by Brenda Novak
Kennedy had a few suspicions of his own—but, like everyone else, he had no proof. And he felt the gossip was getting out of hand. He was more intrigued by the kind of person Grace had become than what’d happened to the reverend. There was something tragic about her, something fragile and vulnerable despite the tough exterior she tried to show the world. The contrast between her beauty and the darkness of her past fascinated him.
He’d lain awake last night marveling at what she’d been able to accomplish after leaving Stillwater with only a high school diploma—and remembering what he’d seen in the window.
“Of course I’d like to know,” he said. “But not badly enough to make the Montgomerys miserable unless we have more to go on.”
Joe stretched out his long legs. “Then do it for me.”
Kennedy had feared this was coming. Although Joe had never before held the incident at the Yocona River over his head—which was one thing Kennedy had always admired about him—Kennedy couldn’t help feeling obligated to Joe in ways he wasn’t obligated to anyone else.
But the thought of what it would do to Grace still made him pause. “I can’t. I don’t have that authority.”
Joe grimaced. “We both know your father owns this town. Lately he’s been turning everything over to you. Talk to McCormick. Make him do something.”
Joe had his better moments. He was a funny drunk and would do almost anything for his friends. But he had a mean streak the others didn’t possess and a less-than-impressive track record. He’d been divorced from the same woman twice and, if not for his parents, probably wouldn’t have a job. His folks owned Stillwater Road & Gravel just north of town. They let Joe pretend to manage it for them, but he spent most of his time hanging out, having lunch with the gang, chasing women or bugging Kennedy to lend him more money.
“Why?” Kennedy asked.
“Because a crime’s been committed!”
“We don’t know that.” Kennedy suspected Grace had already paid a heavy price for that night, whether whatever had happened was her fault or not. And even though he had to admit that Joe might be right about her family, he felt strangely reluctant to pursue it.
“Why not make sure?” Joe pressed. “Fix it so I can take a backhoe to the farm and dig around. If there’s a body there, I’ll find it.”
“The police searched the farm. They found nothing to warrant the use of a backhoe.”
“Come on! That was before old man Jenkins retired, and you know as well as I do that Jenkins couldn’t find his own ass without a guide. We had the equivalent of Barney Fife running the investigation.”
“Regardless, McCormick would need another warrant, which wouldn’t be easy to obtain. Not when the police have already been given one shot. This may come as news to you, but judges don’t take invading people’s privacy lightly,” Kennedy said. “And Clay’s like a junkyard dog. You know that. He isn’t going to give his permission.”
“Judge Reynolds would listen to you.”
Kennedy recalled how Joe had acted at the pizza parlor. “This is not about obtaining justice for your uncle, is it?”
“No,” he said with a scowl.
“Seems to me you’re more concerned with hurting Grace than anything else.”
“You mean Grinding Gracie?” Joe chuckled as though she wasn’t worthy of so much attention. “That’s bullshit. Why would I want to hurt her?”
“I don’t know. But if that’s what you’re after—” Kennedy toyed with the glass paperweight that had been a gift from his staff at Christmas “—what you did in high school was enough.”
“Screw you,” Joe said, jumping to his feet. “I didn’t do anything to Grace in high school!”
The telephone rang. Kennedy raised a hand to indicate he’d be a minute and took the call, hoping the interruption would ease the tension in the room. But Joe simply cursed and started for the door.
“Some friend you are,” he muttered. Kennedy waited for him to add, “You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me.” But he didn’t. He disappeared down the hall.
Kennedy wanted to go after him. He wanted to tell him to forget the past and get on with his life—and let Grace do the same. But Camille was on the other end of the line, saying, “Hello? Kennedy? Are you there?”
Dropping his head in one hand, he massaged his temples. He could sense from the edge in his mother’s voice that something was wrong. “I’m here,” he said. “What is it?”
“You need to talk to your son.”
He immediately knew she didn’t mean Heath. “What’s Teddy done this time?”
“He went over to Grace Montgomery’s just before noon.”
“We already talked about this. I gave my permission for him to mow her lawn.”
“But I told him to be back an hour ago.”
Kennedy checked his watch. “Maybe he lost track of the time.”
“That’s no excuse. How can I let him leave the house if he can’t obey a simple rule like ‘be back by two’?”
His mother had a point. Teddy needed to be trustworthy. “Right,” Kennedy said. “I’ll talk to him tonight, okay? See what’s going on.”
“No, you should go over there right now. It’s been three hours, Kennedy. I don’t like it. Grace is not a nice person.”
“I don’t think she’s half as bad as you imagine. She’s an assistant district attorney, Mom. And from what I hear, she’s a damn good one.”
“I don’t care if she is. You know she wasn’t exactly an exemplary citizen when she lived here before. Are you willing to risk something happening to Teddy?”
She’d hit him in his most vulnerable spot. After losing Raelynn, he wasn’t about to take anything for granted. “Of course not.” He swallowed a sigh. “I’ll go there right now.” Even if it made him late for his meeting.
