Читать книгу Cold Feet - Brenda Novak - Страница 10

S TUNNED , M ADISON BLINKED at the jumble in the box as the pictures the police had shown her years earlier flashed through her mind—grotesque, heart-rending photos of women after the Sandpoint Strangler had finished with them. It made her dizzy and nauseous to even think about those poor women; it made her feel worse to believe her father might have—

No! Surely there was some mistake. The police had searched the crawl space. They would’ve found this stuff.

Steeling herself against overwhelming revulsion, Madison used a towel rod to poke through the box in hopes of finding some evidence that would refute the obvious.

In the bottom corner, she saw something that glittered, and forced herself to reach gingerly inside. It was a metal chain. When she pulled it out into the murky light, she could see it was a necklace with a gold locket on the end. But she was too terrified to open it. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her hands shook as she stared at it until, finally, she gathered the nerve to unhook the tiny clasp.

Inside, she saw an oval picture of Lisa and Joe McDonna. Lisa was victim number two. Madison knew because she’d memorized them all—by face and by name.

Closing her eyes, she put a hand to her stomach, attempting to override her body’s reaction. But she retched anyway, several dry heaves that hurt her throat and her stomach. She’d hung on to her belief in Ellis’s innocence for so long. She’d stood against the police, the media and popular opinion. She’d stayed in the same high school even after the kids had started taunting her and doing vengeful things, like throwing eggs and oranges at the house or writing “murderer” in the lawn with bleach. She’d held her head high and attended the University of Washington, just as she’d always planned. Through it all, she’d refused to consider the possibility of her father’s culpability in the murders, even when the police produced an eyewitness who said she saw Ellis driving away from a neighbor’s house the night that neighbor was murdered. The witness was old and could have been mistaken. There were a lot of blue Fords with white camper shells in Seattle. All the evidence was circumstantial.

But if he was innocent, how could such a personal item belonging to one of the victims have found its way inside the house?

“Ellis saved those Barbies, after all?” Annette said, her words suddenly sounding as though they had an echo. “I could’ve sworn we took them to Goodwill.”

Madison couldn’t breathe well enough to speak. After those hellish years in high school, she’d expected the scandal to die down, especially when the police couldn’t find any DNA evidence. But the suspicion and hatred had gone on long after that, until it had destroyed her marriage. Her husband wanted to be seen as upwardly mobile and a man who had it all. Not the man who’d married the daughter of the Sandpoint Strangler.

“Madison?” her mother said, when she didn’t respond.

She took a few bolstering breaths and managed an answer. “What?”

“Are you going to bring those Barbie dolls out or not? I’m sure Brianna will be thrilled to have them.”

Madison wasn’t about to let her mother see what the box really contained. Annette had been through enough already.

Wiping away the sweat beading on her upper lip, Madison struggled to distance herself from the whole tragic mess. She hadn’t hurt those women. If her father had, she’d been as much a victim as anyone.

“It—it looks like there’ve been some rats in the box,” she said. “I d-don’t think we can give them to Brianna.”

“That’s too bad. Well, drag them out here anyway, and I’ll get rid of them once and for all.”

Madison breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, struggling to remain calm and rational. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll just leave them here. They…there’s a sticky web all over and I’m afraid there might be a black widow someplace.”

“Oh boy, we wouldn’t want to drag that out. You’re right, just leave them. I’ll hire someone to come down here and clean this out when I move.”

When she moved…Ever since her father had shot himself in the backyard, Madison had been trying to talk her mother into relocating. Madison had a difficult time even coming to the house, what with all the bad memories; she couldn’t imagine how Annette still lived here.

But now she wasn’t so sure she wanted her mother to go anywhere. If Annette sold the house, Madison would either have to come forward with what she’d found, which was unimaginable, or she’d have to destroy it—something she wasn’t sure her conscience would allow.

God, she’d thought the nightmare was over. Now she knew it would never be….

H OLLY MET C ALEB at the airport on Monday morning. With her long, curly blond hair, he noticed her in the crowd almost as soon as he entered the arrivals lounge, and steeled himself for the moment she’d come rushing to meet him. Two years his senior, she was taller than most women, thin, and had a heart-shaped, angelic face. She looked good. She always looked good. But looks didn’t matter with a woman whose emotions swung as widely as Holly’s did.

