Traceless (21 page)

Clint straightened, tension charging through him again as Larry Medford, the guy with the bat, started toward his Firebird.

He'd figured they would get around to that. Dammit.

The initial blow shattered the windshield. Clint winced.

He had insurance but only liability, and he wasn't sure it covered vandalism. Even that was costing him a damned arm and a leg. But the insurance had been required when he got his driver's license.

Clint held himself back, remained invisible, as Medford prepared for the second swing.

The blue lights cutting through the darkness came just in time. The siren wailed to life and the baseball bat stalled in midswing.

Clint waited until the two squad cars had barreled into his driveway before he stepped out of the woods. He tossed the tire iron in the general direction of the barn.

Baker and his friends were momentarily distracted by the arrival of the cops.

"Troy, what the hell are you doing?"

Ray Hale, followed by three deputies, spread out to contain the rowdy group.

"Doing your job," Troy shouted at Ray. "That bastard needs to go back to prison!"

"Where's Clint?" Ray demanded.

"Coward's hiding," Medford said, too stupid to have dropped the bat. He held on to it as he sauntered right up to Ray. "We called his name and he was too chickenshit to come out."

"Did you want something, Medford?"

Heads swiveled in Clint's direction as he walked toward the group.

Troy lunged at him.

Clint stepped aside, narrowly escaping the impact.

"Let's go, Troy."

Ray reached for him, but he wasn't ready to go yet. He rushed Clint again. Like a linebacker coming in for the takedown, Troy's shoulder made contact with Clint's torso. They hit the ground together.

Clint shoved Troy off him and got up. The idiot scrambled to his feet and charged Clint again. He had no choice but to put Troy down.

Mike Caruthers hauled Clint off Troy. Ray and another of his men manacled the persistent little shit who would have made another dive for Clint.

"I'm gonna get you," Troy threatened. "That's a promise."

Clint stared at Troy, told himself that his sympathy was wasted on the guy. "Do something constructive, Baker," Glint suggested with enough threat in his tone to have Baker's pals backing off. "Ask some of your so-called friends about their alibis that night."

Baker tried to go at Clint again. He landed a right hook square in Baker's face.

"That's enough!" Ray glared at Troy, who was holding his bleeding nose and swearing profusely. "More than enough," Ray said to Clint.

Three more cars skidded to screeching stops on the road, drawing everybody's attention.

"Keith!"

Violet Manning-Turner rushed into the fray, Justine Mallory right on her heels.

"Are you all right?" Violet hovered around Turner. He said something to her that Clint didn't hear.

"We should all go home," Ray said. "Except the four of you." He looked at Baker, Turner, Medford, and Woods. "You fellas are coming with me."

"Ray!" Violet challenged, evidently unhappy with the chief's decision. Ray refused to back down. Justine Mallory stared at Clint for a long assessing moment before she turned and followed the others.

Clint exhaled a mighty breath. The air smelled of the charred remains of his home. His gaze lingered on the black rubble highlighted by the three-quarter moon.

He'd lost everything and the truth still felt out of reach. Like Psycho Sid said, the whole community would be happy to see Clint dead. Maybe Ray was right, Clint considered, defeat sucking at him. Maybe this whole effort was pointless. But he'd waited so long for this moment... he couldn't quit now.

Shouting dragged his attention back to the squad cars. Troy Baker was bellowing again. His friends backed him up, making comments of their own. Something about traitor. "
Bitch
."

Clint's blood froze.

Another car had arrived.

Emily.

Baker and his buddies were shouting at her.

Fury blasted away the chill and Clint stormed right into the middle of the ruckus.

Ray had finally gotten Baker and Woods into one of the cruisers. Turner and Medford were being hustled into the other. Not quickly enough, since Medford managed to shake loose and get right in Emily's face.

"You'll get yours, too," he warned her. "Just wait—"

Clint grabbed Medford's shoulder and jerked him around. He put one solid punch in Medford's face and the guy dropped like the bag of shit he was.

Ray restrained Clint as Medford was hauled into the squad car. "Shake it off," Ray said to Clint.

Clint yanked his arm free of Ray's grip. "Next time," he threatened, "I won't play nice."

He turned back to Emily. She hadn't moved. She stood at the edge of his yard near the end of the driveway, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist. She looked lost.

The rest of the crowd, which was bigger than Clint had realized, had to be herded back to their vehicles. Every damned one looked as if they'd come from some fancy party. Come to think of it, Baker and his friends had been dressed similarly.

Violet stopped a few feet from Emily, Justine Mallory at her side. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Emily," Violet accused. "Just look what you've done."

Justine ushered her away, toward one of the cars parked on the road. Emily stared after them; her shoulders trembled.

This was what she got for rescuing Clint last night. The ache started down low in his gut, unfamiliar and fierce. She took an unsteady step and then another. She was leaving.

"Emily." Her name came out raw. His throat was sore and swollen from the smoke last night. Couldn't be anything else.

She hesitated, glanced back at him, then walked away.

Maybe he had made a mistake coming back here. But there was no stopping the momentum now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

City Hall

11:45 p.m.

"I want the truth." Ray gave Keith and Troy equal time with his most intimidating glare. He'd had enough. He'd already questioned Larry and Perry. They didn't know anything. Just kept blustering about what they were going to do, which meant they hadn't done a damned thing.

