Dead Silence (22 page)

Kennedy’s eyes rested on Grace. “I hope the fact that you didn’t make it to Jackson isn’t the cause of any…problems.”

The way he said “problems,” she knew he was talking about George. “No. That would’ve happened anyway.”

Before Irene could ask what they were talking about, Teddy jumped into the conversation. “Mrs. Barker! Mrs. Barker, guess what?”

Irene managed to summon a smile for him, even though she was definitely more interested in Kennedy. “What, dear?”

“I can hold my breath under water almost as long as Grace.”

“That’s wonderful. Sounds like you had fun.”

“We had a blast!” He rested his chin briefly on his hands, which were clutching the windowsill. Then his head popped up again. “Hey, Dad! Can Grace go with us to watch the fireworks next week?”

Kennedy cleared his throat. “We’ll see, Teddy.”

Grace shook her head. She was determined to keep a safe distance from Kennedy in the future. “I’m sorry, Teddy,” she said. “I already have other plans.”

“What are you doing?” Irene’s voice was just sharp enough to communicate her opinion—that nothing could be more important than a date with Kennedy.

Grace struggled to come up with something. There wasn’t a lot to do in such a small town on the Fourth of July. Almost everyone headed over to the high school to spread blankets on the football field and watch the fireworks. “I’m…going to be with Madeline,” she said lamely.

“I’m sure Maddy wouldn’t mind getting together the night before or the night after,” Irene said.

Grace looked to Kennedy for help. But he sided with Irene. “Think you could arrange it?” he asked, the sparkle in his eyes telling her he was enjoying this.

“One vote isn’t worth that much of your time,” Grace said pointedly.

He cocked his head at a challenging angle. “Every vote counts.”

Grace sighed. “I’ll call you,” she said.

“Please, Grace?” Teddy hollered, unwilling to be put off.

“You could bring Madeline if you want,” Heath added.

Grace tucked a clump of her tangled hair behind one ear. “I’ll ask her, okay, boys?” she called back.

“I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Irene confided to Kennedy.

“Great. I’ll count on it, then.” The smile Kennedy turned on Grace’s mother was markedly warmer. “I’m glad we had the chance to chat, Irene.”

“So am I,” she said, obviously flattered.

Grace rolled her eyes. “We’ll talk later,” she told Kennedy.

He chuckled as he walked away. But backing out of her drive, he stopped, got out and yanked the Vicki Nibley sign from the grass.

“Mind if I remove this?” he asked.

Grace didn’t bother saying no. She suspected he’d take it anyway. “If it makes you feel better.”

He carried it to the back of his SUV.

“
I’m
voting for you,” Irene volunteered.

With a final wave and another round of goodbyes from Teddy and Heath, he left, and Irene bestowed a smug smile on Grace. “Why didn’t you tell me Kennedy Archer’s interested in you?”

Grace opened the front door. “Because he’s not.”

“Looks that way to me.”

“We’re just friends.”

“He seems pretty excited about having you join him for the fireworks.”

“Which I can’t do.”

Irene remained on the porch, leaning over the railing to gaze after Kennedy’s SUV. “Why not?”

“He’s gone, Mother. You can come inside now.” Grace held the door, and Irene finally stepped through the opening.

“Why can’t you go out with him?” her mother persisted. “You haven’t married George yet.”

Grace dropped her keys on the small secretary in the living room. “George broke up with me this weekend.”

“I thought ya’ll were already broken up.”

“We were, sort of. But now we’re broken up without hope of reconciliation.”

Her mother’s face brightened. “That’s even better.”

“Thanks for the consolation,” Grace said, leading her into the living room.

“Kennedy Archer is perfect for you. I like George, but—”

“But what?” Grace interrupted. “You’ve only met him once.”

“I could tell that he’s too dowdy for you.”

“Dowdy?”

“And stiff.”

Loyalty made her defensive. “He’s a good man, rock-solid.”

“Maybe, but he’s not nearly as charming as Kennedy.”

“George can be charming. He was just busy the day we came by.”

Her mother perched on the edge of the leather couch. “He’s not very handsome, either,” she murmured.

