Dead Giveaway (42 page)

Allie's eyes were riveted on Jed's. "And then he dropped," she finished.

"And then he dropped," Jed echoed.

"You could see him?"

He nodded. "He wasn't moving."

It was beginning to get dark outside, so Allie lit the kerosene lamp. She needed to do something with her hands. She felt so jittery, so rattled. "What happened after that?" she asked as she blew out the match.

"They buried him."

"Where?"

"Behind the barn."

The flicker of the lamp's flame cast moving shadows on the table. "Weren't they afraid you'd see them?"

"They were too afraid of everything else to worry about me, I suppose. They tried to move careful and quiet-like, but..."

"It was too late. You'd already seen what happened."

Another nod.

"Only you didn't let them know."

"Figured we were all safer that way."

"Why do you think they didn't go to the police?"

Jed's expression didn't change. "For the same reason Eliza didn't."

"Grace might've told them about the pictures."

"Who knows if she knew where to find them. And even if they had them..." He clucked his tongue, and Allie knew what he was thinking. Even if they did, they were pictures that would humiliate a thirteen-year-old girl in the worst possible way. Pictures that would require she testify at her mother's trial in a town where she and her family weren't liked in the first place.

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Brenda Novak

"You should've seen Grace that night," he added.

Allie doubted Grace would've been strong enough to go through a trial. And what if they'd lost? What if the court had ruled that Barker wasn't killed in self-defense? What if the prosecutor managed to convince a jury that Irene had murdered her husband because she'd found out what he was doing to her daughter?

Allie couldn't remain sitting any longer. She stood up and circled the room, careful not to look at the bed. Clay's blood was still on the sheets; no one had cleaned up since he was shot. The last few times she'd gone to the cabin, she'd been too busy searching for evidence. "So why are you breaking your silence after so long?" she asked. "Why are you telling
me?
"

Jed's whiskers made a rasping sound against his callused hand. "Because I don't think Clay ever will. And I don't think he'll let Grace tell you, either."

Allie had to agree. Clay was too loyal to his family. And knowing Clay, he'd view it as a burden he wouldn't want her to carry.

"I thought knowing the truth might help you defend him," Jed murmured.

"At least I know what we're up against."

"I had to do something this time. Clay doesn't deserve to spend the rest of his life behind bars."

And Jed didn't need any additional regrets. Allie understood. He'd spoken more words in the past hour than he'd probably ever strung together at one time, which proved how passionate he felt about Eliza and Barker and the Montgomerys. But Allie had one more question. "So why didn't the police find Barker's remains when they searched the farm?" she asked.

Jed shrugged. "They should've. They were searching in the right place."

And that was why Jed had confessed to Barker's murder. Suddenly it all made sense. Jed hadn't tried to confess because he was in love with Irene. He felt responsible because he hadn't stopped Barker when Eliza had told him what Barker was.

What Barker was...Allie shook her head in stunned disbelief. Madeline wanted the truth.

But wasn't a truth like that the worst thing a daughter could ever hear?

195

Brenda Novak

22

"A
laska isn't like any place you've ever seen." Lucas smiled as if Clay and Molly had every reason to smile with him. Their father had been going on about the beauty of his adopted state and his love of flying ever since Molly had invited him in. And he'd been talking as fast and animatedly as Clay remembered, as if Clay had given him some sort of welcome, which he hadn't.

"With a mouth like that, you should've been a used-car salesman," Clay said.

Molly glanced nervously at him. Lucas merely blinked. "What?"

Evidently, Clay's response wasn't one Lucas had been expecting. Clay was a little surprised himself. He'd dreamed of seeing his father ever since Lucas had left them. At first, he'd imagined a happy reunion, a day when his father would finally realize how much he loved his family and return to apologize and make everything better.

But after that summer when Clay and his mother and sisters had subsisted almost entirely on oatmeal and they hadn't even been able to pay the electric bill, Clay's dreams had become far less optimistic. During the Barker years, whenever he thought about meeting up with his father, there was always some degree of violence involved. Usually, Clay threw a single punch that broke the old man's jaw.