He saw her pushing through the crowd as she made her way toward him. And then she was there, smiling in obvious relief. “Caleb, I’m so glad you came.” She reached up to hug him, and he allowed it but quickly moved on, following the flow of the other passengers toward the baggage claim.

“You haven’t heard from Susan?” he asked, glad to finally stretch his legs. First class had been full. He was too big for the narrow, cramped space allotted him in economy, but without advance booking he’d had to take what he could get.

“Not a word. I check my answering machine every hour, just in case. But…” She blinked rapidly, and he hoped she wasn’t going to cry again. He hadn’t come to be her emotional support. He just wanted to find Susan and get back to San Francisco.

“Have the Seattle police assigned any detectives to the case?”

“Two. Lynch and Jones. Do you know them?”

“I know Lynch better than Jones.”

“They’re driving me nuts,” she said. “They keep talking about searching for fiber evidence and what not, but it doesn’t seem like they’re doing much of anything.”

“This isn’t television, Holly. Fiber evidence takes a long time. You have to track down all the people who visited Susan’s apartment, and collect samples before you can send them to the lab for comparison. And you generally don’t have a lab tech sitting there, twiddling his thumbs while waiting to help you. You have to take your place in line.”

He dodged a woman who’d stopped right in front of him to dig through a bag. “Have you talked to your parents again?” he asked. Caleb knew relations between Holly and her adoptive parents were strained. They had been for most of her life. She hated her birth mother for giving her up, even though her birth mother had been barely sixteen. She hated her adoptive mother for not being her birth mother. And she was frequently jealous of Susan, who’d been born with the assistance of fertility drugs when Holly was seven.

“I called them last night to tell them you were coming,” she said.

“What did they have to say about Susan’s disappearance?”

“At first they said the same thing you did—she’s done this before, she’ll turn up. Now that it’s been almost a week, they’re worried. They’re willing to hire a private investigator, if you think that’s the best way to go. They wanted me to talk to you about it.”

“I think we should do whatever we can as soon as possible.”

“Okay.” She scratched her arm through her sweater, looking uncertain. “You know how we were talking about the Sandpoint Strangler?”

“Yes?”

“There was something on the news earlier….”

They’d reached the luggage carousel. He slipped through the crowd to grab the small bag he’d packed in San Francisco. Besides a few clothes, he’d brought only his cell phone, his day planner and his laptop, so he could work if he got the chance. “What?” he asked, when he had his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Someone desecrated the grave of Ellis Purcell.”

Caleb stiffened in surprise. “How? From what I remember, his widow and daughter went to great pains to keep its location a secret.”

“I don’t know. I just caught a clip while I was eating breakfast.”

Caleb rubbed the stubble on his chin. He hadn’t showered or shaved this morning. He’d had such an early flight, he’d simply rolled out of bed, pulled on a Fox Racing T-shirt, a pair of faded jeans and a Giants ball cap and headed south to the airport.

“It’s probably just a coincidence,” he said. But he had to admit it was strange that a woman would go missing from the Sandpoint Strangler’s old hunting grounds a year after Ellis Purcell was dead. That she’d be related to Holly. And that Purcell’s grave would be desecrated in the same week.

A LTHOUGH M ONDAY AFTERNOON was warm, with a rare amount of sun for Seattle in September, the mortuary was cool. Too cool. It smelled of carnations, furniture polish and formaldehyde, which dredged up memories of every funeral Madison had ever attended—Aunt Zelma’s, Grandma Rayma’s, the skeletal-looking man who’d lived next door when she was five. She couldn’t think of the old guy’s name, but she remembered staring at his waxy face as he lay in his coffin.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to deal with any memories of her father’s funeral. They hadn’t given him one. She, her mother, Tye and Johnny had simply sent out notices of his death to the few friends and family who’d remained supportive, and buried him without any type of viewing or wake. Because of the ongoing investigation, and the damage he’d done with his old rifle, it seemed prudent to handle things as quickly and quietly as possible.

Lawrence Howell, the manager of Sunset Lawn Funeral Home and Memorial Park, had helped make the arrangements. He sat across from Madison and her mother now, his short blond hair neatly combed, his face wearing the same somber expression he always wore.

Fortunately, Madison had been able to reach Joanna Stapley, a senior at South Whidbey High School who often baby-sat for her, in time to have her pick up Brianna from school, so she didn’t have to cope with a wriggling six-year-old during such a difficult meeting.

