Cold Feet

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.”