Chapter 43
I didn’t sleep. I didn’t dream. I didn’t cry out for Caleb when the loneliness was unbearable or when the shadows scared me. I’m giving him time to think about the case, about me. And it is excruciating.
Yesterday I peeked out the peephole of the door at least a hundred times, and each time found Caleb in a different position of despair. Or maybe he was constipated. It’s hard to tell through those miniature windows. But after he delivered me some of the best food and treats I’ve ever had, he never knocked on my door again. He sat out there, furiously typing and hitting his phone like that was the only way he knew how to fix things. Now, it’s 9 a.m. and I’m eagerly waiting for him to come over, to say something, anything really. I need human interaction like I need the blood in my veins. Or maybe I need him.
But I can be patient while he figures himself out. Okay, I can pretend to be patient, for a little longer.
There’s a knock on the door and I jump, dropping my curling iron to the bathroom floor. It singes my right leg on the way down and I scream.
“Amelia?” Caleb’s concerned yell is the only warning before he rushes into my bathroom. “What’s wrong?” He looks me over, and I do the same to him. Forget the burn on my leg, he looks absolutely delectable in his black shirt and cargo pants, badge on the hip, and gun in a holster.
“Amelia?” he asks again.
I focus my wandering eyes on his concerned ones. “I’m fine. Just dropped the curling iron.”
“On your leg?” He points to the angry red spot on my upper thigh, below the ragged edge of my cut-off shorts.
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
He doesn’t say anything before he turns from the bathroom. A moment later, I hear my bedroom door click shut.
I frown at my reflection in the mirror. The girl frowning back at me still has some hope in that man and I want to tell her to forget it. He likes running awa—
The door to my room beeps and Caleb comes striding back in with something in his hand.
He drops to his knees on the hard tile and opens a small tube of…is that burn cream?
“Caleb?”
“Yes?”
“Where did you find burn cream in under twenty seconds?”
“My room. It was in my go bag,” he says as if that makes all the sense in the world. He squeezes a generous drop on his finger and gently rubs it on the angry red welt. His other hand cups the back of my thigh and the entire right side of my body is at risk of being paralyzed like this forever. He rubs the cream until it disappears into my skin, so he gets another dab.
“Do you think that will suffice?” I ask, unable to stop my heart from racing at his tenderness.
He flashes me a smirk. “Only until the next time, menace.”
I try to knee him but he holds my leg tight. “Danger finds me.”
His smile fades. “I wish it didn’t.” He releases my leg and puts the tube on the vanity, then turns from the bathroom again.
I unplug the curling iron and follow him. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Besides pretending yesterday didn’t happen. “Another stakeout?”
He clears his throat and rakes a hand through his hair. “Actually, I came to tell you I’m leaving.”
“Let me grab my purse.” I move to the dresser, but Caleb catches my wrist.
“Amelia.” His voice is off, and I go still. “You’re staying here.”
My back is to him and I’m grateful for it. I don’t want him to see how much his constant rejection hurts.
“Why? Where are you going?”
His chest brushes my back and I want to cave into him. I want to believe that every time I fall he will hold me up, that he’s going to stick around.
“I can’t tell you that.”
I force a laugh and spin around. “I don’t know why I asked.”
He clenches his jaw. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“Doing nothing hurts just as much as doing something.”
His eyes drop and he scoots back a step. “I told you I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“Yeah, you keep saying those words, but I don’t believe them. I wish you didn’t either.” I take the step he put between us.
He sighs, and I feel his exhaustion in my soul.
“At least tell me this,” I say, standing taller. “So I can stop going crazy guessing over here, tell me if this thing between us is real? Tell me that if you could do this, that maybe you would?”
I hate how desperate my voice sounds.
He opens his mouth, I’m sure to protest.
“Please, Caleb. Please just tell me if I”m the problem.”
He lifts his hand to my cheek, gently brushing away a stray hair.
I cave into his touch, wanting so much more.
“It would be so much easier if it were,” he whispers. His hand slides around the back of my head and he presses his lips to my forehead.
My body combusts under the heat of his touch. It’s such a gentle kiss, but it flips the world upside down. It gives me hope.
He pulls back, his eyes intent on mine. “Can we talk when I get back?”
I can only nod. I’m ready to talk now, but I’ll give him the time he needs.
He drops his hold on me. “Don’t leave, okay?” He grabs the notepad from the desk and jots down his number, since I don’t currently have it memorized, then leaves it by the phone.
“Is someone else coming to watch me?” I ask.
His eyes darken. “No one gets to watch you but me.”
“Is that how it is?” I bite my bottom lip.
