Rachel had always liked working in the darkroom. It was a safe place, an isolated haven where magic happened, and when she was in there she could pretend that outside was sunny and warm.
She picked up the contact sheet and put it in the development bath, watching as the tiny pictures came into focus. People always wondered why she didn’t just use a digital camera, why she chose to immure herself in darkness when she loved the sun. She never bothered to explain. In this tiny section of the world she was in complete control. The rest of the world was crazy, but in here it was black and white.
She took the contact sheet out and hung it on the line she’d strung. Pictures of Silver Mountain, of Sophie and Kristen, their heads together, pictures of her new family.
Stephen Henry, right before his reading and the return of the prodigal son. He looked surprisingly tense, and she realized that he had stage fright. The man who craved the spotlight paid for his addiction with sick nerves.
There was one she’d taken of David when he wasn’t paying attention. It fascinated her. He was looking at something, Rachel couldn’t tell what, and the expression on his face was something she’d never seen. Almost sly. Avid. Needy.
What the hell was he looking at? The photo was taken in the kitchen, and as far as she knew there’d been no one in the house besides the three of them. And Caleb, of course.
So what had put that odd expression on his face, captured when he was unaware, a look she’d never seen again?
She went back to her most recent roll of film. She usually loved times like these, but for some reason she couldn’t get into her Zen-like calm. Not today. Today she didn’t want to shut out the world—she had to keep one part of her attention focused on Sophie in the next room. She needed to hear if someone came into the house and started talking to her. If the phone rang with bad news, if David returned home. She needed to hear if Caleb followed them down the mountain, if he came into the house, and she’d pull him into the darkroom and tell him never to come near them again….
No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t get in any dark, enclosed place with him, because the crazy mixed-up feelings inside her were stupid and wrong and dangerous. It didn’t do any good to deny it, to berate herself. The only way to get past it was to accept it for what it was, and then say no.
She wanted Caleb Middleton. It was that simple, that stupid and self-destructive. She’d spent most of her life blissfully free of emotional or sexual involvements, since they usually ended up being not worth the trouble. With just her and Sophie, traveling the world, she couldn’t afford to take chances, and relationships had been few and far between, and eventually she’d stopped even thinking about it. The first year after Jared had dumped her she’d been too mad to be interested. After that, too caught up in her miraculous daughter. Love and sex were for other people. She’d always thought when Sophie went off to college she’d consider looking around and seeing if she was interested again.
But that was before Tessa had been murdered and David Middleton had come into their lives like a white knight. Safe, sweet, so apple-pie normal and removed from their nomadic, communal-living ways that she grabbed on to him when he first made advances. He was everything their lives weren’t. He was safety. He was salvation.
He was boring.
And she was a shallow, evil bitch to even notice. And even worse, secretly she was responding to his rotten brother’s advances, no matter how much she was “no, no, no” like Amy Winehouse and rehab. Then again, Amy Winehouse really needed to go to rehab, and Caleb was the very last thing Rachel needed in her life.
Smarten up, she told herself, pulling the sheet out of the developer. There was no way she was going to risk the best thing that ever happened in her life for some irrational attraction.
Except David wasn’t the best thing that had happened, Sophie was. And if it hadn’t been for Tessa’s murder, maybe she wouldn’t have jumped into marriage with someone who was practically a stranger at such short notice. It was that damned impulsive streak, the one that made her run off with her teenaged boyfriend, flaunt her asshole father and wander the world. Ironic to think that same impulsive streak had pushed her into settling down sooner than she should have.
Enough. Maybe Caleb was right. Maybe she should just pack Sophie up and head out of town, no matter how much she protested. Just long enough to get her head on straight, long enough for—
The bright light of the opening door momentarily blinded her, and she let out a shriek as a day’s worth of work was instantly destroyed.
“What the f—?” She stopped midword. David was standing there, looking both sheepish and stern, an odd combination. She took a deep, calming breath. “David, the red light was on.”
“This couldn’t wait.”
Oh, shit. He had that professor who doesn’t believe the dog ate my homework voice going, and Rachel inwardly cringed. He couldn’t have known that Caleb kissed her. Or worse, that she’d kissed Caleb.
