Dead Giveaway (38 page)

"Grace..." She forced the name around the lump in her throat but broke down immediately after.

Concern brought a worried frown to Grace's elegant face as she stood and came toward her.

"What is it, Allie? Is it about Clay?"

Wishing she could gain control of her wayward emotions, Allie wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "I know, Grace," she said, forcing back the sobs. "I know what Barker did to you."

Grace turned pale and teetered on her feet as if she might collapse. Allie started to reach out to her--but Grace stepped back, straightened and tilted her chin at such a defiant angle that she 174

Brenda Novak

appeared absolutely regal, far above anything so degrading as the obscene images in those photographs.

"How?" she asked, her voice toneless.

Allie longed to embrace her, to comfort her if possible--and to reassure herself that they were both okay, despite everything. She needed some antidote to the anger pounding through her.

She wanted to take on the world, to fight anyone who even looked at Grace wrong.

She could imagine those same emotions amplified in Clay, who loved Grace so much and had always tried to protect her. He must've felt like a failure when he realized; he must've sworn that nothing so vile would ever get past him again.

And then he must have--

Allie refused to think it. He wasn't the only person who could've acted. But now she knew it had to be one of the Montgomerys. If Clay wasn't the actual culprit, he was protecting whoever it was.

"Someone left a package in my m-mailbox. It contained--" Allie struggled with more tears

"--p-pictures," she choked out.

"Portenski." Grace swayed as if the mention of those pictures had been a physical blow.

Again, Allie wanted to touch her, to reassure her, but she suspected Clay's sister needed the space, and that physical contact, no matter how well intentioned, would be the wrong thing to do.

"Did you say
Portenski?
" she asked. "You think Portenski gave them to me?"

"It had to be him," she whispered. "He must've found them at the church."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Was the camera there, too?"

"No." Grace stared at her for several long seconds, but Allie guessed she wasn't really seeing her at all.

"Grace?" she said gently. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, even though I know sorry isn't nearly good enough."

Grace's throat worked as she swallowed, but there were no tears in her blue eyes. "You didn't tell Madeline..."

"Of course not."

"So what are you going to do with the pictures?"

"What do you think I should do?" Allie asked.

Grace hesitated. "If I say burn them, will you tell the police I asked you to destroy evidence?"

Allie shook her head. She wasn't going to tell the police anything. They weren't striving for justice, only to make the right people happy.

"Then burn them," Grace whispered vehemently.

Allie curled her fingers around Grace's ice-cold hand. Grace didn't respond, but she didn't withdraw, either. "What if Portenski has more?"

"If he wanted to turn them over to the police, he would've done it already. He wouldn't have given them to you."

Nodding, Allie let her breath go. That made sense. She didn't understand why he'd entrusted her with them, but--

A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Are you sure they didn't come from Jed?" The pictures, the note at the cabin...Maybe he knew the truth, too, and sympathized with Grace.

"I can't see how," Grace said. "But...maybe. Maybe he found--" her voice broke "--
them
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while he was working in the barn."

"Then maybe Barker
did
come back that night. Maybe an argument ensued, and--"

"Jed didn't kill him."

Allie felt a chill roll down her spine. From the way Grace had spoken, she knew who did. If Allie had ever doubted it, she didn't anymore. "If it wasn't Jed, who was it?" she asked.

A ghost of a smile touched Grace's lips. "Not Clay," she said. Then she picked up her baby and left. She didn't ask to see the pictures, didn't ask to witness Allie burning them. But Allie did exactly that, right there in Clay's fireplace. She watched every disgusting photo twist and writhe in the heat, as she hoped Barker was twisting and writhing in hell, then go up in smoke.

Except for the photos of Barker with the other two girls. Allie decided to keep those safe.

She knew they were a risk to Madeline's happiness. That Clay and Grace would rather she destroyed them, too. But there could come a day when the truth won out. Then the Montgomerys would need the evidence for
their
side.