“You do that. And tell Teddy to get home.”
Kennedy sidestepped making a commitment. “I’ll call you back.”
No one answered the door at Grace’s, so Kennedy peered in the windows. It looked as though she’d made herself at home. The living room had a circular rug with an overstuffed couch and chair, a magazine table, a coffee table and an old-fashioned secretary in the corner. He could see a mahogany table and chairs through an opening that led into the dining room, and leather sofas in the family room beyond that. The furniture seemed to be a mix of old and new—nothing terribly fancy—and yet she’d created a combination that suggested she had good taste.
“Anyone home?” he called, and knocked again.
There was no response, although her BMW was in the garage. He’d checked before coming to the door.
Feeling his first shiver of alarm, he circled the house, hoping he could get in through the back. But as soon as he opened the gate, he heard a woman’s voice—and stopped.
Was it Grace?
Standing behind the poplar trees, which shielded him from view, he peered through the branches.
It was her, all right. And Teddy was with her. But she wasn’t doing anything diabolical to him. They were sitting at a patio table, reading a book.
“Why do you think he’d go into such a dark cave?” she asked as they studied one of the illustrations.
“He’s curious, I guess,” Teddy said.
“You’d never go into a dark cave alone, would you?”
“No. I want him to do it, though. Don’t you?”
She laughed. “Spoken like a true boy. You already have a love of danger.”
“Do you think he’s going to get hurt?”
“Or lost,” she said. “Let’s see.” She turned the page and started reading again. She was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, but no shoes, and her shapely legs were crossed at the ankle beneath her chair.
Kennedy could hardly believe what he was seeing.
“He is getting into trouble,” Teddy breathed in obvious concern as the boy in the book slipped down a slope and fell through a hole into complete blackness. “Someone will come and help
him, won’t they?”
“Maybe,” she said. “But you can’t expect others to save you. You have to save yourself. Always remember that.”
“Why won’t other people help you?”
She hesitated for a second. “Sometimes they can’t hear your cries.”
Kennedy got the funny feeling that she wasn’t talking about the story and experienced another twinge of guilt for all she’d suffered in high school. But he could tell that Teddy wasn’t in any danger. On the contrary, his son was getting a dose of the comfort and closeness he’d craved so badly since losing his mother.
Not wanting to interrupt, Kennedy backed out, closed the gate with a tiny click, and slipped away.
When he was in his car, he phoned his mother. “Teddy’s fine,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Is he coming home?”
He turned onto Main Street. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“He’s busy.”
“Is he still with her?”
Kennedy didn’t want to describe the tender scene he’d just witnessed. He was profoundly grateful that Grace could be so kind to Teddy, even though she didn’t like him. “He’s sweeping out her garage,” he lied, because he thought his practical mother would accept that answer more readily.
But he’d underestimated her dislike of Grace.
“What’s she planning to do, work him all day, then pay him a buck or two? Are you going to let her take advantage of him that way?”
“She’s not taking advantage of him,” he snapped. “I’ve got it handled.”
A surprised silence followed this outburst, and he struggled to restrain his emotions. Maybe there were things about his mother that grated on him, but her intentions were loving. And she was dealing with a lot right now—too much. He’d often thought of getting another babysitter for the boys, but he knew none of them would be any happier. His children wanted what they’d had before, when their mother was alive; Camille would take his defection as a sign that he believed she wasn’t doing an adequate job.
“I’ve already looked into it,” he said, softening his voice. “Everything’s fine. He’ll get home when he gets home.”
“You should’ve told him to come right away, like I asked you to.”
“Because you want to read to him?”
“What?”
“Never mind,” he said and hung up.
6
Country-western music poured out the open door of the pool hall adjacent to Jed’s Dependable Auto Repair. Grace, standing flat against the outside wall, knew that if she leaned forward just a little, she’d probably see half the men who lived in Stillwater throwing darts, playing pool or drinking beer. But approaching the back of the automotive shop from the direction of the pool hall was still their best option. Located on Main Street several blocks from Evonne’s, Jed’s shop wasn’t far from the busiest intersection in town. They couldn’t go in through the front. And Walt Eastman’s Tire Center on the other side had a big dog in the yard.
Dressed in a black T-shirt and jogging shorts, with her long hair tucked up inside a baseball cap, she pressed herself more tightly to the outer wall of the building.
“Tell me Jed doesn’t have a dog, too,” she whispered to Madeline, who was similarly dressed, except that she carried a backpack.
Her stepsister shook her head. “No. Walt’s the only one with a dog. And the juicy steak I brought will keep that boy busy.”
“Great. So all we have to worry about is getting caught and going to jail?”
Madeline brandished the chain cutters she’d removed from her backpack. “No one’s going to jail. You heard the police scanner. It’s coffee and doughnuts. Again.”
“You’re talking about the scanner back in the car, right?”
“I don’t want to carry it around, do you?”