“That’s how it is,” he whispers, stalking back over to me.
“In that case, can you say it again but in a sexy accent?” I grin.
“No one gets to—” he starts, but I immediately cut him off.
“You call that sexy? What was that?”
“It was clearly Jamaican.” He slips his hands around my waist and brushes his rough cheek against mine.
“That was not clear.” I giggle as he continues to tickle my cheek.
He presses a tender kiss below my ear, but before I can turn my head to purchase another showing he releases me, backing toward the door. “I promise we’ll talk. Without the accents.”
“I can’t wait.”
Caleb pulls open the door but turns back to look at me one last time. “An agent is coming by the way.”
Little liar. “I promise not to fall for him.”
His eyes darken, for only a moment. “You better not.”
And then he’s gone. The door closes between us, and I sink back against it. For exactly sixty seconds I allow myself to do a happy dance. Complete with a disco move and a toe touch, and then a fall to the floor because I’m not a child and can’t do toe touches anymore.
It doesn’t curb my sunshine though. I throw open the curtains to let more light in, but it’s dark and rainy. Of all the sunny days in Arizona, Mother Nature had to rain on this one.
For the next hour, I manage to distract myself by organizing the room. But when everything is clean, my brain feels messy, and can’t figure out how else to occupy my time.
I settle on the bed and try to distract myself with an episode of Psych. It doesn’t work. Maybe because I know how it ends. Once you’ve experienced a real mystery, it’s hard to go back to the fake stuff.
I end up falling asleep on the couch for a couple of hours and wake up to room service I didn’t order with a note from Caleb reminding me to stay put.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but for him, I decide to stick it out. He never told me how long he’d be gone but it won’t be all day, right?
I glance at the clock. It’s barely one and it’s been storming outside like crazy. It’s nearly black outside and the rain hasn’t slowed once. This is the longest day of my life. I need someone to talk to.
I reach for the phone to call Connor or Maddie but there is a blinking red light next to the voicemail button.
I lift up the receiver and push the button.
“Hey, Amelia, it’s Leah.”
My chest tightens. Why did she call me?
“I was thinking about how to get your box open and I might have the perfect solution to get rid of the rust. There’s something else.” I hear a door shut and imagine her going to the color room for privacy. Her voice turns to a whisper. “I remembered something about that night, and I need to talk to you. It’s important. I’ll be done with my last client at two. Meet me at the salon. I gotta go. I’ll see you then.”
She remembered something about the night Justin was murdered?
I sit on the bed, then pop right back up to pace the room.
In all the chaos, I completely forgot about my grandmother’s jewelry box.
Wait. I blink repeatedly, trying to clear my brain. The key to the safety deposit box holding the jewelry box was tucked in a package with a hideous painting. The same painting Liam stole from the museum. What if he wasn’t after the painting, but the key?
Does he want the jewelry box?
I believed it was my grandmother’s based on that one memory, but I don’t have any actual proof that it was hers. And I don’t recall ever seeing or hearing about it before then. That has to be what Liam is after.
I have to tell Caleb. I grab the little notepad he left near the phone with his number on it. Is that last number a six or a five? I dial it with a five and wait. It rings and rings. But no one answers. The automated answering machine pops up. That’s so Caleb, to leave the basic voicemail there. I leave my message, but to be safe I call the other variation of the number as well. That one goes straight to voicemail too and I leave the same message: “Hey Caleb, I need to meet Leah at the salon at two. I think I know what Liam is after. Meet me here when you get this message.” I try both numbers two more times hoping he will answer one, but don’t get a response.
I think back to the way his hands trembled when he held me yesterday after I met with Leah, the fear in his voice. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to be like his dad, someone he can’t trust. I sit on the edge of my bed, studying the silent phone for a half hour, waiting.
Why isn’t he calling me back? What if he doesn’t get back until it’s too late? What if Liam finds the box before I can? Any hope of giving it to Caleb to use as a trap would be dashed. And what does Leah need to tell me? What if it’s something big?
What if Caleb’s in danger and that’s why he’s not answering? I can’t sit here any longer. I’ll be safe at the salon with Leah, and I’ll be back before he even has time to respond to the message.
Before I leave I write a quick message on the notepad next to the phone in case he makes it back before me.
It will be fine. I’ll take the agent outside with me.
I pull on my favorite Nike sneakers and head out the door and…there’s no agent. I look up and down the hall. He was here. I saw him through the peephole and talked to him about his sweet wife Clara when I got my food from room service.
I pace the hall. Where did he go?
I glance at my phone. I have fifteen minutes. I have to go.