Dead Giveaway

by Brenda Novak

  “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.

  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.

  “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.

  She followed him as far as the door and turned on the porch light. “Do you want me to go with you?” she called after him, but he shook his head.

  Allie didn’t invite Joe in; she didn’t want to be alone with him. The memories of the shooting that had occurred during her last stay at the cabin put her on edge. But she was convinced Joe had hired Hendricks to make Clay look bad, to make her suspicious of the Montgomerys, not to kill him. Hendricks had shot Clay on his own, right?

  “I talked to your mother,” Joe said.

  “After what you did at the farm, she was willing to speak to you?” Allie asked incredulously.

  His expression became a study in mock empathy. “Like I told her, I feel terrible that she was caught up in that nasty business.”

  Allie clenched her jaw. “You seemed pretty gleeful to me.”

  “Only because it revealed Irene to be the whore that she is. You know what I think of the Montgomerys.”

  That wasn’t all of it. Joe had been targeting Allie, too, reveling in the fact that she and her mother felt hurt and betrayed. Couldn’t Evelyn see that?

  “I still can’t get over the fact that she told you I was here,” Allie said. When she’d called Evelyn to check on Whitney, she’d mentioned where she was as a natural part of the conversation. But she hadn’t expected Evelyn to tell anyone, least of all Joe.

  Obviously, her mother was more trusting than Allie was. But why wouldn’t she be? She’d known Joe and his family for years and years and, like Dale, she believed Clay to be the only threat to the community.

  Joe stuffed a wad of tobacco in his cheek and walked back to lean against the grille of his truck. “We had a really nice chat, Evelyn and I,” he said. “I apologized for having to expose what Irene’s done to your family, and she talked about the Montgomerys and how they’ve hurt so many people.” It wasn’t easy to make out his expression in the dark, but she saw a flash of teeth, as if he was smiling. “She talked about you, too, and your confusion over Clay right now. She’s really upset about that, you know.”

  Allie wasn’t willing to have this conversation with him. “Why are you here?” she asked bluntly.

  �
��It’s nice.” He breathed deep. “Smell the pine, hear the cicadas.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Is this where you fucked Clay? In that bed?” He jerked a thumb toward the bed she’d stripped, and she sensed a salaciousness in his interest.

  “If you have something to say to me, say it,” she said.

  He seemed to give up badgering her, for the moment. “Hendricks called me.”

  She lifted her chin. “I thought he might.”

  “He said you wanted to ask him some questions.”

  “I do.”

  He spat at the spongy earth. “’Bout what?”

  Allie felt cornered with the small cabin at her back. She stepped farther out so she could run if need be. “About you. You must know that or you wouldn’t be here.”

  He took his time settling the chew in his cheek. “I didn’t pay him to kill Clay, if that’s what you think.”

  She considered possible responses. She’d wanted Hendricks to confess before she spoke to Joe. The money for that truck had to come from somewhere. But Joe’s sudden appearance preempted the possibility of preparing for this confrontation. “Maybe you didn’t hire him to shoot Clay. But you paid him to scare me, didn’t you? To try and make me think it was Clay who was threatening me?”

  He pushed away from the truck and moved into the sliver of lamplight cast through the open doorway. “No.”

  “Then it had to be your family.”

  His eyes turned cold and flat enough to raise the level of caution already surging through Allie’s blood. “Had to be?” he said, speaking around the bulge in his cheek.

  Joe had caused trouble in the past, usually when he was drunk. Although he didn’t seem drunk now, the Montgomerys—and particularly Clay—had long been a sore subject for him. He seemed to have grown more bitter toward them as the years passed.

  “Who else would want me to think Clay had something to hide?” she asked, edging toward her car in case she decided to make a dash for it.

  “The whole town thinks Clay has something to hide,” he said.

  “So they all paid Hendricks to do what he did?” she countered.

  Another stream of tobacco juice hit the ground as Joe cut off her retreat. “I told you, I didn’t hire Hendricks to do anything. Neither did my family.”

  “Is that why you drove all the way here from Stillwater? To tell me you’re innocent?”

  “To tell you you’re heading down the wrong path. I don’t need you creating problems for me.”

  She mentally measured the distance to her car. Could she make it?

  No, he’d be on her before she even opened the door….

  “What could I do without proof?” she asked.

  “You could try to convince my mother that I was involved.”

  Allie narrowed her gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid it’ll upset her. You’re not that considerate.”

  He spat at her feet, barely missing her shoe. “She knows I hate the Montgomerys. With my luck, she’d believe you.”

  “So?”

  “So that better not happen.”

  Why? Allie wondered. Because then she’d cut him off financially? Probably. He couldn’t survive without his parents’ support.

  Allie was finally beginning to understand. But, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she got the impression Joe might be telling the truth, at least about his involvement in the shooting. “If you didn’t hire Hendricks, who did?” she asked skeptically.

  “Think about it,” he replied. “Who wants you to find Barker’s killer even more than I do?”

  “No one!”

  He put a hand in front of her, ostensibly to lean against the post that supported the cabin’s small overhang. But he managed to pen her in at the same time. “Wrong. Check my bank accounts, if you want to. I haven’t paid Hendricks a dime. Why would I? We’ve got Clay by the balls already.”

  Allie shook her head. “Come on, Joe. The trial hasn’t even started.”

