Dead Giveaway (22 page)

She still suspected he was the one who'd driven by the farm the other day, when she was peeking in the window of Barker's old office. If he hadn't followed her, it was an odd coincidence that they'd been heading in the same direction. And Allie was always suspicious of a coincidence.

He was such an unusual man. What was he doing with that picture of Eliza Barker? she wondered for the millionth time.

"I, uh, I spoke with your brother." Portenski was talking to Grace again, but the fact that he'd lowered his voice to almost a whisper caught Allie's notice.

"I'm afraid I might have given you the wrong idea with what I said the last time we talked,"

he murmured.

Allie had to strain to hear him, but Grace spoke more loudly.

"It's fine," she said. "No need to mention it."

It seemed obvious that Clay's sister didn't want to address the issue, but the reverend was intent on saying what he'd come to say. "I want you to know I'm sorry. For everything."

Grace fidgeted nervously, and Allie did her best to look preoccupied. "You have nothing to 100

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be sorry for," Grace said.

He seemed relieved by her response. "Thank you." He gave Heath the money he owed for his purchases and started to leave, but Grace surprised Allie by calling him back. "Reverend Portenski?"

"Yes?" he said, a trifle too hopefully.

"You can help me by helping my brother."

Portenski must have understood what she meant, because he didn't ask
how
he could help Clay. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Then he nodded and got back in his car.

Allie handed her shopping basket to Heath. "I'm ready."

He added up the cost, gave her a total, and she withdrew twenty-five dollars from her purse.

"Come again," he said.

She accepted her change. "I will."

Grace turned away, expecting her to walk off, but Allie stood where she was. "Grace?"

Grace was putting labels on more bottles of peaches. "Yes?"

"I'd like to talk with you."

Any warmth that had been in her pretty, blue eyes when Allie drove up had long since fled.

"About what?"

"I want to help your brother, too."

Silence. Then, "How do you propose to do that?"

"At this point, I'm not sure," Allie admitted. "That's why I'm coming to you."

"What can I do? I've already told you everything I know about the night my stepfather went missing."

The slam of a car door broke Allie's concentration. Jed had parked in front of her Camry and was approaching the stand.

"You've heard about Beth Ann's claims," Allie said quickly.

"She's lying."

"I know that and you know that, but we have to prove it."

"What can I get for you this week, Mr. Fowler?" Teddy asked, rushing over to meet him.

Allie sensed Fowler and the boy coming up behind her, and instinctively shifted to put more distance between them. But she didn't turn to look at Jed again. And he didn't answer Teddy.

He merely handed the boy a jar of peaches and a sweet-potato pie, along with the exact change.

When Teddy began to whisper excitedly to his brother about how busy they were, and how much money they were making, Allie assumed Jed was on his way back to his truck and forgot all about him in favor of appealing to Grace. If there was a way to reach her, to enlist her support, it was through her love for Clay. Allie felt certain of it. In the past, Grace and Clay might have had their differences, but they'd always maintained a unified front.

"What do you say?" she asked. "Will you sit down with me? Answer a few questions I've never had the chance to ask?"

"I don't know," Grace said, her eyes troubled. "I don't see what that'll change. We've already been over it."

Allie wanted to tell Grace that the Vincellis had friends in high places who were trying to strong-arm her father into pressing charges. But she hesitated to go that far. Grace was too close to the end of her pregnancy. Allie hoped to solve the Barker disappearance, but she didn't want to throw Grace into an early labor or spoil the excitement she had to be feeling about the baby. "Will 101

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you think about it?"

Grace nodded, and Allie reached out to touch her arm. "Trust me, I'm on your side," she whispered earnestly, then nearly ran into Jed Fowler when she started to leave.

"Excuse me," she murmured. Irritated that Jed seemed to be lurking around every corner, she got in her car and drove away.

Allie reached the cabin much later than she'd hoped. A semi pulling two trailers full of dirt had overturned on the highway ahead of her, causing a traffic jam that lasted more than two hours.

