by Brenda Novak
“Fabric?” Joe echoed. “That’s not what we’re looking for. Keep digging. You have to keep digging.”
McCormick ignored him. “Set it aside.”
“Be careful with it,” Joe said. “It could be evidence.”
Slipping the strip of pink cotton into a paper sack, Hendricks went back to work. Grace expected him or one of the others to find the reverend with the very next shovelful. But just as they brought up something that showed bone through the dirt, Jed Fowler stepped forward.
“It was me,” he said. “I did it.”
Every shovel stilled as the men turned to stare.
McCormick’s bushy eyebrows met above his piercing brown eyes. In the east, the sun was just showing the first hint of daybreak, making it easier to see. “You’re saying you killed the reverend?”
Grace tightened her grip on Kennedy’s hand as Jed nodded.
The police chief sent Irene another glance, then spat on the ground. His slow response gave the impression that he was mulling this information over in his mind, seeing how well it fit his instincts. The look on Irene’s face was…strange, too; almost as if they shared some secret. But as far as Grace was aware, her mother barely knew Chief McCormick.
“How’d you do it?” he asked Jed.
Irene stepped between them. “It’s not true. You know it’s not true,” she said.
“With a piece of wood,” he said.
“You hit him with it?”
“Yes, sir. On the back of the head.”
McCormick rubbed his chin. “Okay. Why’d you do it?”
“Chief McCormick…” The hand Irene laid on the police chief’s arm could simply have been a beseeching gesture. But Grace thought she noticed something just a little too familiar about it. “He didn’t do it.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Clay added.
Joe Vincelli had come over the moment Jed spoke. Now he crowded closer. “They should know,” he said.
McCormick raised a hand, signalling them all to stay out of it. “Jed?”
“He didn’t want to pay me for my work,” Jed muttered.
“Come on, I know you,” McCormick said, lowering his voice. “I’ve seen the stray animals you adopt, the unassuming life you lead. Hell, you’ve fixed my cars since I can remember. You expect me to believe you killed the Reverend Barker over a repair bill? And you’ve kept silent all these years while suspicion swirled around the Montgomerys?”
Jed looked at Grace’s mother, and Grace thought she could imagine why he’d hidden the Bible. Was he in love with her? In any event, he knew what had happened that night. At least he knew part of it. He’d hidden that Bible for Irene’s sake.
“I should’ve come forward earlier,” he said.
“I won’t let you do this,” Irene murmured. “I won’t let him,” she said to Chief McCormick.
The quick glances between the police chief and Irene had ceased. Suddenly he seemed reluctant to even look at her. “I’ve never seen you get angry in the forty-some years I’ve known you,” he said, staring intently at Jed.
“I was angry that night.”
Grace believed he had been angry, angry on behalf of Irene. Had he heard the shouting? Seen the fighting? Watched them drag the body from the house? She guessed he had. She also guessed he’d helped clean up after they’d left with the car. That was how he’d come by the Bible.
“So his skull should be smashed in,” McCormick said.
“Should be,” Jed responded.
“And what did you do with the body?”
“That’s it right there.” He pointed to the bone showing through the dirt in Officer Hendrick’s shovel.
“He’s lying,” Joe said. “He’s trying to protect the Montgomerys.”
“Shut up.” McCormick motioned for Hendricks to pick up whatever he had in his shovel.
Tension made Grace’s muscles ache. She held her breath as Hendricks carefully dusted off what was clearly a skull. But—instinctively she stepped closer—it was too elongated to be human. And it certainly wasn’t smashed.
Clay folded his arms. “Wonderful, McCormick. You’ve exhumed our family dog. He died of natural causes when I was only fifteen, but feel free to cart him off to a forensic anthropologist if that’ll reassure you.”
Joe glared at him. But McCormick seemed to breathe more easily as Hendricks placed the skull next to the fabric.
“Keep digging,” Joe said. “I know my uncle’s here somewhere.”
