Brent couldn’t really have noticed the differences in her in the dark, when she’d been dressed for an evening stroll. But he would. She would make sure of it.
Phoning him, suggesting they meet for coffee, had seemed like a simple plan. All she had to do was get his phone number from his parents—they were in the book, though he wasn’t—and place the call. But even that first step required courage.
When she finally managed to dredge up the fortitude, she dialed, closed her eyes and waited. To her surprise and relief, Brent was the one who answered.
“Hello,” he grumbled as if picking up the receiver had inconvenienced him greatly. In her surprise she didn’t speak right away, and he said hello again in a more pronounced tone of impatience.
“Brent?”
Silence, then, “Maddie.”
He’d recognized her voice. “I… Could you meet me for coffee?”
“Sure. When? Where?” he responded with no hesitation.
She decided on the Java Joint, a coffeehouse not far from the Queen Anne campus, and named a time that evening she felt would be convenient for them both.
“Fine, I’ll see you then.”
His eagerness was a balm that helped ease the ache that had held her heart prisoner all these weeks.
* * *
Brent had arrived ahead of her, and he waved when she entered and glanced around. He’d chosen a booth in the back of the room, and she was grateful for the limited privacy it afforded them.
The coffeehouse was a leftover from the early sixties, when beatniks played bongos and recited poetry. Maddie resisted the urge to snap her fingers and say words like “groovy” whenever she stopped by for a latte.
The walls were black, with brightly colored geometric designs in red, orange, yellow and blue. The counter was decorated with polka dots of different colors and sizes, and the room was filled with the pungent aroma of coffee.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, scooting onto the wooden bench across from him.
Brent stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Maddie?”
“Yes, it’s the new me.” She beamed at him. Her auburn hair was tied at the base of her neck with a yellow ribbon. She wore loose-fitting jeans and a sleeveless blouse. Cotton, white and plain, with an eyelet collar.
His mouth opened and then slowly closed, as if whatever he’d wanted to say had gotten lost somewhere between his mind and his lips.
“I imagine you’re wondering why I suggested we meet,” she began after the waiter, a college student, had taken their order.
He nodded. “I’ll admit to being curious. About that and…other things.” But he appeared patient enough to wait until she explained matters to him in her own time and in her own way.
“I don’t know if you heard or not, but I was dating John Theda in the spring.” With an effort she managed to keep her voice even and reveal none of her feelings. The waiter returned with their order, and she smiled her thanks.
Brent waited until the waiter left before he responded, “I heard you and Theda were an item, or something to that effect.”
“I thought you might have.” This was where it grew difficult. If Brent didn’t believe her, she didn’t know what she would do. “We didn’t exactly date,” she told him. “We always went to out-of-the-way places. His biggest fear was that someone from the school would see us together.”
“I think you should know up front,” Brent said, stopping her. “I’m not much of a John Theda fan.”
She laughed. “Neither am I.”
A heartbeat later he asked, his voice gentle with concern, “Are you pregnant?”
“No!” she cried, angry that he would assume such a thing. After a moment she realized it was a logical conclusion after finding her in a church, clearly troubled. Suddenly his willingness to meet her held greater significance. Even now she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing. She wouldn’t be here with him at all if she hadn’t been so desperate for a friend.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” he said, gesturing for her to continue. “I won’t interrupt again.”
“Do… How comfortable are you with math?”
His gaze searched hers. “Comfortable enough to balance my checkbook.”
His smile caught her off guard, and for a moment, perhaps longer, she was held captive by it. Men often grinned at her, but generally they were looking for something she wasn’t willing to give. Brent’s eyes held warmth and genuine concern. Friendship.
“As it happens,” she said, forcing herself to look away, “I’m quite good with numbers.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“I’m more than good. I’m competent enough to have solved the quadratic quandary.” She waited a moment for that to sink in. Either he believed her or he didn’t. She had no way of proving it. No way of supplying irrefutable evidence that would convince him, the school or anyone else.
He frowned, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His left hand tightened around his coffee cup until his knuckles whitened.
“Yes. It was me who figured out the correct answer, not John.”
“And he claimed the credit.” Brent flexed his right hand as if itching to plow it into the professor’s face.
“You believe me?”
“Yes.” His emphatic reply removed all doubt.
“Why?”
“Why not?” He met her gaze steadily. “You said it, and that’s good enough for me.”
If she ever fell in love again, she thought, it would be with a man who cared this deeply that she’d been wronged. A man whose belief in her didn’t waver.
“That was the reason he…he asked me to marry him. But it was all a ruse. With my head and my heart preoccupied, I paid no attention to anything else. John knew he couldn’t allow a word of ‘his’ accomplishment to get out until after graduation. He counted on my not knowing what I’d done.” She explained the circumstances, how she’d arrived late for the exam and so hadn’t understood the significance of the last problem.