“I went to the lawyer, since you kept finding excuses. He said you never had him draw up the adoption papers.”
“Can we discuss this somewhere else?” she said, stalling for time. “Let’s have a glass of wine and talk about it.”
He looked at her, his baby-blue eyes flinty with anger. Funny, she couldn’t remember seeing him that angry before. “I take this very seriously, Rachel. You lied to me.”
“No, I didn’t,” she said, lying. Funny, when she’d spent most of her adult life trying to be scrupulously honest, avoiding everything but the gentlest of white lies. “I talked to Blanchard, and I simply told him to hold off for a little while. Until Sophie got more settled.”
“That wasn’t the impression he got.”
“I can’t be responsible for his impressions, David. I can only tell you what I said. This has all been a tremendous upheaval for Sophie, and I didn’t feel she was quite ready for one more huge change. I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you but I thought there was no big hurry. Unless you’re planning to murder me in my sleep so you can get your hands on my daughter.”
“Given the current happenings, I find that joke in very poor taste,” he said stiffly.
“Sometimes you can either laugh or cry.”
“I’d prefer if you’d do neither, particularly in public. Sophie told you she didn’t want me as a father?”
And lie number two. “Of course not! You know she thinks you’re wonderful. This was my decision. I thought things were happening too fast for her. We rushed into this marriage without a whole lot of thought—”
“And you’re regretting it,” he filled in. “Suddenly, when Caleb comes to town, you’re having second thoughts about marrying me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “We rushed into this marriage because we loved each other and I wanted to get Sophie out of San Francisco and you had to come back to Silver Falls, and we didn’t think living together was appropriate given your position at the college and Sophie.” She softened her tone. “We would have gotten married anyway—we just got married sooner. And it wasn’t a bad thing that we did, but there’s reasonable fallout and I want to make Sophie as secure as possible before making any more changes.”
He didn’t look appeased. “One more change isn’t going to make that much difference. Don’t you think knowing she has a father to count on in case anything happened to you would simply increase her sense of security?”
For a moment a stray chill ran across her backbone, distracting her. “Why would anything happen to me?”
“Accidents happen all the time, Rachel,” he said, patiently explaining to an idiot child. “You could get hit by a car while crossing the road, you could choke to death on a piece of pizza. You could even be the random victim of a serial killer. There are no guarantees that anyone is safe from the evil in this world. Everyone, everything dies.”
He was sounding so pompous that her alarm faded. “I’m the wrong physical type for the Northwest Strangler. He likes young, thin blondes, not strapping redheads.”
He looked startled. “The Northwest Strangler?”
“That’s what they’re calling him. Apparently Sophie picked that up in school.”
“That’s ridiculous! Who came up with such a completely unimaginative name? For that matter, why do they think he only works in the Pacific Northwest? I don’t think he should have a pseudonym at all, like Ted Bundy, who you have to admit was the greatest of the serial killers.”
“‘Greatest?’” Rachel echoed, startled.
“At what he did,” he said impatiently. “Don’t play semantics with me, Rachel, you know you’d only lose. When you think of serial killers, what name comes to mind?”
“Jack the Ripper,” she said promptly.
She’d managed to surprise him. “You’re right,” he said, thoughtful. “And of course he was never caught. Maybe having an extra name isn’t such a bad idea. Too bad it’s such a boring one.”
“They don’t know enough about him to give a better description.” Despite the macabre oddness of the conversation at least they weren’t talking about the adoption anymore. “Maybe they could call him the Blonde Murderer. But that might suggest that he’s blonde, not his victims. Have they been able to link any other murders to the same man?”
David shrugged, some of his earlier irritation vanishing. “I gather there might be a connection between the murders of several young women, mostly college students, in Oregon and Western Washington, but as far I know they haven’t figured out anything definitive. Who knows, the killer might have traveled even farther afield.”
“I’d just as soon he would,” Rachel said, her stomach knotting. “Until he’s gone for sure it makes me nervous. Could we stop talking about this? I need to see what we’re going to have for dinner and I don’t want Sophie to see that I’m upset.”
