Several people murmured, "Amen." Portenski smiled approvingly and continued preaching--while trying to avoid Clay's piercing gaze. In another fifty minutes, he'd be rid of Mr.
Montgomery, he told himself. And chances were good Clay wouldn't show up next week. His attendance was sporadic at best. But when the closing prayer ended, Clay didn't immediately walk out, as usual. He stood at the back, waiting.
Folding his arms, Clay leaned one shoulder against the wall as the rest of the congregation filed past him. Most people refused to even look at him. Joe's father muttered under his breath that he had no right to be standing in a church with decent people. Joe's mother and her friends glared at him shamelessly. But Clay didn't acknowledge them. He'd seen Allie McCormick's mother escort Allie's daughter out a few minutes before the service ended, saw the little girl turn and wave to her mother, so he knew Allie had come. He wanted to catch a glimpse of her badly enough to wait around. And, after what Grace had told him, he was hoping for a chance to speak to the reverend.
But it was Beth Ann who approached him as soon as she could cut through the crowd flowing toward the exit.
"Clay, it's so good to see you," she said.
"Good to see you, too." His response was automatic and subdued, but he regretted saying even that much when she pounced on the opportunity to read more into it.
"Really? Do you mean that?"
The longing in her voice made Clay uncomfortable. He wanted to say something to make the situation less painful for her, but being nice only gave her false hope.
"Listen, Beth Ann, I'm sorry--" he started, but a third voice interrupted before he could finish.
"Of course he means it. Clay likes to see all his friends. I'm glad you could make it to church today, Mr. Montgomery."
Surprised that Allie would involve herself, he turned to find her coming toward him from the other side. When their eyes met, she grinned, letting him know she'd rescued him on purpose.
"Officer McCormick," he said with a nod. Clay supposed he should smile politely and leave it at that, but he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering over her. She looked so pretty, so...wholesome in her white blouse and skirt. For a moment he completely forgot she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world.
"What's going on?" Beth Ann asked, glancing between them.
Clay regarded her blankly, hoping to defuse her apparent jealousy, but it was too late.
"Are you hoping for your turn in his bed?" she asked Allie, instantly suspicious.
"You're in a church," Clay reminded her, but Beth Ann didn't seem to care.
Allie responded with far less than the denial Beth Ann had obviously hoped to provoke.
"What I'd really like is a few lessons in pool," she said.
"Pool?" Beth Ann repeated, confusion wrinkling her normally smooth forehead.
Allie nodded. "Yes--billiards. Clay definitely knows how to play."
"That's not the only game he's good at," Beth Ann said. "If you're not careful, he'll hurt you, too."
Allie merely smiled. "If he doesn't want to tutor me, I'll learn from someone else."
"Until you realize there is no one else, at least no one like him," Beth Ann said sulkily and walked away.
Embarrassed, Clay wasn't sure what to say in the wake of such a departure. So he rubbed a hand over his jaw and waited for Allie to break the awkward silence.
"That was some endorsement," she said.
He tried to shrug it off. "She didn't grow up here, remember?"
"What does that mean?"
"I guess I have her fooled."
"Today. Considering the call she made from your farm, she tends to vacillate."
"She's not as bad as the past week might suggest."
Allie's smile changed, grew thoughtful. "That's generous of you."
"It's true," he said simply.
"I guess she's telling everyone she's ready to marry and settle down."
"I've heard." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his chinos. "She'll make someone a good wife."
"Someone?"
"Someone else."
"Why not you?"
"She can't play pool," he teased. "When do you want your first lesson?"
Allie lifted her chin. "How much is it going to cost me?"
He sent her a slow, devilish grin. "I'm not as cheap as you might've heard."
She feigned disappointment. "Now you're really breaking my heart."
"But I'll give you a lesson if you'll go out to dinner with me."
She glanced surreptitiously around the church. "When?"
"Tonight?"
His heart hammered against his chest as he waited for her response. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been nervous asking a woman out. In most cases, he wasn't the one extending the invitation.
She opened her mouth to answer him, then saw her father moving toward them. "I'll call you," she murmured and scooted out the door.
Clay was tempted to watch her as she left. But Chief McCormick had stopped in front of him and made a point of getting his attention.
"Leave her alone," he muttered.
Clay blinked in surprise. "What did you say?"
"You heard me," he replied and stalked out the door.
Allie hurried to her cruiser, which was the vehicle she usually drove around town. Whitney had grown restless in church and Evelyn had already taken her home for a nap, so she didn't have to worry about getting her daughter strapped into the back seat, which was fortunate because she didn't want to give her father a chance to catch up with her. She and her parents had barely spoken since their argument at the breakfast table yesterday. When they did talk, they acted as if nothing had happened. Judging by the look on Dale's face when he saw her with Clay, however, the truce was over.
She managed to slip into the driver's seat of her car and, pretending she didn't see her father coming after her, closed the door and drove off. She thought it'd be wise to give Dale a chance to cool down and get involved in a TV show or project before she saw him again--because it wasn't going to do any good to continue arguing. He couldn't convince her to stay away from Clay. Clay was part of her investigation and, after speaking with Lucas, Allie believed more than ever that the Montgomerys were the key to solving the case. Clearly, since Clay had stonewalled the police for nearly twenty years, the antagonistic approach wasn't working with him. She couldn't see the harm in trying a little friendship.
Besides, she liked Clay--just as much as she had when she was drunk, she realized with chagrin.