Dead Right (11 page)

“Irene turned a few heads. She stil does. She tried to be the perfect pastor’s wife, but simple and demure isn’t part of her personality. Wait til you meet her—you’l understand.

Ever since I’ve known her, she’s styled her hair big, worn lots of makeup, loved tight-fitting, brightly colored clothing and shown too much cleavage.” She smiled affectionately.

“When we were growing up, she wasn’t close to anyone except us. She was new, and we lived away from town, on a farm.”

“No one in particular singled her out?”

“Just the ladies who’d hoped to marry my dad. They found fault with her constantly.”

“What about neighbors?” he asked. “Could your mother have had a relationship with someone who lived nearby?”

“If you’d met the neighbors you wouldn’t even ask,” she said with a laugh. “Besides, they mostly socialized with my father. They’d known him for years. And, as I mentioned, they didn’t real y approve of Irene.” Madeline twisted a lock of her hair. “I don’t remember her having even one close girlfriend, to be honest with you.”

Even when she wasn’t nibbling on her lip, something about her fascinated Hunter. But acknowledging that made him feel as if he was flirting with disaster, so he looked away. “Sounds like she was pretty isolated.”

“I think she was just relieved to be able to feed and clothe her children. Chances were she would’ve lost them to the state if my father hadn’t come along.”

A thirty-two-year-old woman struggling to hold her family together would probably marry almost anyone who could provide some security. Obviously, Irene Montgomery needed Barker—but did she love him? “What about your father?” he asked.

“What about him?”

“Could he have been having an affair?”

“My father was a pastor,” she replied.

“He wouldn’t be the first to fal .”

She shook her head. “He abhorred promiscuity, especial y adultery. He cal ed it the greatest of al sins.”

Hunter felt as if she’d just pressed a hot branding iron—

a large A—into his chest. He believed that marriage was sacred, too. Which was why he couldn’t forgive himself.

Maybe he and Antoinette wouldn’t have made it, anyway.

Lord knows they’d been having their share of problems.

He’d moved into the guest bedroom months before The Incident. But that was no excuse for what he’d done. He should’ve ended his marriage first. He just hadn’t recognized his own limitations.

“He taught that chastity was worth the sacrifice of al else,” Madeline added.

“It had to be tough, growing up in the shadow of such a strict father.”

“Why?” she asked.

“You never made a mistake? You weren’t ever…

tempted?”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “But I managed to wait…quite a while.”

Madeline’s sex life had little or nothing to do with the case he was investigating, but it beat the hel out of thinking about his own. And the interior of the smal car, along with the darkness and the steady pounding of the rain, created a sense of intimacy that made it al too easy to ask. “How long is quite a while?”

“Until I started dating Kirk.”

“Your current boyfriend?” he asked in amazement.

“Sort of.” She mumbled the words.

“So you were…what? Thirty-four when you lost your virginity?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Wow.” He almost couldn’t believe it. Obviously, the reverend’s teachings had been very effective.

“I know. I was kind of old,” she admitted.

“
Kind
of?” he echoed.

“Stil water isn’t like L.A.” She sounded slightly offended.

“We’re…conservative.”

“You’ve mentioned that, but—” he released his breath in a soft whistle “—what made you wait
that
long?”

“I was hoping to meet the right guy.”

“But you didn’t?”

“No. I think I realized it even at the time. I just got tired of waiting, tried to settle.”

Hunter couldn’t help asking, “Did you like it?”

Her lips curved into a sexy smile. “Like what?” she asked with false innocence.

“You know what.”

“What do you think?”

Her husky tone caused a strange flutter in Hunter’s stomach, which surprised him. He hadn’t felt anything like that since
long
before his divorce. And he didn’t want to feel it now. Not for someone else’s woman. “You and Kirk must be pretty serious,” he said.

“Not anymore.”

The flutter disappeared. “Something’s changed?”

She turned down the radio, which was playing Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus, Take the Wheel.” Since they’d been driving, Madeline had changed the station many times, but always from one country song to another. Hunter was beginning to believe there was no other kind of music available. Being so close to Nashvil e, he’d expected to hear
some
country music, but he’d heard nothing else. The differences between the South and the West were even more pronounced than he’d assumed—and that included meeting a woman as beautiful as Madeline Barker who’d held onto her virginity for thirty-two years.