“Certainly. And I’ve taken care of the adoption papers.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have?”
“Blanchard drew up some generic papers for you to look over. You may want to change some provisions—for instance, you may want her to spend time with her biological father, or have your parents have visitation rights if anything happens to you.”
“Jesus, you’re gloomy.”
“Language, Rachel,” he chided gently. “You know how much I hate it when you curse. And I’m just being responsible.”
“And I’m not?”
“I didn’t say that.” He was very patient. “I’m just saying that this is a simple matter that needs attending to, and since you’ve been avoiding it I’ve gone ahead and taken care of it. Just tell me what changes you want Blanchard to make and I’ll tell him. I already assume you want to ensure that Sophie has no contact with my brother. What about your family?”
“You know that my parents have nothing to do with me and prefer their safe little fundamentalist world in Oklahoma where they can concentrate on two obedient children. As for Jared, he died in a plane crash three years ago, still never having even met Sophie.”
“So you see, it’s even more important that Sophie be taken care of,” David said. “I promised Blanchard you’d take a look at it and sign off. Otherwise he’s going to charge us double, and you know how obscenely expensive lawyers are. Unless, for some reason you’ve changed your mind?”
“I haven’t changed my mind, David.” She was getting a headache. “I promise I’ll look at it after dinner. For now could we just stop talking about the papers, about serial killers, about your brother, about anything depressing? And that leaves out the weather as well.”
David smiled his charming smile, the one that had first attracted her, touching her cheek. Caleb had touched her cheek earlier, pushing her hair out of her eyes, and it had been electrifying. David’s touch was soft, affectionate. Safe. And that’s what she wanted. Safe.
“Of course. It’s been a miserably long day for me as well, and I think we both need to relax. We’ll have that glass of wine, and you can tell me what my father had to say when you had lunch with him.”
Shitsticks. “You get the wine,” she said in her sweetest voice. “I’ll start dinner and then come join you.”
He took his dismissal with relatively good grace, putting the papers into her unwilling hands. She wanted to go back into the darkroom and see if there was anything she could salvage. She wanted to rip the adoption papers in half and stomp on them. She wanted to grab Sophie and run like hell, not from the danger Caleb kept warning her about, but from temptation and frustration and sheer boredom.
She headed into the kitchen, grabbing the vegetarian casserole she’d taken from the freezer and putting it in the oven. The details of David’s diet were so complex that she could only face cooking once a week, and she usually spent a whole day concocting all sorts of unsavory things with soy and grains, all thanks to the cookbook David had given her as a wedding present. The one time she’d tried something new he’d protested, even though she’d adhered strictly to his dietary demands. “Too spicy,” he’d said, and she’d ended up tossing it.
Back in San Francisco, when they were dating, she found his regimen charming, and there were enough inventive restaurants in the city that she never noticed how limited her choices were. If she took Sophie and ran away for a few weeks she could eat anything she wanted, without having to worry if the smell of cooking chicken was going to turn a quiet evening into a major event.
But Sophie was right. David had already insisted on coming with her. It would be no escape at all.
Sophie was sitting at her usual spot, in the family room, cross-legged in front of the wide-screen TV, working on her homework while mournful girl singers crooned in the background. Sophie had the ability to study anywhere, and in fact, found dead silence distracting. She had her golden head buried in a book, but a moment later she looked up, sensing her mother’s eyes on her. “Hey,” she said, grinning.
“Hey, baby girl,” she replied, and the knot in her stomach loosened. No matter what mistakes she made, no matter what anyone else did, as long as she had Sophie then things couldn’t be that bad. “Lentils for dinner tonight.”
“Barf. Do I get a frozen dinner?”
“Even better, sweetheart. You get sushi. I had Sakura deliver it before I went into the darkroom. David gets so bothered by the smell of meat cooking that I thought this would be a good compromise.”
“David can…” Sophie stopped herself. “David can eat his lentils, while I get sashimi. Did you get Ahi tuna?”
“Would I neglect your favorite? You’re the only thirteen-year-old I know who loves sushi. Save a piece for me, would you? There is only a certain amount of lentils that a normal person can eat in a week. I can’t imagine how David can survive on them.”