“Yeah, well…” Grace wanted to spout off the cliché that looks could be deceiving, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. She was beginning to believe Kennedy was a nice man, too. “What you don’t seem to understand is that I can’t be seen with Kennedy. It’ll start the whole town talking.”

“Let them talk!” her mother cried. “It’s about time the people of Stillwater realized we’re as good as everyone else. Now that you’ve caught Kennedy Archer’s eye—”

“I haven’t caught his eye,” Grace said. “His little boy comes over to see me sometimes. I’m a…a family friend.”

“He needs a wife.” She nearly swooned. “Imagine it, Grace. What if you were to marry Kennedy Archer?”

Grace
couldn’t
imagine it. She was too different from the kind of wife he needed. “I’m not his type.”

“You never know,” she said. “Did you have fun camping?”

Grace thought of Kennedy holding her in the water, his lips on her neck—and heat rose inside her. She’d had fun, all right. In some ways, she’d never felt more complete. But indulging her attraction to Kennedy would inevitably set her up for a disappointment.

“We had a nice time until Joe Vincelli showed up.”

Clamping her hands tightly together, Irene lowered her voice. “Did Joe say anything about Lee?”

“Nothing,” Grace lied. She saw no need to upset her mother. Irene couldn’t do anything about Joe.

“Good. That’s good.” Standing, she picked up her purse.

“You’re leaving?” Grace asked.

“I was on my way to Madeline’s for dinner when I saw you and Kennedy out front. Why don’t you come with me?”

“No, thanks. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I want to soak in a tub, then go straight to bed.”

“Okay.” She breezed toward the door. “I can’t wait to tell Maddy you’re seeing Kennedy Archer,” she said. “Maybe she’ll print something about it in her Singles section.”

“No!” Grace shouted, following her. “Mom, promise me you won’t tell
anyone
that I went camping with Kennedy.”

“Are you kidding? That’s the best thing to happen to our family in years.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’ll be discreet,” she said.

Grace wanted more of a promise. But it wasn’t as
if she planned on seeing Kennedy again. One camping trip couldn’t be construed as much of anything.

“Discreet is fine,” she said. But she was a little worried when her mother smiled eagerly and hurried off as though she couldn’t wait to tell everyone she saw.

The phone rang as soon as Grace climbed out of her hot bath. Wrapping herself in a towel, she hurried to the nightstand in the bedroom.

“Hello?”

“What’s going on?” It was her sister, Molly, calling from New York. “How’re things in Stillwater?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace said. “It certainly hasn’t been anything like I expected.”

“Madeline told me about Jed’s shop. I can’t believe you let her talk you into that. You could be in jail!”

“Don’t remind me,” Grace said with a groan.

“What were you
thinking?
”

“What would
you
do?” Grace countered. “She was going, with or without me. I couldn’t let her do it alone.”

Molly said nothing for a few seconds, then murmured, “Well, at least you weren’t caught.”

Grace considered telling her about the Bible and Kennedy Archer. She knew she and Molly could be closer, if only she could lower her defenses. But, in the end, she decided to keep her mouth shut about both subjects. Kennedy was something she couldn’t explain. Their history was too complex. And she didn’t want to draw Molly back into what had happened eighteen years ago. Her sister had been so young at the time, she’d merely huddled in the corner, crying. She was the least affected of the family. To this day, Grace wasn’t sure if Molly completely understood what had caused the events of that night.

Besides, the Bible was no longer a threat to them. “Have you talked to Clay?” she asked.

“Not recently. How’s he doing?”

“Fine.”

“Mom’s really excited you’re back,” she said.

“She is?”

“She called last night to tell me the two of you are getting along better than ever.”

Evidently, it didn’t take much to please their mother. She and Irene hadn’t spent that much time together, but relations, at least on the surface, were smooth, so Irene was satisfied. “Go figure.”

“She still says she’s not seeing anyone.”

“I haven’t found any proof that she is.”

“She was acting strange, even on the phone yesterday.”

“How?”

“Preoccupied. Too happy.”

