Dead Giveaway

by Brenda Novak

  “I’ll get the bastard who did it,” she promised and hunkered down on an outcropping of rock. It wasn’t the perfect angle but—she peered through the lens of her camera—it wasn’t bad. She took a few shots, then clambered farther up the hill, swatting at the mosquitoes that were so prevalent in early summer.

  She was just climbing onto a particularly large rock to get some more pictures when a spot of red caught her eye. At first she discounted it as unrelated to the case. It was highly unlikely the perpetrator had come this far from the road and the cabin.

  But then, as she stared at it, she realized what it was.

  15

  “Finally! My God, Clay, are you all right?”

  At the sound of his youngest sister’s voice, Clay shifted the phone to his other ear, shoved a kitchen chair out from the table with his foot, and slouched into it. He’d been lifting weights again, concentrating on building up the strength in his legs while giving his arm a chance to heal. Lately he always seemed to be prowling around the house, looking for something rigorous enough to occupy his mind and his body, and lifting seemed to be his most effective diversion. Especially during the past five days, while he’d been trying so hard to keep his promise to Chief McCormick. He didn’t see any point in phoning Allie to say they couldn’t see each other again. It was better to leave the situation exactly as it was. Hearing her voice would only weaken his resolve.

  “I’m fine,” he told Molly, balling up the T-shirt he’d removed just before she called and using it to mop his forehead.

  “I heard someone shot you!”

  Clay had taken off the bandages he’d worn the first two days, and could see that the wound had already scabbed over. “It’s only a scratch.”

  “That’s not what Grace told me.”

  “Are you going to take Henny-penny’s word for it, or mine?” he asked with a lazy smile.

  “Henny-penny’s, I guess, because Mom’s been just as worried as Grace.”

  In the middle of her suffering over the loss of her married boyfriend, maybe. Clay didn’t know who was feeling more deprived these days—he or his mother.

  “And Madeline’s been more upset than both of them,” Molly added.

  “I’m fine. You’ll see for yourself when you get here. You’re still coming, right?”

  “I fly in next week. Has the sheriff’s department figured out who shot at you?”

  “No. They’re relying on our local department for help, and I don’t get the impression the Stillwater P.D. is too interested in solving the case.”

  “Why not?”

  “This may come as a surprise, but I’m not as popular as our beloved stepfather was.”

  “Shows you what they know. There’s no comparison between the kind of man you are and the monster Barker was.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the best-kept secret in town, remember?”

  “I remember. What’s the latest word on Grace’s baby? Any labor pains?”

  His chair squeaked against the hardwood floor as he shifted. “Not yet. But she’s only two days overdue.”

  “Only? Doesn’t that mean she’s done?”

  “Jeez, you know less about having babies than I do,” he said with a laugh. “What, there are no newborns in the Big Apple?”

  “All my friends are single. Besides, I make it a point not to worry about that sort of thing. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

  For her, maybe. He propped his legs on the opposite chair. “Don’t want those maternal instincts kicking in just yet, eh?”

  “Not until I find the right man.”

  “From what I hear, you’re not looking very hard.”

  “You’re older than I am,” she said.

  Exactly. But when he saw where the conversation was going, he made an effort to guide it back to safer ground. “The doctor said he’ll let Grace go for two weeks before he induces.”

  “Induces? Wow, I think you’re the first man I’ve ever heard use that term—about having a baby, I mean.”

  He chuckled. “You know me. I’m up on all things feminine, thanks to my softer side.”

  “You mean the one most people don’t know about?”

  “Crying isn’t good for my image.”

  “I don’t think anything could harm your image,” she said wryly.

  “How’s New York?”

  “It’s the place to be. I’m still waiting for you to visit me here, by the way.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that someday,” he said, although they both knew chances were better that he wouldn’t.

  The phone clicked, telling Clay he had another call, but he didn’t bother to check who it was. Probably Beth Ann. Again. He’d contacted her earlier to determine whether or not she’d had anything to do with the shooting. She’d adamantly denied it, and provided him with an alibi that had been easy to verify—she’d been at the pool hall the night of the shooting. Then she’d called him several times to make sure he believed her. She’d even offered to bring him some homemade soup. When he’d insisted he didn’t need soup, she’d launched into a big spiel about how they should at least be friends.

  They hadn’t been friends when they were sleeping together. He didn’t see why that would change now that they weren’t. But he’d told her he might call her later, just so he could get off the phone.

  “You could bring Allie McCormick to the city with you,” Molly said.

  Clay tossed his sweat-dampened T-shirt across the room. Evidently Grace, Irene and Madeline had been doing some talking. “Why would I want to do that?”

  “Because you like her.”

  “Who says?”

  “You’d have to like her, to sleep with a cop. Not to mention that she’s the daughter of the man our mother’s having an affair with.”

  “Mom broke off that relationship.”

  “I know, but do you think that’s going to make any difference to Allie if she finds out?”

  “I’m hoping it’ll mean she won’t find out.”