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Brenda Novak

20

C
lay stood at the periphery of the dance floor, drinking a beer. It felt so good to be out of jail, he didn't care if he moved from that spot all night. Molly was in town to see the baby, but Grace and Lauren had gone to sleep early, so Clay had taken his youngest sister dancing.

Right now, coming to the pool hall felt like a pretty great idea. Molly seemed to be having fun dancing with a cowboy who'd just moved to Stillwater.

Clay smiled as he watched her. He enjoyed Molly's laughter and animated conversation for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it had so little to do with the past, or what he was enduring in the present. Of everyone in his family, she seemed the least affected by what had happened the night Barker died. She'd been so young at the time, she hadn't understood what their stepfather had done to Grace. She only knew there'd been an argument and a terrible accident, and that they'd had to cover it up because they couldn't risk having their mother carted off to prison. Without Irene, they would've been split up and forced into foster care.

Leaning one shoulder against the wall, Clay took another long pull on his beer. As an adult, Molly probably knew more about the abuse that had occurred than she had as a child. But it was still largely in a cerebral sense. Grace refused to talk about Barker, so Clay guessed Molly had never heard the gruesome details. Neither had she seen the pictures he and his mother had found and destroyed that night in Barker's office. Unlike Grace, who'd acted like an automaton during those long hours, running and fetching everything he and Irene asked for, even helping scrub up the blood because they were so desperate for time, Molly had covered her ears and run off to her bedroom, where she'd stayed until the following morning, when it was all over.

Less than two years ago, she'd told Clay that The Night was more like a bad dream for her than anything else.

Lucky girl...

He saw Molly staring at him over the shoulder of the cowboy she was dancing with, and tipped the top of his beer bottle her way.

She waved, indicating that she wanted him to join her on the dance floor. But he shook his head. He wasn't interested in finding a partner. Maybe he was out of jail, which made him feel practically euphoric, but he was only out on bail. He faced a difficult trial in the not so distant future. And that wasn't all he had to worry about. Since the discovery of her affair with Dale McCormick, Irene had closeted herself in her little duplex and wouldn't come out. According to Madeline, she hadn't even been to work.

Clay would've visited his mother and attempted to console her, but he was angry with her for going back to McCormick and making a bad situation even worse. For hurting Allie...

He grimaced. Somehow, every thought led him back to the police chief's daughter.

Although Grace said she was okay, he wanted to contact her to see for himself. But he couldn't.

How could he expect her to pick up her old life and move on as if he didn't exist if he was still calling her?

"Hi, Clay. You're looking good."

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Brenda Novak

Helaina, a woman he used to date, had sauntered up to him.

He nodded but barely acknowledged her beyond that. He didn't want to encourage her to hang around.

Unfortunately, she didn't seem to notice that his response lacked enthusiasm. "I'm surprised to see you out and about," she said.

"Why?" He held up his bottle. "Might as well enjoy a beer while I can still order one, eh?"

She sidled closer, reminding him of a cat eager to rub up against him. "Do you really think they're gonna put you away?"

"I think they're gonna try."

Her bottom lip came out. "It'll be a real loss to womankind if they succeed."

He cocked an eyebrow at her suggestive tone, and she responded with a sultry smile.

"Having a beer is good. But there are other things you should do while you have the chance," she murmured, moving so that her breasts brushed his arm.

The fact that he might soon be permanently denied the pleasure of a woman made Clay crave sex more than ever. But not with Helaina. Or any of the other women he'd known in the past.

He wanted Allie--so badly he dreamed of her almost every night. "Thanks, but I've got my sister here with me," he said.

"She's not big enough to find her own way home?"

"It wouldn't be very nice of me to leave her, would it? She just got into town this morning."

Helaina's heart-shaped face flushed with disappointment, but she shrugged. "You have my number."

