Dead Silence (30 page)

“I don’t know,” she said more seriously. “I don’t like being reminded of the passing time.”

“Neither do I,” he admitted. “Not when you’re here.”

He drew her away from Teddy’s bedside, but she stepped on something that made her pause. “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the page of a magazine, folded into a tiny triangle.

“I don’t know.” Taking it from her, he stood in the light spilling from the hallway to see what it was. Then he looked back at his son. “Oh, my gosh, this is it.”

“What?”

He turned the paper so she could see. It showed a marble statue of an angel and two different birdbaths, along with ordering information for each. “What he’s been saving up for,” Kennedy murmured.

Remembering Teddy at her door the day she’d first met him, Grace took a closer look. He’d told her he was saving up for something special. “He wants a birdbath?”

“He wants the angel.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Raelynn clipped this out herself. She was considering buying it for the garden. When she died, Teddy wanted me to get it for her headstone.”

“You didn’t want an angel?”

“I preferred something rectangular, something that could be more easily inscribed.” He frowned as though disappointed in himself. “I guess I was so caught up in my own sorrow that I didn’t realize how important the angel was to him.”

“It’s been two years. How sweet of him not to give up.”

“He’s quite a child.” Refolding the clipping, he placed it on the dresser. “I’ll have to talk to him when I get an opportunity, see if I can help him somehow.”

“I think he wants to do it himself,” Grace said. “Otherwise, he would’ve come to you.”

Kennedy rubbed a thumb over her cheek and bottom lip. “You’re probably right. But now that I know, maybe I can hire him to do some extra work around the house.”

The desire Kennedy inspired as he touched her coiled in the pit of Grace’s stomach. “That’s a better idea.”

He pulled away long enough to adjust his son’s covers, then guided her out of Teddy’s room and through a set of double doors that led to a large master suite with a tall four-poster bed. A small retreat branched off to the left, containing a secretary and a
couch with lots of pillows. Two large walk-in closets and a giant bathroom were located to the right.

“This is nice,” she said, but the tender moment they’d shared in Teddy’s room was gone and she was feeling nervous again, supremely aware that she was in another woman’s domain.

She must have communicated her anxiety in some way because Kennedy told her to relax as he walked into the bathroom and turned on the Jacuzzi tub.

“I’m not nervous,” she lied.

Coming back to her, he slipped his hands around her waist. “Maybe it’s me. I’m afraid you’re going to walk out of here while I’m dying to make love to you.”

She glanced once more at the bed—Raelynn’s bed. “I’m considering it.”

“Last night, you asked me to stay. Now I’m asking the same of you.”

“But I don’t belong here, Kennedy.”

“I want you with me.” He tugged her bottom lip into his mouth. “Tell me you want that, too.”

“What I want doesn’t change anything.”

Slipping his good hand under her shirt, he unfastened her bra, and she caught her breath as his palm covered her breast. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got plenty of birth control this time.”

“If I had my way, we wouldn’t even use it,” she said.

He jerked back as though she’d given him an electric shock. “What?”

“I want a baby more than anything,” she told him. “I want
your
baby.”

An emotion Grace couldn’t quite interpret appeared in his eyes. “But—”

“It’s impossible,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “I know.”

He kissed her again, more tentatively at first. But as she put her arms around his neck and began to respond to the teasing of his lips, his kisses began to deepen.

“The tub’s going to overflow,” he said and pulled her into the bathroom, where he tested the water and stripped off their clothes.

When he stood before her completely naked, she smiled. They were nearly surrounded by mirrors that showed her at least ten reflections. “Wow,” she said.

He grinned, then urged her into the water with him, where he lathered her entire body with soap. “Grace?”

The sensation of his wet skin sliding against hers made her feel as if she were floating on air. “What?”

“If I give you a baby, will you stay?” he murmured.

“The night?”

“Forever. Will you marry me?”

Grace felt as though he’d opened the drain and she was spinning down with the water.
“What?”

He threaded his fingers through hers. “You heard me.”

“We’re crazy to even consider it. You know that.”

“Just tell me you’re innocent,” he said. “Tell me you had nothing to do with Barker’s disappearance and I’ll give you a baby, marry you, let you share Teddy and Heath.”

Grace’s heart was beating so hard she thought it might leap out of her chest. “Kennedy, no….”

“Yes,” he insisted, letting go so he could search out her most sensitive parts.

Grace gasped at his bold exploration. What he was doing made her weak, shaky…and eager for more. “I…can’t.”

