Dead Silence (Stillwater Trilogy 1)

“Hello?”

She took a small measure of comfort in her brother’s deep, steady voice. “I hate nights like this,” she said without a greeting. “Don’t they make you want to sit out on the porch with your gun—see what might turn up?”

There was a significant pause. “Nothing’s going to turn up, Grace. Not while I’m here.”

She rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. “But the rain…”

“It’s just rain.”

“It’s not just rain. Combined with the heat and the smells creeping in from outside…It brings it all back so vividly. Like it was yesterday.”

“It wasn’t yesterday,” he said. “It was a long, long time ago. Everyone’s moved on.”

“That’s bullshit, Clay.” She pulled a lap blanket over herself, even though her skin felt clammy. “You haven’t moved on. You’re still guarding that damn farm. I haven’t moved on. I’m right back where I started. Even Madeline hasn’t moved on. She’s continuously searching for her father, for answers. Now she’s convinced it was Jed.”

“There are others who think the same thing,” he said.

“Well, she’s out to prove it.”

He didn’t hesitate. “She won’t be able to.”

“She can try, and trying might make the difference. I’ve seen it before. One person who won’t let go of an old case, driving an investigation until—”

“Without a body, suspicions and accusations are as pointless today as they were eighteen years ago,” he interrupted. “The police won’t reopen the case without new evidence. You’ve dealt with criminal law long enough to know that.”

Grace rubbed her forehead. She’d also dealt with criminal law long enough to see the exceptions. “This is why I stayed away. I didn’t want to be terrified every time it stormed. I didn’t want to hear Madeline’s anguish over her father and continue lying to her.”

The tension-filled silence made Grace believe Clay struggled with the same things. But then he said, “It’s okay, Grace. It’s over. I won’t let anything more happen.”

Someone knocked at her front door. Surprised, she glanced at the clock over the fireplace. It was nearly midnight.

“Someone’s here,” she said.

“This late?”

“Maybe Madeline forgot something.” She got up and checked the peephole at the door. “I have to go.”

“Who is it?”

“Joe Vincelli.”

“Vincelli! What’s he doing at your place?”

“I have no idea. But if I don’t call you back in the next five minutes, get over here, okay?”

“Let me talk to him.”

She didn’t want to drag her brother into this. It was important she fight her own battles. Besides, he’d done enough for her in the past. “Let me see what I can do first,” she said and hung up.

As she opened the door, a gust of moist wind ruffled her hair, and the soft thud of the rain grew louder. “Can I help you?”

Joe grinned as his eyes roved over her. “Noticed your lights on, so I thought I’d stop by.”

“Why?” she said without returning his smile. “Are you lost?”

Chuckling, he rubbed the cleft in his chin. Now that he was older, the heavy shadow of beard covering his jaw, combined with his close-set eyes and crooked eyeteeth made him appear almost wolfish. “Come on, we could have a drink. For old time’s sake. I saw you at the restaurant earlier but we didn’t have a chance to catch up.”

“Maybe that was because you were too busy bragging to all your friends that you ‘did me’ when we were sixteen.”

At least he looked ashamed as he scratched his neck. “Yeah, well…I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Grace’s hand tightened on the doorknob. “Go home,” she said. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“There’s no need to be unfriendly.” He leaned against one of the porch columns and lit a cigarette. “Why can’t we have a little fun?” he said, letting the smoke curl out of his mouth.

“Together?”

He winked at her. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“We have only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I wouldn’t let you touch me again if you were the last man alive.”

His smile faded as he shoved off from the post and jutted his chin toward her. “I guess you’ve changed, huh?”

“I guess I have,” she said.

He gave her another sly grin. “I bet not that much.”

“Probably more than you’re capable of understanding.” She looked him up and down and made it plain that she wasn’t impressed with what she saw. “You, on the other hand, haven’t grown up at all.”

His stare hardened, and he took another drag on his cigarette. “Think you’re too good for me now that you’re some hotshot assistant district attorney from Jackson? Is that it, Grinding Gracie?”

The smoke from his cigarette drifted toward her, burning her nostrils. “The name’s Grace,” she replied. “And I’ve always been too good for you, Joe. I just didn’t know it.”

“Kiss my ass.” He tossed the butt away and began to stalk off, then pivoted to face her. “You asked for what you got back then.” He pointed at her. “You were nothing but a cheap slut.”

“Don’t ever approach me again,” she said and closed the door.

“Bitch!” he yelled, throwing a rock at the house.

Grace drew the bolt, then leaned against the wall nearby, hugging herself. Go away….

“Maybe I’ll take a backhoe to that farm you used to live on, see what I can come up with,” he yelled. “Uncle Lee had to go somewhere, didn’t he, Grace? People don’t vaporize into thin air. Everyone in this town knows where he went, even if you and your family won’t admit it.”

She didn’t respond. She knew a lot of people considered Joe a hero for risking his own life to save Kennedy from drowning in the Yocona River when they were kids. But she saw very few positive qualities in him.

“Which one of you actually did the deed?” he went on. “What’d it feel like, huh?”

Grace covered her face.

“Even if it wasn’t you, you could still go to jail. But being a lawyer, you gotta know that.”