“How could this have happened?” she asked when Mr. Howell had finished explaining what he’d told her on the phone when he’d reached her at her office earlier—that someone had dug up her father’s coffin last night. “How could anyone have figured out where he was buried?”

Howell rested his elbows on his mahogany desk and clasped long white fingers in front of him. “As I told the gentleman who called me this morning—”

“What gentleman?” Annette demanded.

Madison put a comforting hand on her mother’s arm. “Tye, Mom. I phoned him as soon as Mr. Howell contacted me. I thought he might want to be part of this.”

“Is he coming?” she asked, obviously not pleased that Madison had included him.

“No, he said he has to work.”

“What about his wife? Is she going to be here?”

“Sharon and the kids are visiting her mother in Spokane.”

“Ellis never could count on his boys,” Annette said, her lips compressed in disapproval. She didn’t want Tye or his wife involved, yet she sounded affronted by their lack of support.

Mr. Howell, who’d waited politely through their exchange, cleared his throat. “As I was saying, I have no way of knowing how this happened. There was no headstone or anything else to mark your father’s grave, Ms. Lieberman, just as you requested. Our files are kept private and are always locked up at night. There was no sign of forced entry into the mortuary here, where we keep the files. And it’s been a year since the burial—a year in which we’ve had no hint of trouble.”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” Annette said, her eyes filling with tears. “Why now? What would anyone want with Ellis’s body after all this time?”

“A year’s not so long, Mom,” Madison said before Howell could respond. “Whoever it was wants the same thing we’ve encountered before, to express their anger and contempt for…for what happened.”

“I just want my husband to be able to rest in peace,” her mother said. “Ellis was innocent. He never hurt those women.”

Madison wished her mother’s words didn’t sound so hollow to her. She still wanted to believe them. But the locket she’d discovered under the house yesterday threatened the last of her faith, was leaching away the righteous anger that had sustained her so far. Without a strong conviction that her father was innocent, she had nothing to cling to, except the desire to protect her mother and Brianna from what was, most probably, the truth.

“Of course he was innocent,” Howell said, his tone placating.

Madison was willing to bet Howell believed more in the extra money they’d paid him to keep her father’s burial place a secret than he did in her father’s innocence. Just as she thought the call he’d made to them this morning, and what he might shortly suggest for her father’s reburial, would come with a hefty price tag. They should’ve gone ahead with the cremation Madison had suggested from the first. But her mother wouldn’t hear of it. Annette had never known anyone who’d been cremated. It seemed foreign to her—certainly nothing she was willing to do with her beloved husband’s body.

“Fortunately, our security guard frightened the culprit away before he could open the casket,” Howell added.

Madison rummaged through her purse to get her mother a tissue. Annette didn’t used to cry so easily, but the past twelve years had taken quite a toll. “Why didn’t the security guard catch him sooner?” she asked.

Howell politely turned his attention her way. “As you know, this is a big cemetery, Ms. Lieberman. Anthony, our security guard, circles the entire area several times a night, but he focuses mostly on the outer reaches. We buried your father close to the mortuary here, to throw off the media and anyone who might be looking for a fresh grave. Most folks buried near the mortuary have been dead sixty or seventy years, which means they’re pretty well forgotten.” He propped his fingertips together. “The lights on the building also serve as a deterrent.”

“Did your security guard get a look at this guy?” Madison asked, handing the tissue to her mother.

“Anthony said he was wearing jeans and a blue jacket with a red Chinese dragon on the back, and he looked small, maybe a hundred and sixty pounds. But that’s all he could see. As soon as Anthony started toward him in the security cart, he threw down his shovel and ran off.” Howell bent to one side to cover a small cough. “We gave these details to the police this morning, of course.”

“So this…guy, he—he just unearthed the coffin?” Madison asked, her muscles aching with anxiety. How many other people had to deal with such a parade of unsettling incidents? “That’s it?”

“He made a few pry marks on the coffin, but Anthony came along before he was able to get it open. We could have reburied your father easily enough, but I thought I’d better check with you and your mother to see if you’d like him moved now that…well, now that the media and everyone else seem to have taken a renewed interest.”

“The media? How did the media find out?” Annette asked, her eyes wide with panic.

Howell unclasped his hands. “They must’ve heard the call go out when Anthony phoned the police.”

