Page 90 of Somewhere Without You
Winston snarled, his hackles raised as he crept down the stairs, one careful step at a time. I followed, the candlestick still clutched in my hand like it would be enough to save me.
A low creak bled through the silence. Whoever was down here wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore.
I paused at the base of the stairs. Books had been swept from the shelves. Picture frames lay face down or shattered. The armchair had been knocked over, one leg snapped clean off. The glow I’d seen from upstairs came from the lamp in the corner, now lying on its side, casting warped shadows across the room.
Next to it, the coffee table lay overturned, its splintered legs jutting out like broken limbs. Below the mantle, Gran’s urn was on its side, porcelain cracked, her ashes spilled like dark, fine sand across the faded rug.
Then I saw it. A single muddy footprint near the open door—too small to be Jackson’s.
Someone else was here.
Winston lunged forward with a bark, and a figure stepped from the shadows.
“Call him off,”came a soft, birdlike voice.
I froze, dropping the candlestick to the floor.“Madeline?”
She stepped into the low light and I blinked, unsure if my eyes were playing tricks on me. But it was her.
Madeline moved closer, and I sucked in a breath. In her right hand, was a gun. . . and it was leveled at Winston.
“Now, or I’ll shoot!”
“Winston,”I said, my voice trembling.“Go.”
He glanced back at me, confused.
“Now!”I barked, jerking my head toward the stairs.
Startled by the sharpness in my voice, he turned and bolted, claws scraping the floor as he bounded up the steps. A moment later, the sound of his paws faded.
Madeline jerked the gun toward the couch.“Sit,”she ordered.
I obeyed without argument.
“What the hell are you doing here?”I asked, panic threading through my voice.
But she didn’t answer me, not right away.
A flash of lightning illuminated the room, and for a fleeting second, I saw her clearly. This wasn’t the composed, polished woman I’d seen last week. That Madeline had perfect hair, flawless makeup, and a tight, practiced smile.
This one looked hollowed out. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her crystal eyes, and a bone-deep restlessness clung to her shoulders.
She continued pacing in front of me, gun still raised.“You shouldn’t have come back,”she said, her voice brittle.“You should’ve stayed in California. None of this would’ve happened if you’d just stayed away.”Finally, she stopped pacing, her wild eyes snapping to mine.“Why did you come back?”
My gaze drifted to Grans urn, my heart breaking at the sight of her ashes scattered like dust across the floor.
“My grandmother died,”I whispered.“You know that.”
Madeline let out a sharp laugh.“No, no, no,”she said, shaking her head.“I did a little digging on you, Emily Hart. Or should I say. . .Emily Bishop.”
It wasn’t exactly a secret that I was married, but the way she said it sent a shot of panic through my chest.
“How’s that husband of yours anyway?”she asked, her voice laced with venom.“Or do you even know? Since you’ve been so busy playing house withmine.”
My eyes widened. Lightning flared again, followed by a crack of thunder that rattled the windows. In the flash, I saw her hands trembling, the gun wavering ever so slightly.
“You really thought I didn’t know about you and Logan?” she said, tilting her head with a cold smile. “Sneaking around behind my back like a couple of cowards.”
