Joe snapped off his flashlight, but Kennedy could still see that he was scowling. “Hell, no. What would I want with Grinding Gracie?”
Kennedy pictured the intelligence in Grace’s blue eyes. Those eyes were older than her years, as if they’d seen far too much, but they were also mysterious, compelling and deep enough to drown in. He thought he could suggest exactly what Joe might want. “She’s a beautiful woman, something special.”
“Special?” Joe scoffed. “I’ve slept with her before. Everyone has. Except you maybe, and that was only ’cause of Raelynn.”
Kennedy ignored his comment. “But it’s not the same, is it? We were just kids. She didn’t know who she was then, had no identity. She was a lost girl letting you use her body because she didn’t really own it yet. Now she’s attractive, successful and completely indifferent to you, me, to all of us.”
Joe rubbed his jaw and gave the trees one final sweep with his light. “She’s still the same to me,” he said and stalked away. But Joe was lying. Kennedy doubted there was a man in town, at least a single man, who wouldn’t give just about anything to make love with Grace as an adult.
Even he wanted that.
Clay stopped pacing his kitchen to stare at Grace, his mouth a grim line. “That can’t be.”
“It’s true.” She hugged the thick towel he’d given her closer to her body. The night was balmy, even at nearly three in the morning. But she was chilled. After her long trek home in the rain, she hadn’t bothered to change or dry off. She’d grabbed her car keys and driven straight to the farm.
“But we buried that Bible with him,” Clay said as if the strength of his conviction could make it true.
“It must’ve fallen out. It did once. On the porch steps.”
“We would’ve seen it.”
“How can you say that?” Grace asked. “It was so dark. Can you remember everything that happened? Were you thinking that clearly?”
Grace sometimes wondered if any of them had been thinking at all. Especially Clay. Hiding the body and driving the reverend’s car into the quarry had been his idea, a decision they’d had to live with for eighteen years.
But what better option did they have? They couldn’t have gone to the police. Grace knew that now as well as she’d known it then. No one in Stillwater would’ve believed them; no one would’ve listened. They would’ve demanded retribution for the loss of their beloved preacher.
“We were so careful,” he said.
“Evidently we weren’t careful enough.”
“But Jed’s never said a word about the Bible.” Clay’s hand rasped over his whiskers as he rubbed his jaw. “Not to me. Not to Mom. Not to the police. Why?”
“I have no idea.”
He sat on the edge of the table beside her. “Where do you think it is now?”
“Kennedy Archer or Joe Vincelli must’ve picked it up. That’s all I can figure.”
Surprisingly, Clay’s face filled with hope. “Maybe they didn’t see it. Maybe we should go back and search some more—”
She shook her head. “No, I know where I lost it.”
It must have happened while she was wrestling with Kennedy. She’d had the Bible right before that. But she didn’t want to talk about her little scuffle. No one needed to know Kennedy had caught her—or let her go. She’d dropped the Bible trying to get away. That was the pertinent information.
Still, as much as she told herself it didn’t matter, that she had more pressing concerns, she couldn’t avoid the question that had nagged at her ever since: why had he helped her?
“Once the coast was clear I scoured the area,” she said. “It’s gone.”
Clay stood and began to pace again. “Joe Vincelli will take it to the police for sure.”
“I know.”
“So will Kennedy Archer.”
Grace didn’t immediately respond. She wasn’t sure what Kennedy would do. She still couldn’t believe he’d let her go and wondered if he already regretted it.
“He’d have to,” she said at last. “He can’t get involved in anything like this.”
“I’d better call Mom,” Clay said. “Prepare her, just in case—”
A knock sounded at the door. Was it Joe? Kennedy? The police?
Grace’s nerves drew taut. It seemed as though she’d always watched the threshold of that door with trepidation. When she was young, she’d feared the moment the reverend returned home each day. Now she feared those who wanted to know where he’d gone.
“Go upstairs,” Clay murmured. “I’ll handle this.”
Grace had parked her car in the gravel lot behind the house, so it couldn’t be seen from the street. She was tempted to slip out the back and drive off into the night while she had the chance. But then she heard Madeline’s voice through the door.
“Clay can you hear me? Clay, open up!”
Clay didn’t move right away. Instead, he glanced at Grace. “Do you think she knows about the Bible?”
“If she does, it won’t be long until all hell breaks loose. She’ll go straight to Jed and demand he tell her where he got it.”
“And, from his perspective, I can’t think of one reason in the world why he shouldn’t tell her.”
Grace dropped her head in her hand. “Of course he’ll tell her. He’ll have to. Everyone will be ready to lynch him.”
“Clay?” Madeline called, banging some more. “Hurry, damn it! I need you. I can’t find Grace.”
Clay squeezed Grace’s arm, then crossed the living room to unlock the door.
Madeline rushed in as he opened it. “Oh, God, Clay, I really did it this time. I talked Grace into—”
She stopped the second she saw Grace sitting at the table and hurried into the kitchen to embrace her. “There you are! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Grace met Clay’s eyes over their stepsister’s shoulder. Obviously, Madeline hadn’t heard about the Bible, or her greeting would’ve been far different. If Joe had found it, he’d have gone directly to the police, eager to let everyone know he’d been right all along. Which meant Kennedy Archer had it.
Joe. Kennedy. Clay. Madeline. Irene. Grace hated the complexity of her relationships here in Stillwater. But…She thought of George and realized they were complex everywhere. The man who claimed he wanted to marry her hadn’t even called in the past couple of days, although she needed his reassurance more than ever.