Dead Right (22 page)

Madeline caught her breath. Mike was obviously bigger, and she didn’t trust him not to fight dirty. She could see him weighing his desire to lash out against his awareness of the possible consequences. Fortunately, another car drove by right then. When the driver, Minnie Hal , honked and waved at Madeline, Mike immediately backed off.

“Don’t you dare try to pin it on me,” he muttered and strode to his truck.

Madeline drew a deep, steadying breath as she watched him peel out, narrowly missing the left rear panel of her car. “See what I mean?” she said to Hunter.

His expression revealed little of his thoughts. “It’s not my case anymore,” he said, but she got the impression he wasn’t talking to her. He was trying to remind himself.

Madeline’s office was a smal retail establishment that smel ed like ink and had old-fashioned gold lettering on the wide front window.
The Stillwater Independent.

Established 1898
.

Hunter walked around, trying to keep his mind busy while Madeline sat at the computer. He didn’t want to think about the malevolence he’d seen in Mike’s gaze when he looked at Madeline, or the things found in the car, or the oddity of two young girls and a woman, al of them closely connected to the reverend, dying within eighteen months of each other.

There could be a good explanation for al of it. There
were
good explanations—a hit-and-run and two suicides, right?

No one else seemed to question those incidents.

But that was because no one else had ever doubted Lee Barker, Hunter thought. Barker had been friend, uncle, brother, father to these people. He’d been their spiritual leader.

Hunter circled the gigantic printer that took up half the room. Accusing someone like Barker required an outsider, someone who was wil ing to examine
all
the possibilities.

Someone like him. But if Barker had a dark side, especial y one as dark as he was beginning to suspect, Hunter would rather not be the one to tel Madeline.

Better to leave while he had the chance. Better to leave before he could get caught up in anything that would threaten his careful y constructed post-Antoinette world.

“Are there any flights out of Nashvil e?” he asked.

She sighed. “Not so far. But I’m stil checking.”

Besides the giant printer, the room was mostly utilitarian.

A school lunchroom type of floor, white wal s, plain blinds.

Except for the corkboard above Madeline’s desk, the office could belong to a man, Hunter decided.

He eyed the pictures she’d tacked up. There was one of her and Kirk, laughing at a dinner table; one of her and Kirk in a swimming pool with Madeline hugging him from behind and resting her chin on his shoulder; one of Kirk sitting on Madeline’s sofa, drinking a beer. Then there was Kirk standing in a doorway without a shirt.

Kirk, Kirk, Kirk.

Scowling, Hunter turned away, feeling a strong dislike for the man he’d met that morning. He tried to blame it on Kirk’s autocratic behavior, but he knew it stemmed from something far more primitive.

“How much did this cost?” he asked, using the old printer as a much-needed diversion.

She was stil clicking her mouse. “A lot.”

“So you print your newspaper right here?”

“Um-hm.”

“Do other smal papers do the same thing?” He’d never real y considered how someone might run a business like Madeline’s.

“Not real y.” She didn’t look up. She was avoiding making eye contact with him, and he was sort of grateful. If their eyes were to meet, he might see the same naked desire staring back at him that he felt himself. And if that happened, he knew they’d put a much more satisfying finish on what they’d begun out in that field.

“These days, most of them contract with printing houses,” she added.

“Why don’t you do that?”

“I might have to resort to it eventual y, but there isn’t one nearby. And it’s tough to get a house to take on a paper like mine. They prefer bigger jobs.”

“Because of the money?”

“Money and logistics. I only print 2500 papers a week.”

“If you could find an outside company, wouldn’t it be cheaper?”

She glanced over her shoulder but her attention was fleeting and perfunctory. “I was fortunate. I found that printer at a government auction in Jackson.”

“How’d you know it worked?”

“I didn’t. But I knew Clay could fix just about anything.”

The depth of her admiration for her brother annoyed Hunter, too, although it made no sense. He’d never been particularly possessive.

What was the matter with him?

