Dead Giveaway (44 page)

Again, Clay wished he had a cell phone. He'd never seen a need for one in the past. He hadn't been interested in making himself accessible to people; he was usually at the farm, anyway.

But today he was handicapped without one. He'd been able to call Allie only once since he'd left his house--at a pay phone along the way. She hadn't picked up and he hadn't wanted to waste any more time. Something was wrong. He could feel it. And the sight of Joe's Explorer confirmed it.

"I'll kill him," he muttered. If anything could turn him into the kind of man everyone already thought he was, it'd be finding Allie hurt--or worse.

Tree branches slapped the windshield and scratched the sides of his truck as he barreled through the woods, indifferent to the potholes and rocks. He kept imagining Allie shot as he'd been shot, bleeding....

But when he reached the cabin, his headlights showed her sitting on the front step, staring at the ground. A light gleamed behind her.

She looked up as he got out, but didn't move.

"What happened?" Clay asked. "Why was Joe here?"

"They have another search warrant," she replied. Then she stared past him into the darkness, and he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.

So the Vincellis and their friends had been able to discredit her father's handling of the investigation, just as Clay had feared.

Clay should've been used to such setbacks, numb to them. He'd battled the Vincellis since he was sixteen years old. But the news cut him so deeply, he knew he wasn't the same unfeeling man he'd been before Allie came back to town. Going to prison didn't just mean going to prison anymore. He finally had something to live for, something to hope for, someone to care about.

And they were going to take that away from him.

He didn't know what to say, how to express the emotions that were twisting his stomach and clogging his throat. "It'll be okay," he said, trying to convince her. The only thing worse than his own suffering was the thought that she was hurting, too.

"It's not going to be okay! You didn't do it."

He could tell by the conviction in her voice that something had changed. "How do you know?"

"Jed told me. He saw everything."

Jed. Clay had always wondered. "Why hasn't he told the police?" he asked.

"He was friends with Eliza. He thinks--" she paused to take a breath, "--he thinks Barker might have killed her."

He said nothing.

"That doesn't surprise you?"

"No. Nothing surprises me where he's concerned."

"I guess she was beginning to figure out what he really was. Jed's convinced he did it to 204

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shut her up."

"It'll break Maddy's heart if she ever learns."

"Barker's dead. I don't see why she has to."

Reaching up, she pulled him down beside her, and they sat there together. After a few seconds, she said, "Where are they?"

"Where are what?" he replied.

"Barker's remains."

He'd never told another living soul where he'd moved them. Not even his sisters. And he couldn't tell Allie. She meant too much to him. "I can't say."

"If they're at the farm, move them," she said. "Tonight."

The fact that she was still so ready to stand by him made Clay wish he could take care of her the way she deserved. But it was too late for that. It was too late for a lot of things. "It won't make any difference," he said.

"I won't give up."

Leaning forward, he wiped away the tears sliding down her cheeks. "Don't cry."

"It's not fair," she said. "That...that
sick
bastard."

He didn't have to ask who she was talking about. "I want you to step back from this and reconcile with your parents. Or move somewhere else. Find a new life entirely."

"You want me to leave you to face this alone?
Why?
"

Clay felt so weak and exposed, it made him angry. "Because I can't do anything to protect you from what's about to happen, dammit! Don't you understand that?"

"I'm not asking you to protect me!" she shouted back.

He jumped to his feet. "It'll be harder on you this way."

"So you want to forget about what we
feel?
Walk away and let them win?"

"What's our alternative?" he asked. "Do you want to marry a man who's going to prison?

Do you want to waste fifteen or twenty years waiting for me to get out? What kind of life would that be?"

She stood. "The life I want, if it means we can be together in the end."

The fight suddenly drained out of Clay. "Allie--"

"I just need to know one thing," she interrupted. "And it had better be the most honest thing you've ever said to me."

"What is it?"

"Do you feel the same? Are you willing to hang on regardless of what happens?"

When he didn't answer, her voice dropped. "Do you love me, Clay?"

He knew the unselfish answer would be to say no. Then she'd move on; she'd have to. She'd eventually get over the grief, fall in love with someone else, find a better life.

"Clay?"

Wrestling with himself, Clay let his forehead touch hers. He could smell her perfume, feel her breath on his face--and knew he wasn't strong enough to lie to her. "Yes," he said. And then he carried her into the cabin, where they were both crying and kissing and pulling off their clothes, as if this was the only moment that mattered.

Allie lay with her head on Clay's chest. He was so still she might have assumed he'd gone to sleep. But she knew he hadn't. The depth of feeling they'd experienced while making love had left them more than a little awed. She knew she'd never given so much of herself to another human being and doubted Clay had, either.

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"How long will we have?" he asked.

"Together?"

He nodded. "Weeks? Months?"

"I don't know. It depends on too many factors. The court battles. The judge."

He didn't respond immediately, but then he said, "You can have the farm. It'll give you and Whitney a place to live. Or you can sell it and use the money to live somewhere else."

He was still worried about her, still trying to protect and provide for her. She smiled as she pressed a kiss to his warm neck. "If they get a conviction, we'll see where they send you."

He smoothed the hair off her forehead. "I like the way you make love," he said.

"Yeah, well, you could use some practice."

He returned her teasing smile as his fingers brushed the side of her breast. "As long as I can practice on you."

She sobered. "I'm going to hate it if they take you away from me."

"We'll be too old to have children by the time I get out," he said.

She rested her chin on her hands, thinking about the future. "We could get pregnant now."

"No," he said, as if he wouldn't even consider it.

"Why not?"

"I won't leave you with two children to take care of."

She touched the end of his nose with her finger. "Have a little confidence in me. I can do it."