And then it had started to rain. By the time she arrived, it was pouring and completely dark.

"Just my luck," she muttered, staring miserably at the fat drops pelting her windshield. She was tempted to turn around and go back. She didn't really want to be out here alone so late at night.

And she definitely didn't want to find what she was looking for.

But she'd already made the drive. It didn't make sense to give up before she'd even gotten out.

Grabbing her small dinner and the plate of brownies, she made a dash for the door. But she hesitated once she stood under the small overhang, staring at the dark cabin. She felt jittery, afraid, because she hadn't been able to answer the questions she'd been asking herself the entire drive: What if my father
is
seeing someone else? Would I tell my mother? Confront him? Or keep his dirty secret? What would be best for both my parents?

Despite her father's bluster, Allie loved him as much as she did Evelyn. But she wasn't sure how she'd feel toward him if she caught him cheating. To her, the fact that he was a cop made the situation that much worse. She expected more from a police officer. She didn't want to lose respect for the man she'd always admired.

"Please, don't let me down," she whispered. Then she took a deep breath, retrieved the key from under the mat and went inside.

The place smelled like Clay. Allie couldn't believe it. It'd been a whole week, and yet she could still detect his cologne. Or maybe she was only imagining that she could pick up his scent because she wished he was with her.

She scanned the room. Nothing that said "adultery" jumped out at her, even now that she was looking with a critical eye. But her father wouldn't leave evidence of a clandestine affair lying around where anyone could find it, would he?

She had to search for the small, insignificant details he might have overlooked.

Clay flipped through the channels on the television, trying to distract himself. Allie was probably at the cabin already, searching for proof of her father's infidelity. Whether or not she'd find it, he couldn't guess. He hadn't seen anything suspicious. But he hadn't checked the drawers, under the bed, the bookcase or cupboards. There was no telling what small thing his mother might have left behind. And if Allie found anything to fuel her suspicions, it'd only be a matter of time before she reached the truth.

Unless his mother could remain strong and stay away from Dale. Then there might be a chance.

But Clay didn't have much hope of that. He'd spoken to Irene earlier. "I'm fifty-one years old, and my life is more than half over. What else do I have to look forward to?" she'd wailed.

"Why am I denying myself?"

He'd tried to remind her. He'd also invited her to the farm, so she'd have company, but she'd declined. He would've gone to her place and kept watch over her, except he didn't believe that, 102

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ultimately, it would make any difference. If Irene was going to see Dale, she'd just arrange a meeting after he left. He couldn't stand guard on her around the clock.

Besides, he was agitated and torn himself. He couldn't stop thinking about Allie up at that cabin alone, discovering that her father was sleeping with his mother.

He shook his head. Allie would hate him by association. She might even guess that he'd known all along and wonder if he'd been secretly laughing at her.

The possibility that she might feel he'd betrayed her bothered him. But he didn't owe her anything. He had to protect his family from the people of Stillwater, including the police,
including
Allie
. She was a cop.

And yet--he blew out a long sigh and changed the channel--and yet he wanted to shield her from the hurt she'd suffer as a result of learning the truth.

Flipping off the television, he stood. If she was going to find proof of her father's affair she'd have it by now. He'd drive there, console her if necessary, see that she made it safely home.

But if she
hadn't
found anything, they'd be in the same situation as last weekend, alone together, with only a nineteen-year-old secret to keep them apart--a secret that was all too easy to forget when he felt her beside him.

Muttering a curse, he forced himself to sit back down. He wasn't going anywhere. Allie wasn't his concern. He couldn't care about her and his family, too. Loving one would only betray the other.

Allie pointed her flashlight under the bed, then lifted the mattress. She was looking for sex toys, cast-off lingerie or lipstick-smeared shirts. But she found nothing.

She went through the bookcase, searching for pictures or notes or pornography. Nothing there, either.