Grace preferred to travel light, in case she needed to run like hell. “No.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“So what’s the plan now that we’ve come this far?”
Madeline finished zipping up her pack and stood. “Kirk scouted it out for us before he left. He said there’s a double gate at the back of the yard secured by a chain and padlock. We simply cut the chain with these, slip inside and take a look around. How hard can that be?”
Grace propped her hands on her hips. “Kirk told you how to break in to someone’s business?”
“Once he realized he couldn’t come along.”
“Why not wait for him?” If only Grace could stall for enough time to talk Clay into moving the reverend’s remains before Madeline drew any more attention.
“And let whatever’s in that file drawer disappear?”
“It could be gone already.”
“We have a better chance now than later.” Madeline slung the backpack over her shoulder again. “Besides, there’s no telling when Kirk might get back. His mother could be in the hospital for days, even weeks.”
When Grace didn’t appear convinced, Madeline’s eyebrows drew together in an expression of impatience. “We’re not going to steal anything, so quit worrying. This is no big deal.”
It was a big deal. It was such a big deal that Grace’s heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. And it didn’t help that she could see Kennedy Archer’s SUV in the lot and knew he was inside the pool hall with all his friends. If she and Madeline got caught, they’d have plenty of witnesses to their humiliation.
But Grace hadn’t known that Kennedy and Friends would be at the pool hall when she’d let Madeline persuade her to join this crazy scheme. She hadn’t even considered the fact that Let The Good Times Roll was so close, or that on Thursdays the owner featured margaritas for a dollar. She’d thought exclusively of her stepsister. When Grace initially refused to accompany her, Madeline had started off alone, which made Grace give in and go after her. She couldn’t sit at home while her sister broke into the automotive shop. Because she already had the answers Madeline wanted so badly, Grace felt responsible for the risks her stepsister was taking.
“I’m an assistant district attorney,” she whispered, breathing deeply and resting her head against the gritty surface of the brick wall. “I can’t believe I’m breaking the law. I prosecute scum like us.”
“You can’t prosecute anyone the cops don’t catch, right?” Madeline looked carefully around the corner to see down the alley. “And we know the cops are exactly where I said they’d be. Nothing ever happens in Stillwater. They’re not expecting trouble.”
Grace wished it wasn’t so damn hot. She was feeling light-headed. “Okay, let’s get this over with. You want me to go first?” If she couldn’t talk her stepsister out of this misadventure, she had a strong desire to be finished with it as soon as possible, which provoked a certain recklessness. She wanted to rush forward, cut the chain, do the search and get out.
“No, I’m the one who got us into this. I’ll go first.” Madeline darted off, circling around the parking lot.
Grace hesitated, listening to the buzz of conversation drifting out of the pool hall along with the music, then quickly followed. By the time she caught up, the dog next door was busy devouring the steak Madeline had tossed it and ignoring them completely.
That was a positive omen. But step two of their plan didn’t go quite so smoothly. Cutting a chain wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked on TV. They both had to grab hold of the cutters and squeeze with all their might before the chain finally fell to the ground. Then it thudded in the dirt with a quiet jingle—but to Grace that jingle sounded as loud as crashing cymbals.
“See?” Madeline said as though the noise didn’t bother her in the least. “The hard part’s already over.”
Grace glanced behind them. No one came out of the tavern—and no lights flashed on in the houses that backed onto the alley.
Maybe Madeline was right. Maybe she was overreacting. They were only going to slip in, check a file drawer or two and slip out. Stillwater was a sleepy town;
a quick peek at Jed’s cabinets couldn’t be that dangerous.
“Let’s go.” Her stepsister stepped through the gate, but Grace yanked her back.
“Not without gloves, Maddy. Where are they?”
“Anyone in town could’ve touched this gate.”
“I don’t care. We wear them starting now.”
“Okay. You’re the D.A.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Setting her backpack on the ground, Madeline reached into a front compartment and handed Grace a pair of yellow rubber gloves.
Grace blinked in astonishment. “You’re kidding, right? You want me to debut as a criminal looking like I’m about to wash someone’s dishes?”
“I brought what I had.”
“I have a really bad feeling about this. If nothing else, it’s unauthorized entry of property.”
“You mean trespassing?”
“And forcible entry/vandalism,” she added, eyeing the cut lock, but she allowed Madeline to tug her into the yard.
When they arrived at the building, Grace wanted to immediately duck inside its dark confines. But, like the gate, it was locked. Which didn’t come as any big surprise. “How do you plan to get in?” she asked.
Madeline removed her gloves and shoved them at Grace. “Hold these,” she said, and fished a nail file from her “crime kit.”
“You know how to pick a lock?” Grace whispered. “Who taught you that?”
“Who do you think?”
“Kirk again? Should I be worried about you dating him?”
Madeline chuckled as she worked. “When he was a kid and he got into trouble, his dad would lock his bike in the shed. Kirk figured out how to pick the lock so he could get it out after his father went to work.”