McCormick cocked an eyebrow at Joe as though tempted to refuse. Grace could feel the weight of her mother’s will, pressing him to do just that. And she could tell that it had an effect on him. There was a tangible intimacy between them that surprised her.
And then it all made sense. Her mother wasn’t seeing Jed. She was seeing Chief McCormick.
Grace covered her mouth as she studied her mother. Irene returned her gaze, but wouldn’t hold it, which told Grace almost as clearly as an admission that she was right. Her mother was having an affair with a married man—as they’d feared. But not just any married man. She was sleeping with Stillwater’s Chief of Police!
Turning in Kennedy’s arms, she tried to make out his expression. Was what she saw apparent to everyone? But he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.
“What is it?” he murmured.
“Nothing,” she said and turned back.
McCormick rested a hand on top of his shovel. “I think we’ve done enough here.”
Because they’d really done enough? Or because he wanted to let Irene off the hook?
Grace watched Irene close her eyes, probably saying a silent prayer of thanks. But Joe wasn’t about to let things go. “Wait a second,” he said. “You’ve got a warrant. You can’t waste the opportunity. You have to dig.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” McCormick said. But when Joe glanced from him to Irene, Grace could tell it pricked the chief’s conscience. No doubt he felt as though he was wearing a scarlet letter. In any case, he quickly backed off. “What the hell,” he said, once again avoiding Irene’s gaze. “We’ve come this far. We might as well make damn sure.”
They dug for another four hours, until dust and sweat ran down their faces in rivulets. By midmorning, the rest of the Barkers appeared. Even Vicki Nibley placed a call to Chief McCormick, throwing her weight behind getting the backhoe Joe wanted. That came at noon. But they found nothing. By the time Grace heard Madeline running down the drive, the police were packing up.
“Word’s all over town that the police have found a body here,” she gasped. “What’s going on?”
Grace was too tired and numb to answer.
“You can’t find something that isn’t here,” Clay said.
Hendricks wiped the sweat from his forehead. “The only thing we’ve got is your father’s Bible,” he said to Madeline. “Joe claims it was out by Pickwick Lake.”
“Where Grace and Kennedy buried it when they went camping recently,” Joe inserted.
Madeline’s eyes filled with tears as Joe handed her the Bible. She gently touched the inscription, then turned to Grace for an explanation. But it was Kennedy who answered—by speaking to Joe. “You were there, too, Joe.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you must have buried it.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how else it could’ve gotten there,” Kennedy said. “If we’d found it, we would’ve given it to Madeline immediately, right, Grace?”
“Right,” Grace murmured. She knew she should probably make more of an effort to convince her stepsister. Poor Maddy looked thunderstruck. But Grace couldn’t get beyond her own shock. Where were Barker’s remains? The police should’ve discovered them.
Unless…
She glanced up to find Clay watching her, and that was when she realized. He’d moved them. She didn’t know how or when—and she certainly didn’t know where—but they were gone because of him.
Forever the Guardian…
“Your cousin found Grace out here with a flashlight and a shovel,” McCormick told Madeline. “He thought she might be trying to move whatever’s left of your father.”
“A flashlight and a shovel?” Once again, Madeline’s gaze moved expectantly to Grace.
Grace glanced guiltily at Clay—silently sending him an apology, as well—and gave the only excuse that might be believed. “I—I just wanted to make sure that what I’ve heard for so long isn’t true.”
“That mom or Clay might have killed Dad?” Madeline asked, her jaw sagging.
Grace stared at the ground. “I know. I feel silly. But everyone in this town seems so positive, and…it finally got the better of me. I want to know what happened. I can’t take the questions anymore.”
“Grace…” Madeline reached for her hand. “I understand completely. It’s so hard. But you can’t lose faith. I know Clay and Mom would never hurt anyone.”
“Then you don’t know them as well as you think,” Joe snorted.
Madeline turned on him. “You found nothing. Doesn’t that send any kind of signal to your pea-sized brain?”
