Dead Giveaway (Stillwater Trilogy 2)

Dale narrowed his eyes. "You think you can tell me what to do?"

"--and you'll have my word that I won't pursue the relationship."

Dale let his eyebrows slide up. Why would Clay offer to walk away for so little? He hadn't even mentioned the Barker case. "Anything else?" he asked.

"That's it," Clay replied. "No punishment, no bullshit. Patch up your relationship and move on as if she'd never met me, and you won't have to worry about me touching her again."

"Fine," Dale said immediately.

Clay's half smile turned even more cynical than usual. "I thought we might be able to come to some sort of agreement. Thanks for stopping by," he said and shut the door.

Dale stood on the porch in stunned silence. Clay hadn't said anything about Irene. Did that mean he didn't know?

Of course he didn't know. Or surely a man like Clay would've used that information to improve his own position. He wouldn't have given Dale exactly what he wanted and asked for nothing in return.

Feeling the tension in his shoulders ease, Dale walked to his car and whistled the entire ride home. Maybe he'd survive the next few weeks after all.

Allie didn't feel quite at home in her new house. She hadn't had a chance to unpack much of anything, couldn't get comfortable lying on the hard floor in a sleeping bag, even though she was right next to Whitney. Her mother kept calling, begging her to reconsider and move home again.

When that failed, her brother had phoned her from Arizona to see if he could help her and Dale settle their differences. And, on top of that, every time she heard the slightest sound, she jumped up to stare at Jed Fowler's house.

God, that man gave her the creeps.... His truck had been parked in the driveway for hours, yet his place had been dark since nightfall. What did he do after he came home from work? Eat and go straight to bed? Light candles in the back instead of turning on a few lights?

Forcing herself to think of something else, Allie left Whitney sleeping in her bag and wandered listlessly through the small two-bedroom rental. She was making note of all the cleaning and organizing yet to be done. Fortunately, her mother was bringing some furniture from the guesthouse in the morning. But she wasn't sure when she'd be able to put her house together. She wanted to revisit the cabin tomorrow. She hadn't been able to go back there today because someone from the sheriff's department was already investigating. He'd called to get a statement from her and indicated that he was going to contact Clay, as well. He also said he'd found the shell casing and the slug.

The deputy she'd spoken to seemed competent enough. But for Allie, the incident was far too personal to leave the resolution to someone else.

A thump brought her back to the window. It was probably a cat or a raccoon jumping onto the roof--but her overactive imagination suggested it could be Jed's car door.

Was he up?

She squinted, trying to decide whether she saw movement behind his dark windows. But the sound of an engine caught her attention, and it didn't belong to Jed. Her father's squad car was coming down the street.

"Great," she muttered. She didn't relish another confrontation. But now that she was living across the street from Jed and it was growing so late, she couldn't help feeling slightly relieved to have company, even if it was her father.

She waited until he reached the front step. Then she opened the door so he wouldn't ring the bell and wake Whitney.

"Did Clay already call you?" he asked in apparent surprise.

Clay hadn't called. She'd heard from Madeline, several times, though. Tomorrow Clay's stepsister was bringing a twin bed for Whitney she had in her garage, since Evelyn had only one bed to lend her. But Allie hadn't heard from Clay since her father had brought them to town. She knew they'd both been a little overwhelmed by what had happened before, and after, her father arrived. But she still missed him. "I don't know what you're talking about. Was he supposed to call me?" she said, pretending it didn't bother her that he hadn't.

"Er...no." He brushed some dirt from his pant leg. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Why aren't you asleep?" She folded her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. Maybe her new neighbor made her uneasy, but she wasn't about to let her father know that her situation was less than perfect. The way he'd spoken to her at the cabin had been unforgivable. A bitch in heat?

"I've been doing damage control," he said.

He clearly blamed her as the reason, and Allie felt she had to accept some of the responsibility. She shouldn't have gotten so involved with Clay. The fair, unbiased friendship she'd intended to offer had quickly spun out of control. But when he was hurt and bleeding, nothing seemed to matter except the relief of knowing he was still alive.

"What do you want?" she asked briskly. What had happened had happened. There was no going back now. Allie didn't think she'd go back, even if she could. She'd never had another night like that one.

Her father fiddled with his police belt, giving her the impression that what he had to say wasn't easy to get out. She would've guessed he was trying to extend her an apology--except he wasn't the type to apologize. He meant well but struggled when it came to expressing emotion.

"I've changed my mind," he said with a scowl. "You can work at the station. But only as my personal assistant," he added.

Allie's jaw dropped. "What?"

"You heard me. You want work, those are the terms. And be glad of them. I've never hired anyone else back."

"I don't remember you firing anyone." She thought of Hendricks. "Even officers who deserve it."

"This is Stillwater."

She rubbed her forehead. "How well I remember."

"So?" he said. "Take it or leave it."

"No." She closed the door, then stood amid the boxes filling her new living room, feeling frustrated with herself, her father, the whole situation.

Whitney coughed and stirred in her sleep, trying to kick off the cover of her sleeping bag.

Afraid that her daughter was coming down with bronchitis, like last year, Allie crossed the room and turned up the heat. It was poor timing if Whitney was getting sick, but they'd manage without Dale's job offer. Even in Stillwater.

She was about to lie down again and try to get some sleep. But her father didn't drive off, as she'd expected. He knocked.

Grumbling a curse, Allie went back to the door. "Yes?"

He muttered something she couldn't make out.

"I can't hear you," she said.

"Stop being a stubborn fool."

"Now I'm a stubborn fool? I thought I was a bitch in heat."