Dead Silence

by Brenda Novak

  “No. What did he write?”

  “A lot of it was about you.”

  She didn’t dare say anything.

  “I read it, and it’s made me wonder…”

  Apprehension gnawed at her, and her pulse raced. “What?” she said hesitantly.

  “Did…did the reverend ever—”

  Her stomach tensed. “I don’t want to talk about him,” she said.

  Taking both her hands, he held them reassuringly. “Did he…you know, touch you when you were a girl? Touch you in the wrong places and in the wrong way?”

  The breath seemed to freeze in Grace’s lungs, creating a crushing tightness. For a split second, she wanted to admit it. To divulge her pain and outrage at last. To cast off the heavy burden of her filthy secret, a secret she hadn’t even been willing to share with a therapist.

  But she couldn’t get past the feeling that she was somehow to blame for what her stepfather had done. Like those encounters with Kennedy’s friends in high school, the shame of it burned her almost as deeply as the betrayal. Besides, she couldn’t give anyone an inkling that she and her family might’ve had such a powerful motive for murder. Especially Kennedy. He knew about the Bible. She was sure he’d turn on her at some point. All his friends and his family were against her. And when he did, the consequences of one weak moment could destroy her entire family.

  “No.” She told herself to look him in the eye, but she couldn’t. She was afraid he’d see right through her, the way he had when they were in the water.

  She tried to move away, but he hung on to her. “I think he did,” he said stubbornly.

  He was pressing her, searching for the truth. She had to be more convincing. “Are you crazy?” She forced a scoffing tone into her voice. “There are people in this town who’d condemn even you for saying such a thing. The reverend was above reproach—wasn’t he?”

  His expression didn’t change as he stared down at her. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  He seemed so aware of every nuance. She needed more space. “He—of course. I mean, everyone knows what a g-good man he was. He—” The words seemed to congeal in her throat. She knew she should continue to praise her stepfather, but she couldn’t do it. Not here. Not now. Not to Kennedy.

  “Was he a good man?” Kennedy whispered.

  She struggled to hold herself together, trying to catch her breath. Too much had happened tonight. Everything was running into a great kaleidoscope of emotion. Pain. Anger. Disappointment. Arousal. Hope. Kennedy seemed to provide the anchor she craved, but she knew that was an illusion. As soon as she grabbed on, she’d find out there was really nothing there. He was Mr. Stillwater and she was Grinding Gracie.

  “Did he molest you, Grace?”

  She wanted to cover her ears. “No. Stop it! I can’t—I…just shut up, please!” Finally, she managed to wrench free and dart into the protective cover of her tent. There, blinking back tears, she held her breath to see what Kennedy would do next. She prayed he’d accept what she’d told him and believe it. But she knew she hadn’t been nearly as persuasive as she should’ve been. Especially when she heard him pacing outside.

  “God,” she heard him say. “If he’s not dead already, I’ll kill him myself.”

  Kennedy lay awake long after Grace had stopped stirring. He supposed she’d finally fallen asleep. He hoped so; she needed the rest. But for him sleep was impossible. He couldn’t shut down. In his mind, he kept seeing the moonlight on Grace’s ashen face when he’d asked if the reverend had abused her—seeing the truth in her eyes—and kept wondering how far the bastard had taken the molestation. Had he raped her? If so, how old had she been? And had he done it once? Twice? More?

  The thought of the reverend forcing a small, defenseless Grace to lie beneath him evoked a white-hot anger.

  Pressing his thumb and finger into his closed eyes, Kennedy attempted to blot out the vision. It was making him nauseous. Nothing could stop him from feeling Grace’s fear and helplessness as an innocent child, the guilt and self-loathing she seemed to feel as an adult. What he now believed explained so much, didn’t it?

