Dead Giveaway

by Brenda Novak

  Allie wondered why he never seemed to get any credit for the good things he’d done. He’d graduated from high school while doing the work of two men and acting as his family’s patriarch. And then he’d put himself through college, completing a four-year degree in only two and a half.

  “Your mother’s lucky to have a son like you,” Allie said.

  He finished his wine. “Someone about twenty years older would’ve been a greater help.”

  “You did your best. What more could she ask?”

  He grew quiet, pensive.

  She craned her neck to look at him. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

  He tilted his head back against the wall and Allie scooted a little closer, seeking the warmth of his body. He responded by putting his arm around her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She sensed that his first inclination was to shelter, to protect.

  Did that mean he was protecting someone else—his mother, for instance—in the reverend’s disappearance? Allie was about to ask him about that night, when she realized Clay was asleep.

  Reluctant to disturb him, she rested her cheek against his chest and counted the steady beats of his heart. Clay wasn’t what she’d expected. He was far more sensitive, far deeper. She was willing to bet a lot of people, including her father, would be surprised to learn that. Allie thought she’d never met anyone more misunderstood.

  We’ve got to leave, she told herself. But she was exhausted, too. She decided they could afford to rest for another ten minutes….

  The next thing she knew, birds were chirping in the trees. It was morning.

  10

  Allie’s first thought was that she’d just spent the night with Clay Montgomery. Her second was that he hadn’t even tried to kiss her. She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. She had to admit his lack of action was a blow to her self-esteem. She’d never expected Clay to pursue her. She knew she wasn’t his type. But she’d slept in his arms for hours and he’d acted as if he wasn’t even tempted….

  “We have to get back,” she mumbled, pulling away from the comfort his body had provided. “I need to be at home when Whitney wakes up.”

  He’d opened his eyes the moment she began to stir and was looking at her as if, unlike other mortals, he didn’t need to go through the various groggy stages of rising to full consciousness.

  Allie yawned, guessing that instant alertness came from a lifetime of standing vigil over the farm. Couldn’t Clay ever truly relax?

  “What’s wrong?” she asked when he didn’t respond.

  “Nothing.”

  Immediately standing up, he started gathering the leftovers of their picnic while Allie tried to stretch the kinks from her muscles. “Do you always wake up going a hundred miles an hour?”

  “What?” he said.

  “Never mind.” With a final stretch, she stood, too, and began to help.

  “So, did you learn any deep dark secrets last night?” he asked as he carried the basket out to his truck.

  She followed with the tablecloth. “Are you kidding? You know I didn’t. You got off pretty light.”

  “How’d I manage that?” he said with a boyish grin.

  She liked the way his hair stuck up on one side, the dark shadow of beard growth covering his prominent jaw. He looked rumpled—and sexy. “You went to sleep. What was I supposed to do, wake you?”

  They both knew she could’ve done exactly that. But Allie was no longer so anxious to badger Clay for details about that long-ago night. She was beginning to hope, really hope, that he’d had no part in whatever had happened. And it was easier to avoid the answers to certain questions if she didn’t ask them in the first place.

  “What makes you think Lucas has been back to Stillwater?” he asked.

  After loading the picnic supplies in the back, they’d both gone to the driver’s side. Clay opened the door and waved Allie in, then got in after her.

  Allie slid over a few feet so he could drive, but not all the way. She had the oddest desire to sit close to him. Probably because she wasn’t quite ready to return to regular life.

  “He acted kind of suspicious when I talked to him on the phone,” she said.

  Clay’s face was unreadable. “In what way?”

  “He claimed he didn’t know anything about Barker. Yet, a few seconds later, he accidentally revealed that he knew it’d been nineteen years since Barker went missing.”

  Clay said nothing.

  “That’s strange, don’t you think?” she prompted.

  “Anything’s possible with my dad.”

  “I guess he could’ve heard about the investigation through the media,” she went on, “but it wasn’t that widely publicized. And he’s been living in Alaska for two decades.”

  “He has some distant relatives here in Mississippi.”

  “Do you think he stays in touch with them?”

  Clay shrugged. “He could.”

  His dad might have maintained contact. But that didn’t explain why Lucas had jumped to the conclusion that Barker was dead, when only the guilty party, and anyone the guilty party might have told, really knew for sure. And it didn’t explain why Lucas hadn’t simply told her that he’d heard about Barker from family or friends.

  “Do you know much about Eliza?” Allie asked, gazing out the window as they turned onto the highway and began to travel at a greater speed.

  “Eliza?”

  She glanced over at him. “Barker’s first wife.”

  “Not really. Besides what Madeline’s said.”

  “Barker never talked about her?”

  “No. I found some old pictures in his office, but I gave those to Maddy when I finally dismantled the place.”

  “When was that?”

  “Last summer.”

  “Why haven’t you used the office for something else?” she asked.

  He had one arm slung across the back of the seat, his hand so close he could’ve touched her hair, but Allie could tell he wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared. “I don’t need the space.”

  What Clay had done to the office was extreme, considering the fact that he had no real reason for gutting it. But Allie didn’t want to ask about that, for fear of getting too close to details she’d rather not know.

