Cold feet(11)
Author: Brenda Novak

"Caleb Trovato," she repeated, hesitantly accepting his handshake. "If you called, my baby-sitter forgot to write it down."

Her fingers felt slim and dainty, and she was close enough that he could smell a hint of her perfume. "I didn’t call. I just happened to see the sign as I was driving by. I actually live in San Francisco, but business has brought me here."

"For how long?"

"That remains to be seen."

"Oh." She glanced from him to Sanderson. "So is either of you willing to sign a lease?"

"I told you on the phone that I can’t commit long-term," Sanderson said. "My situation is too tentative right now."

"I’ll sign a lease," Caleb said, even though he knew he was crazy to offer. He’d recently furnished his new condo in San Francisco and planned to return there. But he couldn’t miss this opportunity. Maybe now he’d finally be able to crack the Sandpoint Strangler case and achieve some closure–for himself, the public, the force and, most importantly, the families of the victims. Maybe he could even ease the foreboding that had settled over him since he’d learned of Susan’s disappearance. If the deceased Purcell was really the Sandpoint Strangler, she certainly stood a better chance of being found alive. Random murders were rare. Most homicides of women were the result of a love relationship gone bad and, according to Holly, Susan hadn’t been involved with anyone for over three years. She’d only been seeing Lance, the guy she was dating before she disappeared, for a couple of months.

In any case, Caleb could look for Susan from here just as easily as his parents’ place on Fidalgo, and simply buy out the lease when he was ready to head home.

"Do you have any pets?" she asked.

"Would that be a problem?"

"Not necessarily. One dog or cat would be fine. I’m not sure I’d be happy with a whole houseful of Doberman pinschers."

"No animals."

"Not even a hamster?"

"Not even a hamster."

"What about kids?" she asked.

He cocked an eyebrow. "You don’t want a houseful of those, either?" He could understand it if they were all as sour as her daughter.

"I’d expect you to make sure they don’t trample the flowerbeds."

"The flowerbeds are safe," he said. "I don’t have any kids."

"Fine." She looked as though she wanted to smile but wouldn’t allow it. "What kind of business brings you to Seattle, Mr. Trovato?"

He searched his mind, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t give him away. "I’m a small-business consultant," he said, because it was the first thing he could think of.

"So you’re regularly employed?"

"Definitely."

"And how long a lease are you willing to sign? A year?"

"Six months," he replied, letting her know by his tone that she wasn’t getting any more out of him.

"And when would you like to move in?"

"Tomorrow morning, if that’s okay with you."

"That’s fine." Now she did smile, right before she turned back to Sanderson. "I’ve got your phone number, Mr. Sanderson," she said. "If Mr. Trovato’s references don’t check out, I’ll give you a call."

Sanderson didn’t appear too pleased with the situation, but there wasn’t much he could do. Madison followed him out, probably to apologize for the wasted trip. Brianna stayed behind, still eyeing Caleb warily.

"You don’t want me to live here?" he asked.

Her bottom lip came out. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because this is our house. My mommy draws here, and me and Elizabeth dance."

"I won’t be staying long," he admitted. Then he remembered that Madison had started to tell him something out in the drive. "What did your dad have to say about the idea last night?"

Brianna tucked her stuffed bunny protectively under one slender arm. "He said you should never rent out part of your house."

"Why not?"

"Because you never know who might be moving in with you."

CHAPTER FOUR

POUNDING ON THE FRONT door dragged Madison from the depths of sleep.

She glanced, bleary-eyed, at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was only eleven o’clock. Generally she wasn’t in bed so early on a Friday night. She stayed up on weekends, handling paperwork, e-mail, or working on the computer. But this hadn’t been a regular week. Ever since she’d found that box under her mother’s house, she’d been so tired it felt as though someone had tied ten-pound weights to each limb. She’d climbed into bed a mere thirty minutes ago but was already sleeping like the dead.

Like the dead? Considering the recent disturbance of her father’s grave, that seemed rather chilling. She rubbed her arms as she shivered and groped for her robe. The knocking continued.

"Mommy?" Brianna’s confused voice came to her from the other room.

"Yes, honey?"

"Is it morning-time?"

"Not yet."

"Who’s here?"

"I’m sure it’s just our new renter. He probably can’t find the remote for his television or doesn’t know how to run the dishwasher or something." Madison tied the belt to her robe. "And he didn’t bother to notice that our lights are out," she added under her breath.

"We shouldn’t have let him move in," Brianna said, as if this incident proved the point she’d been trying to make from the start.

Brianna sounded like an echo of Danny. Sometimes Brianna also behaved a great deal like her father. Today she’d pouted and glowered at Mr. Trovato all afternoon while he was carrying in his belongings, which were rather sparse, along with a few groceries. "Try to go back to sleep, honey," she said.

Bang, bang, bang. The knocking was impatient. Demanding.

How could Brianna sleep with all that noise? "Give me a minute," Madison called out. As she stuffed her feet into the frumpy "housewife" slippers Danny had given her a year ago last Christmas, she pictured the diamond tennis bracelet he’d presented to his new wife the day she’d announced her pregnancy. After dropping out of college to finish putting him through school, Madison had come away from their seven-year marriage with probably a fifth of Danny’s net worth, a real estate license and a pair of ugly house shoes, while Leslie was living in Madison’s old mansion and dripping in diamonds. Somehow it didn’t seem fair. But Madison didn’t want Danny if he couldn’t stand by her "for better or worse"–although she hated the fact that her daughter had lost the firm foundation of having both parents in the home.

"I’m coming," she said when she neared the door. "Who is it?"