“I know what I want, Grace. To be together. To
know you’ll be here with me at the end of each day. Don’t you want the same thing?”

“More than I ever thought possible,” she whispered.

“Then you have to trust me. We can make a future together, but only if we trust each other.”

She remembered Clay telling her she deserved a chance at happiness. Did she really? Could it happen? Kennedy seemed to be offering her everything she’d ever dreamed about. But the price was absolute honesty.

“Grace?” Kennedy pleaded, kissing her temples, her eyelids, her cheeks. “Come on. I’ll never hurt you. We could be a family.”

Every muscle tensed—with hope, expectation, desire. And fear.

“We could have a little girl, a sister for Heath and Teddy.”

There were voices in her head, screaming that she was never supposed to tell. The world would come to an end if she opened her mouth. But her heart was begging her to believe, just this once.

“It was my fault,” she whispered.

He froze but didn’t remove the hand that cupped her in a very private way. “How?”

“He—he wouldn’t leave me alone.” Her chest suddenly grew so tight she had to fight for every breath. “He—he had Molly locked out of the r-room. And then my m-mother came home and knew something was wrong. H-he wasn’t even supposed to be home. He’d sent her away on purpose.” Kennedy didn’t move, but he was watching her intently. “She started accusing him, screaming that she was going to the police, that she’d reveal him for the filthy scum he was, and he…he couldn’t take it. Appearances were everything to him. He denied it, again and again, but my
mother knew. She knew at last.” The words started coming quicker, like a torrent of water breaking through a dam. “The screaming escalated and things got violent. He started to hit her. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to stop him, but he threw me off and kept going after her. Then Clay came home and—” she gulped for more air “—and he got into it, to save her, to protect me.”

“And the reverend turned on him?”

She nodded. “My m-mother had to stop it, had to get him off my brother.”

“How’d she do it?” Kennedy asked softly.

“She hit him on the head with the butcher block that held our knives.”

“And?” he prompted.

“He fell,” she said simply. “He collapsed right there on the kitchen floor. We—we never dreamed he was dead. But there was so much blood and…” She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “He wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. We didn’t know what to do. We couldn’t call the police. No one here liked us, no one would believe that it was merely an accident. My mother knew she’d go to jail and the rest of us would be split up.”

“The Barkers and Vincellis wouldn’t have tolerated the humiliation. They would’ve fought you,” Kennedy agreed. “They would’ve demanded revenge.”

“He was the town preacher, above reproach.
Everyone
would want revenge! It was an accident, Kennedy. But it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me. They were fighting about me.”

The end of her confession met with dead silence. Kennedy stared at her. He seemed to be shocked that she’d finally admitted the truth she’d hidden for eighteen years.

The tears Grace could no longer hold back rolled down her cheeks, and she gazed up at him, terrified by what she’d just revealed. But he didn’t let the fear last.

“You were only thirteen.”

“I’ll never forget it. Molly huddled in the corner, crying. My mother screaming hysterically. And Clay taking calm and deliberate control of everything. ‘We’ll bury him behind the barn,’ he said.”

Grace wondered if Kennedy would ever look at her the same way again. But he ran a finger tenderly over the curve of her jaw. “I won’t let any of that stand between us. I’ll do whatever I can to protect you,” he promised, kissing away her tears. Then he tossed the condoms on the ledge of the tub into the garbage, settled his hips between her thighs and sealed his promise with his own risk.

After breaking a small window at the back of Evonne’s house, Joe removed his T-shirt, wrapped it around his forearm and reached inside to unlock the door. He expected the noise to bring Grace stumbling sleepily down the stairs—and eagerly anticipated the panic in her voice when she called out to see if someone was there.

But he heard nothing.

Carrying his uncle’s Bible with him, he shut the door quietly and felt his way through the dark. It would be even better to surprise her in bed, he decided, and smiled as he imagined how she might plead with him. He’d tell her what she could do to stop him from going to the police, let her think she could avoid the vengeance this Bible would launch. Then, after he’d used her all he wanted, he’d call the police anyway.

She shouldn’t have messed with him. He’d get his
revenge on her and—he gingerly touched his injured nose—Kennedy, too.

His footsteps creaked on the old boards as he climbed the stairs, but he heard no response from above.

“Gra-ace,” he murmured, a singsong quality to his voice. “Oh, Gra-acie. Have I got a surprise for you.”

Still nothing.

He poked his head inside the first bedroom. A spare. The next one was empty, too. The last room on the right obviously belonged to Grace, but she wasn’t there. Her perfume and hairbrush lay on the dresser. Her bed was neatly made. There was a skirt tossed on the rocking chair and a pair of panties lying on the floor near the hamper.

