Dead Giveaway (19 page)

Evidently, he'd decided he couldn't. Which set Allie's cop instincts buzzing. Clay had too many secrets. They frightened her. For him.

"We can never be completely honest with each other, can we?" she asked earnestly.

He took his eyes off the road long enough to stare across the seat at her. "That depends on what you want."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do."

Was he acknowledging that he felt a spark between them, the same spark she felt? That the truth, once known, would stand in the way of what they both secretly wanted? She could've asked for clarification, but he wasn't a man who spelled out his feelings. And she was too confused about her own emotions to press him on his. So she let him drive the rest of the way in silence.

As they neared her parents' property, Allie couldn't help glancing nervously at the clock. It was only six-fifteen. She should arrive before Whitney woke up for school, which usually didn't happen until seven. But Allie's father was likely pacing the floor, waiting. Or maybe he'd gone to the guesthouse looking for her.

Fortunately, when Clay pulled down the back road, the guesthouse looked as empty and 86

Brenda Novak

dark as they'd left it. If Dale was awake, he'd be expecting Allie at the main house. "I don't think we should see each other again," she said as she grabbed hold of the door handle.

"Neither do I."

His quick, decisive rejoinder caused a painful jab. But Allie was determined not to show her disappointment. "Right. So we agree."

She opened the door, but he caught hold of her jacket before her feet could touch the ground.

"What is it?" she asked.

He cursed under his breath but didn't release her.

"What?" she said again.

"When are we going back?"

Allie didn't ask where. He was referring to the cabin. They'd acknowledged what they thought they should do; now they were addressing what they
wanted
to do.

"I'm on graveyard all week," she said.

She could tell he believed she was turning him down.

With a nod, he let her go.

"But Friday would work," she added, lingering of her own volition.

His eyes fastened on hers. Agreeing to see him again confirmed that she wanted to be with him enough to go against her better judgment.

"We're at the part where you say okay," she told him when he didn't respond.

He nodded, looking somber. "Okay. I'll pick you up here."

Allie knew she'd be crazy to nurture the romantic feelings she was beginning to have for Clay Montgomery. And yet the temptation to return to her father's fishing shack, to spend another evening with him, was too enticing to resist. She'd stop seeing Clay after next weekend. One more outing would be okay. He didn't want her sexually, she told herself, or he would've made a move when they'd shared the bed. He needed company, a friend.

"Same time?" she asked, her heart beating wildly.

With a nod, he said, "I'll bring the food," and, as soon as she'd grabbed her picnic basket out of the back, he drove away.

"Dale's furious," Clay's mother said over the phone, her voice a harsh whisper, which indicated she was calling from work.

Clay was squatting near a broken water pipe out on the south forty. When he heard this, he put the lid on the special cement he'd been using, and stood. "About what?" he said, but he didn't need to ask. Dale had obviously found out that he'd been with Allie last night. If Clay were Dale, he'd be furious, too. He wouldn't want his daughter dating someone in Clay's position.

But Chief McCormick had at least one reason to be grateful, Clay thought. A lot more could've happened at the cabin than did. Clay had never exercised so much self-control when he held a woman that close. He'd never had to. The girls he dated started climbing all over him almost at hello. Yet last night, he'd shared a bed with Allie, felt her pliant body curl into his, breathed in the scent of her clean hair and soft skin--and hadn't so much as brushed his lips across her neck.

Knowing she was too good for him, but having her completely available to him, was one of the most bittersweet experiences of his life.

And, like the stupid glutton for punishment he was, he'd asked for more of the same kind of torture next weekend.

"You
know
what," his mother said.

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Brenda Novak

"Do I need to remind you that seeing Allie was your idea?" Clay pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped the dust from his face.

"I've changed my mind. I--I didn't know how much it'd upset--" her voice dropped again

"--you-know-who."

"Your lover. Who's married." Clay laughed without humor. "Doesn't it bother you that he can sleep with you while demanding that your unmarried son stay away from his unmarried daughter?"

"It bothers me," she admitted. "But it's not that he doesn't like you."

"Right," he said, but she ignored the sarcastic interruption.

"It's that he's extra protective of Allie. She's his baby. He doesn't want to see her hurt again."

"She's only a year younger than I am. Why's he treating her like a kid?"

"I just told you. He doesn't want her to get hurt again. She has a child now, Clay. She needs to find a good father for Whitney."

Clay winced. "And that excludes me?"

"It's not as if you've had many long-term relationships," she said. "What woman have you dated more than a handful of times?"

"What woman that I've dated would you want me to marry?" he countered.

"None of them. You tend to like a woman who has a bust measurement larger than her IQ.

But Allie's different."

He chose the women he chose on purpose. So there was no danger of wanting more than he could have. So he wasn't callously breaking the heart of one innocent woman after another while trying to fulfill his own needs. But he wasn't about to explain that to Irene. "I don't like what's happening to you," he said instead.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're not yourself. This relationship is clouding your judgment, making you do things you ordinarily wouldn't."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. And besides that, it's dangerous."

"For who?"

"For all of us, but especially Grace. She has the most to lose."

Irene made no response.

"Are you even listening?" he asked.

"Grace isn't the only one who wants to be loved, Clay."

He knew that from personal experience. But he still had to protect his sister. And standing by while his mother had an affair with the chief of police wasn't the way to do it. "Find someone else," he said. "Someone who's free to love you back."

"Stop it," she said. "I don't want to hear any more."

"Listen to me!"

"No, I won't! What's wrong, Clay? Why do you hate it so much that I'm finally happy?" she asked. "Just because you're determined to be miserable for the rest of your life, you want me to be miserable, too? Is that it?"

Clay's chest grew tight. "Is that what you think?"

"Yes!" she said and hung up.