“It isn’t just that he’s taking credit,” she said. “It’s that he used me, hurt me. I’m convinced he never loved me, never intended to marry me. He played me for a fool.” Her voice shook with the fervor of her emotions. “I want him to know what it’s like to be embarrassed in front of one’s peers. I want him to feel the same humiliation I did.”
“And you think I can help?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He didn’t look convinced. “How?”
“You know people. You have connections. Surely if I talked to a detective, he might be able to do something. If nothing more, I’d like to file a complaint.”
“And claim what? That he stole your thought process?”
“He took a lot more than that,” she returned heatedly.
“I’m sorry, Maddie.” He sounded as frustrated as she felt.
“I know.”
“Did you talk to Dean Williams about this?”
“No.” It would do no good, for it would be John’s word against hers, and it went without saying who the dean would choose to believe. “I want him to suffer,” she mused aloud.
“I wish there was something I could do.”
Maybe it had been a mistake to tell Brent, but telling someone else what had happened had eased the tension in her stomach considerably. She’d known for a long time that life was unfair. Not only had John Theda hurt her pride and her heart, he’d stolen her work and claimed it as his own. And now he was responsible for what she was sure would end up as a stomach ulcer.
“Well, I appreciate being able to talk to you about it,” she said. “So in a way you’ve already done something.”
“Who else have you told?”
“No one.”
“No one?” He sounded incredulous. “Why did you choose me?”
The answer to that wasn’t as simple as it sounded. “I’m not sure. Because…well, you seemed approac
hable when we met at the church. Nice.”
“Hey, don’t sound so shocked.”
She laughed softly.
“What made you—” he studied her for a moment “—you know, change…clothes.”
“I didn’t want to be stupid any longer.”
“Stupid?”
“The woman you knew in college was playing a game. I’m through being the bad girl.”
His gaze held hers. “You never fit the part.”
Oh, but she had, Maddie thought. She’d grown comfortable with the role, high on the attention she received. Daring and bold, wild and fun. That was her, willing to try anything once. Twice if it caused a commotion. Three times if a crowd gathered and someone phoned the police.
“I knew otherwise,” he continued, “and that was what troubled me most. I wanted to shake you, demand that you stop and reveal the real you. Let go of the outrageous persona and that hard-edged facade.”
She couldn’t stop staring at him. He’d believed her when she’d laid claim to the unbelievable, and she could offer him no less than her trust. Which meant that what he said was equally true. He’d known. He’d always known.
“So, what about an attorney?” he said now.
She’d thought of that, too. “I’d need the money to pay a retainer, money I don’t have. Besides, I don’t have any proof.”
He closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully. “The guy’s a slimeball.”
“I appreciate you hearing me out, Brent, I really do. It’s helped tremendously.”
“I’m glad. I know it’s going to be difficult for you to let this go.”
“Let it go?” She had no intention of doing that.
His gaze narrowed. “You are letting this go, aren’t you?”
“No way!”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I don’t think I should tell you.”
“Why not?”
She grinned, hope stirring her senses to life once again. “It’s illegal.”
Chapter 3
“I’d be more comfortable if I knew what you were thinking,” Brent said, frowning darkly.
Maddie shook her head. “It’s better that you don’t.”
Despite her protest, he picked up the tab for their coffee and followed her outside. The night was warm, despite the breeze coming off Lake Washington. She had taken the bus to the Java Joint, and now she walked toward the stop to catch one home.
“Maddie!” He was beginning to sound irritated as he caught up with her. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
She giggled, and oh, how good it felt to laugh again! “You don’t know where I live.”
“You can tell me. And you can explain what you’ve got up your sleeve.”
“Really, Brent, it’s best you don’t know.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Putting her hand in the crook of his elbow, he led her across the street to where he’d parked his car, then unlocked the door and helped her inside. Such a gentlemanly thing to do, Maddie thought. The men she’d dated hadn’t been inclined to open the door for her. Not even John.
“Tell me what you’re thinking of doing,” he demanded once he was in the driver’s seat. He put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it.
“I’m going to break into John’s house and find my test paper.”
His hands folded around the steering wheel, and he glared straight ahead. “You’re right, I don’t want to hear that.”
“I won’t involve you.”
“Maddie, this is craziness. Pure craziness. You could get thrown in jail for a stunt like that.”
“I know.” It was incredible how good she felt now that she had a plan of action. It felt as if the heaviest of burdens had been lifted from her shoulders. For weeks she’d wallowed in self-pity, moping around, crying about how she’d been misused and abused. Well, no longer. She would find a way to prove John was a thief and worse. Even if that meant risking jail time.
“Maddie—”
She interrupted him. “Don’t try to talk me out of this. I’m serious. I’m going to find that test paper. John must have it somewhere. I know him.”
“He’d be a fool to keep it.”