He wandered to the back corner of the office, where she had a counter with a sink, a microwave and a mini-fridge.

“Can I have a drink?” he asked.

“There should be some bottled water.”

He opened the refrigerator and helped himself.

“It looks like your first available flight is tomorrow morning,” she cal ed.

Was that disappointment in her voice? He twisted off the cap. “That’s fine. I’l stay at the motel tonight.” He had to remove himself from her house….

“Okay,” she said. With him gone, she could go back to believing Clay wasn’t involved in her father’s disappearance, that there was no chance her father had owned the suitcase in the Cadil ac. And maybe she could forget what had just occurred in the field.

No doubt she found al that denial very appealing. Hunter found it appealing, too, because he couldn’t bear the thought that she might feel guilty and miserable over what they’d done.

He came up behind her as she stood. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

She tensed, as if uneasy with his close proximity. “I don’t know.”

“It happened. It’s over. Please don’t worry about it.”

“I stil can’t believe I did that,” she murmured.

“It was understandable under the circumstances. Forget it.”

Her eyes rose to meet his, then dropped to his mouth.

“I’m not sure I can forget.”

His heart started to pound again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Al I want to do is remember.”

He tilted up her chin with one finger. “What are you doing to me?” he asked and bent his head to kiss her, but the bel over the door jingled before their lips could touch. Letting his hand fal , he looked up to see Kirk standing at the entrance.

Madeline made no startled gasp, but Hunter could sense her distress. “Kirk,” she said. “I—I wasn’t expecting you.”

Her ex-boyfriend regarded her with utter contempt.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, I—” she self-consciously smoothed the skirt Hunter had lifted less than an hour earlier “—wh-what do you need?”

“I just came by to tel you to listen to your damn messages,” he said and stalked out.

Madeline covered her face as the door banged shut and the jingling died away. “The whole world’s gone insane,” he heard her whisper.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to be the cause of any more anguish. And yet they couldn’t seem to stop, or even slow, whatever was going on between them.

“What should I do?” she asked, final y lowering her hands.

He wasn’t sure if she was talking about him or the case.

He couldn’t tel her what to do about the powerful attraction between them. He didn’t know himself. But he knew what he’d do about the past. “I think you have only one good option,” he said.

“What’s that?”

He resisted the urge to take her in his arms. “Gut it out.”

“You said I should let it go.” Her words were barely a whisper.

“I was wrong. You’ve already come too far, Maddy.

You’ve got to see it through or the doubt wil eat you alive.

It’l destroy the relationships you’re trying so hard to protect.”

She nodded. But when she looked up, her eyes glittered with chal enge. “Does that mean you’l stay? Are you wil ing to see it through with me?”

Was he? Every time he thought of his ex-wife he felt such intense anger he could scarcely function. Alcohol was the only thing that deadened the sensation, and he couldn’t have it. He spent his life in a constant tug-of-war between the anger and the craving. And yet, somehow, a third craving had managed to distract him. Was it another mistake?

“If we do it on my terms,” he said at last.

“What’re your terms?”

“I stay at the motel.”

“That won’t help as much as you think it wil . We’l stil be together a lot. You’l have to work fast.” She didn’t wait for him to question that comment or respond. Turning away, she hit the play button on her answering machine.

“Madeline, little Brittany’s going to be starring in
The
Wizard of Oz
at the school. Any chance you might like to do a story on her big debut? Give me a cal ….”

“Is that what the news is like here?” he asked, putting some distance between them.

She smiled nostalgical y as she jotted down the number.

“Yes. That’s what I’ve always loved about this town.”

The next message began. “Madeline, this is Mom. Why aren’t you answering your cel ? I’ve been trying to reach you al day. Please tel me you’re not parading that private investigator al over town. Clay and Grace have been through enough. I couldn’t take it if Clay was put back in jail…”

Gut it out.
With a visible wince, Madeline hit the fast-forward button, then straightened.

“Madeline,” a deep voice rasped.

Hunter froze. “Who’s that?”

She shook her head in apparent confusion.