“We broke up six weeks ago,” she said.

Hunter felt his jaw drop. That wasn’t good news. He’d been counting on some other man standing between them, keeping him mindful of his boundaries. And now…“You told me you were involved. Wasn’t lying on your father’s list of cardinal sins?”

“I wasn’t
really
lying. Kirk and I were together for five years, and it hasn’t been that long that we split up.”

He fiddled with the door handle. “Does that mean you’re planning to get back together?”

She kept her attention on the road. “No.”

Great. He’d just plunged himself into temptation. But he couldn’t get too angry with her. They’d both lied. She’d said she was involved—and he’d said he wasn’t interested.

Hunter wasn’t happy about something. Madeline could tel . But she couldn’t believe he cared that much about whether or not she’d told a white lie, especial y when it had no bearing on the case. “My love life doesn’t matter, though, right?” she said.

His scowl darkened. “Of course not.”

“That’s what I thought.” She was afraid he’d question why she’d even asked. But he didn’t. He shifted, sighed and seemed to make an effort to resume their conversation.

“Do you think there’s any chance your father might stil be alive?”

She wished she could say yes, wished he’d tel her it was possible. But he didn’t know about the Cadil ac yet.

She hadn’t provided any details the night she’d hired him and since then, they’d spoken only about the arrangements for his visit. “They’ve never found his body. But he wouldn’t abandon me.”

“I’ve known fathers who’ve done worse,” he said.

She didn’t acknowledge the comment. “They pul ed his car out of the quarry last Monday.”

“Excuse me?” There was fresh irritation in his voice.

“That’s an important piece of information. Don’t you think?”

“That’s why I’m passing it along,” she said.

“Why didn’t you mention it before?”

“You weren’t here before.”

“I’ve got a phone.”

She rol ed her eyes. “And you’ve been so friendly when I’ve contacted you in the past. Gee, I wonder why I didn’t cal you right up.”

He didn’t bother to defend himself. “Did they find anything?”

Her seat belt felt as if it was pinning her to the seat. She gave it a yank to create some slack. Then, slowing, she drove to the side of the road, let the engine idle and twisted in her seat. She wanted to see Hunter’s face when she delivered this news.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

“Stopping.”

“Why?”

“So we can talk.”

“About the Cadil ac?”

“Yes.”

His eyebrows went up, but he waited for her to continue.

“They found some things in the trunk,” she said. “Some very alarming things.”

“Like…”

“A suitcase.”

“So your father
was
planning to leave.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t fil ed with clothes.”

“I’m waiting,” he said.

Summoning her nerve, she smoothed her palms over her thighs. “It contained a dildo, some rope—”

“Whoa!” He held up a hand. “Did I just hear a sexual y repressed Southern woman say
dildo?
”

She wasn’t in the mood for levity. “And three pairs of girls’ panties,” she finished.

As she’d expected, Hunter’s teasing smile instantly disappeared. “Girls who would’ve been how old?”

“Eleven, twelve, thirteen.”

“Shit!” He smacked the door. “I knew better than to get involved in this case. But instead of flying to Hawaii, I’ve landed right in the middle of—”

“I’m sorry to put you out,” she broke in. “But I
am
paying you, if you’l recal .”

Shutting his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t care about the money,” he said. “Take me back to the airport.”

7

R
ay Harper turned his bottle of beer around and around on the varnished wood of Stil water’s only bar, making wet circles. He didn’t know what else to do. His hands were shaking too badly to lift the bottle to his mouth.

John Kel er was seated to his right, and Walt Eastman sat beyond John. General y, Ray liked John and Walt. They were both ten years younger than he was but when he was in town Ray spent so much time at the pool hal , he sidled up to whoever was there. Sometimes he and John would bet on a game of pool, but more often it was Walt who’d stay and help him close down the place. They usual y had a damn good time.

But tonight wasn’t promising to be one of their better evenings. He’d just heard Walt say something to John that made his blood run cold.

“John?” Walt prompted when John didn’t respond right away.

John pul ed his gaze from the basketbal game playing on the television affixed to the wal . “What was that?”