Clay was still considering whether or not to make that dream a reality. But Molly seemed more willing to accept him. And his father no longer looked like a worthy adversary, which came as quite a disappointment. Age was taking its toll, and he wasn't nearly as big as Clay remembered.

"What did you say?" Lucas said, referring to Clay's comment.

"Don't mind him," Molly said quickly.

Until that moment, their father had avoided meeting Clay's eyes.

"I said, with a mouth like that, you should've been a used-car salesman."

Lucas chuckled uncomfortably. "Why's that?"

Clay let his gaze drift over the Flying Makes Me Higher Than a Kite T-shirt, blue jeans and brand-new flip-flops his father was wearing. "Because I've never met anyone who fits the stereotype more--all talk and no integrity."

"Clay--" Molly started, but he ignored her, keeping Lucas pinned beneath his unswerving regard.

Their father wiped his forehead as if it was getting too hot in the room. And it was. The humidity was causing beads of sweat to trickle down the middle of Clay's back.

"I deserved that," he said. "You've got every reason to be angry, Clay. I understand--"

"You don't understand anything," Clay interrupted. "What makes you think you can step foot on my property?"

"I came because I wanted to help."

Molly moved closer to Clay. "He just got here," she said softly.

"I don't care." Clay's hands curled into fists in spite of his determination not to swing them.

"We don't need his help. I already did his job." Not that Clay felt he'd managed very well. He'd had so little to work with--not much maturity, very little wisdom and no resources. He'd had to become a man at thirteen. "If he'd never left, Grace wouldn't have been hurt," he pointed out. "We wouldn't even have known Barker."

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Instead, they had to live with their stepfather's remains in the cellar, as well as the terrible memories he'd created.

What a difference Lucas could've made--for everyone.

To his credit, Lucas put up a hand to silence Molly instead of letting her argue for him. And he didn't cower as Clay had expected. "I thought you could use some support," he said.

"
Now?
Where were you when Molly was eight years old? Where were you when Grace--"

Clay's throat constricted at the memory of her ghost-white face. How could Lucas love her and Molly so much less than Clay did? Lucas was their
father
.

And how could Molly talk to Lucas as if he'd done nothing wrong?

Clay couldn't begin to understand, which only made his anger blaze hotter. Swallowing hard, he decided to end the conversation. Lucas didn't deserve a single kind word from Molly. He didn't deserve anything. Their father simply hadn't cared enough. What he'd wanted for himself had mattered more than all of them.

"It's time for you to go," Clay said. "We have nothing to say to you."

Lucas smiled at Molly. "You turned out to be a beautiful woman."

"Shut up," Clay said, disgusted.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come back at...at this late date, Clay," his father said. "But someone called me, a female police officer. She was asking a bunch of questions, and I--" he sighed "--I might've made some mistakes in what I said. I've been worried about that. I didn't want to make the situation worse for you. I--I wanted you to know that if I blew it, it wasn't intentional.

My wife said I should--"

"Your
wife?
" Clay echoed.

"Lorette."

"That's her name?" Molly asked eagerly.

Clay clenched his teeth as Lucas nodded. Lorette. Who was this woman? he wondered.

Whoever she was, she must be something special, something they weren't. "Well, you can tell
Lorette
that it was a nice thought, a kind thought of her to have for complete strangers. But like you said, you shouldn't have come. As far as we're concerned, you don't exist."

Molly said nothing. Clay could feel how torn she was, how difficult she found it to lose her only chance to speak with their father. He'd tried to keep his mouth shut for her sake, had even let their father walk into his living room, which he'd never dreamed he'd do. But he couldn't tolerate the man's presence any longer.

Head bowed, his father stared at his shoes. "You're right," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Go with him if you want," Clay muttered to Molly.

He couldn't stop her, didn't want to cause her any more pain. If she could accept so little from Lucas and be okay with it, he was happy for her.

