Dead Giveaway (32 page)

Allie wondered what it was like to have grown up in such poverty and then to have married so rich. Grace seemed happy. But--Allie thought of Clay in jail--the taint of some things never went away.

As she crossed the porch, Allie noticed two pairs of small rubber boots at the far end of the veranda near a single glass door that probably led to a bathroom or mudroom. But it was the carved, double doors in front of her that opened when she rang the bell.

"Thank you for coming," Grace said and beckoned her inside a grand foyer.

Grace had her hair in a messy knot and wasn't wearing any makeup, but she had deep blue eyes like Clay's and the same elegant structure to her face. Few women looked so beautiful right after giving birth. Perhaps Grace wasn't as slender as usual, but she'd always had a curvaceous figure, and a few extra pounds only added to that effect.

"Good to see you," Allie said. "How's the baby?"

Grace smiled. "Fine. She's sleeping in her bassinet upstairs. I'll bring her down and let you take a peek at her when we're finished here."

"And the boys? Are they around?"

"No, I had Kennedy take them over to Grandma and Grandpa Archer's for a visit. They didn't want to leave the baby, of course, but I'm not ready to let her go out."

Allie remembered the joy she'd experienced at Whitney's birth. She also remembered 147

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wanting to share that joy with her husband--and how negatively he'd reacted. He'd spent most of the first few months working late or going out with his buddies because he couldn't stand the care and devotion she lavished on their child. "There's nothing like having a baby," she murmured.

"No," Grace said. "There isn't."

Allie adjusted the strap of her purse. "I'm sorry about Clay. And I'm especially sorry that it had to happen at a time like this."

Worry clouded Grace's eyes. "I doubt the timing was a coincidence."

"You think the mayor and the Vincellis were hoping to catch you at a weak moment?"

"I do. They're hoping I won't be available to help him. But I won't let them get away with what they're doing. Clay doesn't deserve to go to prison."

"I know."

"We'll meet in here," Grace said, taking her to a drawing room that contained a large sofa and two chairs. Two walls were covered by built-in bookshelves and the other two walls had very large windows with expensive, heavy draperies. Allie might have commented on the beauty of the room, which was tastefully decorated in cranberry, green and ivory, but there were two people seated on the sofa staring up at her. Two people she hadn't expected to see: Madeline Barker and Irene Montgomery.

"Hi, Allie," Madeline said. "Come and sit down."

"Good to see you, Maddy," she said.

"I'm so glad you're willing to help us."

Irene's red, splotchy face suggested she'd been crying. Allie tried to convince herself that Clay's mother was only upset about his arrest. But the way her lips tightened made Allie think Irene blamed her for what had happened to Clay.

No doubt all three women had heard about the time she'd spent at the cabin with him. And no doubt they all knew how her father had reacted to finding them together--or she wouldn't be in need of a job.

Feeling extremely self-conscious, she took a seat in one of the chairs across from them.

"His arraignment's on Tuesday," Grace announced, adjusting the volume on the baby monitor which sat on the small table next to her.

"Any idea what they'll be asking for bail?" Allie asked, since she was likely the only one who hadn't heard anything about this.

"I'm guessing half a million."

"That's outrageous!" Madeline cried.

Grace's eyes glittered with righteous indignation. "Kennedy told me they're going to claim he's a danger to society."

"How does Kennedy know that?" Allie asked.

"His mother told him. She's so well connected she hears everything."

Allie tried not to look at Irene. "And if they get a high bail..."

"We'll cover it," Grace said. "Clay mortgaged the farm to be able to clean the place up and do some repairs, but it's been several years since he did that and it wasn't a large note to begin with.

He has plenty of equity. So we'll refinance when I run out of my own money."

"He has clear title to the property?" Allie asked.

"He bought us out a few years ago," Madeline explained.

"Getting back to the subject...from what Kennedy's mother says, they're going to throw everything at us they possibly can," Grace said.

"Beth Ann's testimony won't stand up," Madeline said.

