Dead Giveaway (Stillwater Trilogy 2)

"I agree," she said eagerly.

Did that mean they could move on? He squeezed his forehead, anxious about what he might learn in the next few minutes. It was unlikely that Beth Ann was pregnant--but unlikely wasn't impossible. "Just tell me one thing."

"What's that?"

Thunder boomed in the distance and rolled across the sky, loud enough to rattle the windows. "Is it true, what you said?"

He thought she'd immediately know what he meant. But he realized that wasn't the case when she answered.

"No. Whatever Allie told you, she must've made it up. I was upset and I mouthed off. But she's the one who wouldn't let me go until I'd signed that silly statement."

At this point, the damage from last night had already been done. All that mattered to Clay was whether or not there was a baby. But Beth Ann's words were so unexpected they managed to distract him. "Are you trying to tell me it was Allie's fault you said I confessed to murder?"

"Yes! She took advantage of me. Maybe you haven't heard, but she's planning to solve your stepfather's case. I guess she wants to show all us country bumpkins what a detective from the big city can do."

Allie's image appeared in Clay's mind. She wasn't a beauty like Beth Ann, but she had a unique face. Short dark hair framed large brown eyes, a handful of freckles dotted her small nose, and her chin was, perhaps, too sharp. Because of her diminutive size, the freckles made her look almost childlike. But she had a beauty mark on her right cheek that added a degree of sophistication. And there was nothing childlike about her mouth. Full and soft-looking, it seemed a little misplaced juxtaposed against that nose and those freckles, but it was a very womanly feature and somehow pulled all the disparate parts of her face together.

"Stop blaming Allie," he said, growing irritated. Allie was honest. He could tell. But that didn't make him trust her. Because it was the truth that posed the biggest threat to him.

"It was her."

"Bullshit. Allie's not that kind of person."

"Since when do you know her so well?"

He could read the jealousy in Beth Ann's voice. But he had no patience for that, either.

"You don't have to know her. All you have to do is meet her. She takes that badge seriously."

"She's a chip off the old block, Clay. And the police have been out to get you for a long time."

"Allie's not out to get me, Beth Ann." At least not yet. But that could change once she discovered that her father was having an affair with his mother. Or when she dug a bit deeper into the disappearance of Lee Barker.

"I wouldn't have signed that statement without her, Clay. I promise."

Beth Ann obviously thought it'd make a difference if she passed the blame. Clay understood that, but he couldn't admire it. "I don't care about the statement you gave Allie. If that was enough to put me in prison, I'd be there already. I just want to know about..."

"What?"

"The baby."

"What baby?"

"You told her you were pregnant, remember?"

"Oh, well--" she laughed uncomfortably "--like I told you, I was upset and said some things I shouldn't have. But I retracted them right away."

Closing his eyes, he let his breath seep slowly between his lips. "So it's not true?" he asked.

He needed to be sure.

"No, but--" her voice fell to a hopeful whisper "--would you have married me if it was?"

Although he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it, the answer to that question had been lurking in his heart and mind for twenty-four hours--ever since he'd first learned of the possibility. Which was why he'd been so frightened. After what he'd experienced growing up, he wanted to raise any child of his on a full-time basis and, if he could, he'd ensure that child received the support of both mother and father. Even if it meant marrying a woman he didn't love. "Probably," he admitted.

When his answer met with complete silence, he knew he'd shocked her.

"I'll let you go," he said.

"Wait...Clay, if it's a baby you want, I'll give you one. We could make it work."

He imagined hearing a little girl's laughter in the house, or taking his son out on the farm.

Since Grace's marriage, he had two nephews. Teddy and Heath belonged to Kennedy, her husband, but Clay loved them as much as if they were blood relatives. He wanted a couple of boys just like them, or maybe a little girl like Grace. Strained though their relationship had been since Barker, they were getting along much better these days. She'd always been his favorite, not only because they were closer in age, but because she was so fragile and lovely.

Thinking of his nephews made Beth Ann's suggestion more tempting than he'd ever imagined it would be--almost worth the trade-off. He was thirty-four years old. Had his situation been different, he would've been married by now.

But what kind of life could he offer a wife and child when he was harboring such a dark secret? What if Allie McCormick, or someone else, managed to reveal the truth?

He'd have to take full responsibility. And then he'd go to prison.

Beth Ann didn't realize it, but he was doing her a favor. "No," he said, "it's over."

"Don't say that," she cried. "Let me see you again."

She didn't know when to back off. "I'm tired, Beth Ann."

"This weekend, then. Or next weekend. One last night together. For old times' sake."

"Don't," he said and hung up.

When Allie went to work, she found her father sitting at his desk with a stack of paperwork.

He usually kept regular office hours, but he hadn't been home since leaving for the station at eight that morning. He hadn't even joined them for dinner. Evelyn had mentioned that he'd called to say he was busy, but Allie was surprised that he hadn't asked to talk to her. Surely by now he'd heard about the call she'd handled at the Montgomery farm--from Hendricks or someone he'd told, from the rumors Beth Ann had probably started, from the dispatcher. From someone.

"It's been a long day for you," she said, setting the sack lunch she'd packed for later on her own small desk in the corner. "What's going on?"

He grunted in annoyance but kept typing on his computer, using only his index fingers. Her father didn't welcome technical advancements with any enthusiasm. He preferred to work the old-fashioned way. "Everyone's up in arms about Clay Montgomery's confession," he muttered.

So he did know. Allie slid her report in front of him, then scooted a chair closer to his desk.

"Word's out already, huh?"