Shame

RANG THE doorbell.
    She knew this was crazy, but she had to see for herself, had to know whether this man was Gray Parker’s son.
    Wild goose chase, Elizabeth told herself. Waste of time. Caleb had to be in his thirties. Someone that age didn’t suddenly become a serial murderer. They almost always started killing at a much younger age.
    But still, palmed in her right hand was a pepper spray canister. And in her purse she had her gun.
    The door opened. Involuntarily she whispered, “My God.” There was no question. Caleb Parker had his father’s dark hair, blue eyes, and handsome features. This man was the picture of Gray Parker. Looking at him brought on a feeling of vertigo.
    “Are you all right?” Caleb asked.
    Without taking her eyes off his face, she managed to nod. Caleb was sure he had never seen this woman before, but she stared at him as if he was familiar to her, as if she knew him.
    “May I help you?” Caleb asked.
    The woman didn’t answer immediately. She was well dressed, her tailored clothing fitting her tall, thin frame nicely. She had highlighted red hair, wide blue eyes, and skin translucent enough to reveal blue veins. Her age was difficult to gauge.She was blessed with the sort of timeless good looks that left him wondering whether she was closer to thirty or fifty.
    “I came to ask a question,” she said, “but I don’t need to ask it now.”
    Her scrutiny unnerved Caleb. This was the start of it, he knew. She wasn’t the police, but he had this feeling she was something just as bad. He wanted to slam the door on her but didn’t dare. The dining room was just off the kitchen, within sight of the front door, and though his children were paying no attention to the visitor, Caleb saw Anna throw him a questioning glance. He stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. Though they stood in the semi-darkness, Caleb kept his eyes averted from the visitor’s, knowing that she was still staring at him. He didn’t ask her what she wanted. She would tell him in her own time, tell him things he didn’t want to hear.
    “Is that your family?” she asked.
    Still looking away from her, he nodded.
    “My name is Elizabeth Line,” she said.
    It was almost enough to make him look at her. He realized who she was. It gave him a momentary surge of anger. This woman had done enough damage to his life. How dare she just appear on his doorstep?
    “I have nothing to say to you,” he said.
    “I take it by your refusal that you’re familiar with my writing.”
    He finally looked at her. “I’m aware of your
reputation
,” he said, “not your writing. I’ve never read
any
of your books.”
    “You sound pleased about that.”
    “It’s just the way things are.”
    “Your father always used that phrase.”
    Caleb’s face tightened up, and his hands clenched in fists. Elizabeth took an involuntary step backward and brought her right hand up, ready to spray him. But he wasn’t advancing on her, and he didn’t notice her defensive posture.
    His head was lowered, his arms held stiffly at his sides. He looked like an embarrassed little boy. “I am not my father,” Caleb whispered.
    The door opened, and light penetrated to the front porch. “Cal?” asked Anna.
    “It’s all right,” he said. “Ms. Line came over to discuss a business matter.”
    Anna was a handsome woman, tall with dark brown hair and large hazel eyes, but there was a severity to her. She offered a rigid beauty with her pursed lips and narrowed eyes and set chin. She looked from Caleb to the stranger and then back to her husband again. Something was wrong, Anna knew; something had been bothering Caleb. But as usual, he hadn’t been willing to talk about it.
    “Your dinner’s getting cold,” she said.
    “I’ll be right in,” he said.
    The two women regarded each other. Anna’s glance asked, Are you the reason my husband’s been so upset? What she read in Elizabeth’s face didn’t reassure her. Anna turned on the porch light before closing the door behind her.
    “Are you—” started Elizabeth.
    Caleb interrupted her. “Don’t ask me any questions,” he said. “Not here. Not now.”
    “Where and when, then?”
    “I walk the dog after dinner. You can meet me down the street.”
    It was getting darker by the minute. There were rural spots in the neighborhood, canyons good for dog walking, but places Elizabeth didn’t want to be with this man. There would be nothing to stop him from taking the