Dead Giveaway. Brenda Novak

but he was doing her a favor. “No,” he said, “it’s over.”

      “Don’t say that,” she cried. “Let me see you again.”

      She didn’t know when to back off. “I’m tired, Beth Ann.”

      “This weekend, then. Or next weekend. One last night together. For old times’ sake.”

      “Don’t,” he said and hung up.

      When Allie went to work, she found her father sitting at his desk with a stack of paperwork. He usually kept regular office hours, but he hadn’t been home since leaving for the station at eight that morning. He hadn’t even joined them for dinner. Evelyn had mentioned that he’d called to say he was busy, but Allie was surprised that he hadn’t asked to talk to her. Surely by now he’d heard about the call she’d handled at the Montgomery farm—from Hendricks or someone he’d told, from the rumors Beth Ann had probably started, from the dispatcher. From someone.

      “It’s been a long day for you,” she said, setting the sack lunch she’d packed for later on her own small desk in the corner. “What’s going on?”

      He grunted in annoyance but kept typing on his computer, using only his index fingers. Her father didn’t welcome technical advancements with any enthusiasm. He preferred to work the old-fashioned way. “Everyone’s up in arms about Clay Montgomery’s confession,” he muttered.

      So he did know. Allie slid her report in front of him, then scooted a chair closer to his desk. “Word’s out already, huh?”

      “Thanks largely to your fellow officer.”

      “Hendricks?”

      “Who else? He’s done everything but call the damn paper, claiming we finally have our man.”

      She expected Dale to pick up her report, glance through it for the real story. But he didn’t. “What do you think?” she asked.

      “Hendricks is an idiot.”

      She checked the window for headlights, knowing Hendricks could arrive at any moment. “I agree. But his father is on the board of supervisors. And I was talking about the case. From what you’ve heard, do you think Beth Ann’s statement will have any impact?”

      “It could.”

      Allie had anticipated a different answer, a confirmation of her own opinion. “What about my report?”

      “What about it?”

      “Aren’t you going to read it?”

      “I don’t need to.”

      “What?”

      He didn’t answer.

      “Dad, if you’re not going to read the report, I’ll tell you. We don’t have much more than we had yesterday. Beth Ann is merely claiming Clay told her something he swears he didn’t. That’s not physical evidence.”

      “It all adds up,” he said indifferently.

      “Last I heard, we needed more than ‘he said, she said’ to charge someone with murder. At the very least, a body would be nice.”

      “Try telling that to all the people who’ve been calling here, demanding Clay’s arrest,” he snapped. “I swear they’d lynch him if they could, without proof that he’s guilty of anything—except, perhaps, refusing to kiss the right asses.”

      Allie had never heard her father be so supportive of Clay. “You once told me you thought he was guilty, and that his mother and sisters were covering for him,” she said. “Have you changed your mind?”

      His two fingers continued to pluck at the keys. “What I think doesn’t matter.” He angled his head toward her report. “What you think doesn’t matter, either. Only what we can prove.”

      “But we can’t prove he killed Barker. So how can the D.A. run with this?”

      “He can and he might. It’s a political hornet’s nest right now.”

      “That’s crazy,” she said. “We need to find the real culprit.”

      “You don’t think it’s Clay?” He looked up at her.

      “It could be him or one of several other people,” she hedged.

      He went back to typing. “Don’t waste any effort on Barker’s disappearance.”

      Allie sat straighter. Her father had acted as if the Barker case wasn’t a high priority to him, but this was the first time he’d actually stated it. “What did you say?”

      “Whatever physical evidence there once was is long gone.”

      “Not necessarily,” she argued. “The files themselves could contain the key to the whole mystery.”

      “Maybe, but what’s to be gained for all the hours you’d have to spend doing the research and interviewing everyone who ever gave a statement? The offender’s never acted again. It’s not an issue of public safety.”

      “It can stop the D.A. from going after the wrong guy. Although I doubt they’d get a conviction against Clay, even if they tried him.”

      “They could if they tried him around here.”

      Allie didn’t like that answer. “It’s a matter of justice,” she said. “Of giving Reverend Barker’s relatives the answers they crave. A man has gone missing, Dad. As far as I’m concerned, it’s our job to find out what happened to him.”

      “He went missing a long time ago,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, we’ve got more pressing problems.”

      Allie gaped at him. “Why the change of heart?”

      “Solving a cold case takes months and months of hard work. You’ve told me that yourself.”

      “It does, but—”

      “I don’t see any point in chasing this one,” he interrupted. “On or off the job. I need you to take care of the problems that are cropping up today, not two decades ago. And you’re a single mom, Allie. You don’t want to be spending all your off-hours working on Barker’s disappearance.”

      After hitting a final key, he pushed away from his desk, and the printer whirred into action. As it pumped out the document he’d just created, Allie could see that it was a letter to the mayor; she hoped it explained the lack of evidence against Clay Montgomery. But she didn’t retrieve it for her father. “I don’t understand,” she said.

      He met her gaze. “What’s not to understand?”

      “You used to be as interested in this as I am.”

      Scowling, he yanked on his coat. “I’ve put the past behind me. The rest of this town should do the same.”

      “Dad, they’ve lost a friend, a family member, a neighbor. And they don’t know why.”

      “They’re out to pin it on someone whether he’s guilty or not.”

      Allie felt her irritation increase. “If we solve the case, we solve the problem.”

      “Maybe some cases are better left unsolved,” he grumbled.

      “What?”

      He didn’t answer. “I’m beat. I’m heading home.”

      Allie watched him sign the mayor’s letter, put it in the out-box and cross to the door. For a moment, she thought he was going to leave without saying goodbye. But then he turned back. “How about keeping things quiet tonight?” he said and tossed her a tired grin.

      Allie forced a smile. “Be careful, Dad. It’s ugly outside.”

      He paused to shake out his umbrella. “Where’s that damn Hendricks?” he asked, consulting his watch.

      Allie