Dead Giveaway (41 page)

"Money," Allie explained. "The Vincellis or someone else paid him to do it."

There was a long silence, as if Clay was thinking it through.

"If you hadn't stopped at the same gas station, he probably wouldn't have shot you," she went on. "I don't think you were actually supposed to be involved."

"He must've seen me when I pulled in and thought I saw him, too."

"That's my guess."

"So he returned to the cabin to make sure I didn't tell anyone." He paused. "For a cop, he didn't do a very good job of silencing me."

"It was so dark, and what he was doing probably scared the hell out of him. The next day, when he realized you weren't dead, it was too late to be any more thorough. But I doubt he would've had the nerve to try again, anyway."

"By now, he must think he got away clean."

"Since the video isn't clear enough to prove it was him beyond a reasonable doubt, maybe he
will
get away clean," she said sadly.

189

Brenda Novak

"Did you check the inside of your car before you had the window fixed? See if he left any blood behind?"

The day was growing warm. Allie could feel her clothes sticking to her and adjusted the air-conditioning vents to hit her more directly. "I checked. There wasn't anything. But--" An idea suddenly occurred to her. "What about the gas station?"

"What about it?"

"Hendricks didn't do anything to clean up, right? He left that to the attendant."

"Who was already getting out his mop when I arrived."

"I admit it's a long shot, but it's possible he might've missed a spot or two, if not on the floor, then in the restroom. Maybe while I'm this close, I should go back and see."

"Will the owner let you snoop around like that?"

"I think so. He's fascinated by the fact that I'm investigating a shooting." Slowing, Allie found a safe place to pull off the highway and turn around.

"Do you have what you need to collect a sample if you find it?" Clay asked.

"Of course. I carry my forensics bag in my trunk."

"Still?"

"Always."

"But even if you find his DNA, what's to stop Hendricks from saying he had a nosebleed there three months ago?" Clay asked. "You told me the station cycles its security tapes, so we wouldn't be able to go back and prove he was lying--that he wasn't there earlier."

"He doesn't know that," she said. "And his wife already admitted that he had a cut on his hand."

"She did?"

"She clammed up right afterward, but I got that much. Anyway, I think this is how we play it--we tell Hendricks you saw him the night you were shot. If we're lucky, he'll panic and swear he's never been to that particular gas station. Chances are, before that night, he hadn't. He's certainly never been invited to the cabin. He drives my father crazy."

"He drives everyone crazy."

"Then we introduce the tape," she continued, "showing a man of Hendricks's exact height and weight buying Band-Aids, together with a DNA profile that puts him right where he said he's never been. Hopefully, that'll persuade him to give us what we really want."

"The name of the person who paid him."

"That's it," Allie said, but her mind wasn't on the conversation anymore. A truck had come right up on her bumper and was honking to get her attention.

"Does Whitney like steak?" Clay asked, changing the subject.

Allie twisted to look behind her, but the glare of the afternoon sun reflected off the windshield of the other vehicle, making it impossible to see the driver.

"Allie?"

"Someone wants me to pull over," she said.

"Why?"

"I don't know. But if you don't hear from me in five minutes, call the police."

Clay called Allie back immediately after she'd disconnected. He wanted to know who was flagging her down.
Now
. But she wasn't answering.

Hello, this is Allie. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as
possible.

190

Brenda Novak

Hanging up, he dialed again--and again got her recorded message. Finally, he pushed the phone across the table and stalked to the window above the sink, where he stared out, feeling pensive and uneasy.

He didn't have a cell phone so he couldn't leave. Should he wait for her to call? Continue trying to reach her? Summon the cops, just in case?

It had only been three or four minutes, but he couldn't wait any longer. He was going to call the police, then head up there himself.

But the phone rang just as he picked it up.

"Allie?" he said immediately.

"I'm fine," she replied.

"What's going on?"

"I can't explain right now. Jed and I are going to the cabin. I'm sorry, but it looks as if I won't be able to make dinner."

"I'm not worried about dinner," he said. "I'm worried about you. What does Jed want?"

"I'm not sure yet. But I'll call you as soon as I know."

"Should I come up there?"

"No. We'll be finished before you could ever reach us," she said and disconnected.

Clay wasn't about to sit home and wonder. Grabbing his car keys, he charged out of the house--and right into a middle-aged man several inches shorter than he was who'd just climbed the stairs to the front door. With his graying dark hair tied back, he looked like some kind of Willie Nelson wannabe.

But even after twenty-five years, Clay recognized his own father.

Allie couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She sat in the log chair she'd taken at the cabin, her stomach churning as she stared at Jed Fowler. "Why wouldn't you speak to me when I came to your house?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but he'd nearly run her off the road, trying to initiate this private meeting.

When she'd realized who was driving the blue truck that had come so close, she'd stopped at the most public place she could find, a small strip mall not far from the gas station where Hendricks had gone, and had her finger on the Send button of her phone, with 911 already programmed in.

But Jed had managed to convince her that he merely had something to say, so she'd called Clay to tell him who she was with and that she was fine. Then she and Jed had come to the cabin.

After all the effort he'd put into getting her alone, it was
still
difficult to drag anything out of him.

"Jed, please," she said. "You have to speak more freely. I...I need details. I have to understand."

"I didn't trust you," he said simply.

"Why not?"

"I thought you'd go along with the rest of 'em."

"The rest of them," she repeated.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his work coveralls. "The Vincellis. Your father. The mayor."

"What makes you think I won't?"

There was a two-or three-second lag before every answer, but at least Jed was
willing
to talk about the Barker case. That was something, after keeping his mouth shut for nineteen years.

"I've been watching you," he said at last.

191

Brenda Novak

She'd noticed. His unwavering attention had made her very uncomfortable and suspicious.