Ray held his breath so he could hear Walt repeat what he’d said a moment earlier. Maybe he’d misunderstood the first time, or the alcohol he’d had was playing tricks with his mind. But he’d only been at Let the Good Times Rol for fifteen minutes. He wasn’t drunk yet.

Walt scooted his stool closer to John’s. “I asked if you heard about the dildo the police found in the trunk of Reverend Barker’s car.”

John’s mouth flattened in obvious disgust. “Yeah, I heard. Sick, huh? Who told you?”

“Radcliffe was talking about it at the café.”

Ray’s mouth had gone dry at “dildo.” “When was this?”

he asked.

“A few days ago,” John replied.

Mention of the reverend wouldn’t typical y have alarmed Ray. He knew the Cadil ac had been salvaged; he’d spoken to Madeline about it. But last he’d heard the police hadn’t come up with anything important.

“Where you been, man?” John said with a nudge. “The news is al over town.”

Ray had been in Iuka ever since he’d spoken to Madeline. He’d breathed a huge sigh of relief when he’d hung up with her—only to return to this?

“I heard it was huge. Where would someone get a dildo like that?” Walt asked. “Online?”

“Who knows?” John drew a dish of peanuts toward him.

“It’s the girls’ panties that bother me.”

Panties?
Ray’s heart nearly seized at the word. Had Barker kept a pair of Katie’s underwear? Or were they Rose Lee’s?

“Radcliffe told me—on the sly, you know—that one pair belonged to Grace,” Walt said.

John took another pul from his beer. “Poor thing. I like Kennedy. He’s a damn good banker. Can’t imagine he was happy to hear that about his wife.”

Walt tossed a few peanuts into his mouth. “Question is, who owned the others?”

John started peeling the label off his Bud Light. “I don’t think they know, but they’re hoping to find out.”

“Are they—” Ray’s voice squeaked, and he coughed in an attempt to lower the pitch. “Are they actively searching, then? They’re official y reopening the case?”

“I hear it’s official.” John proceeded to make a smal pile with the curling pieces of beer label. “At least, they’re doing what they can.”

“It’s the first real lead they’ve had,” Walt added.

“And it’s the first time they haven’t immediately gone after Clay,” John said. “He might be a bad son of a bitch, but he’d never hurt that sister of his. Any of ’em, for that matter.”

Ray’s shirt began to stick to his back even though the bar wasn’t hot or crowded. He needed to calm down, think clearly. But the fear that made his pulse race had the opposite effect on his mind. “It’s been twenty years now,” he said. “How do they expect to find the owner of a pair of panties after so long?”

“They’ve been asking around,” Walt said, glancing at the basketbal game.

What if they asked
him?
Ray wondered. Then he’d lie and claim he didn’t recognize them. No one else would be able to identify Rose Lee’s underwear. He’d been raising her on his own by then.

He’d be fine, he told himself. But John’s next comment inspired fresh panic.

“They’re being tested for DNA.”

Ray’s hands tightened on his bottle.
“What?”

Taking a napkin from a stack to his left, John wiped the counter in front of him. “Pontiff sent the panties to the state crime lab. There might be some bodily fluids on the fabric,”

he said.

“Could they
see
any?” Ray asked.

“Not with the naked eye. But you never know.”

“If there
is
something, and they manage to solve this case, we should cal the producers of one of those forensics shows,” Walt said enthusiastical y. “Maybe we’d see ourselves on TV.”

Ray could barely hear him for the ringing in his ears.

Bodily fluids…
There’d been plenty, hadn’t there? His and Barker’s. “But those panties came out of the quarry.

Weren’t they wet? Wouldn’t any b-bodily fluids be washed away?”

“Pontiff told me they were sealed in plastic,” John said, tossing a few more peanuts in his mouth.

Walt waved to the bartender, trying to get another drink.

“It’s a wonder they didn’t mildew.”

“According to Radcliffe, there was some mildew,” John said. “But I guess it doesn’t destroy the human DNA. Pontiff thinks they can separate it.”

Ray remembered the exquisite care Barker took with his victims’ personal belongings. The reverend saved them, licked them, touched them, smel ed them….