Dead Silence (7 page)

“Hello?”

She took a small measure of comfort in her brother’s deep, steady voice. “I hate nights like this,” she said without a greeting. “Don’t they make you want to sit out on the porch with your gun—see what might turn up?”

There was a significant pause. “Nothing’s going to turn up, Grace. Not while I’m here.”

She rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. “But the rain…”

“It’s just rain.”

“It’s not just rain. Combined with the heat and the smells creeping in from outside…It brings it all back so vividly. Like it was yesterday.”

“It wasn’t yesterday,” he said. “It was a long, long time ago. Everyone’s moved on.”

“That’s bullshit, Clay.” She pulled a lap blanket over herself, even though her skin felt clammy. “
You
haven’t moved on. You’re still guarding that damn farm.
I
haven’t moved on. I’m right back where I started. Even Madeline hasn’t moved on. She’s continuously searching for her father, for answers. Now she’s convinced it was Jed.”

“There are others who think the same thing,” he said.

“Well, she’s out to
prove
it.”

He didn’t hesitate. “She won’t be able to.”

“She can try, and trying might make the difference. I’ve seen it before. One person who won’t let go of an old case, driving an investigation until—”

“Without a body, suspicions and accusations are as pointless today as they were eighteen years ago,” he interrupted. “The police won’t reopen the case without new evidence. You’ve dealt with criminal law long enough to know that.”

Grace rubbed her forehead. She’d also dealt with criminal law long enough to see the exceptions. “This is why I stayed away. I didn’t want to be terrified every time it stormed. I didn’t want to hear Madeline’s anguish over her father and continue lying to her.”

The tension-filled silence made Grace believe Clay struggled with the same things. But then he said, “It’s okay, Grace. It’s over. I won’t let anything more happen.”

Someone knocked at her front door. Surprised, she glanced at the clock over the fireplace. It was nearly midnight.

“Someone’s here,” she said.

“This late?”

“Maybe Madeline forgot something.” She got up and checked the peephole at the door. “I have to go.”

“Who is it?”

“Joe Vincelli.”

“Vincelli! What’s he doing at your place?”

“I have no idea. But if I don’t call you back in the next five minutes, get over here, okay?”

“Let me talk to him.”

She didn’t want to drag her brother into this. It was important she fight her own battles. Besides, he’d done enough for her in the past. “Let me see what I can do first,” she said and hung up.

As she opened the door, a gust of moist wind ruffled her hair, and the soft thud of the rain grew louder. “Can I help you?”

Joe grinned as his eyes roved over her. “Noticed your lights on, so I thought I’d stop by.”

“Why?” she said without returning his smile. “Are you lost?”

Chuckling, he rubbed the cleft in his chin. Now that he was older, the heavy shadow of beard covering his jaw, combined with his close-set eyes and crooked eyeteeth made him appear almost wolfish. “Come on, we could have a drink. For old time’s sake. I saw you at the restaurant earlier but we didn’t have a chance to catch up.”

“Maybe that was because you were too busy bragging to all your friends that you ‘did me’ when we were sixteen.”

At least he looked ashamed as he scratched his neck. “Yeah, well…I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Grace’s hand tightened on the doorknob. “Go home,” she said. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“There’s no need to be unfriendly.” He leaned against one of the porch columns and lit a cigarette. “Why can’t we have a little fun?” he said, letting the smoke curl out of his mouth.

“Together?”

He winked at her. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“We have only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I wouldn’t let you touch me again if you were the last man alive.”

His smile faded as he shoved off from the post and jutted his chin toward her. “I guess you’ve changed, huh?”

“I guess I have,” she said.

He gave her another sly grin. “I bet not that much.”

“Probably more than you’re capable of understanding.” She looked him up and down and made it plain that she wasn’t impressed with what she saw. “You, on the other hand, haven’t grown up at all.”