“My point exactly. John Theda is a fool.” Brent didn’t understand. The least she could do was try to prove her case. She would never be able to live with herself if she stood by and did nothing, which was what had made her so miserable until now.
“When do you plan to do this?” he asked, heaving a huge sigh of resignation.
“Tonight,” she returned, giving no thought to the matter. Why not? She’d waited this long, and now that the decision was made she could see no reason to delay it. As for her odds of locating that test paper, she hadn’t a clue. More than likely Brent was right, but she had to discover that for herself.
“How are you going to get there?” he asked, starting the ignition.
“Bus.” It was the only means of transportation available to her.
He turned and stared at her. “You’re going to take Seattle Transit to commit a felony?”
“That’s what I said.”
He wiped his hand down his face. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
She giggled, feeling almost giddy with happiness.
“What if he’s home?” Brent asked, as if this hadn’t occurred to her.
“On Thursday night? Nope, I know him. He’s with his card-playing buddies, unless, of course, it’s his turn to host.”
Brent pounded his forehead against the steering wheel. “You can’t do this.”
“I don’t have any choice.”
He exhaled a deep breath as if he’d reached an important decision. “Then I’m coming with you.”
Now it was her turn to be concerned. “Oh, no,” she said, and shook her head. “No way.”
“You can’t stop me any more than I can stop you.” His grin was wide, triumphant and sly. The kind of grin that demanded a response.
“But—”
“Turnabout is fair play,” he said. “If you’re going to risk your future on something so incredibly—”
“You’ll stay in the car?” she demanded, cutting him off. Yes, there were risks, she knew that, but she didn’t dare look too closely at them or she would talk herself out of it, which she didn’t want to do. Although she put up a fuss, she was pleased that Brent would be there, for moral support if nothing else.
He backed out of his parking space, then finally answered, “Probably.”
“Probably? Not good enough. You have to promise. Give me your word that you’ll stay completely out of sight. Otherwise I’ll do it alone some other time without telling you.”
From the intense color his eyes turned and the ferocity with which he pulled out onto the road, she knew he wasn’t keen on the alternative. Good. If he was caught with her or anywhere close to her, his career with the police academy would be over. She didn’t need that on her conscience.
“All right, I’ll stay in the car and wait.”
“Give me your word,” she prompted.
“On my word,” he said. His promise seemed to lack sincerity, and she was tempted to challenge him further, but she had other matters to consider, including whether John Theda was home or not.
She borrowed Brent’s cell, on the theory that John wouldn’t recognize the number if he was home and checked caller ID, and called his house. The answering machine clicked on after four rings and, without bothering to listen to the message, she replaced the receiver. Smiling triumphantly, she gave Brent a thumbs-up. He looked almost disappointed.
As they approached John’s neighborhood, she had second thoughts about involving Brent. She tried to talk him into simply dropping her off. If he drove away now and she was caught and arrested, no one could accuse him of aiding and abetting. Even if he was seen, all he would need to do was claim he was unaware of her intentions. No one would doubt him. He was the son of a preacher, and his word was good as gold.
Brent, however,
would have none of it. He was not going to leave her on her own.
He parked half a block up the street from John’s rental house, where he could keep it in full view. He kept the engine running.
“John’s car is missing,” Maddie said. She started to open the car door, but Brent stopped her by grabbing hold of her arm.
“Could it be in the garage?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It could, but I doubt it, seeing that the garage-door opener has needed a new battery from the moment I met him. It isn’t likely he’s changed it now.” Not when he was going to be moving within the next couple of weeks.
He continued to grip her forearm. “How do you plan to get inside?”
That seemed a silly question. “The key.”
“You have a key?” he asked incredulously.
“Well, not exactly, but I know where one is.”
His eyes widened even more. “You mean to tell me he keeps a spare key tucked under a flowerpot?”
“No, it’s hidden in a fake rock in his flower bed.” Brent’s fingers loosened enough for her to free her arm. She got out, then bent down to look through the window and offer him a reassuring smile. “Wish me luck.”
“I wish you weren’t doing this.”
“Hey, this is gonna be a piece of cake,” she said, feeling lighthearted in her eagerness to prove how easy this would be. Why, oh, why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? She’d endured weeks of mental turmoil, refusing to seek a solution. Brent’s support had empowered her, and she was grateful.
“Come on, wish me luck,” she said again.
He offered her an all-too-brief smile. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
From experience she should have realized that the thing that looks the easiest often proves to be the most difficult. She walked up the cement pathway to the house, something she’d done a thousand times before. None of John’s neighbors were out or about, and she was grateful. She was sure now that she could nonchalantly slip inside the house without a problem.
It didn’t happen.
First she couldn’t locate the fake rock. Squatting down in the flower bed, she picked up rock after rock, shaking each one. When she’d checked them all, she made a second go-round, this time placing each stone close to her ear, certain she must have overlooked the obvious.