Crossing the room, he held the panties to his nose and breathed deeply, looking forward to the pleasure to come. Then he shoved them inside his pocket and headed back downstairs. Maybe he’d passed her without realizing it. She could’ve fallen asleep on the wicker couch in the screened-in porch, the hammock in the yard, or the sofa in the living room.

“Grace?” he called, turning on the lights. Finding an empty wineglass on the coffee table, he licked the rim. She’d taste as good as she smelled.

“Where are you?” The house was empty. So was the screened-in-porch and the hammock. Jogging to the alley where he’d parked his truck, he retrieved the flashlight he’d used at the campground and looked through the windows in the door of her garage. When he first arrived, he’d taken a quick walk around the place, just to make sure she was alone. Because he didn’t see her car in the drive, he’d assumed it was in the garage, where she usually parked.

Unfortunately, the garage was as empty as the driveway.

“Gone,” he muttered, feeling deprived. What now? He hadn’t expected it, but she could be staying with Madeline, her mother, Clay or even Kennedy.

After last night, he was betting on Kennedy. But he didn’t want to go there; he wanted to confront her when she was alone. He’d deal with Kennedy later, when he could tell him how many times she’d brought him to a mind-blowing orgasm.

Using his flashlight to check his watch, he saw that it was nearly two in the morning. If she was with Kennedy, she’d probably be home soon. Kennedy wouldn’t have a woman in his bed when the boys woke up.

So he’d wait for her, he thought, heading back into the house. He’d have to delay his gratification a little longer, which certainly didn’t make him happy. But there were some positives to waiting. He could make himself at home, look through her stuff, drink a glass of wine—and let the anticipation build.

K
ennedy kissed Grace’s shoulder and pulled her a little closer to him. If they hadn’t made a baby in the past few hours, it wasn’t for lack of trying. Grace was now his to love and protect, just as he’d loved Raelynn, just as he loved his boys. He knew there’d be sacrifices. He might even have to pull out of the mayoral race. But somehow that didn’t upset him. Not when he thought of waking up with Grace in his arms for the rest of his life.

Rolling onto his back, he let go of her and stared up at the ceiling, searching his heart and mind to see if loving Grace changed how he felt about his first wife.

No. Raelynn was still there, as much a part of him as ever. It wasn’t a matter of loving one or the other, he concluded. It was a matter of loving both, which was what made his relationship with Grace feel so right. He could bring her into his home, let her enjoy Teddy and Heath, even make love to her without any guilt—because Raelynn would’ve wanted him to be happy. He was certain of that; he’d want the same for her.

“It’s late. I’d better go,” Grace murmured.

Kennedy hadn’t realized she was awake. “How do you feel?”

She smiled sleepily. “Good.”

“No regrets?” he asked, wanting to calm her if she was having second thoughts. He knew she might be a little overwhelmed by what they’d promised each other, by what they’d done.

She leaned up on one elbow and gazed down at him, her hair puddling like silk against his chest. “No regrets.” She touched the side of his face. “What about you?”

“None,” he said and meant it. He was a little apprehensive about the future, but only because he was afraid he couldn’t completely protect her from the reaction of their small community.

“You might feel differently in a couple of months.”

He could tell she was referring to the possibility that she might be pregnant. “No,” he said. “Seeing you carry my baby will make me proud.”

“If you lost the election, would you ever consider moving away from this town?” she asked.

He skimmed his hand over the curve of her hip. “If you couldn’t be happy here. But…I wouldn’t be able to go for a while.”

“Because of the bank?”

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her slim fingers. The future was far brighter now that good things were occurring along with the bad. Kennedy had thought his days of being as content and fulfilled as he’d been with Raelynn were over.

And now there was Grace.

He smiled as the more critical events in his life suddenly seemed more like change than loss.

He still didn’t want to say goodbye to his father, though. “My dad has melanoma, Grace,” he said, sobering. “I couldn’t go anywhere until…until we see what happens with that.”

“I had no idea.”

“No one else knows, except my father’s family in Iuka.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

The fan whirled slowly overhead, around and around. “My mom believes he’s going to beat it.”

She kissed the side of his mouth. “Your mom? What do
you
believe?”

“I don’t know. I hope she’s right.”

“So do I. For you. And for Teddy and Heath.”

Kennedy thought about the next few months. “It means we might be here for a while. Are you okay with that?”

