"What do you mean?" Caleb asked.
"I didn't leave a light on, for one. I thought about it, but it was still daytime when we left, and I knew I wouldn't be coming home alone."
"Maybe it was already on and you just didn't realize it."
"Maybe," she said, but she didn't think so. Especially since there seemed to be several lights on, and..."Oh, my gosh. Is that my...is my window broken?"
"Where?"
She pointed to the kitchen window, the one that faced the cottage instead of the front lawn, and Caleb shifted to get a better look. "You're right," he said, and jammed the gearshift into park. The car lurched because he hadn't yet come to a complete stop, but that didn't keep him from jumping out and jogging over.
"Looks like someone tried to break in," he said as she hurried after him.
"Tried to break in or did break in?"
"I'm not sure. Give me your keys." He held out his hand, and she immediately relinquished her house key. "Get in the car and lock the doors," he said. "My cell phone's in there. Call the police if I don't come out in a minute or two."
"Maybe we should stay out here and call the police together," she said, thinking it might be smarter to play it safe. "I don't want you going in there if--"
"Whoever was here is probably long gone. Even if he was still inside when we arrived, I'm sure he heard the car and took off," Caleb said as he walked cautiously around to the front.
Madison didn't do as he told her. She ran to grab Caleb's cell and followed him, afraid to discover what might have been damaged or stolen. She hadn't been able to turn the real estate brokerage around as quickly as she'd expected when she bought it, and she wasn't sure she could withstand the financial setback of having to replace a lot of her belongings.
But everything looked as it always did--until Johnny came down the hall to confront them.
"Have a nice time?" he asked.
In what was obviously a knee-jerk reaction, Caleb nearly leveled him, but Madison managed to catch his arm before he let his fist fly. "It's okay. It's only my brother."
"What the hell is he doing breaking into your house?" Caleb demanded.
"Somebody cleaned up the garage," Johnny said. "I figured your mother was onto me, so I had a friend drop me off here."
"The same guy who brought you last time?"
"No, he got picked up for grand theft auto." He indicated Caleb with a nod of his head. "Who's this, anyway?"
Madison put a hand to her chest, trying to even out her pulse. "It's Caleb Trovato, my tenant."
"Caleb who?"
"Trovato."
"Like hell it is," Johnny said. "I've met this guy before."
"Johnny, you couldn't possibly know Caleb. He--"
"I'm telling you I know him. He came to the prison once, to interview me. But his name wasn't Caleb...whatever you said."
"What?" Madison thought she must have heard wrong. How could Johnny have met Caleb while he was in prison? "You must be confusing him with someone else. Caleb's from San Francisco."
"That's bullshit," Johnny muttered. "He's from right here in Seattle. He's--" he snapped his fingers impatiently "--I can't remember the name. But he's that big crime writer who made a mint off Dahmer's story. He was hoping to do the same with Dad, remember?"
"Thomas L. Wagner," Madison whispered, feeling numb. Sucker-punched. After her conversation with Caleb in the car, her words sounded like an echo and, when she turned to Caleb, she didn't have to ask if it was true. She knew from the look on his face.
"You lied to me," she said, and suddenly understood why a man like Caleb, who seemed to have it all, would be so interested in a struggling single mother who just happened to be the daughter of an accused murderer.
And she'd slept with him.... God, she was a fool, a dreamer, despite all previous reality checks!
"Madison, listen to me," Caleb said. "Give me a chance to explain."
"A chance to explain what?" she replied. "You knew who I was when you moved in, didn't you?"
"Of course. But then--"
"And you thought it was the perfect opportunity to find out everything you ever wanted to know about my father. You thought you'd slip in, see what you could learn while paying for a few weeks' rent, and the joke would be on me. Well, aren't you clever."
"It was never a joke," he said. "Sure, I thought it would be one way around your refusal to help me. I believed the people who've been hurt by the Sandpoint Strangler deserved some answers. I still believe that."
He reached out to grab her arm, but she knocked his hand away.
"What about me?" she asked. "Don't I deserve anything, Caleb? Not even the truth?"
"Because of you, I'm not going to write the book, Madison. I decided that almost the day I met you."
She closed her eyes, determined to fight the tears that seemed to be her heart's only recourse. "You offered to be my friend," she said hoarsely. "I trusted you."
"I am your friend."
She shook her head, scarcely able to swallow for the lump in her throat. "You're no friend of mine, Caleb or Thomas or--or whoever you are." She motioned toward the door. "Get your things from the cottage and get out of my life."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CALEB HAD BEEN STANDING at his window, watching Madison's house ever since he'd left it. He'd seen her cover the broken window with plastic, but he hadn't seen Johnny come out yet. Madison was probably letting her brother stay the night. Caleb hated the thought of that. He didn't believe Johnny presented any real danger to her, but he knew Madison was already struggling to keep her business afloat and, with recent events, she didn't need anything else to worry about.
Who would've guessed Johnny still had enough brain cells to recognize him?
Damn. Caleb should have told her who he really was on the way home. But he'd mistakenly thought he'd have all night--and he'd let his libido get in the way. Now he wasn't sure she'd ever give him a chance to explain. He wasn't even sure explaining would do any good. He'd done exactly what she'd accused him of doing.
Only he'd come to care about her in the process. Didn't that count for something?
Turning to the television, which was on very low so he could hear anything that might happen outside, he stretched his neck. The stark expression in Madison's eyes when she'd heard his pseudonym and understood the truth still haunted him. He wanted to talk to her, didn't feel he could go to bed until he did. But he knew she was much less likely to listen to him while Johnny was there.