Cold feet(72)
Author: Brenda Novak

"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 br**sts 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.

FRUSTRATED, CALEB 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.