But she didn't go anywhere. She drew closer and slipped her hand in his, as if he was her father and not Lucas.

As Lucas started out the door, Clay expected to feel some sense of victory or relief. At last he'd seen the man who'd hurt him so deeply--and he'd sent him packing without a trace of kindness or forgiveness.

Lucas had deserved exactly what he'd gotten.

But, somehow, the encounter only made Clay feel worse.

"It's okay," Molly said when he looked down at her.

"It's not okay," he said, and doubted it ever would be.

197

Brenda Novak

After Jed left, Allie stripped the linen from the bed and hauled it out to her car so she could take it home and wash it. Then she went back inside to finish tidying up. If her parents split up, her father would have to sell the place and share the equity with her mother. And she and Clay were the last people to use the cabin. It was the least she could do.

The probability that her parents would get a divorce depressed Allie, but the physical motions of straightening the cabin felt good. It meant she could put one thing right--and in quick order. She wasn't sure what to do about anything else, especially the information she'd learned from Jed. She was relieved that Clay wasn't responsible for Barker's death, that she'd been right in that regard all along. But now she knew Clay was partially responsible for the cover-up that had followed. Which put him at odds with the law, regardless of the fact that he was innocent of murder.

How had he and Irene disposed of Barker's car? Would it ever turn up? And where had Clay or one of the other Montgomerys moved the body? Barker wasn't behind the barn where Jed had told her he'd been buried.

His remains couldn't be far. Clay wouldn't risk having them discovered.

Allie shook her head. Why did the skeletons in Clay's closet have to be so literal? He could never leave the farm, or Stillwater. She had to be crazy to get involved with a man like that.

But she was already involved, wasn't she? She loved him in spite of his problems. He wasn't an ordinary man. Who else could have survived what Clay had been through without cracking under the pressure?

As far as she was concerned, he and the rest of the Montgomerys had suffered enough.

She'd go back to Stillwater and talk to Hendricks this evening. Once she proved that Joe or one of the other Vincellis had hired him to cause trouble for Clay, she'd have some leverage she could use to get the prosecution to back off. The mayor and the D.A. might be good friends with the Vincellis, but they wouldn't want to be discredited. Proof that someone was out to get Clay should make them view their lack of evidence in a different light. Or maybe it'd encourage the judge to throw the case out of court.

"That's it," she mumbled as she wiped off the table. "That's what I'll do." She'd stay the course, even though she knew she was heading past the point of no return. From now on, she would be, without reservations, completely on Clay's side, whether their relationship worked out or not.

A noise from outside startled Allie. Then the glimmer of headlights hit the window. At first she thought Jed had returned. But the man who knocked on the door wasn't Jed.

It was Joe.

Jed had stood by him and his family for so long that Clay had difficulty believing he would ever hurt Allie. He'd relaxed the moment he learned it was Jed who wanted to talk to her, and not Hendricks or any of the Vincellis. But she wasn't back yet, and he was beginning to worry. He'd tried her cell phone, several times, and gotten her voice-mail.

"What's wrong?" Molly asked.

His sister had been quiet ever since their father had left. Clay didn't know what she was thinking, but he doubted she felt any better than he did.

He hated the doubts that nagged at him, didn't want to take responsibility for her disappointment or make her feel obligated to remain loyal to him when her heart wanted something else.

"I'm going out to look for Allie," he said.

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Brenda Novak

"Where is she?"

"I'm not sure. She's not answering. But it's getting late. She should've been back by now."

"What do you want me to do with dinner?"

"Eat and put the rest in the fridge."

"You care about her a lot, don't you?" she asked.

"No," he said. He knew it was a lie. But every time he began to hope for something better, the past intruded once again.

"Oh, really?" His sister folded her arms. "Because I think you're in love with her. And I think she loves you, too."

He scowled. "You don't know anything."

"I know you," she said. But he didn't respond. He walked out and left her standing in his living room.