“Yeah, that we’re looking in the wrong place!”
“I’d know if these people were capable of what you suspect, Joe. I lived with them. I grew up with them.”
“Somebody had to have done something,” he retorted.
“Regardless, we had to check,” McCormick said, almost apologetically, and Grace wondered if he was trying to explain his position to her mother.
“Don’t waste your time here,” Madeline replied. “Get out and look for the real culprit instead of harassing the people I love. Look what you’ve done to Grace. You have her doubting her own family. But you’re not going to do the same to me. I’ve already lost my father. I won’t lose anyone else!”
The tears that were streaming down Madeline’s cheeks made Grace feel terrible. As she started to comfort her stepsister, Kennedy whispered, “Some lies are blessings,” and she understood what he meant. Guilty though she felt, telling the truth wouldn’t solve anything. It would only destroy the most important relationships Madeline had left.
“It’s going to be okay,” Grace said, hugging her stepsister. “I made a mistake. But they’re all done digging. It’s over.”
“You satisfied?” McCormick asked Joe.
“No, we need to look elsewhere,” he said. “We’re missing something. I know it.”
McCormick picked up a shovel and slung it over one shoulder. “We’ve torn this place apart. Your uncle isn’t here.”
Joe cut him off before he could take two steps. “He is here. He’s probably right under our noses!”
“If you know where his grave is, then by all means show us,” McCormick challenged. He waved a hand at the disturbed dirt. But when Joe couldn’t pinpoint a spot, he walked away.
Joe’s eyes darted to the cotton fields, the barn, the house. “What about the Bible? Kennedy knows more than he’s saying about this whole thing or he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to hide it.”
McCormick whirled on him. “Now you think Kennedy Archer’s involved?”
“He is!” Joe insisted.
“Do I have to remind you that his father is the mayor of this town? Otis has called me twice this morning to tell me I’d better watch my step. He won’t stand by while I slander his son.”
“No one’s slandering anyone,” Joe argued.
“You can’t go around accusing innocent people of covering up a murder, Joe,” McCormick shouted. “Not unless you have proof.”
In the ensuing silence, everyone looked at everyone else. Joe flushed red, but the stubborn set of his jaw said he wasn’t about to give up yet. “The Bible is evidence.”
McCormick’s hands curled into fists and he stepped right up to Joe. “Of what, exactly? Finding that Bible off in the woods somewhere tells us nothing—except that maybe we’re digging in the wrong place.”
Joe pointed at Kennedy. “Ask him where it came from, okay? Just ask him.”
The police chief rubbed his neck as if trying to ease the tension there. He seemed to consider Joe’s request, reject it, then entertain the idea again. “Kennedy, any chance you want to answer that?” he asked at last.
Kennedy shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“That’s what I thought.” McCormick motioned to his men. “Put everything back as close to the way it was as possible. Let’s get out of here while we still have our jobs.”
Joe grabbed the chief’s arm. “What about Jed’s confession?”
“What about it?”
“He knows something, too.”
“If he knew where your uncle was, he wouldn’t have tried to confess he’d killed what turned out to be a dog.”
Jed was watching Irene closely, as if he, too, suspected what Grace already knew. She wanted to go to him, put a hand on his arm and thank him, but Joe was still causing problems. “Clay must’ve moved the body,” he said. “We should search the root cellar, the basement of the house, the—”
“A search warrant isn’t a blanket document that includes everything you want it to, Joe.”
“You could go back to Judge Reynolds—” Joe started.
“No,” McCormick interrupted. “We’re out of here. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go, too—before Clay leaves you worse off than Kennedy did. He’s got the right, you know. The way I see it, you’re trespassing.”
Clay arched an eyebrow at Joe, and Joe took a quick step back. “Let’s go, son,” Mrs. Vincelli said. Obviously, even she’d had enough.
“I never dreamed you, of all people, would take her side,” he said to Kennedy.