Madison was still thinking about the guy in the Chinese dragon jacket. “So the police are looking for whoever did this?”

“We’ve made a report, as I said. Technically, there’s a chance this… disturbance would be classified as a felony. Individual plots are personal property. But…” he hesitated, and this time his glance seemed to hold real compassion “…if you want the truth, Ms. Lieberman, I can’t imagine the police will waste much time chasing down the crazy guy who did this when they’re already so overworked and understaffed. I think you and your mother would be better off to simply move the coffin and put this unfortunate incident behind you.”

Along with everything else, Madison thought bitterly. Only nothing from the past ever seemed to stay there.

C ALEB STOOD AT THE ENTRANCE to Susan’s bedroom Monday evening, surveying the clothes littering the floor, the perfume bottles and makeup strewn across the dresser, and her unmade bed. The place smelled like the expensive perfume so typical of Susan, which brought her back to him more clearly than he’d remembered her so far, and caused worry to claw at his gut. She hadn’t been seen for a week, since last Monday. Where could she be?

Crossing to the dresser, he smoothed out a crinkled piece of paper to see that it was only a quick thank-you from a friend at work, then rifled through some change. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Anything, really. Anything that might lead him to Susan.

Holly hovered behind him. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Why aren’t you checking for pry marks on the window or something?”

He caught his ex-wife’s eye in the mirror. It felt strange to be inside Susan’s apartment with everything so quiet, so motionless. Even when Susan wasn’t around, her dogs had always been here, barking and wagging a welcome. Now Holly had the schnauzers at her place, and other than a few visits from police, the apartment had been shut up. “I’m sure the detectives have done all that.”

“So?”

“I’m focusing on my personal knowledge of Susan’s behavior and habits.”

“Which means…”

“I’m trying to figure out what she might have been wearing and doing the night she disappeared. When I talked to Detective Lynch a few minutes ago, he said you were the last person to see her on Monday afternoon. But she wasn’t reported missing until Wednesday, when she didn’t show up for work. That’s a lot of time to change clothes.”

Holly rearranged the slew of bottles and cosmetics on the dresser, putting them in some semblance of order. “There’s no way to tell what she was wearing. For all we know, she was abducted in the middle of the night dressed in a pair of boxers and a T-shirt.”

“I doubt she was taken from here.”

Holly gave up on the mess and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Just because there was no forced entry? Maybe someone came to the door,” she said. “Maybe she knew who it was so she opened up. She might have even left with him. Detective Lynch seems to believe that’s most likely what happened.”

“Except that her car’s gone,” Caleb said.

Holly shrugged. “She and whoever she was with could have used her car.”

“Susan wouldn’t have wanted to drive if she had a man at the door with his own transportation. This was a woman who spent every dime she had on clothes and makeup and—” He indicated the perfumes, body lotions, mascara and eye shadow that covered almost every horizontal surface “—judging by the looks of this place, that hasn’t changed over the past two years.”

Holly pulled her hair into a ponytail. “I still don’t think we can figure out what she was wearing. When I saw her on Monday, she was telling me about some hot new outfit she was going to buy. How are we supposed to place her in something we might never have seen?”

Caleb turned to study the room again, taking in the pajama bottoms draped over a chair, and noticing underwear on the floor near the bathroom. “Maybe we can’t. But to me it looks like she took a shower, got dressed up and left for an evening out.”

Holly frowned at his assessment and toyed with the hem of her turtleneck sweater. “What makes you say that?”

“I can still smell perfume in the air, as if she sprayed it last thing, and those panties look as though she just stepped out of them. If she was expecting someone, she would’ve at least tossed the underwear in the hamper, don’t you think?”

“Susan was never much of a clean freak.”

Caleb crossed to the closet, which was crammed full of blouses, slacks, suits, dresses, jackets, jeans and sweaters. There were even a few wigs and hairpieces on the shelf above. “Knowing Susan, she’d be anxious to wear the new clothes she told you about. Did she describe them to you?”

“Of course, but I wasn’t really listening. She’s always telling me about some new shade of eye shadow or clothes bargain.”

He fingered a black sweater with faux fur at the wrists and collar. “Have you looked through her closet for anything with the tags still on it?”

“I haven’t looked specifically for tags, but I know there are a few new things.”

“Where are they?”

Holly started examining clothes at the back of the closet, but Caleb stopped her.