“Whoever it is, they’re going to great lengths to hide the relationship.”

“And that has me a little worried.”

If Grace wasn’t already so worried about other things, she’d be more concerned. “Hopefully, it’s nothing.”

“Are you okay?” Molly asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Will you be able to stick it out for the whole three months?”

Going back wouldn’t be much easier. Grace thought of the pictures she’d shown various juries over the years. Those images would be imbedded in her mind forever, along with other, more personal images. And it would be difficult to see George. “I’m staying for now.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come out there?”

“Do you have any vacation days?”

“No, but I could try to arrange something.”

“Don’t. Everything’s fine.”

“You’re positive?”

Grace’s call-waiting beeped, saving her from having to convince Molly. “I’ve got another call,” she said. “Can I get back to you later?”

“Of course,” she said and Grace switched over.

“Do you have it?” Clay asked.

“Have what?”

“What do you think?”

The Bible. Of course. Grace released an audible sigh. “No.”

A long stretch of silence met her response. “What happened?”

“He destroyed it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Fairly sure. I didn’t see him do it, but he told me he did.”

“You believe him?”

“He has no reason to lie. What good would it do him to hang on to such evidence? He wouldn’t want to get caught with it.”

“Does he know where you found it?” Clay asked.

Hearing a door open and shut in the background, she imagined Clay locking up for the night. “He asked me, but he didn’t press for an answer. I don’t think he really wants to learn the details.”

Another long silence. “Which means he’s interested in you, like I said,” Clay muttered at last.

Grace didn’t deny it. Kennedy
was
interested. He’d admitted as much. But whether or not he’d ever openly
pursue her with the intention of establishing a serious relationship was another matter. She wouldn’t let him even if he tried. “I think it’s a question of wanting what you can’t have.”

“You don’t return the interest?”

She heard the skepticism in her brother’s voice and quickly moved to squelch it. “No,” she said, but the fact that she’d just spent her bath fantasizing about Kennedy made the lie sound far too obvious to her own ears.

“Because of George?” Clay asked.

“George has nothing to do with it,” she said. “He’s met someone else.”

“Since when?”

“He dropped the bomb Saturday night.”

Clay whistled. “Nice of him to take you by surprise.”

“He deserves a chance at happiness. I’m glad he has it.”

“You deserve a chance at happiness, too,” her brother said.

“What about you?” she asked, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

“You’ve had quite a weekend,” he went on.

Grace turned on the fan that would help her endure the heat and slipped into bed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Joe Vincelli joined us on Sunday.”

“Really? Why?”

“Ostensibly he came as Kennedy’s friend. But Kennedy didn’t invite him. I think he wanted to be sure Kennedy and I didn’t get too close. He feels threatened by the fact that Kennedy and I are becoming friends.”

“Did his feelings toward you make any difference to Kennedy?”

“They didn’t seem to.”

“So we don’t have to worry about him.”

“Yes, we do. Joe’s not going to forget. He suspects too much.” She hesitated, then plunged on. “I know you don’t agree with me on this, but I think we should move the…the problem.”

“Don’t bring it up again,” Clay snapped.

“We can’t just close our eyes and hope for the best!” she responded.

“Digging around would only cause more problems.”

“Not if we could hide what we were doing.”

“We have to sit tight and wait for this added scrutiny to blow over,” Clay said. “That’s all.”

Grace wasn’t so sure the added scrutiny would blow over. Her own experience with police investigations led her to believe they’d be much better off getting rid of whatever remained of Lee Barker—if they could manage it without getting caught.

“You worry about your garden and your vegetable stand and Madeline and Molly and whatever else concerns you, and forget about the past, okay?” Clay said. “Leave that to me.”

Grace pulled the sheet up to her chin. Arguing with Clay wasn’t going to do any good. He was immovable. He’d always been in charge, and that was why she sometimes couldn’t help blaming him as much as she blamed herself for how things had gone eighteen years ago.

“Forget the past,” she repeated disbelievingly. Kennedy had given her the same glib advice.

“Exactly.”