For the first time, Grace felt a twinge of sympathy for Joe. He’d always admired Kennedy, had nearly worshipped him, in fact.
Kennedy linked his fingers with Grace’s. “I’m sorry, Joe. Regardless of our past, Grace’s past, the upcoming election or anything else, from now on, she and I stand together.”
The color had drained from Joe’s face. “Who would’ve thought you’d end up with Grace Montgomery?”
“Soon to be Grace Archer,” Kennedy said.
Madeline gasped. “You’re getting married?”
“To Kennedy?” Irene said, her tone implying that all her dreams had just come true.
Joe obviously had the opposite reaction. He looked as though he’d been struck through the heart. But Grace felt a smile bloom on her face. The sun was now shining brightly, bathing everything in uncompromising warmth. The night had stolen nothing. She was going to be with the man she loved. “Yes.”
Madeline grinned and, with another glance at McCormick, who had his back to her, Irene hugged both her daughters.
“When?” Clay asked.
Kennedy brushed his lips over Grace’s knuckles. “As soon as possible.”
“You’ll be sorry,” Joe called back. “She’s no Raelynn.”
“I don’t want her to be Raelynn,” Kennedy said. “I love her just the way she is.”
There was nothing more Joe could say. He’d never be Grace’s friend. But he couldn’t hurt her anymore, either.
His family dragged him off as Grace looked at the farm, waiting for her memories of the reverend to steal the light from her soul, to dim her happiness, the way they always did. But as her eyes roved over the uneven ground, she realized he was gone. Gone for good. Like the files and mementos that had cluttered his office. Like the threat of the police, who were already packing up and pulling out. Like the darkness.
Kennedy gave her arm a gentle tug. “Let’s go tell the boys about the wedding.”
Grace could hardly wait. “I’m going to love being their mother,” she said and silently promised Raelynn that no matter what happened, she’d do right by the whole family. But before she left, she had a question for her brother.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, pulling him aside.
He folded his arms and gazed out over the land. “I knew
it had to come to this,” he said.
“You knew they’d search? You wanted them to?”
“It was the only way to set you free.”
“Why didn’t you let them search before?”
“An invitation would’ve seemed staged. This way…it was real, you know? They did what they wanted to, even though they thought I was against it. That should keep them happy.”
She double-checked to make sure no one was close enough to hear their conversation. “So, where did you put…it?” she whispered.
He smiled and shook his head. “That’s one question I’ll never answer. He’s not your problem anymore. That’s all you need to know.”
“Grace?”
Grace looked up to see Madeline standing off by herself. She’d been reading through her father’s Bible, turning each page as though it was more precious than gold.
“What is it?” she said gently when she noticed the tears in Madeline’s eyes.
Madeline pointed to a page at the beginning of the Bible that was usually blank. Only this one was covered with small, neat handwriting that included dates, scriptural references and passages, notes. “You should read all the beautiful things Dad wrote about you. You were so special to him.”
Special? More than Madeline would ever know.
Grace’s eyes locked with Kennedy’s. Then she smiled at her stepsister. “You’re the one who’s special, Maddy.”
Epilogue
Grace lay on her back beneath the Baumgarters’ giant oak, the one that now belonged to her and Kennedy, staring up at the dappled sunshine. The winter had been especially mild, and it was a glorious day, one of those days that felt like spring. Kennedy had dropped out of the mayoral race so he could spend more time with the family. But he didn’t seem to regret it. Especially since his father’s chemotherapy had gone so well.
“How old is Grandpa today?” Teddy asked.
“Sixty,” Kennedy said. He was pruning back some of the wisteria vines that grew onto their porch, while Teddy and Heath lay on the grass beside Grace, still dizzy from their spinning contest.
“Wow, that’s old.”
They were having Kennedy’s parents over later to celebrate Otis’s birthday. She needed to start cooking—and cleaning, too. Molly was coming for a visit after Valentine’s. But she was having a difficult time pulling away from her kids. “Thank God it looks like he’s going to be around for a while longer.”