“Mad-
dy?
” the voice went on. “It’s your dad-
dy.
”

“It’s a crank cal ,” Hunter said. But the blood had already drained from Madeline’s face, and the message held them both riveted.

“I’m coming back, baby. I’m final y coming back. How did you like my pantie col ection? Grace’s always smel ed the best.” He groaned in sexual rapture. “She was so tight. But they al are at that age. That’s why I love ’em. They’re hot and tight and know how to obey—especial y when they wear a col ar.” There was a pause. “Spread your legs for me, okay, baby? You’re the one I wanted al along.”

There was a click as the cal er hung up. Hunter stopped the playback, but before he could say or do anything more, Madeline ran for the bathroom. After the door slammed shut, he heard her retch.

“What’s he like?”

Before Clay could answer his mother, Al ie turned from the kitchen sink where she was doing dishes and angled her head toward the living room. “You’d better check on Whitney, don’t you think?” she said softly.

Nodding, he walked to the entrance of the living room to find his stepdaughter ful y absorbed in the Disney movie he’d rented for her—and was relieved to know she wasn’t listening to their conversation. Irene had shown up shortly after lunch, as frantic as she always seemed to be these days. But this time Clay couldn’t blame her. He was feeling more than a little nervous himself. He’d endured a lot in the past two decades, but he’d always been able to count on Madeline’s unwavering support. As long as Barker’s own daughter insisted Clay was innocent, he had a fighting chance of beating any charges the police brought against him.

But it was possible that this private detective could change her mind. Beneath Hunter’s tanned face and movie-star smile, he had a keen intel ect and plenty of confidence.

Clay knew he was no longer dealing with a smal -time police force that was completely inexperienced when it came to a murder investigation.

“She okay?” Al ie asked as he walked back into the kitchen.

“She’s fine.”

“Clay?” his mother said, growing impatient.

“Solozano’s nothing to worry about,” he lied.

Irene’s fearful eyes fastened on his. “Are you sure?”

She
wanted
to believe him. If only he could convince her.

“I’m sure.”

“But he could expose everything.”

“He won’t.” They had to get his mother to settle down—

before she aroused even more suspicion and curiosity than normal. She was the weak link. If Hunter was as good as Clay suspected, it wouldn’t take him long to figure that out and exploit it.

“How do you know?” Irene cried.

Clay pul ed out a chair and slouched into it. In the beginning, his mother had been determined, smart and strong. But the years and the stress had taken a tol . He didn’t like seeing how she’d changed, how what had happened had worn her out, weakened her. A person could run scared for only so long.

But she couldn’t unravel now. They’d taken their stand and had to persevere.

“Mom, Madeline came to me for a loan a little over a year ago,” he said, leaning an elbow on the table.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It means she doesn’t have a lot of money. And this guy Solozano can’t be cheap.”

“So?”

“So she’l have to send him packing before he’s had time to do anything.” He’d poured more confidence into those words than he actual y felt. If Madeline was as certain of Hunter’s ability as Clay was, she’d be loath to let him go.

But he wasn’t about to admit that to his mother.

“She hasn’t returned my cal s in the past few days,” Irene wailed. “Why? She’s never done that before. Do you think she suspects?”

Al ie warned her to keep her voice down, and Clay checked on Whitney again.

This time his stepdaughter turned when she heard the creak of the floorboards and smiled brightly at him. “Hi, Daddy. Want to watch the rest of
Madagascar
with me?”

“After Grandma leaves, okay?” he said.

She nodded and immediately returned her attention to the television while he walked back into the kitchen.

“Madeline feels guilty for bringing him here in the first place,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “That’s why she hasn’t cal ed.”

“She
should
feel guilty. Think what this could do to us!”

Exchanging a concerned glance with his wife, he sat down and took her hands. “Mom, you have to listen to me.”

“What?”

“Calm down, okay? You’re too worked up. We’l get through this the way we’ve gotten through everything else—

by keeping our wits about us.”

“But it won’t end,” she said. “It just goes on and on and on.”