“Impossible,” she said. Joe wouldn’t let her forget. She felt certain of that.

I
rene studied Francine Eastman, who was standing in front of her at the deli inside the Piggly Wiggly, wondering how to strike up a conversation. Fran, as her friends called her, ran a bridge club for the social elite—so, of course, Irene had never been invited.

“The macaroni salad looks good today,” she said.

Since there were only the two of them waiting for Polly Zufelt to finish whatever she was doing in back, Fran couldn’t possibly mistake the fact that Irene was addressing her. But Fran still gave her a frown that said, “Are you talking to
me?
” “I guess,” she replied indifferently.

Irene straightened the pretty silk scarf she’d tied over her linen dress. “You gettin’ ready for bridge club?”

Fran assessed her coldly. “It’s Reva’s birthday. Polly’s just boxing up her cake.”

Reva, who was married to one of the more affluent farmers in the area, was Fran’s best friend. She came into the dress shop occasionally, but Irene didn’t like her any better than she did Fran. “So you’re having a little party when you’re finished playing cards?” she asked.

“That’s right,” Fran said. “I suppose you’re going back to work?”

Irene stiffened at the other woman’s condescending manner. She knew Fran’s words weren’t a simple observation—they were a reference to the vast difference between them. “Yes, but I’m not in any hurry. I can take as long as I like,” she said, then cursed herself for sounding so defensive.

Fran gave a little shrug. “I’m happy for you.”

Polly returned with Reva’s cake. “How’s that, Mrs. Eastman?”

“Fine, Polly. Thank you.”

Fran accepted the cake, but before she could put it in her cart, Irene spoke again. “Did you know Grace is back?”

There was a slight pause. “I’ve heard, yes,” Fran said as though she hardly considered it good news.

“She’s still not married, if you can believe it.”

“I can’t imagine why not,” Fran replied with a smug smile.

Irene knew she was referring to Grace’s reputation. Irene had heard the rumors that had circulated about her daughter, suspected many of them were true. But she blamed herself, not Grace. She should’ve gotten away from Lee as soon as she’d begun having misgivings about her marriage. If she hadn’t been so reluctant to leave Madeline behind, and so afraid her children would starve or be split up, she would have.

“Oh, well,” she said. “There’s hope yet. Now that she’s dating Kennedy, who knows what might happen?”

At that, Fran stumbled and nearly dropped the cake. “Kennedy who?”

Irene helped steady her. “Why, you know Kennedy Archer. His mother is one of your very best friends.”

Fran’s eyes bugged out as though she’d just swallowed her dentures. “It’s not true,” she breathed.

“Of course it is. He took her away for the weekend.”

“Who said?”

“He did. Ask him.”

“I think I will,” she snapped.

Irene laughed softly to herself as Fran nearly twisted an ankle in her hurry to get out of the store. “Have a nice day,” she called after her.

No doubt Fran had
several
calls to make. Irene didn’t care if she told the whole town. In fact, she hoped Fran would start with Kennedy’s own mother. Stillwater’s future mayor had taken Grace along with his boys, so his intentions seemed honorable, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.

“What can I get for you?” Polly asked.

Smiling broadly, Irene stepped up to the counter. “I think I’ll forget about calories today and go for the Reuben.”

On Tuesday when Kennedy returned from lunch, his mother was waiting for him in his office.

“Is Dad okay?” he asked, surprised to see her. Since she’d been taking care of the boys, she usually just called if she had any concerns.

Twin spots of color rode high on her cheeks as she stood. “You have the nerve to ask me that?”

Kennedy slowed his step, trying to figure out what was going on. Setting his briefcase on a credenza, he came around the desk, but he didn’t sink into his chair. For this, he felt quite sure he needed to remain on his feet. Using his knuckles to lean on the desk, he waiting for the full brunt of her anger to hit. “Where’re the boys?”

“With Otis.”

“Dad’s home?”

“He didn’t go in to work this morning. He isn’t feeling well.” As much as Camille loved Otis and wanted nothing more than to see him healthy, she sounded almost triumphant to be able to tell Kennedy what he least wanted to hear.

