Dead Giveaway (Stillwater Trilogy 2)

That was why he stayed on the farm. That was why he diligently guarded any evidence to be found there. So they could have the kind of life he wanted for them. But if Irene refused to listen, all his efforts could soon be for nothing. "Allie McCormick is working on Lee's disappearance," he told her.

She revealed no visible sign of distress. "Not officially."

"That doesn't matter. She used to be a cold case detective. She's trained in forensics."

"I know." She continued to make coffee. "She's an excellent police officer, just like her father."

The proud note in his mother's voice made Clay's jaw drop. "What?"

"Grace told me all about her," she said. "But don't worry. Allie's been through a painful divorce. She's lonely and bored, so it's natural that she'd want to poke around a bit. What else is there for a crack detective to do in a one-horse town like this? She'll grow bored with it eventually."

"Bored," he repeated, unbelieving.

"It's Madeline who's egging her on, you know."

"Allie's not just toying with this case, Mother. Unless I completely misread her, and I don't think I did, she's serious about locating your husband--or what's left of him. That doesn't concern you?"

He knew he should add that Beth Ann's accusations wouldn't help matters. After last night, Allie had to be more curious about him and the case than ever. But he'd been stupid to allow himself to fall into the mess his relationship with Beth Ann had become, and he was ashamed to have put his mother and sisters at risk.

Irene turned her back to him while she sealed the small package of gourmet coffee. "Why should anything Allie does concern me?" she asked. "What happened was in another lifetime. Like I've told Grace over and over, that's all behind us now. Why won't anyone let me forget and enjoy what's left of my life?"

"You're happy settling for a married man?" he asked. "A man who can only see you on the sly? Who can't acknowledge you in public?"

"He treats me better than any man ever has!" she spat, her eyes sparking in a rare display of temper. "Look at this lovely robe he gave me. Look at this place. Finally, I'm in love with someone who loves me back, someone who knows how to treat a woman."

Clay hated the guilt that welled up inside him when he thought of his mother being satisfied with so little. It was largely his fault she'd gone through what she had during the past two decades.

If only he'd done as she'd told him that night and stayed home with Grace and Molly. But he'd been sixteen years old--too innocent to conceive of the possibilities, too young to understand the threat his mother had begun to sense. "Mom, it'd ruin him if anyone found out about the two of you. He's the chief of police, for God's sake!"

"No one's going to find out."

"You don't know that. How long do you think you can sneak around before someone begins to suspect? To watch you more closely? Grace and I guessed the truth, didn't we?"

"Did you tell Molly?"

"No." Fortunately, his youngest sister had moved away when she went to college and never returned to Stillwater. They heard from her often--she also came to visit two or three times a year--but more than any of them, she'd managed to put the past behind her.

"Well, even if you didn't tell her, I bet Grace did," she said.

Clay knew that was true. Somehow, though, they'd been able to keep it from Madeline.

"You have to give him up. We have enough to hide already."

"I'm not seeing him anymore," she said in a sulky voice.

He wanted to let it go at that and hope for the best. But with Allie nosing around, he needed more of a commitment. "If you haven't left him yet, make sure you do."

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled.

"Not as easy as you think. Anyway, consider the people who'll be hurt if you don't. I know you care about that."

Irene slammed the cupboard shut. "It's okay if I'm the one who's hurt?"

"He's married! You don't have any real claim on him!"

"It's not as if I planned for this. It just...happened. Sometimes marriages fall apart."

"As far as we know, his marriage is fine. It's his libido that's leading him into trouble."

"Stop it!" she cried. "Stop treating me like I'm a tramp!"

He wanted to tell her to quit acting like one. But he couldn't be that disrespectful. Besides, he could almost understand why she'd fallen for Chief McCormick. Both the men she'd married had mistreated her. But Dale was a kind man who lavished her with gifts and attention.

"Mom, if Allie finds out, she'll be determined to prove that we're responsible for Reverend Barker's murder. What better revenge would there be?"

The scent of coffee filled the room. "Dale and I haven't been together since Allie came back," she grumbled.

Clay studied her, wondering if that was true. Judging from her expression, he decided it probably was. "That's good. But you're planning to be with him as soon as you get the chance, right?"

"No."

He didn't believe her. Without a definite breakup, he knew a relationship like theirs could go on for years. "You've got to tell him you can't see him anymore."

Tears welled up in Irene's eyes as she came toward him. Seeing her cry made Clay wish he could tell her everything would be okay. But he couldn't. If Chief McCormick left his wife for Irene, the whole town would be out to get her. They'd never liked her much to begin with--thanks to Reverend Barker. He'd isolated her right from the start by refusing to let her go anywhere except church events. He'd also taken every opportunity to imply that he'd made a mistake when he married her, that he was now saddled with a wife who was too flighty, lazy, vain--a cross for him to bear. Occasionally, he'd even criticized her in subtle, demeaning ways from the pulpit. And his parishioners had bought every word. After all, he'd had a history in this place--land, family, friends and the illusion of purity. Irene had had nothing, except the hope of a better life.

A hope the man behind the pious mask had quickly dashed.

But no one else knew that man. Not like the Montgomerys did.

"I'm sorry," Clay said softly. "You don't have a choice. Not really. You know that, don't you?"

She swiped at the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Yes."

Chapter 3

"Mommy...Mommy..."

Her daughter's voice and small hand, jiggling her shoulder, came to Allie as if through a fog, waking her that afternoon. She was still tired--she'd gone to bed only five hours earlier, after getting Whitney off to school--but she struggled to open her eyes. She wanted to be available to her child as much as possible. That was why she'd moved back to Stillwater, taken a cut in pay and accepted the night shift.