So did the fact that he'd been following her. To Clay's farm. To Grace's stand. To the gas station where she'd picked up the tape. Today he'd been driving a truck someone must've brought in for repairs, because she hadn't recognized it or she would've realized who he was a lot sooner.

"Are you the person who left me that package?" she asked.

He looked puzzled for a moment. Then the confusion cleared. "You mean the one in your mailbox?"

Her phone rang, but she turned it to silent and slipped it into her purse. She was finally getting somewhere and was afraid it would spook Jed if they were interrupted. "Yes."

"It came from Portenski."

Just as Grace had said.

"I saw him deliver it," he added.

Jed had been watching her very closely indeed. He'd even been keeping an eye on her house while she slept! "Do you know what was inside it?"

"No."

"Pictures."

He grimaced.

"Do you want me to tell you what was in them?"

"No."

He said only that one word, but she could tell he was having a strong emotional reaction.

"Why?"

He sighed heavily. "I can guess."

"How?"

"I could tell by the way Barker looked at her."

Allie sat up straighter. "By the way he looked at
whom?
"

"Grace. I was afraid it was happening again."

A chill ran down Allie's spine. "
Again?
You knew it had happened before?"

He stared at the floor as if he was ashamed. "I could've stopped it."

"But?"

"Eliza wouldn't let me."

Eliza. Jed was talking about Barker's wife. The framed program he kept in his living room flashed through Allie's mind.

"But I had no proof," he went on. "Only what she told me she suspected. And she was terrified of him. She wouldn't let me say a word to anyone. She promised me, when she was ready, she'd have me take her away from Stillwater. She said that was when we'd turn in the pictures she'd found."

More pictures? Or were they the same ones? "Were you and Eliza lovers?" she asked.

"Like your father and Mrs. Montgomery? No."

There was no judgment in his words. He was merely clarifying. So Allie felt comfortable doing that, too. "What was the nature of your relationship?"

"We were...friends," he said simply. "She was always...so sad. I...I wanted to help her.

But..."

"But?"

"I didn't act soon enough."

"Or she gave up the fight before you could."

"Is that what you think?" he asked, responding quickly for the first time. "That she took her 192

Brenda Novak

own life?"

Allie felt her eyes widen. "Isn't that what
you
think?"

The way he clenched his jaw told her it wasn't what he thought at all. He thought..."You're not saying Barker
killed
her!"

When he didn't deny it, Allie knew that was exactly what he was saying. "That's why you've got her picture in your living room," she breathed as the truth dawned on her. "As a reminder."

Again, he said nothing but Allie knew she was right. That framed program was his tribute to a friend he'd cared about, a friend he felt he'd let down. "Is she the one who told you what Barker did to--" Allie swallowed hard and forced the words out "--the girls?"

"She told me she found some pictures. Told me they were despicable. That her husband was worse than the devil himself. And that was the last day I saw her alive."

Allie's heart raced as she tried to fit the various pieces together. Had Barker resorted to murder to cover up his sick obsession? Had he killed his wife, Madeline's
mother?
Was Stillwater's beloved pastor a sadistic pedophile
and
a murderer?

"Why didn't you go to the police after Eliza died?"

"With what?" he asked.

"You didn't have the pictures?"

"No. And everyone considered Barker to be some kind of saint. Who would believe what I had to say?"

"That's why you've stuck by the Montgomerys all this time," she said.

"Barker deserved what he got."

Allie agreed, but that was up to a court to decide. Not the Montgomerys. As much as her heart sympathized with Grace and Clay, with all of them, she knew no court in Mississippi would condone the fact that they'd taken the law into their own hands.

"What happened the night Barker went missing?" she asked. She'd expected to keep prodding Jed, but now that he'd revealed as much as he had, he responded readily.

"The reverend came home early."

Allie covered her face with her hands. Did she really want to hear this? There was a possibility that what she learned would forever stand between her and Clay. But could she hide from the truth? Could she risk her daughter's well-being on a man who had such dark secrets?

Of course not. As much as she
wanted
to trust blindly, she couldn't.

Jed waited as if he understood her reluctance.

"And?" she said at last.

"I called Irene at Ruby's. That's where she was, for choir practice."

"How? Weren't you out in the barn?"

"There was a phone there, right outside the door to Barker's office."

"I see. And what did you say?"

"Nothing."

"You didn't say anything."

"What could I say?"

Allie thought of Jed trying to tell Irene that he thought her husband was about to molest her daughter. "So what did you do?"

"I kept calling, asking for her and hanging up, trying to get her home, just in case he..."

His voice fell off, but Allie knew what he meant.

"Then what?" she said.

193

Brenda Novak

"Irene came home. But when I started up to the house to speak with Barker about the tractor, I heard yelling."

"Go on."

"I was afraid for Irene and the kids, so instead of heading back to the barn--" he frowned and scratched his sun-reddened neck "--I looked through the window."

Allie said a silent prayer that he wouldn't tell her something she'd feel obligated to report to the authorities. "And what did you see?"

"They were in the kitchen. Barker was beating Irene. Then Clay got into it, trying to protect his mom."

At sixteen. Poor Clay...Allie could imagine him trying to fend off his mother's attacker regardless of any disadvantage. She could also imagine where his actions might have led. "Did he...kill him?"

Allie could scarcely hear for the beating of her heart. Grace had told her no, and Allie had believed her. But would Grace tell her the truth?

"No," Jed replied.
No...
Relief flooded Allie. Clay hadn't done it. "But Barker would've killed Clay, if not for Irene," he added.

"What was Barker doing?" she asked.

"Beating him bad. I was about to go in and break it up when Clay made a run for the living room. Barker grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back. Then Irene panicked and picked up something--I couldn't tell what it was, don't know to this day--and brought it down on Barker's head."