  “Can you tell me why Jed Fowler might have hated your stepfather?” she asked, changing the subject.

  Clay took a little longer than he should have to answer, as though he was warring with himself over whether or not to be truthful. “No,” he said at last.

  Evidently, he’d decided he couldn’t. Which set Allie’s cop instincts buzzing. Clay had too many secrets. They frightened her. For him.

  “We can never be completely honest with each other, can we?” she asked earnestly.

  He took his eyes off the road long enough to stare across the seat at her. “That depends on what you want.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Was he acknowledging that he felt a spark between them, the same spark she felt? That the truth, once known, would stand in the way of what they both secretly wanted? She could’ve asked for clarification, but he wasn’t a man who spelled out his feelings. And she was too confused about her own emotions to press him on his. So she let him drive the rest of the way in silence.

  As they neared her parents’ property, Allie couldn’t help glancing nervously at the clock. It was only six-fifteen. She should arrive before Whitney woke up for school, which usually didn’t happen until seven. But Allie’s father was likely pacing the floor, waiting. Or maybe he’d gone to the guesthouse looking for her.

  Fortunately, when Clay pulled down the back road, the guesthouse looked as empty and dark as they’d left it. If Dale was awake, he’d be expecting Allie at the main house. “I don’t think we should see each other again,” she said as she grabbed hold of the door handle.

  “Neither do I.”

  His quick,
decisive rejoinder caused a painful jab. But Allie was determined not to show her disappointment. “Right. So we agree.”

  She opened the door, but he caught hold of her jacket before her feet could touch the ground.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He cursed under his breath but didn’t release her.

  “What?” she said again.

  “When are we going back?”

  Allie didn’t ask where. He was referring to the cabin. They’d acknowledged what they thought they should do; now they were addressing what they wanted to do.

  “I’m on graveyard all week,” she said.

  She could tell he believed she was turning him down.

  With a nod, he let her go.

  “But Friday would work,” she added, lingering of her own volition.

  His eyes fastened on hers. Agreeing to see him again confirmed that she wanted to be with him enough to go against her better judgment.

  “We’re at the part where you say okay,” she told him when he didn’t respond.

  He nodded, looking somber. “Okay. I’ll pick you up here.”

  Allie knew she’d be crazy to nurture the romantic feelings she was beginning to have for Clay Montgomery. And yet the temptation to return to her father’s fishing shack, to spend another evening with him, was too enticing to resist. She’d stop seeing Clay after next weekend. One more outing would be okay. He didn’t want her sexually, she told herself, or he would’ve made a move when they’d shared the bed. He needed company, a friend.

  “Same time?” she asked, her heart beating wildly.

  With a nod, he said, “I’ll bring the food,” and, as soon as she’d grabbed her picnic basket out of the back, he drove away.

  “Dale’s furious,” Clay’s mother said over the phone, her voice a harsh whisper, which indicated she was calling from work.

  Clay was squatting near a broken water pipe out on the south forty. When he heard this, he put the lid on the special cement he’d been using, and stood. “About what?” he said, but he didn’t need to ask. Dale had obviously found out that he’d been with Allie last night. If Clay were Dale, he’d be furious, too. He wouldn’t want his daughter dating someone in Clay’s position.

  But Chief McCormick had at least one reason to be grateful, Clay thought. A lot more could’ve happened at the cabin than did. Clay had never exercised so much self-control when he held a woman that close. He’d never had to. The girls he dated started climbing all over him almost at hello. Yet last night, he’d shared a bed with Allie, felt her pliant body curl into his, breathed in the scent of her clean hair and soft skin—and hadn’t so much as brushed his lips across her neck. Knowing she was too good for him, but having her completely available to him, was one of the most bittersweet experiences of his life.

  And, like the stupid glutton for punishment he was, he’d asked for more of the same kind of torture next weekend.

  “You know what,” his mother said.

  “Do I need to remind you that seeing Allie was your idea?” Clay pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped the dust from his face.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I—I didn’t know how much it’d upset—” her voice dropped again “—you-know-who.”

  “Your lover. Who’s married.” Clay laughed without humor. “Doesn’t it bother you that he can sleep with you while demanding that your unmarried son stay away from his unmarried daughter?”

  “It bothers me,” she admitted. “But it’s not that he doesn’t like you.”

  “Right,” he said, but she ignored the sarcastic interruption.

  “It’s that he’s extra protective of Allie. She’s his baby. He doesn’t want to see her hurt again.”

  “She’s only a year younger than I am. Why’s he treating her like a kid?”

  “I just told you. He doesn’t want her to get hurt again. She has a child now, Clay. She needs to find a good father for Whitney.”

  Clay winced. “And that excludes me?”

  “It’s not as if you’ve had many long-term relationships,” she said. “What woman have you dated more than a handful of times?”

  “What woman that I’ve dated would you want me to marry?” he countered.

  “None of them. You tend to like a woman who has a bust measurement larger than her IQ. But Allie’s different.”