  He understood why Grace had acted out in a sexual manner during high school. He’d heard that was common with people who’d been molested as children. He also understood why she’d been so desperate for attention. With such serious problems at home, her emotional needs weren’t being met. Even though the reverend was gone by the time she reached high school, things certainly hadn’t improved, at least not a great deal. Her mother didn’t have much of an education and wasn’t well liked. The best job she could get required her to work long hours for little pay. The Montgomerys were surrounded by suspicion, constantly the brunt of jokes or the subject of snide glances and unkind whispers, many of which ended with “white trash.”

  The beautiful woman he’d just held in the water was anything but trash. Recalling the jibes and taunts his friends had lobbed Grace’s way and, worse, the adoration and hope he’d seen shining in her eyes whenever she looked at him, turned his guilt into a physical ache.

  “Why?” he muttered. Why couldn’t he have stepped outside his perfect world long enough to show her some compassion? To help turn the tide of disapproval and dislike?

  Obviously, he was as bad as Joe and the others. He’d done nothing. And yet she’d survived. She’d graduated from high school. She’d pulled herself together and gone to college, even law school. She’d become an assistant D.A. and never lost a case.

  Impressive. Her accomplishments, once she left Stillwater, were more than impressive. And yet the scars remained. He knew that.

  The day Clay appeared at school and bloodied Tim’s face came to mind. Clay was incredibly strong, and had been even in high school. As a junior, he could bench-press over three hundred pounds. A plaque still hung in the weight room with his name on it—the “Over 300 Club.” Kennedy hadn’t achieved that status until he was in college, and he’d never beat Clay’s record.

  Had Clay or Irene discovered what the reverend was doing to Grace and killed him in an act of rage? Or had they acted more methodically to ensure that he could never hurt her again? It was even possible that little Grace had finally done something about the abuse, and her family was covering for her.

  Regardless, Kennedy was certain the story they’d long told wasn’t true. Before finding that Bible and seeing everything the reverend had written about Grace, he’d been willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes strange, inexplicable things happened. But he couldn’t accept that anymore. He suspected the Montgomerys were as guilty as everybody claimed.

  But, knowing what he did, could he blame them?

  The sun beat down on Grace’s tent. She rolled over, still sleepy but unable to tolerate the sweltering heat. It was fairly early in the morning—about eight-thirty, she guessed—but the boys and Kennedy were already up. She could hear them talking, smell the bacon frying.

  “She knows you’re a nice guy now, right, Dad?” Teddy asked.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Kennedy replied, his voice low.

  “She likes you. I can tell.”

  Kennedy cleared his throat. “Teddy, that’s enough.”

  “Okay. But you like her, too, don’t you? She’s pretty, huh, Dad?”

  “She’s pretty,” he admitted.

  Grace muffled a groan as she recalled the events of the previous night in brutal detail. She’d kissed Kennedy, offered to have sex with him. She should be embarrassed about that, except she knew she’d do it again if it would put what they were feeling behind them. She could sense trouble coming, trouble that seemed particularly ominous when she thought about the recognition on Kennedy’s face as she lied so poorly at her tent door a few hours earlier.

  Why hadn’t she been stronger?

  Rolling onto her side, she spotted the cell phone. It wasn’t until that moment that she thought of George. She’d lost the man she was going to marry. Almost every facet of her life had changed last night. />
  “She’s really pretty,” Heath concurred.

  “Grab those eggs and bring them to me,” Kennedy said.

  Throwing off the cover of her sleeping bag, she told herself she might as well face Kennedy and get it over with. Maybe they could simply forget their encounter at the lake. Pretend it had never happened and go their separate ways.

  But she didn’t really want to forget what she’d felt.

  “I can never get it right,” she muttered.

  “I think she’s waking up,” Teddy said with an eagerness that made Grace smile despite everything.

  “Stay here, Teddy,” Kennedy admonished. “Give her a chance to get dressed.”

  “I was just going to say hello,” he muttered.

  After pulling on a tank top and a pair of shorts, Grace gathered her toiletries, and stepped out of the tent wearing flip-flops on her feet. She knew her hair probably looked a fright since she’d gone to bed with it wet, but Kennedy didn’t seem to notice. He turned at the sound of her approach and something invisible passed between them. It wasn’t the self-consciousness she’d expected to feel. It was more indefinable than that. She’d never experienced it before.

