Cold feet - Page 63/81

Holly lifted her chin and glared at him.

"Not another word or that's exactly where you'll be," he told her, using the weight of his gaze to get her to back off.

After a moment, she clamped her mouth shut and folded her arms, but continued to glare at all of them.

"I'm miserable, okay?" Lance said, changing his focus to Caleb and Gibbons. "I can't eat. I have trouble sleeping. I miss my fiancee, and I hate the fact that Susan's dead. But I'm telling you again, I never hurt her."

"Susan's car was found only two streets from here, on Lassiter," Gibbons said. "Any idea how it got there?"

Lance seemed honestly surprised. "That's not possible."

"Why not?" Gibbons asked.

"I would've seen it. I drive down that street every day. Where'd it come from?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Caleb said.

"I wish I could help you," Lance replied. "But I don't know anything about it. I only know I didn't murder anyone."

"Then you probably wouldn't mind providing us with a DNA sample," Gibbons said.

Lance looked a little fearful at that suggestion. "What does it involve?"

The detective handed him his business card. "It's not difficult and it only takes a minute. Call me in the morning. We'll talk about it then."

Goose bumps rose on Lance's arms as he stood in the chill wind, staring down at Gibbons's card. "This is insane," he said. "I liked Susan. I never would've hurt her."

"Like hell! If it wasn't for you, she'd still be here," Holly said, but Caleb dragged her away before Lance could respond.

"Calm down," he told her.

"I'm telling you he's the one," she said. "He killed her because he didn't want her to tell his fiancee."

"He has an alibi," Gibbons pointed out.

"His fiancee's mother could be lying," she retorted.

"It's not him," Caleb said. Whoever murdered Susan had copied the strangler too well. And twelve years ago, Lance would've been only about thirteen.

MADISON HOVERED in the hall, wondering what to do. She needed to get dressed. She knew she'd feel much more secure and mobile if she had clothes on. But she was afraid to go to her room. She didn't want to pass Johnny's door on the way, didn't want to put herself in a place where she couldn't easily get out of the house if he came after her.

Except he wouldn't come after her. Madison wasn't even convinced that Sharon was right. If he'd killed Caleb's sister-in-law, he'd probably killed all the other women, too. Only he couldn't have. Johnny had been in jail when some of those women died--hadn't he? Without double-checking, there was no way to know for sure. He'd always drifted in and out of her life, and she didn't always know where he was. But he'd never tried to hurt her before, would have no reason to hurt her now.

Unless he knew she was going to the police. But he couldn't have heard her say anything about that. He'd been clear down the hall. She'd checked several times.

The floor creaked as she inched closer.

"Madison?"

She froze, heart pounding so loudly she was afraid he could hear it. What now? Should she answer him?

She didn't want him to get up, so she said, "Yes?"

"Who was that?"

"A friend of mine," she said, and cursed the false note in her own voice.

There was a moment of silence. "What did she want?"

Madison's legs were feeling peculiar, weak. She clung to the door frame to keep from sinking to the ground. "Just to talk."

"This late?"

"She couldn't sleep."

Madison licked dry lips, preparing for a "why?" or "what friend?" But he didn't say anything else.

Gathering her nerve, she said, "Good night."

Again he didn't respond. But he seemed to be going back to sleep, so she forced her legs to carry her to the bedroom as though nothing had changed. She'd get dressed and wait for a while, then she'd leave.

Unfortunately, finding the right clothes and getting them on proved more of a challenge than she had anticipated. The adrenaline running through her body was making her hands shake, and the pills she'd taken were starting to compound the problem. "Come on, come on," she whispered to herself.

She managed to don a pair of jeans and a sweater. But only with great concentration did she tie her tennis shoes. When she was finally dressed, she sat on the floor, trying to calm down while watching her digital alarm clock flip from one glowing numeral to the next: 2:43...2:44...2:45....

She made herself wait a full fifteen minutes. Then she shoved Sharon's number in her back pocket, grabbed a lightweight jacket and hurried into the hall--only to run full-tilt into Johnny.

MADISON TRIED TO DODGE Johnny and run. She couldn't see him in the pitch-black hallway, but she'd certainly felt their collision and could hear his ragged breathing. He was close. Probably too close. But if she could only get around him...

Bumping into the wall, she stumbled and nearly brushed past him. She had to get her keys, open the door, reach her car. But he clutched her by the shoulders before she could go anywhere, and yanked her back, surprising her with the strength of his grip.

"Johnny, let me go," she cried, twisting and pushing at him.

"I can't." His fingers curved painfully into her flesh. "Not until you tell me what Sharon wanted."

He knew. He'd known all along that it was Sharon. He'd been baiting her.

Madison tried not to panic. "Nothing. She didn't want anything except to...to talk about her problems with Tye." Again Madison attempted to wrench free, but the sleeping pills were making her light-headed. She felt dizzy, weak...terrified.

"You expect me to believe that's why you're creeping around?" His grip tightened. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere. I--I couldn't sleep and--"

He gave her a little shake. "That's bullshit. What did Sharon say?"

"She's worried about you, Johnny."

"Don't lie to me! She's never liked me. Is she running to the police? Is that what's going on? Or is that what you're doing?"

"No, I--"

"Tye told me some detectives came around, asking questions about the night that woman was murdered. Now that Dad's gone, they're looking at me. Isn't that right? They think I had something to do with it."

Madison's mind raced, searching for options. But she knew he'd never trust a denial. "Sharon knows the truth, Johnny. It's over."

He went deathly still. "What truth? I didn't kill anyone. You have to believe me, Maddy."