“Forget it,” he said. “She wouldn’t shove a hot new outfit all the way to the back. If she’s got any new clothes that far back, she’s never found an occasion to wear them, and they’ve probably been there for some time.”

“So now what?”

“Maybe we could call Nordstrom to see what she’s purchased lately. She’d probably put it on her charge card, wouldn’t she?”

Holly didn’t seem hopeful. “Except that her charge card’s been maxed out since her first two weeks at work.”

Of course. He hadn’t taken Susan’s spending habits into account. Still, there had to be some way to figure out what she’d bought and whether or not she was wearing it….

Caleb took another turn around the room, thinking. She would’ve carried her purchase inside from the car, possibly tried it on, admired herself in the mirror and cut off the tags.

The tags…

Moving to the small garbage can on the other side of the nightstand, he found a crumpled Nordstrom bag with two tags inside. “Bingo,” he said.

Holly took the tags from him. “What’s so exciting about these?”

“We can use the SKU numbers to find out what Susan bought. Maybe she was wearing it when she went missing.”

“What if she wasn’t?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “We have to start somewhere. Susan always liked the unique and ultra-trendy. Maybe she was wearing an outfit that really stood out.”

Holly smiled up at him. “I knew I was right to have you come out here, Caleb.”

“Slow down, Holly. We don’t even know if this means anything.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to help me,” she said, and he hoped to God she was right.

C ALEB GOT HIS WISH —at least in one regard. The short, worn-looking denim skirt and leopard-print halter top the Nordstrom saleswoman draped across the counter thirty minutes later was certainly conspicuous. He doubted that scrap of fabric the saleswoman called a skirt would cover much, but he had more to worry about than Susan’s general lack of modesty.

“You’re positive these items match the tags?” he asked.

“Check for yourself,” the saleswoman—Deborah, according to her badge—held them up for comparison.

“Did you see anything like this in her apartment?” he asked Holly.

“No. I’ve never seen a halter top like this before in my life,” she told him. “And I’d definitely remember it.”

“I know Susan bought this because I sold it to her,” Deborah insisted. “Just last week. She comes up here from cosmetics all the time or—” she looked slightly abashed “—she used to, anyway. And it was on clearance, so she got a great deal.”

A great deal? Caleb touched the flimsy material. “Would someone really wear something like this in mid-September?” he asked. “Seattle doesn’t exactly have beach weather.”

“She was going clubbing,” Deborah volunteered, trying to be helpful. “And it’s so hot in those places. Especially when you’re dancing, you know?”

Caleb knew all about clubs, but not because he’d visited one recently. He’d quickly grown tired of them after his divorce.

“It’s too much of a long shot,” Holly said. “Let’s go.”

She started for the door, but Caleb pulled her back. “Not so fast. It’s better than nothing. I say we take a picture and add it to the flyers, just in case.”

Holly studied the outfit with a critical eye, then sighed and shrugged. “If you say so.”

“We’ll take it,” he told Deborah.

While he was paying for it, Holly looped her arm through his the way she used to while they were married. “This is just like old times,” she murmured.

Caleb carefully extricated himself. “I’m not going to be in Seattle long,” he said, and was determined to make sure she remembered that.

M ADISON WAS EXHAUSTED by the time she returned home, but she felt a definite sense of relief the moment she drove off the Mukilteo-Clinton Ferry, which had brought her across Puget Sound from the mainland. After the unwelcome media attention she’d received during the past twelve years, and the crushing disappointment she’d experienced for her daughter’s sake when Danny announced he was leaving her, she’d wanted to relocate as far from Seattle as possible. Start over. Forget. Or go into hiding until she was strong enough to face the world again.

But her divorce agreement stipulated that she couldn’t move more than two hours away from Danny, who had joint custody of Brianna and lived on Mercer Island. And she felt too much responsibility toward her mother to leave without a backward glance. Annette was talking more favorably about moving than ever before, but she was still set in her ways and didn’t want to go very far from the city where she’d been born and raised.

Whidbey became the compromise Madison had been searching for. With the island’s sandy, saltwater beaches, damp, green woods, towering bluffs and spectacular views of Puget Sound and the Cascade Mountains, it felt remote. Yet it was still basically a suburb, with eateries and fast food, gas stations and convenience stores. And it was…familiar.