  Fleetingly, she remembered clinging to him, rubbing against him in the lake. Thank goodness they’d been dressed or things might’ve ended much differently.

  “Morning,” he said, handing her a piece of bacon.

  She mumbled a response, focusing on the salty taste of the meat so she wouldn’t have to consider that he now knew more about her than almost anyone else in the world.

  “Pancakes will be ready in a few minutes,” he said.

  “Smells great.” She wished she could read the expression in his eyes. “Do I have time to grab a quick shower?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll walk you over,” Heath said.

  Grace took the boy’s hand.

  “I’ll come, too,” Teddy said and insisted on carrying her bag.

  The sound of an engine caught Grace’s attention as they started off. She glanced back, expecting it to be another camper coming or going. But that wasn’t the case at all.

  They had company.

  “Oh, no,” she said, immediately recognizing the driver.

  “What’s the matter?” Teddy asked.

  As Joe Vincelli hopped out of his truck, Teddy stayed at her side, but Heath ran over to greet him.

  “Hi, Joe! I didn’t know you were coming.”

  Neither did Grace. “You invited him?” she muttered to Kennedy. The sight of Joe reminded her that Kennedy had always been an enemy. How long would it be before he told his friends about the Bible and what had happened last night?

  “No,” Kennedy said, but there was no chance for him to explain.

  “Here you are,” Joe said. “I knew I could find you.”

  “What’s going on?” Kennedy asked.

  Joe’s gaze cut to her. “When you mentioned you were going camping, you didn’t tell me you were bringing Gracie.”

  “That’s Grace,” he said. “And you didn’t ask.”

  “Grace. Right.” The smile that curved Joe’s lips indicated he found Kennedy’s correction amusing. “Well, no worries. I’m here to save the outing.”

  “Save the outing?” Grace repeated.

  “Don’t you know? Politicians are notoriously dull.”

  “And you’re…?”

  “Compared to Kennedy, I’m the life of the party. I don’t have a reputation to protect.” He winked at her. “You and I are alike in that way, eh?”

  “We’re not alike at all,” she said.

  Again, he gave her a smile that indicated her response meant something significant to him. “If you say so.” Reaching into his truck, he pulled out a box of doughnuts. “Anyway, I’ve come bearing gifts.”

  “Do you have any with sprinkles?” Teddy asked eagerly.

  Joe shook his head. “You kidding? Only pansies like sprinkles. I don’t like sprinkles. Do you like sprinkles?” he said to Heath.

  “I like sprinkles,” Heath replied.

  Teddy shifted Grace’s bag to his other arm. “Grace likes them, too.

  Joe’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at her. “Wow, your takeover is nearly complete. Good thing I came.”

  “And that means what, exactly?” she asked.

  He chuckled softly. “Nothing.”

  “Damn right,” Kennedy said.

  Ignoring him, Joe nudged Heath. “Maybe if you could persuade Grace to be nice to me, I’d drive back to town and get her some doughnuts with sprinkles.”

  She raised one hand. “Don’t trouble yourself on my account,” she said and headed for the showers, knowing that whatever had happened yesterday, today was bound to be much worse.

  Kennedy watched Grace walk away with his two boys. When they were out of earshot, he turned to Joe. “Why are you here? You had to leave at five in the morning to show up so early.”

  “I told you I might join you,” he said indifferently.

  Kennedy stared at him. “No, you said you didn’t want to go to Pickwick Lake.”

  Joe sauntered closer, eating a doughnut in only two bites. “It’s not that bad here,” he said, still chewing.

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Since when do I need a reason to visit my best friend?”

  “You knew Grace was here, too. How?”

  Joe hesitated, as if he might continue to deny the motivation behind his trip, then shrugged. “Buzz told me he saw you drive out of town with a woman in the car.”