  “We have another search warrant.” His teeth flashed again. “This one’s for the entire property—the house, the barn and outbuildings, the land. We won’t leave a single inch of dirt unturned.”

  Allie went cold inside. Jed had just told her the Montgomerys had buried the reverend behind the barn, but his remains weren’t there when the police searched before. Where had they been moved? She guessed what was left of Barker was still somewhere on the property. As bleak as the Montgomerys’ outlook seemed, they had a better chance if the police couldn’t prove beyond a reasonable doubt that there’d even been a murder.

  “You didn’t have the warrant a month ago,” she pointed out. “And it bothered you that I wouldn’t go after Clay, although I didn’t have the evidence to justify it.”

  “It didn’t bother me enough to waste two grand.”

  “Is that how much Hendricks was paid?”

  “I’m guessing it was about that much.”

  Enough for a down payment, like her father said…“Still, whoever—” Suddenly, Allie fell silent. A snippet of conversation had popped into her mind: I’ll bet fifty, too. I’m expecting a big tax refund.

  Enough to spare two thousand dollars?

  And then another snippet, from a different time and place: Has the reward you posted for information on the shooting turned up any leads?…No…None?…Not one.

  True or merely self-preserving?

  Could it have been Madeline? No! Clay’s stepsister wouldn’t do anything to make Clay look guilty. She defended him constantly.

  But it was entirely possible that Madeline hadn’t seen hiring Hendricks as a risk to her stepbrother. Clay had told no one he was coming to the cabin. After his call that Thursday night, even Allie hadn’t been expecting him. Maybe Madeline had believed a mysterious scare would simply increase Allie’s determination to prove Clay wasn’t guilty.

  Allie remembered the way Madeline had acted about the shooting. She’d been so upset, she’d called Allie almost daily that first week.

  Because she was afraid it might happen again, as she’d said? Or because she felt responsible?

  Do you know who did it yet, Allie?

  “Oh, boy,” Allie muttered.

  “Now you’re catching on,” Joe said.

  “You think it was Madeline.”

  “It was Madeline.”

  “Hendricks told you that?”

  “I got it out of him eventually. He came to me, saying he was afraid you thought he’d shot Clay, that because of the rumors Cindy’s spreading about seeing your gun in my house, you thought it was both of us. I bet he was hoping I’d solve the problem by making sure you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else.”

  Allie felt a shiver of fear. They were completely alone. It wouldn’t be hard for Joe to do just that.

  “He acted as if he’d done me some kind of favor, planting Jed’s hat up here,” Joe went on. “As if I owed him for dropping that cap in the woods.”

  “Why would Cindy say she saw my gun at your house if it wasn’t true?”

  “Because she hates me.”

  Covering her mouth, she mumbled through her fingers. “I can’t believe Maddy did it.”

  “Call her and see for yourself. Tell her you’ve got proof it was Hendricks and that he’s claiming it was her. See what she says.”

  Allie’s phone was inside. She hesitated, because she didn’t want to risk being cornered, but he handed her his.

  She stared down at it for a moment, then dialed Madeline.

  “Hello?”

  “Maddy, it’s Allie.”

  “Hi, Allie. What’s going on?”

  She glanced up at Joe. “I’m at my father’s cabin with Joe Vincelli.”

  “Joe?”

  “He says you hired Hendricks to scare me the night Clay was shot. Is that true?”

  Silence. Allie waited, but there was only more silence.

  “Maddy, is that true?” she repeated. But she knew from Madeline’s lack of response
that it was.

  “I didn’t mean for Clay to get hurt,” she said, tears in her voice. “I didn’t even know he’d be up there. He—he’s always in town or at the farm.”

  Closing her eyes, Allie shook her head. “What were you trying to do?”

  “I just—I was afraid you were giving up. I wanted you to keep looking. You’re the only one who might be able to find my father, Allie. But…it was a mistake.”

  “You nearly cost Clay his life!”

  She was sobbing openly now. “I feel so bad. I—I’m actually glad you know. I was going to tell you myself, but…I was so afraid Clay wouldn’t love me anymore.”

  “Maddy, he’ll always love you.”

  “I’ve lost too many people. And Hendricks! He’s such an idiot. He thought Clay had spotted him, but even if Clay did see him I would never have agreed with firing that gun! Clay’s my brother.”

  Allie didn’t know what to say. Madeline, in all her denial and confusion and desperation, had hired Hendricks to motivate Allie to solve the case. And Hendricks had shot Clay on his own, out of fear of discovery. “Joe’s still here. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  Madeline didn’t answer. She was crying too hard.

  “See?” Joe said as she handed him his phone.

  Allie ignored him. Lee Barker’s life—and death—had affected so many people.

  “So you’re going to quit trying to pin it on me, right? Forget that bullshit of Cindy’s and keep me out of it.”

  She was still collecting her thoughts when he said, “Because if you don’t, you’ll be damn sorry.”

  “Is that a threat?” she asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “Madeline knows I’m here with you.”

  “So? Accidents happen. It’d be a real shame if your car was found in the bottom of a gully, wouldn’t it? But these roads twist and turn something awful.”

  Joe’s character had never been much to admire, but the disappointments and challenges of his life had turned him into a darker version of what he could’ve been. She knew Grace was sincerely afraid of him, that he’d probably given her reason to be.