With Every Breath (8 page)

peering at you out of the shadows, don’t be alarmed. It’s probably him."

Maddie looked at her sharply, coming back to the conversation. "Is he dangerous?"

Dolores laughed fully. "Oh, no. Do you remember the Wizard of Oz?"

Maddie flushed. "Of course."

A kindly look passed over Dolores’s face. "I was just thinking of the lion who went to see the Wizard." Suddenly Maddie understood. "The cowardly one." "That’s right. That’s our Hector. He’s on the police force, can you imagine?"

"Now that
makes me feel safer." She thought of Joe Gallen again. In spite of the anger that seemed to run right beneath the surface of him—or maybe because of it—it did make her feel safe to know that he was standing guard over the island.

"Well, come along here," Dolores said. "This one was your room."

She pushed open one of the doors to the left. The bedroom was small and pretty, done in yellow ruffles and gingham. The furniture was white.

"Did it look like this then?" Maddie asked, because, once again, she felt no recognition.

"Do you know, I don’t rightly remember how I had it done up then. It was a long time ago."

Maddie took a deep breath. "Good."

"Pardon me?"

"Then it’s not just me."

Dolores laughed again. "No, I guess not. The kittens are in my room, over here."

She ushered her out of the yellow-and-white room, to the big bedroom on the other side. The last of the litter were in a small box tucked behind the radiator. Josh made a strangled sound and moved toward them, look-

ing back at Maddie as though for confirmation that it was okay to touch them.

Her heart thrummed. He’d made a sound. In that moment, Leslie Mendehlson’s stock went up dramatically in her estimation.

"That’s why we’re here, honey," she told him, struggling to keep the joy out of her voice and failing. She didn’t want to pressure him with her own heartfelt need for him to be whole again. "You can have one. Pick the one you like."

"He’s like you were, is that it?" Dolores asked.

Maddie stiffened. She wondered why she felt such a fierce need to keep people from knowing what was happening to Josh. It was going to come out sooner or later, especially on nosy Candle Island. It was the guilt again, she realized. Because there on Candle, people would remember what had happened to her and blame her for the fact that it was happening to Josh.

"Poor little thing." Dolores bustled over to him without waiting for an answer. "That one. honey? Yes, he’s friendly, isn’t he?"

Maddie followed her. Josh had definitely made his selection. It was a tiny black-and-white male, and he was clutching it to his chest.

"Do you have a name for him?" she asked deliberately.

Josh stared at her almost accusingly. For a moment, a heartbreaking moment, Maddie thought he was actually going to put the kitten back rather than have to speak a name for him. He’d rather do without the kitten, she realized, than leave his quiet, safe place. But then his arms tightened protectively around the animal.

Maddie breathed again. "What do I owe you?" she asked Dolores Carlson.

"A good home, and the promise that you won’t dump him in the marshes when you leave here."

Maddie’s eyes went wide. "Of course not!"

Dolores shook her head. "We get a lot of artists here in the summer now. They come to paint and whatnot while the weather is good. You’d be surprised at how many adopt a pet while they're here, then just take off and go home, leaving the poor animal to fend for itself as best it can. That’s how I end up with so many of them."

Maddie winced. "Well, that won’t happen with us." Dolores smiled. "Cookies, Josh? I’ve got some downstairs."

They went back to the kitchen. Maddie was shocked when she looked at her watch an hour later and realized how much time had passed. Though she didn’t remember Dolores, she nonetheless learned to appreciate her kindness in a hurry.

The woman told her about several of the islanders, but she was tight-lipped when it came to Gina and Joe Gallen. She said only that they were a "tragedy." Maddie was marginally annoyed with herself for even asking.

They were back at the front door, the kitten in a cardboard box that Dolores had rustled out of the garage, before Maddie decided there was one more thing she wanted to know. "Dolores ..."

"Doe," she said promptly. "Please. Everyone just calls me Aunt Doe."

Maddie nodded slowly. "Doe, then." She had a problem with the "aunt" bit. She’d always been slow and careful about getting too cozy with people.

"You said I stayed here with you until Aunt Susan came for me," she prompted.

Dolores nodded. "That’s exactly right."

"Where did I live . . . before then? I mean, when I was with my parents? Is that house still around here somewhere? I’d like to see it."

For the first time Doe Carlson looked visibly upset Her big face flushed. "I thought you knew."

Maddie’s heart began hammering hard again. "Knew what?"