Her words made his stomach muscles tense. He’d been dealing with his father’s illness mostly by pretending it didn’t exist. But he knew he couldn’t do that forever. Sooner or later, it would have a significant impact on all their lives. “Are you going to take him to the hospital?”

“No. We’ve called the doctor. They’re arranging for him to start—” she lowered her voice “—
treatment
next week instead of the week after. Until then, he’s supposed to rest. Fortunately, he hasn’t heard what you’ve been up to, or he’d be a lot sicker.”

“What have I been up to?” Kennedy asked.

She closed the door and advanced on him. “Why did you do it?”

“That question might be easier to answer if you told me what you’re talking about,” he said, but he knew his mother had found out about Grace. When he’d taken Grace camping, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal—just a weekend out with a woman he’d known in high school. But he hadn’t stopped thinking of her since—which made the time they’d spent together feel like the betrayal his mother thought it was.

“Quit playing games with me,” she said. “I’m talking about that Montgomery woman.”

Finally taking a seat, he began going through the stack of messages on his desk, as though he wasn’t all that concerned. “What about her?”

“What do you think? You took her away for the weekend.”

“I wanted to get to know her,” he said with a shrug.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it,” she repeated in obvious disbelief. Shaking her head, she withdrew a flyer from her purse and shoved it at him.

Vicki Nibley’s name, emblazoned across the top in big block letters, stood out larger than the rest. Below that, Kennedy read, “A candidate who cares about law and order. A candidate who supports the rights of victims and their families.” At the very bottom, he found a personal endorsement—by Elaine, Marcus and Roger Vincelli. “Join us in supporting the only candidate who will fight for truth and justice.”

Kennedy stared at the signatures, shocked that Joe’s parents and brother had defected so quickly. They hadn’t even called him!

“This is…unexpected,” he said, glancing up at her.

“What did you
think
would happen?” his mother asked. “There’re rumors flying all over town about you and Grace. You know that woman’s reputation. Why would you open yourself up to such criticism? Especially before the election?”

Shoving back his chair, Kennedy stood. “Give her a break,” he said. “She’s never been convicted of anything. She’s an innocent woman who—”

“Who what?” Camille interrupted.

“Who was mistreated as a child. Have you ever stopped to think why she might have behaved the way she did?”

“I don’t care about that. I only care about you!” Camille’s voice cracked as it rose, and Kennedy suspected she was close to tears. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his mother cry—except when she’d told
him his father had cancer. He’d known then that the world was coming to an end, because no one was stronger than Camille Archer.

It bothered him to know he’d upset her so badly. She was already going through a lot. “It’s okay, Mom. I…I’ll do something about this,” he said, even though, at the moment, he had no idea what that might be.

Her nostrils flared as she worked to gain control of her emotions. “You’d better,” she said at last.

Kennedy understood how deeply his father’s diagnosis upset her. She’d built her life around Otis, his hopes and dreams, this town. “It’s just an election,” he reminded her gently.

“Don’t you believe it.” Her tone rang with determination. “What’s happening could adversely affect your father. And I won’t tolerate that!”

Kennedy wasn’t sure how to console her, but he knew he could only go so far to please his parents, the Vincellis or anyone else in Stillwater. “I have to live with myself,” he said. “I have to do what I think is best.”

“Then do what you think is best. Just stay away from her.”

He thought of the tentative arrangements he’d made with Grace to go to the fireworks. She’d said she’d call him, but she hadn’t. He was taking that as a yes. “I’m not sure I want to turn my back on her.”

“She doesn’t need you.”

“Maybe not, but having a friend in this town can’t hurt her.”

“It could hurt
you.
”

He skimmed over his mother’s response. “And the boys? You think they should stay away, too?”

“Of course!”

“They’re crazy about her.”

“They wouldn’t even know her if it wasn’t for you.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They won’t be happy about losing contact with her.”

“Of course they won’t,” Camille replied. “She plays with them as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.”

“And why not?” he said, dropping his hand. “She’s off work right now.”

“She should be more productive and less…visible.”

Obviously, it was the less visible part that interested his mother.

