Dead Giveaway (Stillwater Trilogy 2)

What a difference Lucas could've made--for everyone.

To his credit, Lucas put up a hand to silence Molly instead of letting her argue for him. And he didn't cower as Clay had expected. "I thought you could use some support," he said.

" Now? Where were you when Molly was eight years old? Where were you when Grace--"

Clay's throat constricted at the memory of her ghost-white face. How could Lucas love her and Molly so much less than Clay did? Lucas was their father.

And how could Molly talk to Lucas as if he'd done nothing wrong?

Clay couldn't begin to understand, which only made his anger blaze hotter. Swallowing hard, he decided to end the conversation. Lucas didn't deserve a single kind word from Molly. He didn't deserve anything. Their father simply hadn't cared enough. What he'd wanted for himself had mattered more than all of them.

"It's time for you to go," Clay said. "We have nothing to say to you."

Lucas smiled at Molly. "You turned out to be a beautiful woman."

"Shut up," Clay said, disgusted.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come back at...at this late date, Clay," his father said. "But someone called me, a female police officer. She was asking a bunch of questions, and I--" he sighed "--I might've made some mistakes in what I said. I've been worried about that. I didn't want to make the situation worse for you. I--I wanted you to know that if I blew it, it wasn't intentional.

My wife said I should--"

"Your wife? " Clay echoed.

"Lorette."

"That's her name?" Molly asked eagerly.

Clay clenched his teeth as Lucas nodded. Lorette. Who was this woman? he wondered.

Whoever she was, she must be something special, something they weren't. "Well, you can tell Lorette that it was a nice thought, a kind thought of her to have for complete strangers. But like you said, you shouldn't have come. As far as we're concerned, you don't exist."

Molly said nothing. Clay could feel how torn she was, how difficult she found it to lose her only chance to speak with their father. He'd tried to keep his mouth shut for her sake, had even let their father walk into his living room, which he'd never dreamed he'd do. But he couldn't tolerate the man's presence any longer.

Head bowed, his father stared at his shoes. "You're right," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Go with him if you want," Clay muttered to Molly.

He couldn't stop her, didn't want to cause her any more pain. If she could accept so little from Lucas and be okay with it, he was happy for her.

But she didn't go anywhere. She drew closer and slipped her hand in his, as if he was her father and not Lucas.

As Lucas started out the door, Clay expected to feel some sense of victory or relief. At last he'd seen the man who'd hurt him so deeply--and he'd sent him packing without a trace of kindness or forgiveness.

Lucas had deserved exactly what he'd gotten.

But, somehow, the encounter only made Clay feel worse.

"It's okay," Molly said when he looked down at her.

"It's not okay," he said, and doubted it ever would be.

After Jed left, Allie stripped the linen from the bed and hauled it out to her car so she could take it home and wash it. Then she went back inside to finish tidying up. If her parents split up, her father would have to sell the place and share the equity with her mother. And she and Clay were the last people to use the cabin. It was the least she could do.

The probability that her parents would get a divorce depressed Allie, but the physical motions of straightening the cabin felt good. It meant she could put one thing right--and in quick order. She wasn't sure what to do about anything else, especially the information she'd learned from Jed. She was relieved that Clay wasn't responsible for Barker's death, that she'd been right in that regard all along. But now she knew Clay was partially responsible for the cover-up that had followed. Which put him at odds with the law, regardless of the fact that he was innocent of murder.

How had he and Irene disposed of Barker's car? Would it ever turn up? And where had Clay or one of the other Montgomerys moved the body? Barker wasn't behind the barn where Jed had told her he'd been buried.

His remains couldn't be far. Clay wouldn't risk having them discovered.

Allie shook her head. Why did the skeletons in Clay's closet have to be so literal? He could never leave the farm, or Stillwater. She had to be crazy to get involved with a man like that.

But she was already involved, wasn't she? She loved him in spite of his problems. He wasn't an ordinary man. Who else could have survived what Clay had been through without cracking under the pressure?

As far as she was concerned, he and the rest of the Montgomerys had suffered enough.

She'd go back to Stillwater and talk to Hendricks this evening. Once she proved that Joe or one of the other Vincellis had hired him to cause trouble for Clay, she'd have some leverage she could use to get the prosecution to back off. The mayor and the D.A. might be good friends with the Vincellis, but they wouldn't want to be discredited. Proof that someone was out to get Clay should make them view their lack of evidence in a different light. Or maybe it'd encourage the judge to throw the case out of court.

"That's it," she mumbled as she wiped off the table. "That's what I'll do." She'd stay the course, even though she knew she was heading past the point of no return. From now on, she would be, without reservations, completely on Clay's side, whether their relationship worked out or not.

A noise from outside startled Allie. Then the glimmer of headlights hit the window. At first she thought Jed had returned. But the man who knocked on the door wasn't Jed.

It was Joe.

Jed had stood by him and his family for so long that Clay had difficulty believing he would ever hurt Allie. He'd relaxed the moment he learned it was Jed who wanted to talk to her, and not Hendricks or any of the Vincellis. But she wasn't back yet, and he was beginning to worry. He'd tried her cell phone, several times, and gotten her voice-mail.

"What's wrong?" Molly asked.

His sister had been quiet ever since their father had left. Clay didn't know what she was thinking, but he doubted she felt any better than he did.

He hated the doubts that nagged at him, didn't want to take responsibility for her disappointment or make her feel obligated to remain loyal to him when her heart wanted something else.

"I'm going out to look for Allie," he said.

"Where is she?"

"I'm not sure. She's not answering. But it's getting late. She should've been back by now."

"What do you want me to do with dinner?"