It was too hot for the sheet tangled around their feet. He gently shifted her as he kicked it to the bottom of the bed. "And what will my kids think of having a convict for a dad?"

She could hear the grimace in his voice and leaned up on her elbows so she could look into his face. "They'll know the truth, Clay."

"And what's the truth?"

"That you're the best man I've ever known."

He stared at her for a long moment, then removed the medallion he wore around his neck and slipped it over her head.

She felt the satisfying warmth of the medal as it settled between her breasts. "Are you sure you don't want to keep this with you?" she asked, deeply touched by the gesture.

He tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm sure. If there really is a saint who watches over people, I want him to look after you. Especially if I can't."

He'd given her the one thing that meant the most to him, that represented the family he'd once had but lost.

She ran a finger lightly over his lips, then kissed him, and soon they were making love again. When it came time for Clay to put on a condom, Allie tried to stop him, and she could tell he was tempted to let her. But, ultimately, he followed through.

"I'd worry too much about you," he explained when they were resting in each other's arms again. "We have enough going on already."

She put her head on his shoulder, wishing they could remain as they were--forever. But soon the tree frogs seemed to grow louder, reminding Allie that she should be getting home. She'd been gone more than usual lately and wanted to see her daughter. But she was reluctant to bring her time with Clay to an end. Every moment seemed so fleeting and precious.

"Are you going back to the gas station to search for Hendricks's blood?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What if you don't find it?"

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"I'll bluff and say I did in hopes of getting a confession."

"Do you think he'll tell us who hired him?"

Allie knew that once Hendricks was busted, he'd have no reason to keep it a secret. So she told Clay about Madeline.

When she was finished, he sighed. "She's a victim in this, too," he said. "I can't blame her."

"I know."

"What do you think will happen to her?" he asked.

"Not much. She didn't mean for anyone to be hurt. She merely wanted to get my attention focused where she thought it should be. The fact that she'd sacrifice the money from her tax return tells you how much her father's disappearance is still bothering her."

"She broke into Jed's auto shop last year, hoping to find some evidence that he was involved."

"Poor thing."

He ran his fingers lightly over her skin while they lay in companionable silence. Allie was about to make herself get up, when he spoke again.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

"Know what?"

"The kind of man Barker was."

"Grace didn't tell you about the package I received from Reverend Portenski?"

Clay made her look at him. "You received a package from Portenski?"

"He didn't let me know it was from him, but Grace guessed and Jed Fowler saw him put it in my mailbox."

"What was in it?"

"Polaroids."

She felt Clay stiffen. "Of Grace?"

She nodded.

"Portenski figures I killed Barker. Why'd he give them to you instead of taking them to the police?"

"I think he believes you deserve a second chance."

He didn't respond right away, leaving her to wonder what he made of her comment.

"Where are they now?"

"Grace had me burn them."

He relaxed. "That's good."

"I'm not so sure," she said.

"I don't need the prosecution producing those as my motive."

"But they could've been helpful in your defense. Especially if the police dig up Barker's remains. If we had the pictures, at least we could provide a sympathetic reason for what happened."

"I don't care," Clay said. "I would never let the abuse she suffered be dragged into public view. And think about what it would do to Madeline to find out that the father she's always loved wasn't worth the air he breathed. His reputation as a good man has been the only thing she's had to cling to. That, and us. But considering the circumstances, we've been as much a curse as a blessing.

Bad as the situation is for her now, it would be much worse if those pictures came out."

"But what about
you?
"

"Allie, people in this area worshipped Barker. They wouldn't be happy to discover he wasn't the man they thought he was. Human nature being what it is, I certainly don't think they'd go 207

Brenda Novak

easier on me because I proved they'd all been taken for fools."

Allie knew that was true. But considering what the police were likely to find when they searched the farm, it might be worth the risk. Especially if--

She sat up.

"What?" Clay asked.

"Nothing," she replied, because she was positive he'd never let her do it if he knew. "It's late. I have to get back to Whitney."

The next morning, Allie perched on the edge of an old-fashioned wingback chair, breathing in the scent of lemon furniture polish while facing Elaine, Roger and Joe Vincelli in the elder Vincellis' living room. When she'd called to ask for this meeting, Mrs. Vincelli had reluctantly complied. But now that Allie had arrived, she could sense their curiosity.

"Marcus, get in here!" Elaine called.

Her husband had been on the phone ever since Allie was ushered into the house. He'd glanced up as she passed by the kitchen, but he hadn't so much as nodded a greeting. Neither had he bothered to cut his conversation short. They'd all been doing their level best to prove that she wasn't a priority, that they wouldn't allow her to disrupt their schedules or cause them the slightest inconvenience.

But she felt fairly certain they were about to change their minds.

"Can we get started?" Elaine asked.

Allie straightened her white blouse. "When your husband joins us."

"I already told you, I had nothing to do with it," Joe muttered, scowling heavily when she met his questioning gaze.

"I know," she replied politely and continued to wait.

Finally, Elaine seemed to lose patience. She hurried from the room and, a minute or two later, came back with her husband in tow.

"What is it?" he asked as he took a seat next to Elaine on their rose-colored sofa. "What could you possibly want with us?"

Allie didn't bother to reply. Instead, she withdrew a folder from the book bag on her shoulder, opened it and passed around copies she'd scanned and printed on her computer--copies of four of the pictures Portenski had delivered to her mailbox. One showed a young girl with her legs tied apart and Barker forcing a dildo inside her, his face pressed low on her belly so he could get into his own picture. It was a straightforward case of child rape. Another showed a man wearing Barker's distinctive ring forcing his penis inside the mouth of an even younger girl.

Elaine Vincelli's gasp told Allie that what she saw shocked her as badly as Allie had expected it to. But shock wasn't capitulation and did nothing to ease Allie's nerves. This meeting was her last hope.