"You’re in it, honey. You rented it, or at least that’s what I heard. That nasty Cassie Diehl put you right back there in your old house."

Joe Gallen roamed the narrow aisles of the library until he found the nonfiction section relegated to art. He thought that the almost-girlfriend in Jonesport had mentioned something about Madeline Brogan having published a book of her work. But maybe she was wrong, he realized, or maybe it hadn’t been widely distributed. There wasn’t anything on the shelves.

He heard a footstep behind him and turned around. It was Flannery Reed, the librarian.

She had been another almost-girlfriend in those dark, bitter years right after Gina. Flannery, too, had finally given up all hope of getting him to settle down.

Now there, Joe thought, is an interesting euphemism. Not so much the settling part, but the bit about settling down . . . sinking, he thought, into some kind of fiery, unbearable hell. Even if you climbed your way out again, there was no way you were going to emerge from such a place without scars.

He had mentioned that theory to Flannery once. From the look on her face, she still hadn’t forgiven him for it.

She flicked her long, strawberry blond hair back over her shoulder. "Going scholarly on us, Joe?"

"No." He looked back at the shelves again.

"Did you want something in particular?"

"One of Madeline Brogan’s books."

Flannery’s face stiffened. She no longer looked pretty when he glanced back at her.

"They’re all out," she said flatly.

"Out?" |oe felt a kick of interest. "You mean, somebody checked them all out?"

"That’s right."

"How many of them were there?"

"Three."

"Who has them?"

Flannery tossed her hair again and turned her back on him to return to the desk. "We don’t give out that kind of information, Chief."

"You do now," Joe snapped, annoyed with her. Jesus, he wondered, why did everyone on Candle feel like they had to play games? Were they that unconscionably bored with their lives?

"It’s police business," he went on, following her, "and I don’t feel like waiting two weeks until somebody gets around to returning them. So tell me who’s got them so I can go track them down."

Flannery didn’t answer until she was seated. "You know, Joe, it’s probably a real good thing your folks are gone south. Your ma would tan your hide if she could hear how rude you got."

He watched Flannery with a cold expression and waited. She finally gave a huffy sigh.

"Your wife’s got one."

"Ex-wife," he said shortly.

"And old Angus took one. We’ll probably never see that one again, and if we do, God only knows what condition it’ll be in."

Actually, that surprised Joe more than Gina’s acquisition of the book. If there was a new female on the island, Gina would be the first to take full stock of the competition—whether it was real or imagined. But Angus?

"Are there words in them?" he asked. "Or just her pictures?"

Flannery’s face colored. Joe realized she had never bothered to look at the book herself. She didn’t know.

"Never mind. Who else?" He sure as hell wasn’t going to seek out Gina, not for this or for anything else. As for Angus, he didn’t relish the thought of trooping on foot to the center of The Wick to try to find him and get his copy.

"Hector Marks."

That wasn’t surprising, Joe thought. His wife would be haranguing him to get a copy while he was out and about.

"You want the waiting list, too?" Flannery asked.

"Yeah, give it to me."

"
Please."

"Can it. I’m busy, and I’m not in the mood." Her face reddened again at his curt tone. This time she dug into her file. She scribbled a few names on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

Harry Reiter? If there was anyone on the island who kept more to himself than Joe did, it was the ferry operator, Joe thought. He had houses both on Candle and on the mainland. Most folks didn’t even really consider him to be an islander.

Mildred Diehl—no surprise there, Joe decided. And Tony Macari. That raised his brow a little. He was someone else who wasn’t really an islander, although he owned a considerable chunk of The Wick, and a piece or two of the big island as well. And Leslie Mendehlson, which was no surprise at all.

"Look up the publisher for me, would you?"

"The publisher?"

"The company who put out the book."

"I know what a publisher is. I just can’t imagine what you’d want with them."

"Not your business, is it?"

Flannery gave him a withering look and went to the card file. "Here," she said, pulling out three cards. "Write it down yourself."

Joe caught them as she thrust them at him. One fluttered to the floor.

He’d thought the library had three copies of the same book, but as it turned out, Maddie Brogan had done three different collections. He decided suddenly that he wanted all of them. And he didn’t want to rent them from the library. He wanted to keep them on hand until Maddie left the island or this whole business of her memory caught fire, whichever came first.

He left the library without thanking Flannery, and only realized that he hadn’t done so after he was back in the Pathfinder.