She nodded, but she didn’t say anything to make that nod more convincing before settling her head on his shoulder.

“Grace?”

“Hmm?”

“What about your job?”

“I’ll have to quit.”

He could smell her perfume, feel her soft flesh against him. “Will you mind?”

“No. I can always go back to work when the kids are older. Even if we don’t have a baby right away, I want to be home with Heath and Teddy. They’re more important to me than any job.”

She was the missing piece, the piece that made his family complete. He couldn’t believe how fortunate he was to have found her.

His body stirred, and he rolled over to make love to her again. Kissing her deeply, he buried his hands in her long hair. “The next few months won’t be easy,” he murmured against her mouth. “But you’ll hang in
there with me, won’t you? You won’t give up on us—no matter what?”

“I won’t give up,” she promised. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

On the surface, her answer was the one he’d been looking for. Only there was a ferocity to “I’ll do whatever it takes” that gave him pause. He would’ve questioned Grace about it. Except he lost that thought almost the second it entered his mind. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else when Grace closed her eyes and surrendered to his touch.

She was committed to him—that was all that mattered.

He hoped.

Once Grace reached her car, she sat there, staring out at the dark farmland that stretched on either side of her. So much had changed in the last few hours.
Everything
had changed. And yet nothing had changed at all. She’d agreed to marry Kennedy Archer. They planned to raise a family together. But loving him still put him and his children at risk. Joe, the other Vincellis and Madeline still sought the truth. The reverend was still dead at her family’s hand—and buried in too shallow a grave.

What if the reverend’s car turned up one day. A find like that would, no doubt, lead to another search of the farm. If the police ever came back, Grace knew it would be the beginning of the end. They’d leave no stone unturned. McCormick would be running the show this time, and he wasn’t inept, like Jenkins had been before him.

She had to do something, she decided. Something to insure that the worst never happened.

Starting her car, she pulled onto the highway and headed home. Whether Clay liked it or not, it was time to give the Reverend Barker a new resting place. Getting rid of his remains was the only way to protect them all.

Joe saw Grace’s headlights swing into the drive and quickly stepped to the side of her front window, out of sight. She’d learn what was waiting for her soon enough. In the privacy of her own home. Where no one could hear if she made a fuss.

He smiled, eager to see her cowed. He couldn’t wait to make her try just about anything he could imagine.

But she didn’t come in. When the garage door rolled up, she pulled only partially inside.

He moved to another window so he could see better, but all that was visible from the house was the back end of her Beemer. He assumed she’d gotten out and left the engine running because the taillights stayed on long after the brake lights went off.

What the hell was she doing out there?

He parted the drapes and changed positions yet again, but he could no longer see her. Not until she emerged from the garage carrying something long and dark. Something that looked like—he dropped the glass he’d been holding, which shattered on the hardwood floor—a shovel!

Despite the alcohol he’d consumed, Joe’s heart began to race as she put it in her trunk. What was she doing? Considering what he’d just turned up at the lake, he could think of only one possibility. What else would motivate her to go digging in the middle of the night?

He watched her close the trunk and hurry into the
garage. Her brake lights flashed, then she backed up and the door rolled down.

She was on her way.

Joe stayed at the window long enough to make sure she turned left toward the farm. Then he ran to the alley, jumped in his truck and headed out in the same direction. With any luck, he’d catch sight of her taillights within minutes, he thought. And he was right. Four minutes down the road, where Main Street merged with the highway, he saw her driving about a mile ahead of him.

He slowed down. No need to give his presence away. If he had his guess, he’d soon be able to tell the whole town exactly where they could find his uncle’s body.

Grace parked in the thicket of trees that lined the back side of Clay’s property, along the canal, and gathered up the shovel, gloves and flashlight she’d brought. She knew if Clay realized what she was up to, he’d stop her immediately. He expected her to leave everything as it was. But there was too much at stake. She had to do whatever she could to make sure her past wouldn’t eventually ruin her future—and Kennedy’s.

Clay, her mother, Molly—they deserved the chance to forget and move on. This was something she could do for all of them.

The deep croak of a toad broke the silence as she crossed the cotton fields toward the farm. The pond wasn’t far. She could hear the trickle of water as she drew closer and struggled to concentrate on that instead of the creak of the weather vane atop the barn, which shifted at unexpected moments. That creak set her teeth on edge. She could remember lying in bed
the summer the reverend died, her windows open wide to catch any hint of a breeze, and hearing that sound. No matter how hard she tried not to, she’d think it was the barn door sliding open and imagine the reverend leaving his office for the night—and coming for her. Pulling the sheet up to her chin even though she was already damp with sweat, she’d stare at the darkness beyond her window until her eyes burned, or the sun finally came up.