His stare hardened, and he took another drag on his cigarette. “Think you’re too good for me now that you’re some hotshot
assistant
district attorney from Jackson? Is that it,
Grinding Gracie?
”

The smoke from his cigarette drifted toward her, burning her nostrils. “The name’s
Grace,
” she replied. “And I’ve always been too good for you, Joe. I just didn’t know it.”

“Kiss my ass.” He tossed the butt away and began to stalk off, then pivoted to face her. “You asked for what you got back then.” He pointed at her. “You were nothing but a cheap slut.”

“Don’t ever approach me again,” she said and closed the door.

“Bitch!” he yelled, throwing a rock at the house.

Grace drew the bolt, then leaned against the wall nearby, hugging herself.
Go away….

“Maybe I’ll take a backhoe to that farm you used to live on, see what
I
can come up with,” he yelled. “Uncle Lee had to go somewhere, didn’t he, Grace? People don’t vaporize into thin air. Everyone in this town knows where he went, even if you and your family won’t admit it.”

She didn’t respond. She knew a lot of people considered Joe a hero for risking his own life to save Kennedy from drowning in the Yocona River when they were kids. But she saw very few positive qualities in him.

“Which one of you actually did the deed?” he went on. “What’d it feel like, huh?”

Grace covered her face.

“Even if it wasn’t you, you could still go to jail. But being a lawyer, you gotta know that.”

God, it would be so easy to discover the truth—if anyone really knew where to look.

“You’re gonna be sorry you treated me this way,” he shouted.

A moment later, the engine of his truck roared to life. When she peered through the window, she saw him back up and spin out on her lawn before disappearing down the street.

You’re gonna be sorry…
echoed in her ears.

He won’t do anything,
she told herself. Clay wouldn’t let him.

But Joe wasn’t their only worry. All that business about Jed’s locked file drawer frightened her.

Her phone rang.

“You okay?” Clay asked as soon as she answered.

She wasn’t sure. She wanted to pack up and head back to Jackson, to hide beneath the law-and-order persona she’d created and the pile of work she did each day. But something told her it was already too late. “He…he’s never liked me,” she said.

“Why’d he come by?”

“Just to remind me of that, I guess.”

“You’re not going to let him get under your skin, are you, Grace?” Clay asked.

She’d certainly let Joe and his friends unsettle her in high school. But she wasn’t in high school anymore. She was stronger now. The past thirteen years had to stand for at least that much.

“As far as I’m concerned, Joe Vincelli can go to hell,” she said.

“Good girl.”

Grace called her mother first thing the following morning. She might’ve waited too long to make the initial contact, but she wasn’t going to hurt Irene a second time. She’d come to Stillwater to salvage her relationship with her mother, not destroy it. “Would you like to come over for breakfast?” she asked, propping herself up in bed against her pillows.

As Irene started to speak, Grace heard a man’s voice in the background.

“Is someone there?” she asked.

“Of course not,” her mother replied quickly. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

Grace frowned. Could it have been the television? Or…“If you’d rather do this some other day, Mom—”

“I don’t want to put it off. You’ll be leaving too soon as it is. Just…just give me an hour or so to get ready.”

And get rid of whoever had probably spent the night.

“Okay…”

“See you soon.”

When her mother hung up, Grace dialed Madeline’s number. “I think whoever Mom’s seeing might be over there right now,” she said when her sister answered.

“Did she say she had company?”

“No, but I definitely heard someone.”

“It’s weird how she’s acting.”

“I don’t get why having a boyfriend is such a big secret. Does she think it might upset one of us? We’re all in our thirties, for crying out loud. Except Molly. But even she’s twenty-nine.”

“Maybe she’s seeing someone she’s afraid we won’t approve of.”

“Who could that be?” Grace kicked her sheet to the bottom of the bed.

“I have no idea.”

Irene was still an attractive woman. If not for that night eighteen years ago, and all its consequences, Grace suspected her mother would’ve remarried years ago. Especially once she no longer had four children at home. “I guess she’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

“I suppose,” Madeline agreed.

Grace got up and walked to the window. This morning she was wearing a spaghetti-strap T-shirt with her panties, but after yesterday, she was careful to stand to one side as she looked down at the garden.

