“You don’t have anything to say?” he said.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Because he’s there?”
“No, he’s at the motel.”
“Why?”
She flinched at the reason that came to mind: Because we’d be in bed together if he wasn’t. “He just is.”
There was a long silence, during which Madeline felt more self-conscious than ever. Her natural defensiveness over what she’d done earlier had led her to say more than she should have. The fact that Hunter was now staying at the motel revealed more about how she was feeling toward him than if he’d still been in her guesthouse. She and Kirk had argued over his lodging arrangements that very morning.
Fortunately, Kirk didn’t force her to defend herself on that point. Maybe he didn’t want to face what Hunter’s relocation signified.
“He won’t find anything, Maddy,” he said. “Allie was a forensics specialist and she came up with squat.”
So let him go, not just to the motel, but back to California. Wasn’t that what Kirk was really saying? But unlike Allie and the others, Hunter could be completely objective. That was why she’d brought him in, and that was what she liked about his investigation. He had dark suspicions about everyone she loved, but he had no vested interest in swaying her opinions one way or another, and would never act without proof—because he had no personal stake in anyone’s downfall. The hope of finally reaching the truth, no matter how painful it might be, kept her hanging on, despite the fear that she wouldn’t like what Hunter found.
She remembered him telling her that Clay was hiding something. Allie would never have told her that. Madeline had denied it, even to herself, for a long time, but in her heart she knew it was true.
“I’m going to give him the week,” she said. “And then…”
“And then?” Kirk echoed hopefully.
“And then I’ll decide what to do next.”
Silence. At last he said, “I’m going to miss you, Mad.”
More guilt washed over her, for whatever it was—attraction? lust? the cravings of a lonely soul?—that had made her do what she’d done with Hunter earlier that day. She and Kirk hadn’t even been apart six weeks. How could she already desire someone else?
“I’ll miss you, too,” she said. And it was true. She didn’t want to be lovers, but she couldn’t wait until they were friends again.
“Be careful,” he said.
She opened her mouth to respond, but he’d hung up.
Be careful? Of what? The truth? Having her heart broken? Both?
As she set the phone back in its cradle, she tried to sort through her conflicting thoughts and emotions. But she couldn’t come to any resolution. She was frightened of the doubt she felt about Clay, but she still felt it. She was frightened of the attraction she felt to Hunter, but she still felt it. And the list went on from there.
With a muttered curse, she stopped trying to understand her own behavior and phoned Molly, who answered on the first ring.
“Hello?”
At the sound of her youngest stepsister’s voice, Madeline felt strangely tongue-tied. Was she betraying her family by getting involved with Hunter? The fact that she’d had sex with him had already forged a bond that pulled her a little farther away from them. Could she honestly say, if he pointed his finger at Clay or Irene, that she wouldn’t believe him?
“Maddy?”
At the concern in Molly’s voice, Madeline forced out a few words. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m about to watch a video with friends.”
“Oh, bad timing. I’ll let you go.”
“I don’t mind missing the first few minutes,” Molly said. “Are you okay?”
Madeline considered the cracks that were beginning to weaken the dam of loyalty she’d built to protect her stepfamily. She wanted to ask Molly to level with her, tell her if there was any way Clay could be hiding something about The Night. While talking to Molly, Madeline often discussed her efforts to find her father, her latest theory on what might’ve happened to him. But Molly generally didn’t add much. And Madeline had never really asked, not in earnest.
She attempted to do so now—but couldn’t go through with it. She couldn’t bear the thought of Molly knowing that she’d begun to lose faith in spite of everything Clay and the rest of the family had done for her.
“Mike’s home,” Madeline said instead.
“Mike?”
“Metzger.”
“Oh boy. Why isn’t he in prison?”
“He’s out on parole.”
“You’re sure?”
Madeline could hear others talking in the background. “I saw him this afternoon.”
There was a long pause. “Does he scare you, Maddy?”
He hadn’t scared her until today. He’d seemed so far removed when he was in prison. But the malevolence in his eyes was difficult to forget. Whoever had made that call to the office, claiming to be her father, had to hate her. Was it Mike?
She shivered. “Maybe a little.”
“You should go to the police.”
“And tell them what?”
“Show them the letter he sent you.”
“He sent it from prison so that means someone in authority read it, Mol. They must not have deemed it a direct threat. And it probably isn’t. Saying you wish you’d done something isn’t the same as saying you’re going to do it.”
“It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up when you read it to me.”
What he’d written—I wish I’d killed you both—had the same effect on Madeline. But even she wasn’t completely convinced he’d ever act on the threat. “No one in this town will take me seriously. They think Mike’s a burnout, a waste—a danger only to himself. Clay’s the one they believe is capable of violence, remember?”
“But your friend’s husband is the chief of police. He’ll listen to you, won’t he?”
A noise in the back yard brought Madeline to the window. She’d let Hunter take her car. Had he returned for some reason?
“Toby? He might.” She peered out, but the guesthouse was dark. “I’ll give him a call tomorrow.”
“Let me know how it goes.”
“I will. Enjoy the movie.” She disconnected. Then she made sure the doors were locked and spent another few minutes gazing out at the yard. Was someone out there?