Chapter 6

Maddie hit the brakes of the Volvo hard when she came up on the small lot in front of Welcome Realty. She was livid. Why? She couldn’t understand why would Cassie Diehl would do such a thing without telling her. Joe had implied that she was malicious. So had Dolores. But this, she thought, made no sense.

"Come on," she snapped at Josh. Then she bit her lip. "I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’m mad at somebody else."

She waited a heartbeat, but of course he made no response. This time his silence just made her gut burn more.

They went into the office. When Maddie pushed the door open, its bell jingled wildly. A woman she hadn’t met yet was seated at the desk that Cassie had occupied yesterday.

"Where’s Cassie Diehl?" she demanded, and realized again, belatedly, that she was being rude.

The woman scowled prettily. She was middle-aged, neat, and well dressed, though Maddie thought she’d overdone the pink a little, all the way down to her shoes.

"She took a break to do an errand," she answered. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Maddie thought about it. "Maybe. Who are you?" "Karen Eagan. I’m the Realtor here."

Maddie nodded. Good, she thought. She’d go straight to the top. "She rented me my house. I’m Madeline Brogan."

"Ah. Yes, I know."

And that was all it took to make her furious again. "Well, of course you do. Tell me, is there anyone around here who doesn’t know who I am?"

"I doubt it," Karen answered honestly.

Maddie’s jaw dropped. Her temper finally fizzled. "She rented me my own house," she repeated, incredulous. "Why? Why would she do that?"

Understanding dawned on Karen’s face. "Oh. You mean . . . yes, of course you do. I’m sorry, I only realized it after the fact, after she’d already done it." She stood up and came around the desk toward her, ready to do damage control. "I really do apologize. Cassie is ..." She trailed off, obviously deciding not to get into what Cassie Diehl was or wasn’t. "I certainly understand if you’re uncomfortable living there. I’ll do whatever it takes to move you, of course, at Welcome’s expense."

Maddie shook her head. "What does she have against me? I don’t even know her."

Karen looked nonplussed. "Well, actually, you do. I mean, you went to school with her, right?"

Oh, Jesus, Maddie thought.

"But in all honesty," Karen went on, "I don’t think that has anything to do with it at all. Cassie was just playing games. I’m sure. She’s really harmless enough. As I said, I’ll move you if it’s a problem."

For the first time, Maddie really thought about it. She wasn’t uncomfortable there. She didn’t particularly like the dingy kitchen, but it wasn’t as though demons were launching themselves at her from every comer.

And that was what bothered her.

She had lived there. For years. And she could state unequivocally that the cottage didn’t seem familiar to her at all.

Nor did Cassie.

Nausea moved in her stomach. She sank down slowly onto the gray velour sofa.

"I..." She trailed off, feeling uncertain and miserable. "It doesn’t matter, I guess. But I wonder—am I paying rent to myself?" Cassie wouldn’t go that far, would she?

Karen looked startled. "No! No, of course not. The house was sold several years after you left the island. In fact, we handled the sale. One of the homeowners on the west side of The Wick purchased it when we began attracting some interest from the wealthier mainlanders. His name is Tony Macari."

"So where did the money go?"

Karen stared at her dumbly. "Well, seven years had passed. Your parents had been declared dead by then. I imagine the funds from the sale went into their estate." Maddie was glad she was sitting down. "Their estate?" And that, theoretically, should have gone to her. So presumably she had a trust fund or some such thing. Why hadn’t Aunt Susan ever told her this?

She had a screaming headache.

"In fact," Karen went on, rambling, obviously nervous, "every time one of those old houses comes up for sale, Tony Macari grabs it. My guess is that sooner or later he’ll own all the east side of The Wick, too, and he’ll get rid of those old eyesores—" She caught herself.

"It’s okay," Maddie said. "Compared to the houses on the west side, I guess they are eyesores." She stood again, unsteadily.

"Well, for now, he owns your house, and numbers one hundred and seventy and one hundred and ninety-two as well," Karen replied. "And one hundred and ninety-two is empty. I could probably move you right up the road."

"No. I’ll . . . uh, I’ll stay. It’s only for three months." She would definitely stay, Maddie decided suddenly.

She had come back believing that it was perfectly normal for her not to remember anything under the circumstances. She hadn’t come back to touch her roots, but given the fact that Cassie Diehl had dumped them right at her feet, she was damned well going to take a glance at them.

She was going to figure out why she didn’t remember anything.

She left Welcome Realty without another word, her stride long. Josh racing after her. And that was when she realized that as upset as she had been, she had not stuttered once. She had not tripped over one single word.