by Brenda Novak
After Allie disconnected, she stayed where she was, staring up at the ceiling. She’d just admitted how she felt about Clay. Was she crazy? She’d seen him coming out of Beth Ann’s trailer last night!
But she wasn’t basing her decision to help in his defense on whether or not he returned her feelings. She was basing it on the fact that she believed he was innocent. That gave her no choice.
Allie stepped back behind the curtains as a car turned down her street. She’d been waiting for Jed Fowler to get home from work so she could talk to him about his cap, but the Buick that rolled past belonged to a neighbor on the far corner. Jed didn’t show up for another fifteen minutes—but when she saw him pull into his driveway, she left the house and crossed the street.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to worry about her daughter. After school, she’d taken Whitney to her Boppo’s. Whitney had been begging to go, and Allie didn’t want her there for the conversation with Jed or at Grace’s later tonight. Why risk having Whitney repeat what she’d heard to Evelyn and Dale?
Although Allie was pretty sure Jed knew she was waiting for him, he took his time getting out of his truck. He’d asked her not to come to his place without a subpoena. But she needed answers now more than ever. If she could figure out who’d shot Clay, she might be able to raise enough doubt and uncertainty about the motivation behind Clay’s arrest to get the D.A. to drop the case.
“Did you hear?” she said when Jed finally opened his door.
He squinted at her, and she guessed he was remembering that he’d told her not to come over again.
“They arrested Clay Montgomery this morning. For the murder of Reverend Barker.”
He shook his head—in disgust or disbelief, she didn’t know—grabbed his lunch pail from his truck and started for the house.
“I have something that belongs to you,” Allie called after him.
When he turned back, she pulled his red cap out of her new purse. “Look familiar?”
“Where’d you get that?” he asked, wiping the grease-covered fingers of his free hand on his gray coveralls.
“At my father’s fishing cabin.”
His lips formed a grim line.
“You know where that is, don’t you?” she asked.
“Nope.”
She made a show of studying his cap. “Then how did your hat get up there?”
He shoved his lunch box under one arm. “No idea. Haven’t seen it for several days.”
“Where’d you leave it last?”
“Don’t know.”
“In the truck?”
“Maybe.”
“At your shop?”
He shrugged.
“Someone broke into my car, stole my gun and shot Clay with it,” she said. “At the cabin.”
He didn’t respond.
“I don’t suppose you know who might’ve done that.”
“The Vincellis are saying you shot him yourself,” he said.
Allie stiffened in surprise. “Why would I do that?”
“To muddy the waters, I guess.”
“Muddy the waters?”
“Pretend there’s someone else who’s trying to keep the truth from coming out.”
She thought of the blood pouring down Clay’s arm. “That’s quite a chance to take with someone’s life, don’t you think?”
“It’s amazing what some people will do,” he said.
For love? Was that why he’d tried to confess?
She wanted to ask. But he disappeared inside the house, leaving her standing in his driveway.
McCormick had been expecting Irene’s call. He’d known she wouldn’t sit back and take her son’s arrest without some reaction. But he’d expected her to use the number he’d given her—not contact him at the station. When Hendricks announced that Irene Montgomery was on the line, demanding to speak with him, Dale nearly had a heart attack. The mayor, the Vincellis, Beth Ann, even some of the folks who’d given statements on the Barker case years ago, were gathered around him, celebrating Clay’s arrest.
“Okay…uh…thank you,” he said to Hendricks as all eyes turned toward him, even those of his wife.
Assuming an impersonal expression, he picked up the receiver. “Chief McCormick.”
“How could you?” Irene said.
Glancing around the crowded room, he cleared his throat to buy a few seconds to prepare his response. “Yes, that’s true, Mrs. Montgomery. I’m sorry, but there’s been some new evidence that’s come to light—”
“What evidence?” she snapped.
“A witness who—”
“Beth Ann?” she screeched. “She’s a damn liar, and you know it!”
He strove to keep his voice steady, calm. “I’ll be happy to explain everything to you. But now’s not a good time. I’ve got a lot of people here at the station. Let me call you back.”
“No! Dale—”
“I’m afraid I have to insist.”
She started to cry. “When?”
“As soon as possible.”
“You’d better,” she said and hung up.
Evelyn stepped close to him as he set the phone back in its cradle. “I feel sorry for her,” she murmured. “What must it be like to have your son hauled off to jail?”
“I’m sure she knew he was guilty all along,” Joe said, confirming Dale’s impression that he’d been listening in. “Right, Beth Ann?”
Beth Ann no longer seemed so eager to go after Clay, but Joe was putting pressure on her to stick with her story. “Right,” she muttered.
“He said they all knew about it,” Joe clarified. “All the Montgomerys. Beth Ann already told me that.”
They’d been citing Beth Ann’s testimony as the case breaker, but Dale doubted she was telling the truth. Clay might be dangerous, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t tell Beth Ann what she claimed he had. But now that she’d made her statement, the whole town had proclaimed it as gospel—the truth at last—and made her a minicelebrity. She’d become a pariah if she changed her story.