"Why didn't you haul Austin in?" Troy demanded. "You didn't want to put him in the car with any of us? Or you just plain didn't think he did anything wrong? You're on his side in all of this, aren't you,
Ray
?"

Troy paced back and forth in the interview room like a lion on Ritalin. Ray wasn't at all sure he would get the man to calm down short of giving him overnight accommodations. He didn't want to do that. Troy had kids. It was a damned shame he wasn't thinking of them in all this.

"You trespassed on his property. He's the victim here," Ray said in answer to Troy's insolent question, "and I didn't want him kicking your ass."

Troy stuck his face in Ray's. "You think that sonofabitch can kick my ass? No way. I'll be doing the ass kicking, by God. You should've let me do it tonight."

"You mean the way you were when we pulled Austin off you?" Ray hated to rub it in, but somebody had to wake this guy up. "Austin didn't survive ten years in prison without learning a few things. You'd better think about that before you start anything else with him."

Ray ignored the rage flashing in Troy's eyes. He'd cleaned up, but his nose was probably broken. He refused to go to the hospital. Keith, however, was almost too calm.

"Now, I'm going to ask you this one more time," Ray warned, hoping he'd get a straight answer. "Did either of you have anything to do with that fire or the vandalism? You both swore you had nothing to do with the vandalism and we found no evidence to the contrary, but I need to know. As a friend," he tacked on. "No use wasting resources looking for perps if I've got 'em right here in front of me."

Troy's mouth twisted with the words he no doubt wanted to hurl at Ray; then he relaxed visibly and spoke with amazing calm. "All right, I admit it. I busted up the bastard's shit. But I didn't start the goddamn fire. I'm just sorry as hell he didn't bum in it."

Keith rested his head in his hands. "Dammit, Troy, what the hell are you thinking?"

Ray exhaled a fraction of his frustration as he shook his head with utter exhaustion. "What about you, Keith? You have anything to do with any of this?"

"I heard about the fire on the news—"

"He's a pussy," Troy snarled. "He ain't done shit. Trust me on that. What I wanna know is," he bent down and flattened his palms on the table so he could glare directly at Ray, "are you gonna charge Austin for assault? We got plenty of witnesses. He went after Larry when your own deputies were attempting to load him into the squad car. Larry's face is in worse shape than mine. That's a parole violation."

"I figure you're even."

"What?" Troy's outrage overtook his good sense again. He reared back, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides. "You're gonna just let him get away with this shit?"

"As far as what he did to you and Medford, you were on his property. You goaded him into the incident." Ray held up a hand when Troy would have started shouting again. "We'll just call it even on the parole violation."

Before Troy could go off, Keith asked, "Even how?"

"Since you guys got away with running Clint off the road and trashing his place, he'll get by with assault. Any more questions?" Did they really think he wouldn't hear about the incident on Highway 18? Guys like Troy, good guys at heart, couldn't keep that kind of thing a secret.

"This is not over," Troy threatened.

Ray got up, opened the door. "It is over. Now go. Before I change my mind and keep you overnight." Violet was waiting to drive them both home. Ray looked each man in the eye as one then the other moved toward the door. "The law took care of the beef you have with Austin ten years ago, in case you haven't noticed. Anything you do now is only going to hurt you and your families."

Troy banged his fist against the wall before storming out. Keith glanced at Ray, his gaze steeped with regret, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Ray'd had enough. More than enough. This had to end.

The fire at Clint's house and keeping the peace was enough on Ray's plate just now. He didn't need Troy and his buddies acting up. The past was history. Over. There was nothing anyone could do to change it. No amount of digging around in it or pilfering through files would bring back Heather Baker. And it sure as hell wouldn't give Clint his life back.

What was done, was done.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Valley Inn

Sunday, July 21, 8:00 a. m.

Emily was going to Ray with her suspicions.

Sidney Fairgate, if he could be trusted at all, had pretty much verified Clint's alibi. The revelation forced her to understand just how significant this secret her father carried was. Just how life altering.

Why would he let an innocent man go to prison?

Her father wasn't like that.

Those unpleasant moments from last night kept elbowing into her thoughts. Reminding her that her parents and everyone else she'd ever cared about around this town were disappointed in her... had been hurt by her actions. And would only be hurt further by what she was about to do.

But she had to do the right thing. Heather's killer was out there somewhere. If Clint Austin was innocent, and it sure looked that way, he deserved to have his name cleared. The whole  community deserved the truth.

That Clint had gone after Larry Medford last night in Emily's defense had made her remember more of those feelings she didn't want to recall. The way he'd made her melt with just a look... before all the pain and tragedy. The way he moved, his smile, his voice, every single thing about him, had made her want him back then.

Made her want him now.

She couldn't even close her eyes without that raging fire at his house haunting her. Without seeing his face as he watched everything in his world go up in flames. He'd suffered and she was more to blame than all the others put together.

She almost didn't notice the tap on her door.

Before she even looked she knew who it wouldn't be. Not any of her friends, because she no longer had any friends. Not her parents, because they had likely disowned her.

Maybe one of her new friends, Fairgate or Austin?

Emily adjusted her blouse, smoothed her skirt, and took a breath. Might as well get it over with.

She checked the peephole.
Her father
. She drew back, wrenched the door open in one continuous action.

"Dad? Is everything all right?"

Her heart bumped her rib cage. The urge to cry came from nowhere. What if her mother was ill? What if it was Emily's fault? God, she'd already hurt them so much. The air snagged in her raw throat. What if her brother had been in an accident?