  “I don’t blame you.” She spoke to someone in the background, then came back on the line. “So does she know how you feel?”

  “Molly, I don’t even know how I feel,” he said, growing exasperated. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “Clay—” Molly started. Fortunately, Clay’s call waiting beeped again. And this time, he was eager for the interruption.

  “Hang on a sec.”

  He was pretty sure she muttered something about how he was a stubborn son of a bitch who didn’t know what was good for him, but he didn’t hear the rest of it because he switched to his other call in the middle of her diatribe. “Hello?”

  “It’s me.” Grace.

  “What’s up?”

  “The baby’s coming.”

  He jumped to his feet. “Now?”

  She laughed. “Yes, but don’t freak out, okay? It’s going to take some time. I just wanted to tell you we’re on our way to the hospital. Would you like to come along or wait for word at home?”

  “What about the boys? Do you need me to watch them?”

  “No. We’ve got a sitter lined up.”

  “Then I’ll grab a shower and head over to the hospital,” he said. “Molly’s on the other line. I’ll let her know it’s time.”

  “Great. Tell her I’m looking forward to seeing her next week.”

  As Grace hung up, Clay wondered what it must be like for Kennedy—to know he was about to be a father again. Was it as satisfying as Clay imagined it would be?

  “Clay?” Molly said.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Clay hurried to his room. “Yeah, I’m back.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Grace. She’s having the baby.”

  “You’re kidding me! Right this minute?”

  He started running the water in the shower. “Sometime tonight.”

  “How exciting! Did you think she’d ever be this happy? That she’d ever
recover from…what happened?”

  “No.” He peeled off his shorts and kicked them aside.

  “You’re part of the reason she’s recovered so well. You know that, don’t you?”

  No. He only knew he was part of the reason she’d been hurt in the first place. Although Clay understood that it was Barker’s fault, not his, he couldn’t get past the fact that he’d left his sisters vulnerable the night it all went wrong. “Gotta go, Molly,” he said, pausing at the shower door.

  “Call me later?”

  “I will,” he replied.

  And he did, at midnight, when he was staring into the small, red face of his newborn niece.

  Allie sat at her kitchen table, glaring at the red ball cap she’d found near the cabin. She knew it belonged to Jed Fowler. For one thing, it had the logo of his auto shop stitched on the front. For another, she’d seen him wearing it at least a dozen times.

  But why would Jed shoot Clay? It didn’t make sense. If he wanted to hurt Clay, all he had to do was implicate him in Barker’s disappearance. Public opinion being what it was, his word would probably be enough to put Clay away for a very long time. After all, Jed was there that night. Instead, Fowler was the only person in town to stand by the Montgomerys.

  Allie rubbed her lip, trying to piece it all together. Logic told her he wouldn’t shoot Clay, but she couldn’t think of any reason for him to be near the cabin. And she’d seen him at Grace’s fruit-and-vegetable stand right before she drove to the cabin. Had he followed her there, as she suspected he’d followed her a few days earlier?

  She wanted to discuss it with Clay. But he hadn’t responded to the message she’d left him last Tuesday, and she was reluctant to call him again. She didn’t want to pester him like some lovesick fool. She understood now that last weekend had meant much more to her than it did to him.

  Or maybe their relationship was just more complicated than he was willing to tolerate. If that was the case, she could sympathize with his concerns.

  She stared at the phone, tapping her fingers on the table. Currently employed or not, she was a cop. She needed to take charge of the situation despite her feelings. Maybe Clay knew something about Jed that would help her sort this out.

  Finally overcoming her pride, she picked up the phone.

  It rang five times before his answering machine came on.

  This is Clay Montgomery. Leave your name and number at the beep.

  She noticed he didn’t promise to return his calls. “Clay, it’s me. I’d like to talk to you, if you’ve got a minute. It’s about the shooting,” she said. Then she left her number, again, and disconnected.

  What now? she wondered. She was tempted to get a flashlight and poke around inside her neighbor’s truck and garage, looking for her gun. But did she really want to break the law?

  With a sigh, she went back to the phone. She hated to turn Jed’s hat over to the police department that had so recently fired her. But she needed a search warrant to go any further with what she had, and she certainly wasn’t going to get one by approaching the judge as a civilian.

  Hendricks answered, as she’d expected him to. “’Lo?”

  “Hendricks? It’s Allie.”

  “Did you get my message?”

  “I did, thanks. Listen, I have something you might be interested in.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Jed Fowler’s baseball cap.”

  “What would I want with that?”

  She toyed nervously with the drawstring of her pajama bottoms. “I found it at the cabin today.”

  There was a long pause. “I didn’t see it when I was there, Allie.”

  She hesitated, surprised by his response. “It was up on the hill.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

  “Nothing. I just can’t imagine why Jed’s cap would be at the cabin. That’s all.”

  Allie stood and began to wipe off the counters. She’d done most of the dishes earlier but had been too preoccupied with Jed’s cap to finish the job. “Maybe we should find out why,” she suggested.

