cool confidence wasn't the result of one freak, accidental murder. Caleb thought of all the pretending Holly had done, all the setting up. A person didn't turn into a cold-blooded killer overnight. She never would've been able to pull it off if she'd felt even a morsel of regret. She'd fed him misinformation, manipulated his emotions, used him to stay one step ahead of the investigation the whole time. And he'd looked everywhere but right in front of him.

"God!" he said, and smacked the steering wheel.

Only she'd finally slipped up. If she hadn't kept that halter top...

Did you see anything like this in her apartment, Holly? No, I've never seen a halter top like that before in my life. I'd definitely remember it....

Grabbing his cell phone, he tried Madison's house again. "Pick up," he pleaded. "Pick up."

But it just rang and rang and rang....

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"S
O HOW MANY TIMES
have you slept with Caleb?" Holly asked.

Startled by the question, which had come out of nowhere after fifteen minutes of small talk, Madison set her cup in its saucer with a clumsy
clank.
She blinked several times because Holly was no longer in clear focus, and shook her head. "I'm...I'm not going to answer that," she said, but her speech seemed hopelessly slurred. She wanted to tell Holly to leave, but the words eluded her. Probably because the room was spinning, scrambling her brain.

"
Have
you slept with him?" Holly persisted. "Has he made you shudder in ecstasy like he does me?"

Madison grimaced. The image of Caleb with Holly, especially in the present tense, made her nauseous.

"What? Don't you like thinking about what I'm going to do with Caleb later, when I console him over your death?" Holly said.

Her
death?
Was that supposed to be some kind of joke? If Madison wasn't mistaken, Holly was smiling faintly. But her eyes seemed strangely blank. They didn't act like windows to her soul; they were more like mirrors, reflecting Madison's image back at her.

And Holly didn't make sense. Nothing did. Madison could see Holly's words shimmering in the air between them, floating in space as though she could reach out and capture them with her hands.

Summoning all her mental energy, she focused hard on the question, because it seemed important that she reply. "Why are you trying to upset me?" she asked, and tried to take another sip of tea, but the cup was too heavy to lift.

"I'm not trying to upset you. I don't care about you at all. I'm just saying that Caleb takes making love pretty seriously. Once he goes to bed with me again, things will be different."

"Diff...differ..." Giving up on the longer word, Madison went for the more important one. "How?"

"He doesn't sleep with just anyone, like some men I know. Sex has meaning to him. He makes you feel as though you're the only woman in the world. It's very erotic."

Madison knew how erotic it was. She felt flushed just remembering. Or maybe she was coming down with the flu. Certainly something was wrong....

"Madison? Are you still with me?" Holly snapped her fingers in Madison's face.

Madison closed her eyes to stop the room from shifting. "Yes. Yes, I think so."

"Aren't you going to finish your tea?"

"No, I--" She used her hand to prop up her head, which suddenly seemed too large for her body. "I think it's time...for you...to go." There. She'd said it. It had taken supreme effort to remember all the words and string them together in the appropriate sequence. But she'd managed to say what needed to be said. She had to get back into bed, had to sleep until she felt better.

"To
go?
" Holly echoed. "That isn't very polite of you, now is it?"

Holly's laughter grew loud, then soft, then loud again. When her chair scraped the floor, Madison knew she'd gotten up, but she couldn't figure out what Holly was doing.

"Are...are you leaving?" she asked, having to take several breaths to get the whole sentence out.

"Of course not. At least not yet," Holly said. "I need to get my rope before I visit your daughter's room. But don't worry, it's just out in the car."

"Holly?" Madison felt disoriented, confused. Silence fell for an interminable time. Holly was gone, evidently. But then she was back and moving down the hall. Holly wanted to visit Brianna's room. Why? Holly was no friend....

At first Madison told herself it was all right; Brianna was at her father's. But then she heard Brianna's frightened voice calling, "Mommy? Mommy, who is this? Where are you?"

She lurched to her feet. "Brianna? Brianna, run, hide!" Madison used the table, the refrigerator, the wall to help her reach the hallway. She would have called out to her daughter again, warned her, but blackness was closing in on her fast, rolling toward her like a sudden storm.

B
RIANNA SLIPPED UNDER
her covers, away from the unfamiliar image of a stranger in her doorway. Her mother had said to run, to hide, but Brianna didn't know where to go. Her room had always been safe. What was happening? Why should she run?

She wanted to cry out for her mother again, but the blankets were thick and it was hard to breathe. She lay perfectly still, listening, trying to decide if Mommy was playing some kind of new game. But Mommy usually didn't trick her. And it was very late to be playing a game.

"Brianna? That's your name, isn't it? Come here, sweetheart." It was the stranger, a woman. Or maybe it was a monster with a woman's voice. That would be a very mean monster. Her mother
had
said to run and hide....

Brianna held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as the she-monster patted the bed, searching for her among the blankets. She was drawing closer. Her hand nearly touched Brianna's arm, but Brianna slithered away and slipped into the crack between the bed and the wall, where she sometimes liked to stuff Elizabeth. It was their little hideout.

"Damn it! Come here." The monster grabbed her arm through the covers, and Brianna screamed. Jerking hard, she twisted free because of the blankets, and scooted under the bed. She stayed there on the floor in the corner, crying now because she knew this was no game. The she-monster was pulling away the bed, and there wasn't anywhere else to go.

B
RIANNA'S SCREAM HELPED
Madison force back the blackness, gave her the strength to keep fighting. She had to make her legs work, had to remain conscious long enough to be sure Brianna was all right.

Never had a hall seemed so long. Madison didn't think she was going to make it. She could hear her daughter whimpering, "Mommy...Mommy...Mommy..." and clung to that small voice.

"Shut up!" The woman. Angry. In Brianna's room.

Madison had to get there. And she had to do it
now.

Now...now...now...
The words inside her head echoed with urgency, but Madison could no longer walk. The world was spinning, tilting out of control. She was going to throw up. She wanted to sink to the floor and rest her head in her hands, let whatever lapped at her ankles suck her completely away.

Only she wouldn't give up until she knew her daughter was safe.

Falling to her knees, she crawled closer. She heard the squeak of the bed as someone pushed it around, heard low muttering, Brianna's crying....

Brianna, hang on. I'm coming. Mommy's coming.

Madison was breathless by the time she dragged herself into the doorway of Brianna's room. She could see a shape that had to be Holly down on her knees, trying to reach Brianna, who'd apparently crawled under the bed.

Gathering all her strength, Madison managed to find her feet again.
Get away from her. Get...away from...my daughter!
she shouted, but only inside her head. Then she launched herself at Holly.

Madison's movements weren't coordinated enough to do much damage, but she pushed Holly to the ground and their arms tangled. Holly tried to shove her off, to get up, but Madison used the weight of her body to pin her down. She could sense Holly's interest in Brianna, her desire to return to her daughter's bed.

Not at any cost, Madison told herself. Grabbing a fistful of Holly's long hair, she kept hold, focusing on only one thing, even as the darkness overcame her.

Don't let go...don't let go...don't
ever
let go....

She was just drifting off when she heard footsteps tramping down the hall and a male voice calling to her. Then Holly was wrenched away from her, screaming as she lost two fistfuls of hair, and the blackness became both silent and complete.