“Teddy and Heath were at her place just this morning,” she went on, “sitting out on the lawn selling soap and cookies and whatever else.”

“So?”

“She lives on Main Street, for crying out loud. Who knows how many people saw them? To make matters worse, she now has a Kennedy Archer For Mayor sign in her yard.”

“She does?” he asked, oddly pleased despite everything.

“One day it’s Vicki Nibley. The next it’s Kennedy Archer. Tell me that doesn’t make it look as though you put a smile on her face last weekend.”

“God, you sound like Joe,” he said.

“It’s the truth.”

Kennedy was still fixated on the sign. “Where’d she get one of my signs?”

“How should I know? Maybe Teddy took it from the garage and dragged it over.”

“Main Street’s a good location,” he said.

“But now that you’ve seen this—” she smacked the paper he’d thrown onto his desktop “—you must re
alize that associating with her in any way, even having your sign in her yard, is the kiss of death.”

“You’re talking as if Vicki Nibley’s already won. The election isn’t over yet.”

“If anything could cause us to lose, it would be Grace Montgomery.”

Kennedy rounded his desk. “Everything will be okay, Mom.” He would’ve drawn her into a comforting embrace, except he knew she’d remain stiff and awkward. His mother had always been loving but not particularly nurturing. She struggled with intimacy and preferred to show her devotion through dispensing advice and sacrificing her time to help him in various ways. His parents were alike in that.

“What made you take her to the lake?” she asked, perching on the edge of a chair.

“A lot of things. Mostly, I was thinking about a poor little girl who didn’t have the chance at life she should’ve had,” he told her.

“What’s that supposed to mean? She was damn lucky Lee took her and her family in, that he put a roof over their heads.”

“That’s not all a child needs, Mom.”

“So what are you saying?”

Kennedy scratched his shoulder, searching for some way to gain a little understanding and support for Grace. To an extent, he sympathized with Joe’s family because they felt so wronged. But he didn’t believe they were the only ones who deserved consideration. What had happened to Grace was grossly unfair. “I think she was abused,” he said.

Camille grimaced in disbelief. “Oh, brother. If that’s the excuse she’s giving you, I’ll bet anything it’s a lie. Don’t you see? She’s trying to manipulate you.”

Kennedy thought back on those few moments when he’d asked Grace about the reverend, and knew that what his mother said couldn’t be true. No one could manufacture the desolation he’d seen on her face. The way she’d finally admitted it also rang true. “She didn’t tell me she was abused. Not at first. I guessed.”

“How?” she asked, leaning forward expectantly.

“Something tipped me off.”

Camille shook her head. “No. She’s a gold digger, just like her mother.”

“That’s not true.”

“Show me one person who ever saw a mark on her.”

Kennedy lowered his voice. “There are other types of abuse, Mom.”

“Lee Barker was a preacher! I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you’re insinuating. Because if you’re wrong, if you accuse a man like Lee, the backlash will be severe.”

“I’m not insinuating anything. I have proof.”

His mother stared at him for several seconds, then softened. “What kind of proof?”

Kennedy remembered Joe standing so close to the spot where he’d buried the Bible. Seeing his friend there had spooked Kennedy, made him consider going back and moving it. But he hadn’t had the chance. And he’d decided soon afterward that he was probably being paranoid. If Joe knew anything about the Bible, he would’ve stormed the police station; he wouldn’t have kept the news to himself. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “What’s important is that you know things aren’t as we’ve always believed.”

Camille examined her manicure. “Then bring this proof out into the open, so
everyone
will know,” she said when she looked up.

“I can’t.” He wasn’t even sure others would interpret it the way he did. There was nothing truly explicit on those pages. It was a feeling he’d gotten, the missing piece that had explained Grace’s behavior—and why the Montgomerys might want to be rid of Barker.

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because it could hurt Grace as much as help her.”

“Kennedy, tell me what you have.”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. It’s not around here, anyway.”

“Who has it?”

“No one has it.”

“Then where is it?”

“I buried it, okay?”

“You
buried
it? Why, for God’s sake?”