“Brianna!” Madison called as she let herself into the small cottage she’d used her divorce settlement to buy, along with her new business, the South Whidbey Realty Company. Located just off Maxwelton Beach, tucked into a stand of thick pine trees, the house itself reminded Madison of something from a Thomas Kinkade painting—romantic to the point of being whimsical. Built of redbrick and almost completely covered in ivy, the house was more than fifty years old. But it had always been well-loved and well-maintained, and the previous owners had done a fabulous job with the garden. The garage, which was detached, resembled an old carriage house and had been converted some years ago into a sort of minicottage.

“Hey? Where’s my girl?” she called again, putting her briefcase next to the hall tree.

This time the television went off and Brianna came running, clutching Elizabeth, her stuffed rabbit, in one arm. “Mommy, you’re home!”

“Yes, sweetie, I’m home.” Madison gave her daughter a tight squeeze. “I’m sorry I had to be away. Grandma needed me. And then I had to swing by the office to pick up all the paperwork I didn’t get around to today.”

“Why couldn’t I go with you to see Grandma? She loves it when I come to visit. And Elizabeth misses her.”

“You and Elizabeth see her at least once a week, kiddo, and you weren’t out of school yet,” Madison said. But she wouldn’t have taken Brianna to the Sunset Funeral Home and Memorial Park even if she’d been available. Madison tried to shield her daughter as much as possible from the taint of her grandfather’s legacy.

Joanna Stapley appeared behind Brianna, toting a backpack. “Your timing’s good,” she said. “I just finished my homework.”

“Perfect.” Madison gave her a grateful smile and dug through her purse for the money to pay her. “Did anyone call while I was gone?”

“You had an ad call on the rental place.”

“An ad call?” Brianna echoed. “What’s an ad call?”

Madison shook her head. Her daughter was only six years old, but nothing slipped past her. “I’m trying to rent out the carriage house. Did the caller leave her name?” she asked Joanna.

“It was a he.”

“Oh.” For safety reasons, Madison had been hoping for a female tenant. But at this point, she knew she’d take anyone with good credit and solid references.

“What does it mean to rent out the carriage house?” Brianna asked.

“It means someone else will live there,” Madison said.

“Why?”

To help her financially. When she’d purchased the house and her business, she’d planned for the eight months it would take her to learn what she needed to know and get her broker’s license. But she hadn’t expected business to be so slow once she actually took over. And she’d already lost her top agent, which meant she was down to three. It wasn’t going to be easy to survive if the real estate market didn’t pick up.

“Because it might be fun to have some company once in a while, don’t you think?” she said to Brianna, even though company was really the last thing Madison wanted. She’d dealt with enough curious strangers to last her a lifetime.

Brianna scrunched up her face as though she wasn’t quite sure about company, either, but Madison was more interested in what Joanna had to say. Danny had made some comments that led her to believe he and Leslie might sue for custody of Brianna again. Madison wanted to be ready for him. She needed to save what little money she had left from the divorce for a good attorney.

“Did he leave his name and number?” she asked.

Joanna frowned as she tried to remember. “Dwight…Sanderson, I think. His number’s on the fridge.”

“Good. I’m having trouble finding a tenant. Everyone wants to come for a visit, but the ferry can take as long as two hours, so we’re not exactly in a prime location for people who work on the mainland.”

“This guy definitely sounds interested.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. If you need me again, just call my cell.” The door slammed behind Joanna, then Madison heard the distinctive rattle of her Volkswagen bug as she pulled out of the drive.

“Dwight Sanderson,” Madison mumbled to herself, heading straight to the kitchen.

“I don’t want a man to live in the carriage house, Mommy,” Brianna complained, trailing after her. “That’s where you draw, and me and Elizabeth play.”

“It’s nice to have the extra room, but we can do without it,” she replied.

“Daddy said we live in a closet.”

Daddy doesn’t know everything, Madison wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. “Our house isn’t as big as his, but I like it here, don’t you?”

Brianna nodded enthusiastically. “This is a cottage for princesses.”

Hearing her own words come back at her from the day they’d moved in, Madison smiled. “Right. And we’re princesses, so it’s ideal.”

“Will the man who moves in be a prince?” she asked.

Madison stared down at the Post-it note Joanna had stuck on the fridge, and thought about her father, her two half brothers and her ex-husband. She hadn’t met very many princes in her life. She was beginning to believe they didn’t exist.

“I doubt it,” she said, and picked up the phone.