The weeds were gone, the rows carefully tended. Grace found the sight of everything she’d done gratifying, even though her muscles were so sore she could barely move. “I wonder if Mom has to work today.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“I was thrown by the deep voice in the background.”

Madeline laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be going to work. Mrs. Little depends on her to run the boutique pretty much every day—except Sunday and Monday, when they’re closed.”

“Could it be Mr. Little?”

“Mr.
Little?
” Madeline repeated.

“Maybe Mom’s having an affair with a married man.”

“God, I hope not. For lots of reasons, but mainly because folks around here would crucify her.”

“They’ve never allowed her to keep a low profile.”

“She’d better be particularly careful right now.”

“Why?” Grace asked.

“Because you’re back. Their interest is piqued.”

Besides dealing with Evonne’s family and the real estate agent on the house, and visiting the pizza parlor and grocery store, Grace had kept to herself. How could she be the cause of heightened attention? “What difference does that make?”

“You’ve been gone so long folks are curious. So many people have asked me about you, I was thinking of doing another piece in the paper.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Grace said. “Why would anyone around here want to read about me again?”

“You’re attractive yet aloof. That combination drives people crazy. Anyway, I think they should hear about everything you’ve accomplished in the past thirteen years.”

Forever the advocate. What would the family have done without Madeline? “You’ve already made sure of that. Mother sent me the article you wrote last year.”

“I didn’t write it because you’re my sister. It’s not every day that someone from Stillwater graduates first in her class at Georgetown, then goes on to become an assistant D.A. who never loses a case.”

“So? I’ve only been working for five years. I’m sure I’ll lose in the future. Anyway, you know what the good citizens of Stillwater think of me, Madeline.”

“Which is why I like to let people know how badly they’ve misjudged you.”

Grace doubted Madeline’s articles would change anyone’s views. They’d always remember how she’d behaved when she was a teenager, when she was trying to save herself and destroy herself at the same time. “No article.”

“We’ll see how hard up I get for news this week,”
Madeline said as if it was all decided. “What’re you doing tonight?”

“Nothing.” For once, Grace didn’t have a pile of cases to clutter her desk or her mind. She knew she’d get an occasional call from the office to ask about something she’d worked on in the past, but all her cases had been reassigned.

“Should I come by after work?”

“When time do you get off?”

“Around five. Unless there’s a late-breaking story. But late-breaking around here is a cow getting out of its pasture at closing time.” She laughed. “I think I can handle that without staying too late.”

“Should I make dinner?”

“You cooked last night. Why don’t I bring pizza?”

Grace thought of the little boy who’d left her that endearing note and knew he’d probably come by to pick up his cookies. She wanted to be able to send home something extra, just in case his folks were as poor as her mother had once been. “No, I’ll make lasagna.”

“I love lasagna.”

“Should I drive by Mom’s duplex?” Grace asked, returning to her curious conversation with Irene. “See if there’s a car parked out front?”

“Mom wouldn’t be that obvious.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve already tried it,” she said. “Several times. There’s never any car.”

Grace moved away from the window and started peeling off her clothes in preparation for a shower. “You’re an investigative reporter. Can’t you find out who this guy is?”

“I suppose I could, but…to be honest, I’m torn be
tween respecting her privacy and appeasing my own curiosity. And I’m also a little afraid of what I might find.”

“Sometimes ignorance is bliss,” Grace agreed, and wished Madeline could apply that to her father.

“True. Anyway, we’ll talk more about it this evening.”

“See you later.”

“Grace?”

“What?”

“Any chance you’d be willing to go over to the auto shop with me late tonight and poke around?”

Grace froze as she was sliding off her panties. “
Late
tonight? Why am I getting the impression you mean after Jed’s closed up?”

“Because I do.”

Her chest began to burn as she stepped out of her panties and kicked them aside. “You want to break in?”

“I just want to see what’s in the file drawer.”

“In the middle of the night?”