She pulled everything out of the cupboard, checking for champagne or the presence of foods her father didn't like or wouldn't eat. She looked everywhere else she could think of--but once again came up empty-handed.

Standing in the center of the room, she turned slowly around, wondering if she'd missed anything. But she couldn't imagine what. One room, without much furniture, didn't give her father a lot of hiding places. Besides, he wasn't even aware that she suspected him, so she doubted he'd get too creative.

And that meant she'd been wrong.

Feeling a tremendous surge of relief, she laughed out loud. So what if her father was drinking out of a teddy bear mug? So what if she'd found the number of a florist on his Rolodex or a tube of lipstick in his car? She didn't care--because it didn't mean anything. He wasn't having an affair, or there'd be proof of it here at the cabin. She felt certain of it. Where else would he find the privacy an affair required? He couldn't meet his lover anyplace in town. He'd be instantly recognized.

Hunger pangs reminded Allie that she hadn't had dinner yet. Throwing another log on the fire she'd built for light as much as heat, she left the kerosene lamp burning, grabbed a flashlight, some soap and a towel and went to the outhouse before heading down to the river to wash her hands. It was still raining outside, but she didn't mind getting wet. She wasn't going to stay at the cabin much longer. She'd eat, then drive home, where she'd give her father a heartfelt hug and revel in the knowledge that her mother's life wasn't about to be destroyed.

The sound of shattering glass brought Allie's head up. There were a few other cabins in the area, but she didn't know exactly where and they were pretty spread out. She was fairly sure the 103

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noise had originated from her own place.

Dropping the soap and towel, she ran up the bank to the cabin, careful to turn off her flashlight and hang back out of sight as she approached it. But the window wasn't even cracked.

She could see the glimmer of the fire through the glass. So...

A rustling in the woods not far away sent her pulse racing. Was it a small animal of some sort? "Is someone there?" she called, just in case.

No one answered.

She stepped out of the woods, her flashlight held low to the ground. But as she examined the clearing, she realized that someone had broken her car window. The rock that had been used to smash it was lying a few feet away.

Stunned, she crouched down for cover and searched the clearing again. But she could see no one, hear nothing except the soft beat of rain. Whoever had used that rock seemed to be gone, so she hurried over to check the damage. Why would anyone--

"Oh, God," she whispered. Slipping her hand gingerly through the jagged hole to unlock the car and open the door, she began to feel underneath the seat. Her gun was missing. Someone had stolen her Glock.

"Shit." Automatically, she reached for the portable radio she carried almost everywhere.

But whoever had stolen her gun had taken the radio, too.

How had someone stumbled upon her car in this remote location and in the middle of a storm? Where had that person come from? And, more important than anything--at least at this moment--where had he gone?

Using the door for protection, Allie moved her flashlight in a wide arc. Who'd done this?

She couldn't see anything but trees.

Too bad she hadn't brought her squad car. That might have discouraged the theft. But she never took it outside jurisdiction.

She needed to get her cell phone, alert her father, then get the hell out of the woods. She didn't want to be sitting here alone in the middle of a storm while some unknown person was running around with her gun.

Turning off the flashlight, she picked up the closest stick she could find and crept toward the cabin to peer through the open doorway. Empty. A more thorough check revealed that there was no one hiding under the bed or behind the door. But her purse, which she'd left on the table, was gone, too--and with it her cell phone and car keys. In its place, next to the plate of brownies she'd bought from Grace, was a rain-soaked note.

The paper nearly fell apart as she unfolded it, but she managed to make out the blurry words that appeared to have been typed on a computer.

Leave the past alone, or Barker won't be the only person missing.

104

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12

R
ain pounded on the roof of the cabin as Allie huddled by the fire. She'd covered the window with a blanket so she couldn't be seen from outside and shoved the bookshelves in front of the door. It wasn't a perfect plan, but without a car or any way to call for assistance, she couldn't do much more. Except hope that the dry wood lasted until morning, and that the offender who'd paid her a visit was gone for good.