Cold Feet. Brenda Novak

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СКАЧАТЬ longer have to analyze what’s wrong with us. No more teary talks that carry on through the night. No more debilitating guilt. Surely you’re as relieved as I am.”

      “But we loved each other.”

      Caleb scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “We just hated each other more.”

      “I never hated you,” she said.

      “God, Hol, would you let it go?” He blew out a sigh, hoping some of his frustration would go with it. “We couldn’t be together for more than two days in a row. Now, do you have something on Susan or not?”

      It took her a moment to regain control. But she managed to do so, for a change, and Caleb relaxed.

      Leaving the remote control on the arm of the couch, he went to the refrigerator to get a beer. “Well?” he said when he’d popped the top and drunk almost half of it.

      She finally sat down and stared at the television, probably so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I’m not sure if it’ll tell us much in the end, but a woman named Jennifer Allred saw Susan the day after she and I had our nails done.”

      “Where?” He leaned one hip against the kitchen counter, enjoying the smooth taste of his Michelob Light and letting it siphon off some of the tension he’d been feeling only moments earlier.

      “At a vegetarian pizza place not far from the university.”

      “She’s sure it was Susan?”

      Holly reached into her purse and withdrew a photograph. “She gave me this.”

      Surprised, Caleb left his beer on the counter and walked over to get a better look. “ How did she give you this?” he asked. “I thought you said she called you.”

      “She did. Then she asked me to meet her on campus because she had some proof to give me.”

      “And you did it? Don’t tell me you went there alone, Holly.”

      “What else was I supposed to do? Drag someone out of bed and coerce him or her into going with me? You weren’t picking up.”

      He’d been outside creeping around, trying to figure out what was going on at Madison’s—not the type of errand on which he wanted to carry a cell phone. “Twelve women, if you count Susan, have been snatched from that campus or the surrounding area! What were you thinking, meeting someone so late?”

      “Oh, don’t pretend you care about me,” she said, coming right back at him. “If you cared, you never would’ve given up on me.”

      “Damn it, Holly, would you quit twisting the knife? I wanted to be there for you. I married you twice, remember? We aren’t a good fit. I don’t know how much more proof you need!” He hadn’t planned on shouting, but she always managed to snap the control that was sufficient for every other situation and relationship.

      She stared at him for several seconds, her glare challenging enough to make him believe they were going to end up in another of their famous rows. She was probably going to start in on the miscarriage. She always used that as some sort of trump card, as if he hadn’t felt the loss of their baby just as deeply.

      Instead, she covered her eyes and shook her head, obviously backing down. “Look at the picture, okay?”

      Caleb felt the anger drain out of him. No one made him as crazy as Holly did. But this wasn’t about their marriages or their divorces. This was about Susan, he reminded himself, gazing down at the picture. “I don’t recognize any of these people,” he said.

      “That’s because you’ve probably never seen them before. That’s Jennifer and her two roommates. They’re celebrating because the guy on the left just won an art grant.”

      “So what does this have to do with Susan?”

      “Look behind them, in the background.”

      Caleb held the picture closer to the light, trying to make out the slightly blurred figure beyond the open door of the pizza place. It could have been any woman of Susan’s general size, shape and coloring. But then he saw a slice of leopard print halter beneath a short black jacket and knew it was her.

      “She’s wearing just what I thought she was wearing,” he said in amazement.

      “Notice anything else?”

      Caleb’s blood ran cold. Next to Susan, parked at the curb, was a blue Ford pickup with a white camper shell. He cut his gaze to Holly. “Purcell’s truck?”

      “Or one just like it.”

      Another connection. At this stage, Caleb saw no benefit in keeping his reason for renting the cottage a secret. With the appearance of Purcell’s truck in this picture with Susan, Holly’s fears were already confirmed. “You wanted to know why I rented this place,” he said.

      “You’re finally going to tell me?”

      “Madison Lieberman lives next door. She’s my landlady.”

      Holly’s brows drew together as if she couldn’t quite identify the name. “Madison Lieberman…”

      “Ellis Purcell’s daughter.”

      “Of course! I heard about her over and over when you were researching the Sandpoint Strangler. But she’d never talk to you. Has she changed her mind?”

      “Not exactly. She doesn’t even know that Caleb Trovato and Thomas L. Wagner are the same man. She was looking for a renter, and I happened to get here first. That’s it.” He tapped the picture against his palm. “Tell me how Jennifer came across one of our flyers.”

      “She’s a graduate student at the university and saw it posted at the library.”

      Holly had insisted on putting her phone number on the flyer, which made sense because hers was local and not long distance. Also, Caleb knew a woman’s name and number would seem less threatening. But Holly and this Jennifer woman had both been stupid to meet on campus so late at night—not that there was any point in arguing about it now. “What I don’t understand is why she noticed something so obscure in one of her pictures,” he said.

      “Susan was involved in an argument that drew everyone’s attention. When Jennifer saw the flyer, she looked through the pictures she’d taken that night and, voil, there was Susan.”

      With a truck like Ellis Purcell’s in the same vicinity. Was it another strange coincidence? Or did the police have a copycat killer on their hands?

      “Did Jennifer say what the argument was about?” he asked.

      “She wasn’t sure. She thinks Susan bumped someone’s fender while trying to park or something like that. Jennifer and her friends weren’t really aware of anyone else until Susan screamed a curse. Then they all craned their heads to see what was going on. A male voice answered by calling her a stupid bitch. Then Susan got in her car and peeled off.”

      “What did the guy who called her a bitch look like?”

      “He СКАЧАТЬ