  Kennedy forked the rest of the bacon onto a paper plate. “And you found that compelling enough to track us down?”

  “You haven’t dated anyone since Raelynn died. I was curious to see which woman you had with you.” He widened his eyes. “Never dreamed it would be Grace.”

  Kennedy didn’t believe that for a minute. Joe hadn’t seemed at all surprised to see her. “So now you know.”

  Joe made a clicking sound and stood with his feet apart, arms folded. “Yeah, now I know. But I should’ve guessed right off the bat. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  Kennedy knew he shouldn’t ask, but he was bothered enough by Joe’s attitude that he couldn’t stop himself. “What makes sense?”

  “Why you don’t want to press McCormick to solve my uncle’s case.”

  “I’ve already stated my reasons.”

  “I guess you did,” Joe said with a chuckle. “You just didn’t add that you’re more interested in getting a piece of ass than in seeing justice done.”

  Kennedy put the spatula he’d been using on the tree stump that held the rest of his cooking supplies. “We’ve known each other a long time, Joe,” he said, lowering his voice. “I owe you more than any other man. But if you ever say anything like that to me again, I won’t hesitate to break your jaw. And believe me, the fact that I’m running for mayor won’t stop me.”

  It seemed to take Joe a moment to absorb the fact that Kennedy meant what he said. When he finally realized it, the mocking smile slid from his face. “You’d let a woman come between us, Kennedy? Grinding Gracie? She’s that good?”

  Kennedy recognized the mean streak that occasionally appeared in Joe. He’d seen that look before, whenever Joe started a fistfight at the pool hall or got into an argument with his ex-wife. But Teddy and Heath were already racing each other back to camp, so Kennedy retrieved his spatula and tried to make the situation seem as casual as possible. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “But you want to find out.”

  “I wanted some company. That’s all.”

  Heath rushed to touch the truck before Teddy could. “I win!” he called out.

  “You cheated,” Teddy complained.

  “No, I didn’t,” Heath said.

  “You had a head start.”

  Heath brought a hand to his chest as though he’d been falsely accused. “I said, ‘one, two, three, go.’”

  “I didn’t hear you!”

  “Fine, let’s ra
ce back.”

  “Okay. One, two, three, go,” Teddy hollered and dashed off before his brother could do the same.

  When the kids were gone, Joe nudged Kennedy with his elbow. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m dissatisfied. Tired of being divorced. Tired of my job. Tired of doing the same old things. I admit all that. I’m even willing to admit that Grace seems to have changed a lot. I can see why you might be attracted to her. But she’s still the same person, Kennedy. You shouldn’t let that pretty face fool you.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “You’re not interested in her?”

  Kennedy tried to say he wasn’t. Only he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Grace might be everything he should avoid. But right now, she was everything he wanted. “I think she has a boyfriend in Jackson.”

  Joe snagged a piece of bacon. “Yet you risked taking her up here with you.”

  “Risked?”

  “You know how people can be once a rumor gets started.”

  “I took her camping. Big deal.”

  Joe stole another piece of bacon and seemed to smile more easily.

  “What’s that grin for?” Kennedy asked.

  He nodded in the direction Teddy and Heath had gone. “You need a good mother for those boys. And, considering your career, it has to be someone with an impeccable reputation. You’re not likely to forget that.”

  It was true. But Kennedy didn’t want to hear about it. Especially from Joe. “I might take her out a couple of times once we get back,” he said.

  Joe stiffened. “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “Your parents won’t like it.”

  “I’m thirty-one years old, Joe. I’m not going to base every decision I make on what my parents will or won’t like.” Although, with the state of his father’s health, Kennedy knew he should probably be more sensitive to it than he sounded at the moment.

  “Other people won’t like it, either,” Joe said.

  “Are you talking about you?” Kennedy asked.

  “She killed my uncle.”

  Kennedy kept his eyes on the bacon he was frying because now, more than ever, he thought that might be true. “Where’s the proof?”

  “That’s the problem.”