“Well, if he ever flips out and starts hacking people up with an ax he can use the lentil defense. Not as good as the Twinkie defense but it will do. The grains made him do it.”
Rachel laughed. Not even for a moment did she stop and wonder how Sophie knew about the infamous “Twinkie defense murder” in San Francisco so long ago. The depth and breadth of Sophie’s knowledge sometimes astounded her. “I’ll mention it to him if he starts to crack at the seams.”
She expected Sophie to reply with another wise-crack, but her daughter’s grin had faded. “You’ll notice long before that, won’t you, Ma? If anyone starts to get twitchy you’ll see it, right?”
“Don’t let this doom and gloom atmosphere get to you, sweetie. I’m sure the crazy man is halfway to San Diego by now. Or up in Canada. He’s long gone.”
“That’s not what Sheriff Bannister says. Or Caleb. They say there’s bad stuff going on, and to be very, very careful.”
Funny, that was essentially what Stephen Henry had told her, in between his endless self-praise and egocentric reminiscences. And that’s what her instincts told her, those treacherous, irrational instincts that were pushing her in Caleb’s direction.
Her brain knew better. Caleb’s bantering and flirtation were a way to get at his brother, nothing more. It would almost be worth taking him up on his sexual offers just to see the look on his face.
Almost. She pulled the chilled bottle of chardonnay out of the wine cooler. David was waiting for her in his study, looking at something in his drawer when she walked in, and he closed it carefully, locking it.
“Something interesting in there?” she asked, taking the sofa and setting the tray down on the walnut-inlaid table.
“Nothing but confidential student material,” he said easily. “Ridiculous to lock it up in my own house but you know how touchy the lawyers can be about confidentiality. They wouldn’t let me take the records home unless I swore on the grave of my mother that I’d keep them locked at all time.”
“Then you should.” She leaned over to struggle with the wine opener.
“Here, let me do that,” David said, rising from his desk and moving around to the sofa. “It seems as if we’ve had no time together recently. We need to get out more. We could take a weekend, go up north. I know my father would be more than happy to have Sophie stay with him.”
For some reason the idea, which would have seemed like a gift from heaven a week ago, no longer sounded so appealing. “But what about my idea of taking Sophie away? Maybe I could do that first, leaving you some time to visit with your brother.” She ignored his doubtful expression. “Besides, it sounds as if the campus is in turmoil after the murder, and I’m sure you’re needed. What if he strikes again and you’re not here? I think I should just take Sophie away for a bit. You and I could go later.”
David smiled tenderly. “If you go then I’m going, too. I hate to admit it but I’ve really gotten dependent on your presence—it would feel so empty here without you. But there’s no need for you to go anywhere. I don’t think there’s going to be any more problem with the killer. He’s long gone—I sense it in my bones.”
She kept the disbelief from showing in her face. Maybe the killer was gone. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe it. “And just how reliable are your bones?”
He poured her a glass of wine, a little more generous than the one he did for himself. “Sometimes very reliable. They told me you were the woman I’d been waiting for. And they were right about that, weren’t they?”
She wanted to say something flippant, some light, sexual innuendo, but she knew David wouldn’t like it. “Absolutely,” she said, taking a sip of the icy chardonnay. She’d missed having wine with her meals.
And she had to stop mocking David’s diet. Indeed, she respected his refusal to eat or wear things that came from animals—no leather shoes for him, and Caleb’s leather jacket must have been an appalling affront to his sensitive soul. But then, it was quite clear that Caleb’s very existence was an affront to David, no matter how he tried to hide it.
“You’ll sign those papers, won’t you, Rachel?” he said, taking a cautious sip of his wine. He took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back. He had soft, delicate hands—someone who used his intellect for a living, not his body. He had a fair amount of strength in his hands despite his scholarly life, though he never used his strength when they made love. She might have even liked a little more forcefulness….
“We should sleep together tonight,” he said softly, almost reading her mind. “It’s been too long.”
In fact, it was just four days ago that he’d come to her room, but apparently he was going with selective memory, and the least she could do was match it. “I’d like that.”
And then realized, with absolute horror, that that was the third lie she’d told him today.