He started to give her a noncommittal response--but the words congealed in his throat. The door across the room had opened and Allie walked in. She was wearing an attractive skirt that hit her above the knees, along with a pair of cowboy boots and a tight-fitting brown sweater. And she was alone. He knew she hadn't come to socialize when a frown of concentration wrinkled her forehead and she began to search the crowd.

Helaina followed his gaze. "What?" she said. "Don't tell me you're still seeing Miss Goody two-shoes."

"I'm not seeing anyone." For Allie's sake, he wanted the rumors to die down. But she'd already spotted him and was coming straight toward him.

"Can we step outside?" she asked as soon as she reached him. "I'd like to talk to you for a moment."

Clay could feel Helaina's attention, knew she was listening to every word. "Not tonight," he said.

Allie blinked in surprise. "Excuse me, but I'm not asking you to dance. This is important."

He scowled. "It can't be important. We don't have any business together."

"Oooh," Helaina said, her voice lively with interest.

Allie's eyes cut to her, then returned to him. "What, exactly, are you trying to prove? I'm doing my best to
help
you."

"I don't need you," he replied, sounding as indifferent as he could. "For anything."

Allie's chest lifted, as though she had to gasp for breath, as if he'd just stabbed her or something. But the way his heart pounded and his stomach tensed, Clay knew he was probably feeling worse. He hated himself for saying what he'd said. It was the biggest lie he'd ever told, but he saw no alternative. As soon as he got out of jail, he'd left Allie a message telling her to find another job. She'd left him a message saying she wasn't walking away from his case whether she had a job or not.

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Brenda Novak

The only way to get her to give up on trying to save him was to convince her he wasn't worth saving.

She glared at him for several seconds, during which he forced himself to act as careless as possible. He even saluted her before taking another drink of his beer. But it was Helaina, laughing behind her hand, that seemed to be the final straw.

Tears filled Allie's eyes, but she raised her chin and spoke clearly. "Whatever you want,"

she said and stalked off.

As Allie hurried through the crowd, the crushing pain made it difficult to breathe. Several people tried to stop her. She paused to respond to a few, mechanically going through the usual greetings, but it was mostly a blur. Grace had told her that Clay believed whoever had shot him had done it to avoid being identified. So she'd gone back to the cabin and interviewed every gas station attendant and store clerk along the route. Ralph Ling, an attendant at the gas station just before the turnoff to the lake, had some very interesting things to say. But what could she do if Clay refused to listen?

I don't need you...for anything.
Those words hurt so much, she could hardly bear to think of them. And the angry glares she received from many of the people who used to smile didn't help.

Finally reaching the gravel parking lot behind the pool hall, she headed for her car. She just wanted to know that Clay wouldn't go to prison for a crime he didn't commit. And she wanted...

God, she wanted more than that. She wanted
him
. There was no use denying it. Beth Ann had been right. Allie had assumed she'd be fine because she'd known what to expect. But she'd been overconfident.

There's no one else, at least no one like him....

No kidding,
she thought bitterly. She tried to wrench open her car door, but a male hand closed over hers before she could.

Clay had tried to let Allie go. He'd stood perfectly still while she disappeared into the crowd. Hadn't moved when someone called to Helaina, drawing her away. Hadn't so much as flinched when someone behind him said, "He cast Allie aside already? Me, I would've given her a few more days, taken her back to my house and--"

Because he couldn't tolerate hearing the end of that statement, Clay had bolted to the bar to order another drink. But he hadn't stopped there, the way he'd intended. He'd kept on walking, past the pool tables, the dartboards and the restrooms. Before he knew it, he was in the parking lot and jogging to catch up with her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, turning her to face him. "I'm so sorry."

Her eyes were full of confusion and pain when they lifted to his, which shredded the last of his restraint. He told himself to explain, to somehow convince her to leave. But he couldn't get the words out.

Bending his head, he kissed her instead--instantly drowning in the wet warmth of her mouth.

"I'm no good for you, Allie," he murmured. Some distant voice in his head told him it wasn't too late to put her in the car and send her off. But he was desperate to feel her against him.