Those memories threatened to rob her of the strength she needed to use her shovel. Stopping, she bent over to catch her breath, but then marched on. She’d made her decision. She couldn’t live in Stillwater another day knowing that proof of what had happened was right on the farm, exactly where so many people suspected it to be.

To get through this, she had to break what she was doing into very small steps. Perform one action at a time and think no further. Soon it would be over. And afterward, without the constant fear of discovery, she’d be fine. There were too many other, happier things to dwell on now.

When she reached the clearing on the other side of a copse of trees about twenty yards from the barn, she set the shovel against the trunk of a weeping willow and pulled on her gloves. This was the spot. She felt as though she could’ve found it with her eyes shut. It was far enough from the barn that Jed hadn’t been able to hear them above the radio he had blaring, but close enough that Clay didn’t have to push the wheelbarrow over too much rough terrain. Time had been an issue that night. They’d had far too little of it….

Don’t remember. Act. For Kennedy. For Teddy and Heath. For everyone I love.

Her flashlight swept over a cotton baler, a wagon, a tractor and some tractor wheels piled next to a relatively new shed. There was also a ’57 Chevy truck parked beside a plough. Because Clay wasn’t a horse lover—his only experience with horses had been with the reverend’s stallion, which had bitten him at every opportunity—he’d ripped out the stalls and used the space to restore old cars. He was working on a Thunderbird and a Mustang. She’d seen them when she and Clay had dismantled the reverend’s office, and figured this truck was either a future project or a rejected one. In any case, Grace was pretty sure it was parked right on top of the reverend’s grave. Which made sense—but also made her task more difficult.

How would she accomplish this? And how gruesome would it get? Her professional background assured her that after eighteen years, the reverend would be reduced to bones and bits of fabric. But Grace wasn’t sure she could stomach even that much. Not when she was pulling it from the ground.

Pretend you’re somewhere else. At the office in Jackson. Pretend this is no one you know, simply Exhibit A from one of the many cases you’ve worked on. One step at a time, remember? One step at a time…

Circling the vehicle, she forced open the old door, which complained loudly, and wiped away the cobwebs that suggested this truck had been sitting there for years. The keys dangled from the ignition, but the truck wouldn’t start. It was in pretty bad shape. She doubted it even had an engine.

She’d have to excavate the dirt from the side, she decided as she climbed out. But how long would that take? The sun would be up in three hours—and Clay with it.

Leaving the door of the truck ajar, because she couldn’t stand the noise of closing it, she got on her hands and knees and shined her flashlight beneath the truck. They’d buried Barker in a tattered quilt her mother had bought at a garage sale when Grace was just a baby.

She looked for any hint of that blanket, or anything else that would indicate Barker’s remains might be as easy to uncover as she’d always feared. If she found it, she’d dig tonight. A foot of soft dirt couldn’t take too long to move. If she found nothing, she’d get an earlier start tomorrow night.

A sound brought Grace’s head up. Holding her breath, she listened.

The weather vane creaked, but she couldn’t hear anything else. Only the cicadas and the frogs.

It’s the wind. That’s all.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder to relieve the heat of it on her neck, she crouched closer to the ground and angled her light toward the back tires. She thought she saw something pink in a narrow rut. Was it part of the blanket?

Grabbing her shovel, she swung it under the truck, trying to scrape what she’d found toward her. But the snap of a twig made her freeze in midmotion. As much as she wanted to attribute that sound to an animal or the wind, she knew she wasn’t as alone as she’d assumed.

Was it Clay? She wanted to call out to him, in case he had his gun. He might well shoot first and ask questions later. But she wasn’t willing to give herself away just yet. What if he’d seen a glimmer of light and was only coming to investigate? She could still hide. If he
caught her out here tonight, she’d have a much more difficult time slipping onto the property tomorrow.

Snapping off her flashlight, she shoved it beneath the truck and rolled under with it. The smell of damp leaves filled her nostrils as she lay flat on her stomach and waited. She tried not to think about the reverend in the ground directly beneath her. That invited images of a bony skeleton reaching through the dirt to pull her into his grave….

Another twig snapped as whoever it was drew closer. Grace told herself to breathe lightly and evenly. She wasn’t afraid of Clay, only of the risk that he’d catch her and make it impossible for her to do what had to be done. She couldn’t rest until she’d hidden the reverend’s remains in a place where they’d never be found.