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"Beth Ann's sticking with her story?" Allie asked in amazement. She'd assumed that Clay's visit to Beth Ann's trailer might have changed the other woman's mind.

"That's the rumor," Grace said.

"Aren't--aren't they still seeing each other?" Allie felt herself flush as she became the center of attention.

Madeline stared at her blankly. "He's seeing you, isn't he?"

"Not really," Allie admitted.

Irene dabbed at fresh tears. "The Vincellis are using Beth Ann, and she's not strong enough or smart enough to stop it. They'll coach her, and the attorneys will coach her. You said that yourself just a minute ago, Grace."

Grace ignored her mother. "What else do they have that's new, Allie?"

"Nothing," she said. "Unless they can come up with the remains, a murder weapon, fiber evidence,
something
, I don't think they have much."

"Jed Fowler could change his testimony," Grace said.

"What makes you think he might do that?" Allie asked.

"Someone called here this morning."

"Who?" Allie and Madeline spoke in unison.

"He wouldn't identify himself."

They all scooted forward. "What'd he say?"

"That Jed's the one who shot Clay at the cabin."

"No! Jed would never hurt Clay," Madeline argued.

Allie didn't respond. She stared at Grace. "Is that all he said?"

"No, he claimed there was proof but then disconnected before he told me what it was."

Jed's cap.
Joe had known about it last night at the pool hall, soon after Allie had told Hendricks she'd found it. Had Joe or Hendricks called Grace?

If so...Allie's jaw tightened. Hendricks had acted as if the cap was unimportant. But maybe he didn't know that it played a significant role in what was happening. That someone was going to use it to lean on Jed, hoping to persuade him to change his story so they could build a stronger case against Clay.

Allie's heart began to pound as she saw the brilliance behind such a plan. If the situation was what she imagined it might be, Joe, the mayor or whoever else was out to get Clay, had played her like a pawn. They knew she'd take the attack at the cabin personally, that she'd search for evidence. So they'd planted what they wanted her to find. And not only had she found it, she'd reported it and turned it in. She'd done that a few minutes ago, on her way to Grace's house. The fact that
she'd
found the cap, someone who was friendly with Clay and an ex-police officer to boot, lent Clay's opponents even more credibility.

Allie didn't think Joe was smart enough to manipulate the situation to that extent. And the mayor didn't have sufficient motivation--did she? Who else wanted Clay prosecuted badly enough to remove Jed's testimony from his defense?

"What is it?" Grace asked.

Allie covered her face and shook her head.

"What?" Madeline prompted. "I know Jed would never do anything to hurt Clay. It had to be a...a crank call or something."

"Or something," Allie repeated. "I have a feeling someone's trying to get Jed to change his story."

"He wouldn't do that," Irene said. "He tried to confess to Barker's murder so Clay wouldn't 149

Brenda Novak

go to jail."

"Do you know why?" Allie looked squarely at Irene for the first time since she'd arrived.

"No. No one ever knows why Jed does what he does. But he's proven his loyalty."

Grace picked up where her mother had left off. "Exactly. So what could they threaten him with that would be worse than what he's already risked?"

It's amazing what some people will do...

Fowler had seemed almost...disgusted when he made that statement. Why? Was he referring to what he'd tried to do to save Irene and her kids from harm?

Allie dropped her hands. "We're probably okay, unless...Is there any reason he might be angry with you, Mrs. Montgomery?"

Irene straightened the ruffle on her purple blouse. "Me? Of course not. I rarely see him, and we usually don't speak when we do bump into each other."

"He's painfully shy with women," Allie said. "But he had to be trying to protect you when he confessed. I can't think of any other reason he'd do what he did."

Irene gave a little shrug. "I have no idea why he'd care about me. We hardly know each other."

"Could it be that he's admired you? From afar?"

"I wouldn't know," she insisted.

"So you've had no argument with him? You've never done anything that might make him feel angry or disaffected?"

"Like what?"

"Like being seen with another man?"