  “How do you propose to do that?”

  “Have the sheriff’s department get a search warrant for Jed’s house and vehicle. See if he has my gun.”

  “They’re not gonna go after a search warrant.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because now that they’ve taken all the statements and collected the evidence, they’re relying on us to finish up. And your father knows Jed would never shoot Clay.”

  She turned off the water she’d been running in the sink. “Do you have any other suspects?”

  “Not yet, but that won’t make any difference.”

  “Why not?”

  “Your father has more important things to do.”

  Allie dropped the wet rag she’d been using to clean the kitchen table. “What’s more important than attempted murder?”

  “Murder one.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “The D.A.’s finally agreed to prosecute. Your father’s planning to charge Clay with Barker’s murder.”

  Allie’s stomach knotted painfully. “When?”

  “First thing tomorrow morning.”

  Holding the new baby was a bittersweet experience. The complete innocence, even the scent of the child evoked a mixture of tenderness and hope that warred with the darker feelings that were far more familiar to Clay. He was unaccustomed to these emotions but still didn’t want to go home to the secrets that haunted him. He longed to feel as normal men did—to feel as he had when he was holding Allie naked against him. Alive. On fire. Crazy with the desire to possess more of her than her body and to let her possess more of him. He wanted to let himself care, to grab hold of someone and hang on. At last.

  Unfortunately, that was the one thing he couldn’t do. He’d promised Allie’s father he wouldn’t contact her, and he planned to keep that promise. Everyone knew she was better off without him. He knew it, too. And yet, when he returned to Stillwater, he went out of his way to drive by her parents’ house. He even considered calling her cell phone. If she picked up, maybe he’d ask her to come outside so he could tell her about the baby.

  He imagined her sexy mouth curving into a smile when he gave her the news. She had her own child; she’d understand. He wouldn’t touch her. He just wanted to tell her.

  But when he didn’t see her car in the driveway, he realized she must be at work and decided to leave well enough alone. For the good of everyone, he had to be satisfied with the life he led, had to relegate himself to relationships like the one he’d had with Beth Ann. Maybe he’d grown tired of the emptiness—and maybe those relationships had their pitfalls—but superficial associations were better than having no love life at all, weren’t they?

  Braking for the light at Fourth and Main, he glanced to the left, which led to his farm, then to the right, which would take him to the trailer park where Beth Ann lived. If he relented and started seeing her again, would he get over Allie?

  Probably not, but at least he’d be able to fill the empty hours so he wouldn’t think of her so often.

  Remembering the plaintive sound of Beth Ann’s voice when she’d asked to see him earlier, he turned toward her house. He knew better than to sleep with her, refused to let her trap him. But there were still ways she could help him forget….

  “Mommy, what are we doing?”

  “Just taking a drive, baby.” Allie reached behind the seat to adjust the blanket she’d brought to cover Whitney. She hated waking her daughter and dragging her from bed in the middle of the night. Whitney wasn’t quite over her cough. But Allie couldn’t leave her home by herself and Clay wasn’t answering his phone. She had to rouse him from bed if he was sleeping, or find him if he wasn’t at home. She didn’t want her father’s appearance on his doorstep in the morning to come without warning.

  Once she told him what was happening, and he understood the odds
stacked against him, maybe he’d skip town. Allie hoped so. Why should he stay? He wouldn’t get a fair trial. And she preferred not to watch what the Vincellis and their friends had in store for him.

  “Mommy?” Whitney said.

  Allie turned onto Main Street. “What?”

  “Can I take off my seat belt? I want to lie down.”

  “No.”

  “But I’m sleepy.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart. We won’t be long, okay?” Allie tapped the steering wheel with her fingernails while she waited at the next light, eager to reach Clay’s farm. But then she realized that the pool hall was still open and decided to check there before heading out of town.

  “Is this where we’re going?” Whitney asked in confusion when Allie turned down the narrow side street that led to the back parking lot.

  “No,” she murmured. “I’m looking for a black truck.”

  But Clay’s vehicle wasn’t among the fifteen or so that remained. Allie was about to turn around, when Joe Vincelli and his brother Roger came out of the building.

  She paused, watching them. They swayed as if they’d had too much to drink, then Joe pivoted to shout at someone who lingered in the doorway.

  Allie frowned as he laughed. He was certainly in high spirits. Had he heard about Clay? Were he and his brother out celebrating their victory?

  Joe’s gloating turned Allie’s stomach. She turned her car around, but Joe noticed her before she could drive off. He waved to Roger to block the road so that she couldn’t exit the lot.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, rolling down her window.

  He put a hand on her roof and leaned in. “I was hoping you had your boyfriend with you.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Jeez, does that mean you’ll sleep with me, too?” he said, and he and his brother laughed uproariously.

  Allie clenched her jaw. “Do you mind? I have my kid in the car.”

  “What, you don’t want her to hear what Mommy’s been up to? Can’t say as I blame you.”