  He chose the women he chose on purpose. So there was no danger of wanting more than he could have. So he wasn’t callously breaking the heart of one innocent woman after another while trying to fulfill his own needs. But he wasn’t about to explain that to Irene. “I don’t like what’s happening to you,” he said instead.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’re not yourself. This relationship is clouding your judgment, making you do things you ordinarily wouldn’t.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. And besides that, it’s dangerous.”

  “For who?”

  “For all of us, but especially Grace. She has the most to lose.”

  Irene made no response.

  “Are you even listening?” he asked.

  “Grace isn’t the only one who wants to be loved, Clay.”

  He knew that from personal experience. But he still had to protect his sister. And standing by while his mother had an affair with the chief of police wasn’t the way to do it. “Find someone else,” he said. “Someone who’s free to love you back.”

  “Stop it,” she said. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “Listen to me!”

  “No, I won’t! What’s wrong, Clay? Why do you hate it so much that I’m finally happy?” she asked. “Just because you’re determined to be miserable for the rest of your life, you want me to be miserable, too? Is that it?”

  Clay’s chest grew tight. “Is that what you think?”

  “Yes!” she said and hung up.

  But she called right back, and this time she was crying. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair and I know it. It’s just…I love him so much, and he says he loves me, but I can’t ever really have him, can I? There’s no way to make it work.”

  “No,” he admitted.

  She sniffed and gulped for air. “So what do I do?”

  “The only thing you can do, Mom. Cut it off as soon as possible and then do your best to survive the bleeding.”

  Allie was supposed to be sleeping while Whitney was in school, but instead she was staring at her picture of Clay. Madeline had left her several messages. Clay’s stepsister wanted to talk about the case, present some ideas and leads she thought Allie should follow up on. But Allie didn’t particularly want to talk to her. She was losing enthusiasm for the case and knew she’d have trouble hiding it. For the first time in her life, she honestly believed there might be some truth to that old cliché about letting sleeping dogs lie.

  Not returning Maddy’s call wouldn’t help, though. Her cell phone rang again, and caller ID indicated Clay’s stepsister’s name. Knowing Madeline would only keep calling if she didn’t pick up, Allie hit the Talk button. “Hello?”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Good, you?”

  “I’m great.”

  She didn’t sound so great. She sounded as if she was forcing herself to be cheerful when she was really just eager—eager for answers Allie didn’t have.

  “You finished going through the files yet?”

  “Almost.”

  “Anything stand out?”

  Nothing Madeline would want to hear. But to fill the silence, and pretend she was still moving forward, she mentioned that she’d questioned Jed.

  “Did he say anything new?”

  “Not really.”

  Allie could feel the other woman’s disappointment, which made her want to ask her next question very carefully. She had no idea whether the torn program at Jed’s house meant anything. He was odd enough that he might’ve kept it simply because Eliza had given him a kind word now and then. And Maddy’s mother had to be a painful
subject for her. “Do you know if your mother and Jed were ever friends?” she asked, putting a little lift in her voice to make the question sound as casual as possible.

  “Friends? I don’t think I’d say that. But I was only ten when…when she died, so maybe they knew each other better than I realized.”

  “You don’t remember ever seeing him at the house?”

  “No…but he helped us out when our car stalled once. I remember him towing us back to his shop and giving me a quarter for a Pepsi. And there was the time he got scarlet fever. He refused to go to the hospital. My mother helped nurse him so he could stay at home. But she was always doing that kind of stuff for people…Why?”

  “I’m just trying to figure out why he quit coming to church. I wondered if they might’ve had a falling-out.”

  “Oh, no. No one ever had a falling-out with my mother. She was…” She seemed aware that her admiration for her mother was breaking through the anger that usually kept all mention of Eliza at bay. “She didn’t have any enemies,” she finished.

  “Right. I didn’t think so.”

  “Who are you going to talk to next?” Maddy asked.

  Allie held Clay’s picture a little closer. “I don’t know,” she said. “I spoke to Bonnie Ray but she just repeated what was in the files. And we’re pretty busy at the station.”

  Silence.

  “I’ll make a list of other people to interview, though, okay?” she added.

  There was another pause, as if Madeline wanted to ask “When?” But she didn’t. “Great. Okay. I know it’s hard to get it all done.”

  Especially when your heart isn’t in it. Allie sighed. “That’s it for now, then. I’d better go.”

  “Allie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Tell me you won’t give up.”

  Thinking of her rendezvous with Clay, Allie cringed. “Maddy…”

  “I know, you’ll do your best,” she said and disconnected.

  Over the next few days, Clay worked even harder than usual. He rebuilt fences, added soil amendments to the fields, and started to relandscape the front yard, all in an effort to keep himself too busy to think about Allie. But it was no good. On Tuesday night, his mother came over and told him she’d broken off her relationship with Chief McCormick. From her abject despair, he knew it was the truth, and was glad, especially for Grace. With the baby due in less than a week, she didn’t need her world to fall apart. But Clay felt hypocritical telling his mother she’d made the right decision when, by seeing Allie, he was asking for the same kind of dilemma. He and Irene were both reaching for someone they couldn’t have.