Irene's eyes flicked toward Grace. To Allie, it seemed that they were filled with sudden fear, as if something had just occurred to her. But she didn't say what it was. "No, nothing."

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17

"I
might have made a mistake."

Those were not the first words Clay wanted to hear after spending twenty-four hours in jail.

Especially from Grace.

He took the seat provided for him in the small, windowless room set aside for attorney-client conferences and regarded his sister. "You look great," he said. "How's the baby?"

"Good." She bent closer. "Did you hear me?"

"Did Lauren come home from the hospital with you?" he asked.

Grace gave him an impatient scowl. "Yes. She's doing fine. I'm doing fine. The weather's been unseasonably warm. Listen, we don't have very long. Would you please focus on the reason I'm here?"

He stretched his legs out in front of him. "You have a brand-new baby. You shouldn't have to be doing this right now."

"You shouldn't have to be doing it, either," she said.

"
I
don't have a choice."

"Well, I'm not going to sit back and enjoy Lauren while you're locked up." She arched an eyebrow in challenge. "So could we talk about the problem at hand?"

"What's there to say? You'll try to get the trial moved someplace else, where I'll have a better chance. The other side will contest it, but the judge is Mayor Nibley's uncle, so they'll win.

Then you'll have to fight to get a few jurors who won't say, 'Roast him,' before they've even heard the testimony or seen the evidence, and--"

"I hired Allie to help me investigate," she interrupted.

Slouching lower in his seat, Clay pressed his thumb and finger against his closed eyelids.

Okay, so
this
was the mistake. "What were you thinking?"

"I wanted someone who was talented and capable, and who was passionate about defending you."

"Granted, that doesn't leave you a large pool of people to draw from. But there're always strangers. You know, professionals who hire out?"

"She
is
a professional, Clay."

He wanted to remember Allie the way she'd been at the cabin, didn't want her mixed up in the mess that was brewing. If she joined forces with his sister, her father would never forgive her.

Neither would a lot of other people in Stillwater. And what was the point? What difference could she really make? The trial wouldn't be fair in the first place. "I don't care. You can't involve her."

Grace fiddled with the pen she'd taken out of her briefcase, then tossed it on top of her blank legal pad and shoved back her chair. "It's too late. She's already involved."

"Aw, hell. Grace--"

She put up a hand. "Let me finish. When she came over last night, Mom and Madeline both--"

"Mom?"
Clay echoed. "Grace, Mom's not strong enough to handle this right now. You have to tell her it'll all work out and exclude her from any conversation that isn't entirely optimistic."

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"I realize that. But after they arrested you, it was all I could do to stop her from marching down to the police station and confessing."

"That would only get us
all
in trouble."

"I explained that. But she's frantic. I have to include her."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like being locked up. He'd been limited before, but at least he'd had his work and his cars and an occasional trip to town. In here, it felt like all hell was about to break loose and he wouldn't have the chance to fight back. "I suppose Madeline wouldn't let you exclude her, either?"

"Of course not. They're worried about you. They have to feel as if they're helping."

"Which only makes your job harder."

"When has dealing with our past ever been easy?"

He sighed. "True."

The door opened, and a deputy poked his head in. "You okay in here, ma'am?"

"I'm fine," Grace said.

The man smiled appreciatively at Clay's attractive sister. "Let me know if he gives you any trouble."

"Get out," Clay snapped.

The glitter in the deputy's eyes suggested he was going to respond, but Grace quickly moved between them. "Please, you're not helping."

"Your client had better watch his step," he growled, but he closed the door.

Grace waited several seconds, then picked up where they'd left off. "Anyway, Madeline thinks she'll be able to help."

Clay's stepsister had been his savior
and
his worst enemy. She hotly defended him against anyone who implied that he'd ever done anything wrong. Her loyalty and Jed Fowler's was what had kept him out of jail this long. But Madeline was also one of the people who wouldn't give up searching, wouldn't let anyone forget. Thanks to her--and the Vincellis, of course--suspicion swirled around Clay constantly, and probably always would, whether he went to trial or not. "In what way can she help?"