“Thanks.”
“No problem.” She gave him an additional fistful of change, and he started for the door.
She should have breathed a sigh of relief and let him go, but something made her call him back. “Johnny?”
He peered over his shoulder at her. “Yeah?”
Except in general terms, Madison had never spoken to her brothers about the crimes their father had been accused of committing. Neither Johnny nor Tye had good feelings toward Ellis, so Madison had never expected them to be supportive. Her brothers were too busy trying to recover from their unhappy childhoods to worry about what was happening to their father—a father who’d let them down so badly. But she suddenly felt the need to talk to Johnny now, before he disappeared for another five years.
“Do you think he really did it?” she asked softly.
For a moment, Johnny looked more lucid than she’d seen him in years. “You mean Dad?”
She nodded. She longed to tell him what she’d found beneath the house. She had to tell someone. The burden of keeping the secret was too heavy. And there was no one else….
He stared at the floor for several seconds. “He did it.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.
“You never heard or saw anything…out of the ordinary, did you?”
He was moving toward the door again. “I wasn’t around.”
“You showed up every once in a while, for short periods of time,” she said, following him.
“I never saw anything.”
Madison wished she could erase from her mind the image of opening that locket in the dank atmosphere of the crawl space. “Did you hear what happened to Dad’s grave?” she asked as he opened the door and stepped outside.
He turned, scowling at her. “I don’t want to know.”
“But—”
“Look at me, Maddy,” he said, calling her by the nickname the kids in the neighborhood had given her when she was young.
She met his gaze.
“You see what I am,” he said. “I can’t help you. I can’t even help myself. You want a shoulder to cry on, call Tye. He’s the one who never flinched, no matter how bad it got.”
Then he hurried to the car, the motor revved and he was gone.
C ALEB LEANED CLOSER to the house to avoid being seen by the men in the Buick Skylark. Who were they? And what did they want? Judging by the late hour, the rattletrap condition of their car and the “drifter” appearance of the guy who’d gone inside Madison’s house, they weren’t insurance salesmen.
He muttered the license plate number to himself a few more times, planning to have Detective Gibbons run a check on it in the morning, and started back to the cottage. When he’d heard the car pull up, he’d been in bed watching television, and hadn’t bothered to put on anything but a pair of jeans. It was chilly to be walking around without a shirt and shoes. But he hesitated when he passed Madison’s window and glanced in to find her sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was crying. Even if she wasn’t, there was something so weary, so hopeless about her posture….
Was she okay? His natural reluctance to intrude on her privacy warred with the desire to capitalize on a golden opportunity. After all, he’d moved in to get close to her.
Hurrying to the cottage house, he scribbled down the license plate number, put on a T-shirt and a pair of shoes and jogged back.
It took several seconds for her to answer his knock. When she finally came to the door, her cheeks were dry, but her eyes were red and damp.
Caleb studied her for a moment, wishing she were middle-aged and frumpy. That she was single and attractive only complicated matters. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
There was an insincere smile on her face and, when she spoke, her voice carried the high pitch of false cheer. “No, of course not. Why?”
He jerked his head toward the drive. “Those guys who were here. They didn’t look very reputable. I thought maybe I should check on you.”
“Oh.” Her smile faltered. “That was just my brother Johnny.”
Johnny Purcell. Caleb had come across that name years ago while he was researching Ellis. As a matter of fact, he’d interviewed Johnny once, in prison. But Johnny must have lost a lot of weight since then. Caleb hadn’t recognized him.
“I know he doesn’t look like much,” she said. “But he’s basically harmless. Fortunately, he doesn’t come around very often. I’m sorry if he woke you.”
“It’s no problem. I wasn’t sleeping. Is he in some sort of trouble?”
“No.”
An awkward silence ensued, during which Caleb racked his brain for some other way to learn more about Johnny’s visit.
Madison spoke first. “Did you get settled?”
“For the most part.” He grinned, hoping to charm her. “I loaded up on the important things—peanut butter and bread.”
“Well, if there’s anything you need, a cup of sugar or an egg or whatever, feel free to ask.”
“I appreciate that.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, wishing she’d invite him in for a cup of coffee. Other than moving onto the property, he hadn’t considered how he was going to get close to Madison. Especially when she seemed so remote.
“Is Brianna asleep?” he asked.
“She’s in bed. I don’t know that she’s asleep.”
“I realize she feels I’m encroaching on her space, but with any luck she’ll get used to having me around, don’t you think?”
“I hope so,” Madison said. “I know space shouldn’t be an issue. She’s got plenty of space. Especially at her father’s. He lives in an eight-thousand-square-foot house, complete with a giant water fountain worthy of a casino.”
“Sounds…ostentatious.”
“It is.” She finally gave him a genuine smile. “I hated living there. It felt like a mausoleum.” She folded her arms, unwittingly revealing a fair amount of cleavage.
Caleb wished again that she was older, or significantly younger, or considerably overweight…
“Brianna’s had a rough year,” she was saying. “I’m guessing this is some sort of delayed reaction.”
He pulled his attention away from the smooth skin of her breasts. “How long have you been divorced?”