But she called right back, and this time she was crying. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair and I know it. It's just...I love him so much, and he says he loves me, but I can't ever really have him, can 88

Brenda Novak

I? There's no way to make it work."

"No," he admitted.

She sniffed and gulped for air. "So what do I do?"

"The only thing you can do, Mom. Cut it off as soon as possible and then do your best to survive the bleeding."

Allie was supposed to be sleeping while Whitney was in school, but instead she was staring at her picture of Clay. Madeline had left her several messages. Clay's stepsister wanted to talk about the case, present some ideas and leads she thought Allie should follow up on. But Allie didn't particularly want to talk to her. She was losing enthusiasm for the case and knew she'd have trouble hiding it. For the first time in her life, she honestly believed there might be some truth to that old cliche about letting sleeping dogs lie.

Not returning Maddy's call wouldn't help, though. Her cell phone rang
again
, and caller ID

indicated Clay's stepsister's name. Knowing Madeline would only keep calling if she didn't pick up, Allie hit the Talk button. "Hello?"

"How's it going?"

"Good, you?"

"I'm great."

She didn't sound so great. She sounded as if she was forcing herself to be cheerful when she was really just eager--eager for answers Allie didn't have.

"You finished going through the files yet?"

"Almost."

"Anything stand out?"

Nothing Madeline would want to hear. But to fill the silence, and pretend she was still moving forward, she mentioned that she'd questioned Jed.

"Did he say anything new?"

"Not really."

Allie could feel the other woman's disappointment, which made her want to ask her next question very carefully. She had no idea whether the torn program at Jed's house meant anything.

He was odd enough that he might've kept it simply because Eliza had given him a kind word now and then. And Maddy's mother had to be a painful subject for her. "Do you know if your mother and Jed were ever friends?" she asked, putting a little lift in her voice to make the question sound as casual as possible.

"
Friends?
I don't think I'd say that. But I was only ten when...when she died, so maybe they knew each other better than I realized."

"You don't remember ever seeing him at the house?"

"No...but he helped us out when our car stalled once. I remember him towing us back to his shop and giving me a quarter for a Pepsi. And there was the time he got scarlet fever. He refused to go to the hospital. My mother helped nurse him so he could stay at home. But she was always doing that kind of stuff for people...Why?"

"I'm just trying to figure out why he quit coming to church. I wondered if they might've had a falling-out."

"Oh, no. No one ever had a falling-out with my mother. She was..." She seemed aware that her admiration for her mother was breaking through the anger that usually kept all mention of Eliza at bay. "She didn't have any enemies," she finished.

"Right. I didn't think so."

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"Who are you going to talk to next?" Maddy asked.

Allie held Clay's picture a little closer. "I don't know," she said. "I spoke to Bonnie Ray but she just repeated what was in the files. And we're pretty busy at the station."

Silence.

"I'll make a list of other people to interview, though, okay?" she added.

There was another pause, as if Madeline wanted to ask
"When?"
But she didn't. "Great.

Okay. I know it's hard to get it all done."

Especially when your heart isn't in it
. Allie sighed. "That's it for now, then. I'd better go."

"Allie?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me you won't give up."

Thinking of her rendezvous with Clay, Allie cringed. "Maddy..."

"I know, you'll do your best," she said and disconnected.

Over the next few days, Clay worked even harder than usual. He rebuilt fences, added soil amendments to the fields, and started to relandscape the front yard, all in an effort to keep himself too busy to think about Allie. But it was no good. On Tuesday night, his mother came over and told him she'd broken off her relationship with Chief McCormick. From her abject despair, he knew it was the truth, and was glad, especially for Grace. With the baby due in less than a week, she didn't need her world to fall apart. But Clay felt hypocritical telling his mother she'd made the right decision when, by seeing Allie, he was asking for the same kind of dilemma. He and Irene were both reaching for someone they couldn't have.

Cut it off as soon as possible, and then do your best to survive the bleeding.

He should be taking his own advice. Sooner rather than later. But he didn't attempt to contact Allie until Thursday night, after he'd already gone to bed, when he couldn't put it off any longer. Since he didn't have her cell number, he had to call the police station while she was at work.

"Stillwater Police Department. Officer McCormick."

Glad she'd answered the phone herself, Clay muted the television, shoved his pillows behind his back and sat up. "It's Clay."

"What's going on?" She sounded pleased to hear from him, which made him even more reluctant to cancel their plans for the following night.

"Nothing much."

"No late-night trips to Let the Good Times Roll?"

"Not tonight."

"The farm's looking nice. I couldn't help noticing when I was out there," she said.

"Thanks. How's your father treating you?" After his mother had told him how unhappy Dale was, Clay had worried that Allie's father might take his displeasure out on Allie. He'd wanted to call her just to see, but he knew he couldn't do anything about it, anyway.

"He's been in a bad mood all week," she said.

"Who told him you were with me?"

"I did. We weren't doing anything wrong. I didn't see any reason to lie."

She wasn't ashamed of being with him, and that made Clay feel better. He didn't want the fact that they'd gone out to cause problems for her, but neither did he want to be her guilty secret.

"What did he say?"

"He said I'd ruin my future and that I had to think about Whitney. That was about it. To be 90

Brenda Novak

honest, he didn't say as much as I thought he would. He seems a little...preoccupied these days."

"With what?"

"I'm not sure. I'm actually worried about him."

Had Irene's decision made more of an impact on Dale than Clay had expected? Was that the reason for his preoccupation? "Why?"

"He hasn't really been himself since I got back."

"From the cabin?"

"From Chicago. But this week he's been worse than usual."

A trickle of unease made Clay kick off his blankets and get out of bed so he could wander over to the window. "In what way?"

"Gruffer. Highly irritable. I don't know what's bugging him. Danny's noticed it, too, when he's talked to Dad on the phone."