She wasn’t the most credible witness in the world. But her testimony fit the circumstantial evidence and selective snippets of testimony taken from several other witnesses. Thanks to the active involvement of Stillwater’s most influential citizens and the exchange of a few favors, that might be enough to get a conviction.
Dale simply wanted to forget about Barker, and he believed the only way to do that was to try the most likely culprit. In the best-case scenario, Clay would be acquitted and could never be charged with Barker’s murder again. In the worst, Clay would go to prison. If that happened, Irene would need a strong male figure in her life. As self-serving as that was, Dale couldn’t overlook it.
He moved through the crowd, smiling, shaking hands and nodding as he accepted congratulations all around. Everyone acted as if the trial was already over and Clay had been convicted. But Dale knew Allie was right. They didn’t have much of a case. This would be a battle of political power over due process.
“We’ve got him now…. It’s about damn time…. There’s nothing wrong with being sure on something like this. A man’s future is at stake…. The point is he didn’t get away with it.”
Most of the time, Dale didn’t even bother looking up to see who was talking. “What a damn mess,” he muttered to himself, then felt his wife’s hand on his arm.
“Is something wrong, dear?” she asked in concern.
“No, nothing,” he replied. They spoke about the judge being the mayor’s uncle, and the fact that Hendricks’s father sat on the County Board of Supervisors, both of which would help the prosecution. Then, after Dale reassured Evelyn a second time that he was fine, she left to attend her book group.
He excused himself as soon as she was gone. Once he’d climbed into his squad car and closed the door, he called Irene.
“Irene, honey, I’m sorry,” he said when she answered. “There was nothing I could do about Clay. You know that, don’t you?”
“You d
idn’t even warn me,” she said.
He cringed at the tears in her voice. “You told me not to call you anymore. I was trying to honor your wishes.”
“By arresting my son?”
He ran a hand over the whiskers on his chin. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten to shave this morning. “I didn’t want to arrest him. I’ve tried to protect you, and him. It’s just…since Grace moved back, the Vincellis have been buzzing like a hornet’s nest—”
“Don’t give me that,” she said. “This isn’t because of Grace. It’s because of Allie. You’re punishing my son for not staying away from your daughter.”
He didn’t want Clay and Allie together, but he couldn’t admit it to her. “That’s not true.”
“What can I do?” she cried. “How can I stop this?”
Dale had reached the outskirts of town, where he felt more secure. He drove down a deserted country road, then cut the engine. “Nothing, babe. Nothing at all.”
“I’ll come back to you if that’ll help.”
“I wish it was that easy.”
“You want me, don’t you?”
So badly, he ached inside. Only she could satisfy him. But he couldn’t help Clay. It was up to the attorneys now. “I want you,” he said. “But I can’t let Clay out of jail. I’m not the one who’s running this show. It’s the mayor and Supervisor Hendricks, honey.”
She was openly sobbing now. “What am I going to do?”
“Stand by him,” he said. “The D.A. doesn’t have much of a case. It’s all circumstantial.”
She sniffed. “Do you think he’ll get off?”
“Maybe,” he said, hedging because, now that things had gone so far, he had no idea what might happen. Grace, or whoever handled Clay’s defense, would no doubt fight to have the trial moved to a different location, where his opponents didn’t have so much control. But he doubted she’d succeed. If Grace argued that there was significant prejudice against her brother, the prosecution would point to the fact that they’d waited nearly twenty years to charge him. That certainly didn’t make them appear overeager.
Irene’s voice turned to a hopeful whisper. “Do you still love me?”
As much as Irene liked to talk about the possibility, he knew he’d never leave his wife. But, in a way, he did love her. If he’d met her in another time, another place, if he was a younger man…“Yes. You know that. I’ll do anything I can for you, okay? I’ll try to get you anything you need.”
“I need you. I can’t go through this alone.”
She made him feel so strong and capable. He knew he was being silly, acting like he didn’t have any sense, but Lord, was he addicted to her. “I’ll be there for you.”
“But we shouldn’t see each other.”
“You just said you need me.”
“I do.”
There was a long pause. Surely she wouldn’t change her mind again.
“One battle at a time, right?” she eventually said.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “One battle at a time,” he replied. Then he called the florist in Corinth and ordered Irene a dozen long-stemmed red roses.
“What would you like on the card?” the woman asked.
“I can’t wait to be with you,” he said. “Call me when you’re ready.”
Allie wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived at the beautiful old Georgian where Grace lived. Set off the highway south of town, it was the only historic building in Stillwater besides the old post office. The yard was large and well groomed, with lots of mature trees and a fountain. Stepping stones passed through a rose-covered trellis and went around to the back of the house, and a tree swing that had been there since Allie was in high school hung from a giant oak on the side. In front, three wide steps led to a deep veranda that was partially covered with wisteria vines.
Allie wondered what it was like to have grown up in such poverty and then to have married so rich. Grace seemed happy. But—Allie thought of Clay in jail—the taint of some things never went away.
As she crossed the porch, Allie noticed two pairs of small rubber boots at the far end of the veranda near a single glass door that probably led to a bathroom or mudroom. But it was the carved, double doors in front of her that opened when she rang the bell.
“Thank you for coming,” Grace said and beckoned her inside a grand foyer.
Grace had her hair in a messy knot and wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she had deep blue eyes like Clay’s and the same elegant structure to her face. Few women looked so beautiful right after giving birth. Perhaps Grace wasn’t as slender as usual, but she’d always had a curvaceous figure, and a few extra pounds only added to that effect.
“Good to see you,” Allie said. “How’s the baby?”
Grace smiled. “Fine. She’s sleeping in her bassinet upstairs. I’ll bring her down and let you take a peek at her when we’re finished here.”
“And the boys? Are they around?”
“No, I had Kennedy take them over to Grandma and Grandpa Archer’s for a visit. They didn’t want to leave the baby, of course, but I’m not ready to let her go out.”
Allie remembered the joy she’d experienced at Whitney’s birth. She also remembered wanting to share that joy with her husband—and how negatively he’d reacted. He’d spent most of the first few months working late or going out with his buddies because he couldn’t stand the care and devotion she lavished on their child. “There’s nothing like having a baby,” she murmured.
“No,” Grace said. “There isn’t.”
Allie adjusted the strap of her purse. “I’m sorry about Clay. And I’m especially sorry that it had to happen at a time like this.”
Worry clouded Grace’s eyes. “I doubt the timing was a coincidence.”
“You think the mayor and the Vincellis were hoping to catch you at a weak moment?”
“I do. They’re hoping I won’t be available to help him. But I won’t let them get away with what they’re doing. Clay doesn’t deserve to go to prison.”
“I know.”
“We’ll meet in here,” Grace said, taking her to a drawing room that contained a large sofa and two chairs. Two walls were covered by built-in bookshelves and the other two walls had very large windows with expensive, heavy draperies. Allie might have commented on the beauty of the room, which was tastefully decorated in cranberry, green and ivory, but there were two people seated on the sofa staring up at her. Two people she hadn’t expected to see: Madeline Barker and Irene Montgomery.
“Hi, Allie,” Madeline said. “Come and sit down.”
“Good to see you, Maddy,” she said.
“I’m so glad you’re willing to help us.”
Irene’s red, splotchy face suggested she’d been crying. Allie tried to convince herself that Clay’s mother was only upset about his arrest. But the way her lips tightened made Allie think Irene blamed her for what had happened to Clay.
No doubt all three women had heard about the time she’d spent at the cabin with him. And no doubt they all knew how her father had reacted to finding them together—or she wouldn’t be in need of a job.
Feeling extremely self-conscious, she took a seat in one of the chairs across from them.
“His arraignment’s on Tuesday,” Grace announced, adjusting the volume on the baby monitor which sat on the small table next to her.
“Any idea what they’ll be asking for bail?” Allie asked, since she was likely the only one who hadn’t heard anything about this.
“I’m guessing half a million.”
“That’s outrageous!” Madeline cried.
Grace’s eyes glittered with righteous indignation. “Kennedy told me they’re going to claim he’s a danger to society.”
“How does Kennedy know that?” Allie asked.
“His mother told him. She’s so well connected she hears everything.”
Allie tried not to look at Irene. “And if they get a high bail…”
“We’ll cover it,” Grace said.
“Clay mortgaged the farm to be able to clean the place up and do some repairs, but it’s been several years since he did that and it wasn’t a large note to begin with. He has plenty of equity. So we’ll refinance when I run out of my own money.”
“He has clear title to the property?” Allie asked.
“He bought us out a few years ago,” Madeline explained.
“Getting back to the subject…from what Kennedy’s mother says, they’re going to throw everything at us they possibly can,” Grace said.
“Beth Ann’s testimony won’t stand up,” Madeline said.
“Beth Ann’s sticking with her story?” Allie asked in amazement. She’d assumed that Clay’s visit to Beth Ann’s trailer might have changed the other woman’s mind.
“That’s the rumor,” Grace said.
“Aren’t—aren’t they still seeing each other?” Allie felt herself flush as she became the center of attention.
Madeline stared at her blankly. “He’s seeing you, isn’t he?”
“Not really,” Allie admitted.
Irene dabbed at fresh tears. “The Vincellis are using Beth Ann, and she’s not strong enough or smart enough to stop it. They’ll coach her, and the attorneys will coach her. You said that yourself just a minute ago, Grace.”
Grace ignored her mother. “What else do they have that’s new, Allie?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Unless they can come up with the remains, a murder weapon, fiber evidence, something, I don’t think they have much.”
“Jed Fowler could change his testimony,” Grace said.
“What makes you think he might do that?” Allie asked.
“Someone called here this morning.”
“Who?” Allie and Madeline spoke in unison.
“He wouldn’t identify himself.”
They all scooted forward. “What’d he say?”
“That Jed’s the one who shot Clay at the cabin.”
“No! Jed would never hurt Clay,” Madeline argued.
Allie didn’t respond. She stared at Grace. “Is that all he said?”
“No, he claimed there was proof but then disconnected before he told me what it was.”
Jed’s cap. Joe had known about it last night at the pool hall, soon after Allie had told Hendricks she’d found it. Had Joe or Hendricks called Grace?